Death's Angels

Chapter Eighteen

Sardec woke from strange dreams of far times and other days. He wondered if they were true visions of the Blessed Land and things that had happened there, or mere fantasies. Sometimes, the Dreamwalker let the Farborn see true. He had heard that some of those born on the soil of Gaeia had visions of things only the Everborn could know, and the truth of their dreams had been confirmed by their elders. Such visions were especially common around Solace, and were said to be a good omen.

Sardec tried to remember exactly what he had seen but already it was fading, receding into those caverns where dreams go when they wish to avoid scrutiny. All he could recall was the presence of two Terrarchs so similar looking they could only be brothers. Both had cast very long shadows. There had been a dragon there too, the power of its halo so intense that Sardec could recall it vividly. The great beast had been far more alive, far more wrapped in power than anything born on Gaeia. He shook his head. If there had been a dream-reader close by, he might have gone to her, but there were no true interpreters of visions in a provincial place like this.

He rose and strode into the outer chamber. His bath was already drawn, warm as he liked it, and filled with the scented oils his mother had sent from the capital, and which he preferred because they reminded him of home. On a silver plate on a mirrored chest of drawers were two envelopes, both of expensive paper and bearing the seal of Princess Asea. One was an invitation to visit her at noon.

The second was a beautifully engraved invitation to the Solace Ball, at Asea’s palace. He swiftly penned a response to both and dispatched them into town by courier before settling himself into the warm waters of the tub.

Vosh had not died easily. Blood was everywhere, soaking the bed, forming sticky congealing pools on the floor. Flies lapped it up. A gag had stoppered his screams.

Rik looked at Weasel. The poacher was a little paler than usual but his face was stony. The Barbarian whistled jauntily but something about his eyes told Rik he was no happier than Weasel. Leon did not even pretend nonchalance. He was busy being noisily sick in a chamber pot.

No wonder the boy was so thin, Rik thought. He seemed to have trouble keeping anything down. He guessed it was not the corpse alone that was bothering them. God knows they had all seen plenty of those before. It was the incongruousness of it, finding a body so mutilated in a place where they had been drinking the night before, that had no connection with the scene of any battle.

“What in the Seven Hells happened here?” The landlord Shugh seemed to have forgotten all about his threats of the previous evening. He was perplexed that such a thing could have happened in his inn, and seemed to welcome anyone who might give him a clue. Seemed was the appropriate word. It was possible he had been in league with whoever had done this and did not want anyone to know. It would not do his business any good, if people thought things like this could happen to them in his hourly rate rooms.

Rik looked at him coldly. “What I would like to know is how something like this could happen without anybody noticing?”

Shugh looked at him, read the suspicion in his eyes and replied quickly; “He was bound hand and foot. He had a gag in his mouth. He had paid for the room for the night. No one was going to trouble him till he refused to get up when your friend here came calling this morning.”

“He was alone then?”

“No. He went up with a girl. Marla was her name.”

“She didn’t do this on her own.”

“She left an hour later. Said Vosh was asleep, and did not want to be disturbed.”

“Somebody disturbed him,” said the Barbarian, his voice a little thicker than usual. “Somebody disturbed him quite a lot.”

Weasel started as if he suddenly remembered something, strode forward and undid the rag from around Vosh’s mouth. Something like a small shrivelled sausage fell out.

“They stuffed his dick in his mouth,” said Weasel, with a certain gloomy satisfaction. “Hill-men did this for sure. It’s their favourite punishment for traitors. They did it while he was still alive and bleeding to death.”

Rik nodded. He had heard the stories. It was one thing to hear about them. It was another thing to witness them from this close. Leon got even paler when he heard this. His eyes locked on Weasel’s face.

“You think they want to do this to us.” It was an alarming prospect Rik thought. Weasel shot Leon a warning look. This was not the sort of thing to be discussed in front of Shugh.

Shugh just looked at him. “We’re going to have to get rid of this body,” he said.

“Don’t be cutting it up and putting it in your pies,” said Weasel.

“It might improve the taste,” said the Barbarian. Not surprisingly Shugh did not appreciate the joke. He lumbered off downstairs shouting for his sons. Nobody had suggested calling the Watch. Nobody would.

