The Sapphire Crescent

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Emriana continued to tug against the strips of cloth that Denrick had used to bind her into one of the high-backed chairs in her own room. He'd torn them from her dress, which lay in a discarded heap on the floor nearby. Wearing only her chemise, she glared at the young man, who was sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her with a glare of his own and rubbing a spot on his forearm where she'd managed to bite him. That was before he'd wedged a thick knot of more cloth into her mouth and tied it in place with yet another strip. So she was confined to the chair, her legs and arms strapped down. Denrick had managed it with the guard's help, of course.

"That wasn't very nice," Denrick grumbled, examining his wound.

Emriana had barely broken the skin, but watching her captor fuss over the fresh wound gave her some small level of satisfaction. She glanced over to where Jaleene sat next to her, tied to another chair in a similar fashion. The handmaiden's eyes were wide with fear, and she'd said nothing since awakening. Emriana pitied the woman a bit, but not so much that she had forgotten to be afraid for her own well-being.

Despite her bravado, Emriana knew that she was helpless against whatever Denrick ultimately wanted to do to her, and his intentions seemed pretty clear as he studied her, that wolfish grin slowly returning. She desperately wished the dress were still on, no matter that it had been a rather uncomfortable thing to wear. She refused to let her fear show through, though, and kept her malevolent gaze right on his face the entire time.

Denrick stood up and began to pace back and forth in front of the two women. He placed his hands behind his back as he did, as though deep in contemplative thought. He began to speak.

"If this marriage is going to work at all, we're going to have to establish some ground rules. You know, some guidelines by which you can keep from getting into trouble, which you most definitely are in right now."

Emriana simply snorted through her gag, showing what she thought of the older boy's guidelines.

"Deride them if you want, but at your own peril," Denrick said. "For I might begin to grow tired of you if this foolish resistance keeps up for much longer. I had hoped for a more amicable marriage, but I will take what I need from you less amicably, if necessary."

The girl lowered her eyes for the briefest of moments at Denrick's not-so-veiled threats, feeling her heart pound. He seemed perfectly capable of following through with sating his despicable lust. She could see it in his eyes. The look had always been there, had always been a part of Denrick Pharaboldi's visage, for as long as she'd known him, and it was what was always so off-putting about the man. Emriana had just never realized what it truly signified until just then.

"So, whether you begin to recognize the value in making me happy, or I have to extract my enjoyment from you the hard way, I will get my satisfaction from you. It was promised to me from the start of this little venture, and I will have you."

Thinking of her uncle negotiating with such a man and using her body as part of the offer incensed Emriana. She began to thrash, jerking on the strips of cloth that pinned her to the chair, grunting in fury and desperation. Her rage washed over her, and she wanted nothing more right at that moment than to lunge at the glowering, smirking cretin and scratch out his eyes. She wanted to ram her knee up between his legs as hard as she could. She wanted to cry.

"Excuse me, Master Pharaboldi," came a voice at the door to Emriana's rooms.

Denrick spun around with a sigh of exasperation.

"What is it, Bartimus?" he asked, impatient.

The man standing there was slightly paunchy, with a round face and a flat nose on the end of which sat a pair of spectacles. The man's hair was sort of greasy and white. He seemed to be working very hard to be ingratiating to Denrick, for he wore a silly grin, but at the same time he appeared distracted, as though he was thinking of something completely separate from the discussion at hand.

"Master Talricci and Master Matrell have finished dealing with everyone else at the meeting. And the house is secure."

"Excellent," Denrick said, nodding. "And my mother?"

"She is waiting with the others. Master Talricci would like to know if you want to deal with her yourself."

"Hmm" Denrick said, thinking. "Yes, I suppose I owe her that. All right, tell them I'll be right up to explain things to her."

"Of course," the man named Bartimus said, then he turned and ambled off.

Denrick came back around to face Emriana.

