The Patrimony

14

While his other hand and one bony knee were occupied at the task of trying to force her thighs apart, Neeka raked the nails of her left hand across his face. At the same moment her right hand grabbed his scrotum, squeezing and twisting at the sac, while kneading the testes agonizingly.

With a whining howl that quickly became a scream, Froh let go her mouth and sent both hands to the crotch she was punishing so savagely. Quickly, she smashed the heel of her left hand into his dripping nose. The cartilage snapped loose from the bone with an audible crack, and his blood spurted down on her face and body. As she fought from under the sobbing, bleeding man, she saw Koominon standing in her doorway, a lamp in his hand, “Holy saints preserve us,” the undercover cleric gulped. “What wickedness have you done?”

“The pig would have taken me, half-asleep, by force, Koominon,” panted Neeka.

“But … but he is master here, child! All in this place are his to do with as he wishes.”

Neeka felt as if a war club had come crashing down upon her head. “But, Koominon, didn’t Judge Gahbros speak to you about our rights? He said he would.”

Koominon shook his head. “Judge Gahbros is a full week’s journey west of here. He cannot help you, now.”

Neeka thought quickly. “Then, Koominon, you must go at once to the city governor’s palace. Komees Pehtros will see that justice is done.”

Koominon looked down. “Can’t you send one of the apprentices?”

“Damn it, Koominon, of course not!” snapped Neeka. “You know the guards would never pay any attention to a stripling.”

“Then … then one of the barbarians upstairs?”

But Koominon finally dressed and left. Going across to his room, Neeka armed herself with one of the prized knives he kept there since so much had been stolen from the kitchen by Froh’s roomers. Then she dressed and kept watch over Froh’s moaning, groaning, bleeding carcass until the majordomo returned.

Komees Pehtros strode into Neeka’s room with fire in his eyes, two scale-shirted Freefighters behind him, along with another man, another noble, by his dress.

Froh had apparently recovered more than he had been willing to let the grim-faced, knife-armed Neeka know, for he suddenly sat up on the bloody bed. One hand clutched his aching scrotum, the other pointed a shaking finger at Neeka. “Arrest her!” he whined. “She … she attacked me fer no dang reason. She’da kilt me, likely, iffen you hadn’ come up here.”

But he wilted into silence under the cold glare of Komees Pehtros, who regarded the naked, gory hunchback as if he were some particularly loathsome form of vermin. The noble turned to Neeka. “What happened, child? If it was what I think, well find this … this creature a safe lodging in the palace dungeons until Gahbros gets back.”

At an unusually loud burst of noise from above, Pehtros turned to one of his Freefighters. “Sergeant, go back out to the street and get a squad, then roust those scoundrels up there out. Use whatever force you feel you need. Crack heads or spill guts, I don’t care, but get them out!”

“Now jest a dang minit,” Froh recovered from his intimidation at the thought of possibly lost profits. “You ain’t got chew no right to put my guests out inna street. This here’s my house and them mens has paid for—”

“Shut your mouth!” snarled Pehtros. Turning to the other Freefighter, he said, “Go stand by Master Froh, corporal. If he opens his damned mouth without my leave once more, put your fist in it!” The big armored man grinned, nodded and for Froh’s benefit, loudly cracked a big fist into the palm of the other hand. Froh appeared suitably impressed by the demonstration.

When he had heard Neeka out, the komees turned to Koominon. “How much of this infamy did you see or hear?”

Refusing to meet either his questioner’s eyes or Neeka’s, the chef replied, “Why … why none of it, my lord. I was unaware aught had transpired until … until Neeka came knocking on my door.”

“The fat bastard is lying!” Neeka mindspoke to Pehtros. “Why, I don’t know. But he was there, standing in my doorway with a lamp, during that last part at least.”

The komees pointedly turned his back on Koominon. To the Freefighter, he said, “Take that piece of dung down to his bedchamber and see that he clothes himself. We’ll be taking him back with us. He’s under arrest.”