“Think we might have hit a nerve there,” said Rik.

The Barbarian looked at Vosh’s open mouth. “Don’t think I will be trying the sausage rolls around here.”

“What now?” Leon asked.

“I say we find this Marla,” said Weasel. “And keep our eyes peeled for hill-men.”

“And all I wanted was a good time,” said the Barbarian looking up at the ceiling and chewing the ends of his moustache wistfully.

“That’s all he wanted too,” said Weasel. “Look at him now.”

Who had done this, wondered Rik? And had Vosh told them anything about the books?

As he rode through the outskirts of the Exalted quarter, Sardec could not help but notice the beautiful mansions of the human parasites who had attached themselves to the coat-tails of the Elder race. Here a discreet golden disk hanging over the door announced that a lovely broad-fronted house belonged to a goldsmith just as much as the bars covering the windows did.

On another a sign of a mortar and pestle showed this shop belonged to a particularly prosperous alchemist. The buildings showing the insignia of the local Terrarch Houses announced their inmates to be factors of the Exalted, those human middle men who oversaw the estates of their masters and handled all their business. Such men often became very wealthy themselves, doubtless by pocketing a proportion of the money that rightfully belonged to their masters.

Approaching the centre of the town, Sardec was relieved to see the humans became fewer and better dressed, neatly liveried in garments that bore the emblems of their masters. Many Terrarchs saluted him as he passed, and he returned their greetings in the casual off-hand style of the high nobility. Most of the people were in their temple best, and seemed to be coming from the noontime prayers. Here at least people kept to the Mourning Time rituals.

The streets widened. Townhouses gave way to the palaces proper, where the local Terrarch families dwelled when they were not on their estates. Sardec entered Temple Square. The massive structure loomed over him. Its sides were covered in alcoves containing numerous dragon-winged angels; their small horns were nubs of gold.

Since it was Mourning Time black prayer flags bearing the green dragon sigil of lost Al’ Terra fluttered from the corner towers of the temple alongside the red dragon of Talorea. Ropes with more small triangular mourning flags descended from the great central dragonspire jutting from the roof to each of the lesser towers.

Sardec reined his destrier in, and placed his hand first on his forehead then on his heart when he faced the Temple. Some of the Terrarch Priests robed in the traditional green and white fringed with Mourning Time black noted his piety and nodded approvingly. Sardec ignored their attention as was suitable for a high noble, and rode directly towards Princess Asea’s palace.

It was in a particularly favourably aspected location, occupying one whole side of the square facing the temple itself and rivalling it in size. A massive sandstone observatory tower rose from the eastern side of the building. A ritual dome loomed atop the building. This was a fitting mansion for one of the First, one mighty in sorcery. Sardec had heard stories of the labyrinths beneath it where Asea conducted her rituals and her research. Some of those tales were not entirely wholesome. It was a mighty structure in the old style arranged around a central courtyard.

Sardec passed through the archway into the first courtyard. Leaving his destrier in the charge of the grooms, he strode through another archway and into the much larger inner courtyard. He stopped and breathed in the scented air and took in the beautiful surroundings. In the centre of the courtyard was a stand of Dreamflowers brought from Al’ Terra during the Exile. Locked away in that dingy village beside the Redoubt, it had been too long since he had experienced the allures of his own culture. It was nice to be reminded of what he had sworn to defend when he had taken the Queen’s Oath.

Officers in the uniform of the Regiment strolled with elaborately gowned ladies. It looked like every Terrarch in the region had found reason to pay Princess Asea a visit once it became known that the Lord of Battles would be coming here. He caught sight of a beautiful Lady emerging from a small private temple in the courtyard, strolling side by side with a group of officers and lesser belles. She was quite the loveliest thing he had seen in a long time, her hair silver and long, her mask hinting at the exquisitely sculpted features below. This was Asea he felt sure. Only one of the First would be so tall and yet so graceful. He noticed that one of the officers in attendance was Lieutenant Jazeray.