"Well, I guess you've earned yourself a short reprieve. If I were you, I would spend it giving careful consideration to the repercussions of continuing to defy me. My patience is growing thin, and you must realize that, sooner or later, I will get what I want. You might as well make it easy on yourself and not anger me further."

He spun on his heel and left the room, walking confidently and quickly out the door.

As soon as their tormentor was gone, Jaleene burst into tears.

"Oh, Mistress Emriana, I'm so sorry! He's a wretched man, but you mustn't be afraid. He'll do what he's going to do and be finished, and it's only one moment. Don't fight him and make him angry, Em. Just let him finish and he'll leave us alone."

Like hell I will, the girl thought, and she screamed through her gag as loudly as she could, forcing Jaleene to stop her chattering. The handmaiden looked at Emriana, her eyes wide with fear.

"Mmph," the girl vocalized, then jerked her head down toward her arm, which was bound by the cloth.

"What is it?" Jaleene asked. "What do you want me to do?"

"Mmph!" Emriana yelled, rolling her eyes.

She gave her companion a look of patience and, taking a deep breath, she began to rock her chair from side to side. Jaleene watched her, confusion still obvious in her visage, but Emriana had to concentrate on her own movements. Slowly, steadily, she got a rhythm going, making the chair tip just the slightest bit each time she shifted her weight. As she worked, she made the rocking grow a little with each pass, until soon she was riding up on two legs each time, making the chair lean way over from side to side.

Finally, Emriana threw her weight as hard as she could toward Jaleene, causing the chair to tip once more, hanging in the air on two legs, and her center of balance shifted enough. The chair continued over, and it would have fallen completely sideways, had it not come to rest against Jaleene's chair. Emriana's hand and Jaleene's were close enough that they could touch.

"Mmph!" Emriana said, reaching for Jaleene's wrist.

She didn't have a lot of room to work, as her own arm was lower than her handmaiden's, but she had enough play in her bonds that she could begin to work on the knot that held Jaleene immobile. Desperately, ignoring the ache growing in her fingers, Emriana pulled at the knot trying to loosen it and free the woman. At first, the tie wouldn't budge at all. The girl delivered a number of frustrated grunts and moans as she worked on it. Then, slowly, she began to feel some progress. Frantically, sensing that at any moment Denrick could return, she jerked at the knot, feeling it slip little by little. Suddenly, Jaleene was able to slip her arm free.

"Oh, thank goodness!'' the woman said, reaching over to untie her other hand. "If Waukeen is with us, perhaps we can slip out through the porch and into the garden. You'll have to show me how to sneak, of course, but-"

"Mmph!" Emriana screamed in exasperation, wanting Jaleene to stop her prattling and pay attention. "Mmph," she repeated, wiggling her own arm.

Please, she thought, free me first.

Jaleene stared at Emriana like the girl was being intractable.

"Yes, of course I'll untie you next. I'm not going to leave you, you know."

Emriana rolled her eyes and gave the best exasperated sigh she possibly could with a gag wedged into her teeth.

"Mmph!" she ordered, wiggling her arm again.

"Oh, all right, don't get into a snit," Jaleene grumbled, reaching over and working on Emriana's knot. "I thought it would be better to get me completely free, first, so I could perhaps get away and get help if he came back before both of us were undone, but goodness gracious, you still act like the spoiled child sometimes."

As soon as Emriana was able, she jerked her arm free and reached up to tug the sour-tasting gag out of her mouth.

"Hush," was all she said as she took hold of the opal pendant Vambran had given her.

Closing her eyes and concentrating, she envisioned her brother's face and, when it was clear in her mind, she felt a stronger connection between herself and the mercenary.

"Vambran, help me! Denrick has taken us prisoner! They have the house guards on their side. Jaleene and I are tied up in my rooms-" and the connection shifted somehow, and Emriana knew that the rest of her plea was not getting through.

Almost immediately, though, she heard her brother's voice, as though he was sitting beside her, talking to her in a soft tone.

Hang on, Em. We're coming. Stay strong.

And that was it.