“No!” whined Froh. “No, it won’ thet way atall. She come an’ got me, brung me in here, she did. Then … then, when I wouldn’ pay her all what she ast fer, she hurt me, she hurt me bad. You cain’ put me in jail on jest the word of a dang ole whore. An’ everbody in this whole dang town knows my crazy ole uncle got her outen a friggin’ whorehouse. An’—”

He was interrupted by the Freefighter’s craggy knuckles. The buffet knocked his twisted body completely off the bed, to roll across the chamber into a corner, where he lay moaning. Lay at least, until he was grasped ungently by his scrawny neck and dragged out of Neeka’s room by the clanking soldier.

The moment captor and captive entered the master’s suite, Pehtros grabbed Koominon and jerked him into the smaller room, slamming the door behind. When he had shoved the priest-cook to a seat on the mussed, blood-smeared bed, he but furious whisper. “Now, father, will you speak the truth or two, that these may know it’s safe to talk.”

With a small smile, the tall, heavily muscled, black-haired man’s thick fingers sketched certain signs in the air before him, signs known only to sworn members of ee Klirohnohmeea.

Pehtros then turned upon Koominon, speaking in a low but furious whisper. “Now, father, will you speak the truth or not?”

Koominon looked up, met those hard black eyes briefly, then returned his gaze to the floor as he said, “But … but I have told the truth, my lord komees. Would you then question the word of a humble priest of Holy Mother the church? No true son of our Faith would do so.”

Pehtros snorted and the one called Pahvlos chuckled. “Save your verbal goose-dung for those simpleminded souls it impresses, humble priest. The tale you told me on our way here matches that just told by Neeka. Why are you trying to change your story? Are you in fear of that stunted little barbarian apelet? Speak, damn you!”

Koominon squirmed and shuffled his feet. Finally, he said, “Lord komees, you all know who I am, what I really am, and how much in danger I am as a consequence.”

“What the hell,” snapped Pehtros, “has all that got to do with this matter? If you don’t publicly tell the truth in this matter, Neeka could be sentenced to a flogging. Is that what you want to see, humble priest?”

Koominon cleared his throat and looked up finally, speaking in a strong whisper. “All must sometimes make painful sacrifices for our Faith. My background will not tolerate too close a scrutiny, and you know it, my lord. It might well mean my death to appear as a witness in a court. If I aver that I saw and heard nothing, I will not be summoned.”

“I regret that Neeka must suffer, but she should have considered my precarious state in this house, this city, this accursed Confederation, before she so rashly injured her lawful master. ‘Render unto temporal rulers that which is their own.’”

Him called Pahvlos looked as if he needed to spit. “What an utter shit you are, priest. If you are so fearful for your life, if you so fear martyrdom, you should take passage on the next ship for the north. The more contact I have with your kind, the more I find myself in total agreement with the High Lord.”

Pehtros said, disgustedly, “For a bent copper, I’d drag you up to the fortress and turn you in myself were not so many others involved. But the full membership of ee Klirohnohmeea will know of this by tomorrow night, rest assured of that, humble priest.”

Koominon’s whisper became pleading. “But I must do it this way, cannot you see, my lord? I … I have a duty to my flock.”

“Of whom Neeka is one,” snapped Pehtros. “What of your duty to her?”

“But … there are all the others who need my spiritual guidance, don’t you see, my lord. Besides, you’re taking the barbarian, Froh, to jail.”

“Where I am not at all certain I can legally keep him until Gahbros gets back from Danyuhlzpolis.” Pehtros rasped a thumbnail against one stubbled cheek, then turned to Neeka. “Well, my dear, now you know just how much support you can expect from this pious coward, and just how much he can be trusted in future. As for Master Froh, hmmm. I have the right to jail anyone responsible for creating a public nuisance for up to three days and nights without trial or bail. And that racket that was going on above-stairs when I arrived constituted a public nuisance if ever I heard one; I’ve heard Ahrmehnee wardances that were quieter. Then, too, he resisted arrest, which is why my guard hit him, of course. So there’s another two days and nights. After that, we’ll just have to see. Pray as you’ve never prayed before that Gahbros gets back before those five days are up.”