Sardec approached with the maximum of formal politeness and inclined his head gravely to Asea. Jazeray leaned forward and whispered something up into her ear. Sardec was delighted that although her attendants laughed she did not, but appeared to reprimand him. Instead, she changed course, and came towards him. Something about her multi-layered skirts gave the motion all the stateliness of a galleon changing course. Briefly he considered saying so, but realised that it was a very inapt analogy to use to one so beautiful.

“Greetings, Prince Sardec,” she said, using his formal courtly rank, rather than his military one. That pleased him. Although Princes were common enough among the Terrarch nobility, anyone even distantly related to the Queen was given the title, and most of the great houses could make that claim, it was still a greater rank than Jazeray commanded. “When next you write you must remind your dear father how very fond I am of him.”

“It must be quite difficult to live up to the deeds of such an illustrious sire,” said Jazeray. “Although I understand you have been doing your best.”

Asea looked at him enquiringly. Sardec saw the trap coming but there was nothing he could do to avoid it. He remained silent. Jazeray was a pleasant enough fellow most of the time, when you were not the butt of his wit. But he had a malicious streak in him that came out whenever something stood in the way of what he wanted. Of course, what Terrarch did not?

“Prince Sardec has been fighting with demons,” said Jazeray. “Armed with the same blade his father used at the Ford he vanquished a monster of the Elder World.”

“Is this true?” asked Asea. Sardec felt a flash of pique at Jazeray. He was put in a position of lying about what had happened or looking a fool in the eyes of one of the First. Jazeray was going to make him admit to his own dishonour in the mine. One day he would get Jazeray for this, Sardec’s promised himself. Jazaray and that accursed half-breed who put him in this position.

“Not quite,” said Sardec.

“Surely, my dear friend, it’s either true or it isn’t?” said Jazeray.

“My force encountered a demon, an Ultari. One of my soldier’s slew it.”

Sardec was not quite sure but he felt that just for a moment more than polite interest flickered in the Lady’s eyes when she heard the spider demon mentioned.

“With your sword, or so rumour has it,” said Jazeray. “Of course, we are not ones to take such rumours at face value.”

“The story is correct, sir.”

“It is good to know that humans now have such a high opinion of themselves that they think to make free with their officer’s swords,” Jazeray said.

“It was a human who used your blade?” asked Asea.

“It was. The sword is now being purified.”

“There was a time when a human would have been burned for such insolence. Salamanders would have eaten their souls,” said Jazeray. It pained Sardec to hear these words, the more so because he agreed with Jazeray’s sentiments.

“Thank the Light that such times are in the past,” said Asea. She came from a truly radical branch of her family Sardec recalled. She had been among those who had supported the freeing of the human thralls and the creation of Parliament’s House Inferior. Before that she had been one of the Scarlet Queen’s strongest supporters during the Great Schism. Still, so beautiful was she that he was perhaps prepared to forgive her even this.

“I confess I am intrigued by your tale, for reasons of my own,” she said. “Perhaps you would do me the honour of taking wine with me.”

Asea gave him a smile that warmed his heart. He gave her a formal bow and gestured for her to pass so gracefully that his dancing master would have been proud. Asea looked at Jazeray, apparently providing him with a cue.

“I regret, fair lady, that duty calls me elsewhere. For nothing less would I leave the light of your company.”

“For nothing less would I let you,” she said, with more politeness than warmth. Jazeray bowed, and strode confidently away towards the arch.

“An interesting young man,” said Asea.

“One hears such rumours about him,” said Sardec.

“Now, Prince,” she said, “don’t you start that game too. You should be above it.”

Sardec was quite taken aback by this rebuke, and judged it merited. “Thank you for reminding me of my manners. I am a simple soldier, too long from polite company.”

“You sound just like your father when he was your age,” said Asea. “How old are you now? Thirty?”

“Thirty one, Lady.”

With something like shock Sardec realised that she was talking of his father as he had been almost seven centuries before. But of course that was well within the memory of one of the First. Asea looked the same age as his sister but she was far older than his mother, and one of the most powerful sorceresses in the land. That was a thing that was well to remember, he thought. Keep your guard up.

She offered him her arm, and they turned and entered her palace.