Except that it wasn't. Just as Emriana was letting go of the stone and trying to start untying her other arm, Denrick returned.

"Hey!" he shouted, seeing that his prisoners were about to get free. He charged across the room as Emriana and Jaleene both struggled frantically to jerk free of the last bonds. He was by far the quicker. Grabbing at Emriana's free wrist in his painfully strong grip, Denrick jerked her hand away from the knot she'd been struggling with and pinned it down against the chair arm again, righting the seat in the process. Then he got his face right down in hers.

"I warned you," he said. "You just won't listen. If you're not careful, I'll let them do to you what I had them do to Jithelle."

Emriana swallowed hard as she tried to lean back, away from her captor's vicious gaze. His eyes told her he was not lying.

"I was afraid you wouldn't be able to find me if I left the porch," Kovrim explained as the entire group of people, including the platoon of mercenaries from the Sapphire Crescent, headed closer to the Matrell estate. "But I didn't see any choice. Those were some of Grozier Talricci's men, and they were sniffing me out pretty well."

"Well, we did find you," Xaphira said, "and Vambran here is going to get us inside the estate, right?"

Vambran nodded grimly. Having heard Kovrim's full tale-Houses Matrell, Talricci, and Pharaboldi were all pooling their resources to fund a professional army and launch an attack on one of the other city-states in old Chondath-he was more fretful than ever about getting back to their family. If Dregaul was actively courting the other two Houses, that meant he was aware of a great many things that he hadn't been letting on. And the fact that Grand Trabbar Lavant was keeping the whole alliance a secret seemed to suggest that not everything was on the up and up, which Vambran obviously already knew. It was then just a matter of how hard the heads of the three Houses were going to work to keep everything quiet. How many more deaths would there be before all was said and done?

At the same time, the thug leader's cryptic words and maddening disappearance were also weighing heavily on the lieutenant's mind.

How could he know about it? Vambran wondered. And what did he mean about already working for him?

The thought gave Vambran a cold sensation in the pit of his stomach.

"Vambran," Xaphira said. "Are you listening to us?"

"Hmm?" the mercenary said, coming out of his thoughts. "I'm sorry, I was thinking. What did you ask me?"

"We were just discussing the fact that we don't really know the state of things at the house," Kovrim said. "It might behoove us to let you go in first, playing innocent, and see just what's happening."

"No. Remember," the lieutenant replied, "the leader back there admitted that the three heads of the households were gathering to seal the deal. And with his escape, I fear we may be too late to-"

Vambran, help me! Denrick has taken us prisoner! They have the house guards on their side. Jaleene and I are tied up in my rooms-

Vambran nearly stumbled as the words echoed in his mind.

"Hang on, Em. We're coming. Stay strong," he replied. To all the puzzled faces around him, he said in a tight voice, "All hell's broken loose. Em's been taken captive by Denrick Pharaboldi. The house guards have been turned. Dregaul may be part of it. We have to hurry."

And he took off in a near sprint.

"Vambran, wait." Xaphira called from behind. "Now, more than ever, we need a plan."

When he wouldn't stop, she called after him, "If you just go barging in there without knowing what's going on first, you're only going to risk their lives."

The mercenary officer closed his eyes and grimaced as he slowed his pace. He knew his aunt was right. He just couldn't stand the thought of delaying any longer. He stopped in the middle of the street and hugged his own arms, bending over and breathing hard, trying to regain some composure.

If only I hadn't run off, he berated himself. If only I had stuck around long enough to get a better read on Denrick. Damn it!

He mentally screamed, punching at the air in frustration and pacing around in a circle.

The rest of Vambran's companions caught up to him. Xaphira took him by the shoulders, forcing him to stop pacing and look at her.

"Stop blaming yourself," she told him, looking him directly in the eyes. "You have done everything possible to fight this, and now, whether you realize it or not, you're in a better position to put a final stop to it once and for all."

"This is where your military training must come to the forefront," Kovrim said. "Now is the time to put your skills and resources to work. We can surprise them, but only if we keep our heads."