The next day, the Heritage Council notified Koominon that he was thenceforth barred from any full or partial meeting of ee Klirohnohmeea. Sometime that night, he left the house that had once been Master Lokos’. No one ever saw him again in Esmithpolisport.

At the, end of a week, Judge Gahbros still had not returned and the city governor felt compelled to free Pawl Froh, but he himself accompanied the released prisoner back to his inherited property. In front of Neeka and the two apprentice boys—those three being the only other souls now resident in the once busy, bustling, cheerful and happy house—he said, “Master Froh, if you know anything of me by now, it is that I do not often threaten and never idly. But I hereby warn you, I shall be having this house and your operations closely observed. If any harm befalls any of these three, if any of them suddenly disappears, I shall see you brought to full account.”

“Hire on some good servants. Working mistress Neeka and these boys sick will be considered harm. So will starving them and poisoning them with that rotten swill we found in your larders. These boys are now back in this house and they will stay here; in that damned stable loft, they’d have been dead of lung fever before spring. You’ll be in need of a new cook, too; the good Koominon decamped—after breaking open your strongbox. I’ve no way of knowing how much he took, but it would appear several bags are gone.”

At this revelation, Master Froh suddenly began to weep noisily, like a whipped child, and, heedless of Komees Pehtros’ shouts, scuttled rapidly up the stairs toward his rooms and his ravaged strongbox.

Pehtros shook his head. “Not only his body is deformed, Neeka, his mind is too. I think he’s quite mad, and I racked my brains to try to think of a legal means of keeping him in my dungeon where he belongs. But the law is written for all, even such as him. Be very wary of him, all of you. Should he become violent, let me know at once. God keep you all. Now I must go.”

Not wishing to chance a return to the dungeons of the city governor, Master Froh grudgingly obeyed the komees’ dictates, rehiring Ahrohnos, who had been Koominon’s assistant cook, and two elderly women recommended by that worthy. The two boys had been moved into vacant rooms on the onetime servants’ floor and Ahrohnos appropriated Koominon’s small suite. The apprentice dormitory remained vacant, for Froh had been sternly warned that any repetition of the nightlong brawls would see him heavily fined, something which he feared much more than being jailed. When Neeka announced that she would stay in the room that had always been hers, Pehtros sent workmen who fitted the door with a self-locking mechanism, as well as with iron brackets for an oaken bar. Paying them out of the strongbox Koominon had so thoughtfully broken open seemed to make the komees inordinately happy.

But Neeka was no longer worried about nighttime forays by Froh, for Ahrohnos, who recalled the unfair circumstances of his firing, bore no scintilla of liking or respect for his employer and was not at all averse to adding to Pawl Froh’s evening meals certain tasteless herbs given him by Neeka. The heir blamed his constant evening sleepiness on shamefully overheated rooms, but even so he made no move to install another lock to replace the one broken off the charcoal shed at Pehtros’ order.

For a brief two weeks, it seemed to Neeka almost as if dear Master Lokos was still alive and simply gone from the city on a trip, but it was too good to last. One afternoon, Ahrohnos hurried into the shop and drew Neeka aside. The slender man’s face was drawn with worry, and his voice was tight and harsh.

“Mistress Neeka, Lord Pehtros was attacked as he passed through the central marketplace this noon. The men who attacked him and his guards were all slain, but he was gravely injured. Some say he’s near death, some say already dead. Mistress Neeka, I saw the corpses of the men who struck him down. All of them were men who roomed in the apprentice dormitory … and at least two of them were closeted with Master Froh yesterday afternoon.”

Komees Pehtros died that night, and most citizens of Esmithpolisport mourned his tragic passing, for he had been an efficient, honest and fair city governor, with many friends and few enemies. Sizable rewards, to be paid jointly by fort commander Major Pahvlos and Thoheeks Esmith, were shouted through every street and alley by brazen-throated town criers all through the following day. On the morning of the second day after the murder, Ahrohnos hurried into the shop, red-faced and sweating heavily, despite the bitter chill.

