Shadow's Son Part 7

Va.s.sili glowered over the rim of his cup. "Mind your tone."

Ral bowed his head, as much as it grated. "Apologies, Your Radiance. I only mean to point out that matters would have gone smoother with my hand on the knife."

"You know well that my plan could not allow for that. The timing of the Belastire job had to take place exactly as it did, far from Othir and with no suspicion thrown in my direction. That you did well, but still it was a mistake to involve the other a.s.sa.s.sin."

A spider crawled from under the desk and scurried across the hardwood floor. Ral extended his foot to crush it.

"Caim is lowborn sc.u.m who needed to be put in his place." He examined the sole of his boot. "Anyway, it makes little difference. With Donovus out of the picture, another obstacle on the Elector Council has been eliminated."

Va.s.sili slammed down his cup, splas.h.i.+ng tea on the desk. "Earl Frenig was the crux of this scheme! His daughter escaped from your men and ran off to G.o.d-knows-where. And what's worse, your dupe is free as well. With them loose, all my plans are in jeopardy. Do you know how long I have labored, how many a.s.sets have been expended, all to see this day? I will not waste this opportunity."

Ral tugged at his chin. Was it possible Caim had taken her? But why? What did he think to gain from it? He couldn't possibly know her value.

"I don't see the problem." Ral held up a hand to forestall any protest. "Please, Radiance, hear me out. All Caim knows is that he killed an old n.o.bleman and a few soldiers."

"He knows more than that. Earl Frenig was dead before your man ever entered the house."

"Dead? I don't understand. The plan-"

"I modified the plan. I did not trust your men to time their entrance with precision. A moment too soon and they would be party to murder, leaving more loose ends to clean up. Too late and we'd have what we have now, an unaccounted a.s.set free in the city with knowledge that could destroy everything. Two a.s.sets, if the girl saw anything, and she likely did. So I sent another agent."

Ral chewed on that for a moment. What other machinations had the archpriest devised without consulting him?

"You never told me why we're making all this effort over an old man, not even an elector at that, and his brat of a daughter."

"Never mind the reasons. Your job is to carry out your orders to my satisfaction, and I am very unsatisfied tonight."

"Be that as it may, it hardly makes a difference. Caim is alone now, a fugitive with an entire city searching for him. He cannot go to the authorities. If he's hindered with a girl, he'll soon be caught, and then we'll have them both."

"You mean the prelate will have them. Don't you think this thug, this Caim, will spill everything he knows for a chance to save his life?"

"He doesn't know anything of import. Besides, he'll never make it to the dungeons. I will make sure of that."

Va.s.sili shook his head. "I'm not willing to gamble with happenstance. I want them both eliminated immediately. My forces are in place. Before the next new moon, Benevolence will suffer an untimely mishap. The Council will convene to elect a new prelate, and I will offer myself as a candidate for the high office, a motion which will meet with quick approval."

"And as your faithful servant, I expect my promised reward. Our agreement called for a lords.h.i.+p, lands, and t.i.tle."

The archpriest picked up another scroll. "You will receive your due compensation when this matter is completed. Mind the task I have laid before you. I want the girl and this man dead. You may go now."

Ral grabbed his cloak and left. The manservant preceded him through the doorway. Just as Ral crossed the threshold, Va.s.sili called out, "Don't fail me again. My patience is almost at its end."

Ral turned and made a bow. "As you command, Radiance."

The soles of Ral's leather boots slapped on the tiles as he stalked through the atrium, past the bodyguards who didn't look as if they had so much as blinked since he entered. Ignoring the manservant who held open the door, he strode out into the brisk night air. This business was getting out of hand. Once he had thought Va.s.sili would be the herald to all his dreams, but more and more of late he was beginning to doubt the archpriest's true intentions. If Va.s.sili managed to gain the prelacy, he might decide that his old allies were too dangerous to keep alive. Ral had no intention of being discarded after his work was done. Perhaps it was time to form a contingency plan. One couldn't be too cautious in matters such as these. A man had to look out for his own interests.

Another thought nagged at Ral as he vanished into the shadowed streets of the city. If it wasn't Caim, who killed the old man?

- Va.s.sili frowned at the water-stained parchment in his hand.

Your Radiant Grace,Conditions in the state of Eregoth continue to deteriorate. An influx of Utheno- rian mercenaries-brigands in all but name-into the usurper's armies has foiled our latest efforts to undermine the local viceroy. Rumors of strange happenings in the highlands continue to persist. Most of the peasants have fled or been taken to parts unknown.We beg Your Radiance to send additional men and monies, as both are in perilously short supply.Your Servant, with all humility, Jacob Mourning, Aspirant With a curse, Va.s.sili tossed the letter on the desk amid a pile of papers, all bearing similar reports from his agents in the north. Some had not bothered to report at all. He was tired of their complaints, the endless wheedling for additional funds and soldiers. He was more concerned with events here at home. Banditry and lawlessness plagued the countryside. Arnos encroached from the east, and the prelate's "holy war" against the G.o.d-kings of Akes.h.i.+a in the distant east had left Nimea with inadequate forces to guard her own borders.

Va.s.sili broke the elaborate seal on the next missive and unfolded its stiff parchment. This one he found more to his liking.

Brother in Faith, We most happily accept your gracious gift to the impoverished unfortunates of Parvia. As the Holy Texts profess, surely your heartfelt generosity shall be remembered forever.Furthermore, we hereby agree to an alliance of purpose on all matters that come before the Council.Archpriest Gaspar, Viscount of Parvia After reading the message, Va.s.sili folded it with care and placed it in the hidden compartment under the bottom drawer of his desk. A dozen archpriests presided over the twelve holy districts of Nimea. Together, they formed the Elector Council, a body ordained to advise the prelate and, when necessary, elect his successor. With Donovus gone and Gaspar's support, he held half of the Council securely in his pocket. Now, if only Ral could be counted upon to perform his task with alacrity, all would be set.