"They don't know we're coming," Horial said as he and Adyan gathered in with the rest of them. "They think only you're likely to come back."

"Assuming they don't know I defeated the thugs that were after Uncle Kovrim," Vambran argued. "The leader got away and could easily warn them, and he said that he had some sort of mental connection with his superior, that he would have known if something was going wrong at the estate. That link very well could have worked both ways."

"Maybe," said Xaphira, "but he vanished before the Sapphire Crescent showed up. So even if the conspirators know that the three of us might be on our way, they still don't know that the platoon is coming, too. We've got to use that to our advantage."

Vambran considered their words, looking for anything he could anchor his emotions to and find some calm. He realized they were right. They had the element of surprise, but they had to make sure they could use it correctly. What they needed, he decided, was some on-the-sly scouting.

"We've got to get a peek inside the house, and maybe around the grounds, and see just how bad it really is," the lieutenant said.

"I can do that," Xaphira said. "Since I know the place, I can scout everything out without the chance of getting lost or cornered if something goes wrong."

Kovrim nodded and said, "All right. But I have another idea that might help. Xaphira can look for a way to get me and the mercenaries inside the walls without being seen. In the meantime, Vambran, since you would like very much to get up there now and check on your family, especially Em, let me do something that will get you there quickly and without notice."

Vambran was all for it and readily agreed.

As the group neared the Matrell estate, they finalized their plan. Kovrim began to pray, taking a talisman out of his robes and clasping it tightly as he closed his eyes. He uttered the words of a sacred prayer to Waukeen, then touched Vambran. When Kovrim opened his eyes, he looked at his nephew.

"You now have the ability to walk on the air," the priest said, gesturing for Vambran to try it. "Just imagine that you're walking up a steep hill, planting your feet on the air in front of you."

Vambran took a tentative step forward, trying to visualize himself following a sloping path upward. His foot settled solidly on something invisible maybe two feet off the ground. The mercenary took another step, and another, and suddenly, he was standing at a level higher than his companions' heads.

"This is magnificent!" he said, taking a few strides more. "What wonderful magic."

"You can walk levelly or come back down, just by imagining it," Kovrim explained.

Vambran strolled along for several steps, hovering a good fifteen feet above the street, then he began to descend, just as his uncle had described.

"How long will it last?" the lieutenant asked Kovrim.

"More than an hour," the priest replied. "Plenty of time to get high in the air and walk in well over the grounds without being spotted."

"But remember," Xaphira warned her nephew, "you are not invisible up there, and the moon is bright tonight. You should try to go in from the south side, where the garden is the most overgrown."

Vambran nodded.

"I'm going to Em's rooms, first" he declared. "If I get into any trouble, I'll send up a flare."

Everyone else wished the mercenary luck, "We'll be working our way in from a different direction," Kovrim said. "I don't have a way to contact you when we begin, but I think you'll know when we set our plan into motion."

Vambran shook hands with them all and set out. He tried to stick to the shadows as much as possible, gaining altitude quickly by imagining the slope as being quite steep. Very soon, he was high in the sky and looking over the grounds of his own home, trying to figure out a way to smuggle himself inside without being seen. The irony was not lost on him, but he spared no time worrying about it. Instead, when he was satisfied that he was far enough over the ground that no one would be likely to spot him, Vambran leveled off in his walk.

He took a quick glance around and, despite the urgency of his goal, had to stand for a moment and simply appreciate the beauty of the entire city spread out before him. Arrabar had always been an amazing city to the mercenary's eyes, though he usually only gazed across it during the daytime. At night, it took on a different but no less enchanting demeanor, with its twinkling lights spread out in undulating waves across the gentle hills stretching from the perimeter walls down to the bay. The water there glowed in its own right, the shimmering light of the bright, nearly full moon glimmering across its glassy surface. It was a magnificent city.