“Mistress Neeka,” he puffed, his little round belly jiggling to his labored breathing, “Master Froh is making ready to leave the city. Should I go to the fort and tell what I saw on the day before they killed poor Komees Pehtros? Should I, Mistress Neeka?”

“How do you know Froh is leaving the city, Ahrohnos? Maybe he’s just going out to sell more of Master Lokos’ estate,” said Neeka.

“Mistress Neeka, he had me and the boys carry three travel trunks down from his suite. His iron box is open and empty, and it took all three of us to carry that last trunk downstairs, and it the smallest one, at that. He sent one of the boys to find a carter, too,” replied the chef. “Oh, Mistress Neeka, I just know he means to leave on the noon coach. Should I go to the fort? Please tell me.”

Neeka thought hard. Of course Ahrohnos should tell his tale to the authorities. Froh should not be allowed to get away with a conspiracy to murder, nor should he be allowed to quit the city with the specie into which he had converted so much of Master Lokos’ estate. On the other hand, she had no wish to be left alone with the hunchback. She had hurt him, humiliated him and been responsible for his incarceration, and she had no doubt that the vindictive little barbarian swine would at least try to accomplish some sort of revenge upon her before he left Esmithpolisport.

“Do you have a weapon, Ahrohnos?”

From within the tops of his calf-length boots, the chef withdrew a pair of short, edgeless stilettos, five inches of blued blade and guardless bone hilts. Wordlessly, he laid them on the counter, his bushy brows raised in silent question.

Neeka nodded, picked up one of the needle-pointed instruments, hefted it, then thrust it deep into the large, gleaming bun of blue-black hair at her nape. Reaching into a secret place beneath the counter, she laid a couple of silver thrahkmeh pieces before Ahrohnos.

“For the gate guard,” she told the man. “There’ll be no waiting for you to see Major Pahvlos if you spread a little silver amongst the guards. Hurry, Ahrohnos!”

Master Fahreed nodded to himself. The bleeding from the heart thrust under Neeka’s left breast had slowed to a trickle of pale pink—blood mixed with clear serum. Stepping back over to his victim, his sensitive fingers found the throat pulse. They found it easily, for it was strong.

“C’est impossible?” In his shock and wonderment, he reverted to the language to which he had been born on an island far to the south in the hot seas beyond the Witch Kingdom.

Crouching, the physician placed an ear to Neeka’s breast for a moment, then straightened, stood and stepped back with a muttered “Merde!”

The woman’s heart, which he had so carefully damaged, supposedly shredded, with his skill and the little knife, was beating as rhythmically and as powerfully as before ever the blade had tasted of her blood. Crouching down again, he gently lifted the left breast.

An icy-cold prickling suffused his entire body and the small room seemed to be spinning about him. The narrow wound had now ceased to bleed entirely, and it was closing, healing, even as he watched!

Ahrohnos had not been gone ten minutes when Master Froh shuffled into the shop from the rear. As the cook had said, the cripple was dressed for travel—thigh-high boots, linsey-woolsey trousers and shirt, a wool scarf wrapped around his scrawny neck, a fur-lined leather cap; over the shirt, Neeka noticed that he had donned one of the several old brigandines that Master Lokos had customarily loaned to the hired bravos who accompanied him on long journeys. The armored garment might even have been a fair fit, save that Froh’s hump caused the back of it to ride far up.

Behind the shuffling little man came two bigger, normal men. Neeka recognized one of them, and her heart sank. She knew what the abominable creature was going to say even before he showed his rotting teeth in a leering grin.

“Betchew thought as how you’s gonna git away with breakin’ my nose and damn near pullin’ my balls off and gettin’ me thowed inna friggin jail, dintchew, you Ehleen bitch? I thought on havin’ you kilt, too, but then I figgered thet wouldn’ make no sense when I might be abut to turn me a hones’ profit. Well, these here mens jus’ branged me half the money and, when we all gits to the whorehouse, Mistress Djoy, she’ll gimme the rest. And I might even spend some of it to buy me a piece offn you ‘fore I leaves this dunghill town.”

Stoo Shif, the pimp bravo Neeka had recognized, grinned too. “Don’t give us no trouble, Neeka, honey. If you do, I’ll feel obliged to knock you in the head, and Lady Djoy, she’s real anxious to talk private with you, soon’s you git there.” He came around the counter and reached out for her body with both hands and, when she flinched away from him, he said in a placating tone, “Now, honey, just hold on, I ain’t trying to cop no feel off you, I just wanta be sure you ain’t got a knife or nothing.” He chuckled and added, “Howsomever, as I recalekt, you don’t need you no knife to kill a man.”

He hooked a thumb at the other bravo. “This here’s Alik Dahl. He’s a ole Freefighter, like me, but he ain’t been with Lady Djoy but ‘bout a year. He was hired on after a damn drunk sailor kilt ole Djimi one night.”

Neeka went quietly. After the cautious Stoo had meticulously examined the garment for hidden weapons, he helped her to don her cloak, then he and his partner followed Neeka and the grinning, chortling hunchback out of the shop and down the street toward the dockside section in which was located Djoy Skriffen’s bordello.

Neeka made no attempt to leave a message for Ahrohnos. For one thing, the cook’s reading ability was minimal; for another, he was not a member of ee Klirohnohmeea and would have had no idea how to help or whom to approach for advice. On the other hand, Iktis was a member—a high-ranking member, at that—of the Heritage, and he would certainly be at the brothel, for Djoy Skriffen never allowed more than two of her four goons to be absent at any one time.

Even so, Neeka’s mind was awhirl with thoughts of vengeance upon the evilly grinning Froh. From his comment about his thought of having her killed too, she was now dead-certain that he had been responsible for the fatal attack on Komees Pehtros. Ahrohnos had gone to tell his tale at the fort, but it was just possible that the wily thief and murderer, Pawl Froh, rich with the proceeds of Master Lokos’ estate, might be able to elude justice—slip secretly out of the Duchy of Esmith or even take ship and leave the Confederation entirely.

As the party left the better sections of Esmithpolis, the streets became narrower. Finally, almost within sight of the bordello, a street was completely blocked by an enormous wain with a broken axle, two huge oxen and a half-dozen shouting, gesticulating men. Stoo insisted they backtrack a few yards and enter a parallel alleyway down the length of which they could see the windowless façade of Mistress Djoy’s place of business.

When Neeka and Froh, in the lead, were but five yards from the mouth of the alley, a cur dog ran past them and began to snarl and snap at the two bravos, behind. When the men stopped, cursing and kicking at the animal, Neeka saw her chance. Swiftly, her right hand went to her nape and drew the small stiletto from her hair. She allowed Froh to advance a step ahead, then jerked aside his cloak and drove the sliver of steel with all her force between his belt and the lower edge of the brigandine, deep into his left kidney.

Hissing, close to his ear, “This is for Komees Pehtros, you barbarian ape!” she withdrew the stiletto and stabbed again, and once more, nearly deafened all the while by her victim’s shrill, falsetto shrieks of agony.

Then a big, powerful hand clamped onto her wrist. Letting go of the bloody, imbedded weapon, Neeka got her slender body beneath the arm and exerted the leverage Djordj had taught her so long ago. The new bravo, Alik, whooped in surprise as his feet left the ground, screamed briefly in his flight. Then his breath left him as his body slammed down upon the greasy cobbles of the alley, the ringing clash of his scale-shirt drowning out the snapping of his neck.

Stoo Shif did not make the same error of judgment. He wrapped both brawny arms about Neeka, effectively securing her own arms, hugging her body close against his own and lifting her feet clear of the pavement. Snorting with laughter, the man proceeded rapidly down the alleyway, ignoring both the still-screaming Froh where he stood slumped against a wall and the unmoving corpse of Alik.