Vambran shook his head, refocusing his thoughts on the task at hand. He began to move toward the interior of the estate, peering down. He moved slowly, keeping an eye out below for any potential threats, but it was as Xaphira said; the garden was at its densest and most overgrown there, with lots of trees to obscure the night sky from anyone down below.

As he got in closer, Vambran began to angle into a very gradual descent, heading for the highest point of the house, the observation deck upon the flat roof, to start. He figured that he could step off the invisible pathway at the apex of the estate and work his way down from above. Anyone inside who was waiting to ambush him would not likely expect him to come from overhead.

As he walked, Vambran thought about what Emriana had said in her desperate message. The house guards had turned. Denrick had her held prisoner in her own rooms. He wondered if anyone else had put up a fight, had tried to resist. He feared for Hetta, and for his mother. He wondered about Evester, Marga, and the twins. It was hard for him to imagine his uncle Dregaul turning on all of them, but the evidence was damning.

Dregaul had certainly strayed into murky territory with his latest decisions. Vambran thought about how little he and his uncle had seen eye to eye over the past few years. They had rarely gotten along, especially because of the death of Rodolpho Wianar, but the lieutenant never remembered seeing evidence of his uncle straying so far from the righteous path before. Perhaps the tragedy at the Generon all those years before had tainted Dregaul differently than it had Vambran. Perhaps, in being a part of the cover-up, Vambran's uncle had blurred the lines of right and wrong in his own head more and more in the intervening years. The shooting had been the crux, and Vambran and his uncle had taken opposite paths from it. They had become opposites themselves, apparently. So different in their takes on life.

The lieutenant's most recent visit home had seemed to bring those differences to the forefront. It seemed like a hundred years had passed since he was standing on the deck of Lady's Favor, hesitating to step off, just so he could avoid facing Dregaul for a little longer. How he had wanted to avoid such unpleasantness! He and Dregaul had found an uneasy peace when he stayed away.

But there the two men were, on opposite sides of the most divisive conflict in the history of the family, and Vambran was preparing to bring his uncle down, once and for all. He was perhaps the whole family's last hope. The thought didn't make him feel particularly proud, only sad that it had come to that, and he didn't even really understand why.

Vambran realized he had reached the observation deck. He settled his feet softly to the flat surface, willing the pathway of air to evaporate then he considered where he was in relation to the interior of the house. Emriana's rooms were almost exactly below him, a couple of floors down. If he had some rope, he could get there straight from the observation deck, but he was no mountain goat and wasn't about to try to climb down unaided. Instead, he could reach there easily if he went around to the west and dropped down at the cistern.

Thinking of that patio made the lieutenant pause briefly, bitterly, as he was reminded of his failed attempt to get a true read on Denrick. The arrogant brute had certainly lied as smoothly as could be. Though Vambran had sincerely believed the younger man was a ne'er-do-well, Denrick had actually convinced him for a time that he had been innocent of the crimes against Jithelle. Too late, Vambran knew better.

The mercenary shook those distracting thoughts out of his head and forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand. From the cistern, he knew he could either go inside the house and work his way through some of the servants' quarters, or he could slip around onto another patio that connected to his grandmother's rooms, and from there leap or shimmy across a narrow wall to Em's patio. Of course, all of that assumed that the various porches were unoccupied. If not, then he would have to deal with whomever he encountered. He hoped he could do it quietly enough not to arouse the suspicions of anyone else.

To Em's first, Vambran decided, and the rest of the family afterward.

He moved across the rooftop to the spot where he had appeared before, over the cistern. Looking down, he saw the reflection of the moon in the water's surface. It made him realize how much his white shirt stood out, and how much his highly polished breastplate glimmered in the faint light.

He slipped down to the tiles next to the cistern and held there, listening through the doorway that led inside. He heard nothing coming from that part of the house, so he skirted the pool and went to the balcony overlooking the west gardens. Climbing carefully up onto the banister, he swung over the side there and lowered himself down to the next level, dropping softy to the next porch down. From there, he dropped down behind a large rain barrel and several planters that had been filled with some of Hetta's favorite blooming plants. There were no lights burning in his grandmother's rooms beyond the patio, and no sounds coming from inside. From down in the garden, however, Vambran heard the telltale sounds of men talking.

Carefully, watching where he placed every hand and knee, the lieutenant crawled over to the railing, where he could peer through the balustrade and down to the lawn below. A group of three men-guards, it looked like in the moonlight-were huddled together, talking and laughing softly. One of the three was smoking a long-stemmed pipe. That right there was a good indication that something profound had changed with the house guards' loyalties, for Hetta had never permitted the soldiers they employed to smoke while on duty. She considered it distracting to their concentration.

Vambran backed away from the railing and moved carefully across the patio to the other side. There was where his efforts would become tricky, he thought at first, for the gap between Hetta's porch and Emriana's was thirty feet or more wide, and there was only a large trellis attached to the wall, overgrown with creeping vines, for him to traverse in order to reach the other side. Beyond the difficulties in keeping his balance, the mercenary also feared making noise or otherwise being noticed. The only other choice he had was to descend one set of steps that led into the gardens and scoot over to head back up the other staircase, which connected to Emriana's porch that way.

He nearly snapped his fingers in disgust, refraining from that foolish gesture at the last second when he remembered he was trying to be quiet.

The magic Uncle Kovrim bestowed upon me should still be functioning, he realized.

He could use that easily enough to cross the void between the two balconies, and never have to set foot down in the grass at all. The only problem there was the three guards. As long as they stood around talking, he doubted they would think to look up, over twenty feet above their own heads, to watch for intruders. But any motion out of the corner of someone's eye, any flutter of fabric in the breeze, or clank of the joints in his breastplate, would alert them that he was there.

I either wait until they move on, he thought, or else I risk it. Unless I just decide to shoot them right now, he thought snidery, considering it a punishment too kind for their traitorous dispositions.

But he knew he would not attack a man unaware. He was just going to have cross the gap and hope they didn't see him. Cautiously, starting several steps back and in the shadows, Vambran attempted to ascend the air. The magic still functioned. Nodding in relief, the mercenary started toward the edge of the porch, stepping perhaps four feet above the tiles, plenty of room to clear the railing. He tread carefully, one slow step at a time, trying to minimize any unnecessary movements. One foot in front of the next, he moved out over the drop-off, then proceeded, watching the three guards, who seemed right next to Vambran, but who were in reality a good fifty paces away.

A muffled grunt from ahead made Vambran freeze. It had come from Emriana's rooms, and it was followed by a second grunt. They both sounded as though someone was in discomfort. The lieutenant had to resist the urge to speed up, to jump forward and dash into the rooms beyond. But his other fear was that the noises coming from inside would attract the attention of the three guards below, who would naturally look up to see what was going on and spot him.

In desperation, Vambran moved on, continuing to set one foot in front of the other as quietly as he could, until he was over the railing guarding Emriana's patio. At that point, he angled his descent sharply, reaching the tiles in two steep strides. He let his momentum carry him forward, to a pillar, and stepped close to it, trying to blend with its shadows.

From there, Vambran could see through the gauzy material of the drawn curtains into the interior of his sister's rooms. Emriana was there, all right, as was her handmaiden, Jaleene. The two women were tied in chairs, and Emriana had been stripped to her shift. That alone made Vambran's blood come near to boiling, but then he saw Denrick. The pompous ass was still dressed in the same clothes he had worn to Emriana's birthday party earlier in the evening, only he had removed his jacket and preened in front of the women, bare-chested. Next to him stood a rather pudgy man with disheveled white hair and a set of spectacles perched on the end of his nose, who was peering at Emriana and Jaleene with a mixture of interest and timidity.

As Denrick walked around to stand in front of Emriana, his words made Vambran's blood turn to ice in his veins.

"Yes, use your magic to make her drawn irresistibly to me. I want her to desire me and take me willingly to her bed."