A s.h.i.+ver went through Va.s.sili as the temperature dropped and shadows stirred in the corners of the room. A figure emerged from the darkness. Tall and lean, almost to the point of gauntness, he wore a simple monk's robe, black as the night, cinched at the waist by a plain length of cord. His pale face hovered in the candlelight. Its stern lines came together to form a powerful jaw, a twisted nose. White scars creased hollow cheeks, old wounds poorly healed. Shadows smudged the sockets of his deep-set eyes. Black pupils like cold, bottomless pits swallowed the light.

"Levictus." Va.s.sili made a show of looking over the latest plans for the cathedral's baptistery. "You overheard?"

The figure moved to the spot where Ral had stood only moments before. His voice, though only a whisper, carried through the chamber.

"Nothing remains hidden from the Dark."

The archpriest reached up to touch the medallion on his chest and forced himself to look upon the man's ruined features. Levictus winced as candlelight reflected off the symbols etched on the golden surface, and Va.s.sili allowed himself a satisfied smile. Sometimes a pet, no matter how faithful, needed to be brought to heel.

He jerked his chin toward the doorway through which Ral had departed. "That one grows bolder every day."

Levictus opened his left hand slightly, and then made a flicking gesture as if to say, The man is insignificant, an insect The man is insignificant, an insect, but there was something ominous in his gaze.

"In any case," Va.s.sili continued, "there is a more dire matter at hand. Namely, your failure in Ostergoth. You a.s.sured me that your necromancy could protect Reinard. I made guarantees based upon that a.s.surance, guarantees which are now returning to haunt me. The duke's brother sits on the Council. He will no doubt demand concessions as a result of this debacle, concessions that will cost me dearly. Well? What say you?"

Still, Levictus said nothing.

Va.s.sili exhaled a long breath. He was tempted to reach for his medallion again. The sunburst sigil of the True Faith was perhaps the only thing his servant feared in the entire world, having been tortured and scarred under its standard. Yet he kept his hands on the arms of his chair. He would show restraint.

"For the love of the Light, man. What is it? Speak."

"Have I not done all that you asked of me?" Levictus stood perfectly still as he spoke, but the scars on his cheeks rippled with every word. "I have spied on your enemies. It was I who discovered the old one's intentions, and I who silenced him. I have done all that you asked, to the letter of your expectations. Would you agree this is true?"

"Yes, Levictus. And forget not that it was I who saved you from the Inquest's torture cells."

Va.s.sili would never forget that day. Twenty years ago, the Church hierarchs saw the filth and immorality lurking throughout the realm and, having secured the emperor's sanction, launched a pogrom to rid the nation of its heretical pagan roots. The fanes of the old G.o.ds were rooted out and destroyed, their priests imprisoned or slain on the spot along with any others who refused to convert to the True Faith. Levictus's family was among those swept up by deputized officers of the Holy Order of Inquest. Va.s.sili had been merely an ambitious praetor at the time. On a tour inside the Inquest's dungeons, he'd noticed a particular young man. According to the jailers, his parents and brother had expired under questioning, but this young man refused to repent, though he had been tortured for weeks and was slated for execution on the next day. Va.s.sili sensed something special in this youth, as if their paths had been destined to cross. He used his authority to have the prisoner released and took the waif into his own household. Not long after, his new protege began to display certain unusual traits. With time and study, Va.s.sili realized the amazing treasure he had unearthed.

"Have I failed in any task you set before me, master?" Levictus stepped toward the desk. "Or given less respect than was due?"

The archpriest folded his hands within his sleeves. "No, Levictus. You have served me faithfully. I do not debate it."

"Then when, master? When shall I have my revenge?"

There it was. Va.s.sili chided himself for not seeing it sooner. He never expected the man to forget the torments of his past, but sometimes it slipped his mind. When he'd saved Levictus from the stake, he had promised the youth his vengeance against the Holy Inquest for what they had done to his family. Over the years, he had sustained Levictus on tidbits of revenge, the odd Inquestor or misogynous cleric, fools caught sodomizing their acolytes or plundering the Church coffers. But he understood what Levictus truly wanted.

Va.s.sili composed himself. "Soon, Levictus, if you follow my instructions. It is no easy thing we aspire to achieve. Our realm seethes with corruption. Merchants scheme and bribe their way to high position. Harlots peddle their wares on every street corner in Low Town. Debauchery reigns in the houses of G.o.d. Civilization itself teeters on a precipice."

"When, master?"

"Degeneracy is festering in every corner of the realm. Heresy breeds in the streets of our very city. And yet Benevolence does nothing to halt the corruption, but squats in his fortress like a bloated leech and dreams of past glories."

Levictus stared at him.

"Find the girl! By the Noose, Levictus, find her and we can move on to the final phase. Then, you will receive everything you desire."

Levictus maintained his gloomy stare a few seconds more, and then dropped his gaze to the floor. "Yes, master."

"Good. Now go and do not return until you have good news for me."

He made a show of comparing blueprints as Levictus retreated into the shadowy corner from which he had emerged. Moments later, the chill faded from the room.

Va.s.sili leaned back and released a long sigh. Levictus was becoming increasingly difficult to manage, and the thought of the sorcerer running free, no longer under his control, was enough to send him reaching for the bellpull. He needed a drink-something stronger than tea.

While he waited for his servant to appear, Va.s.sili played with the idea of pitting Ral against Levictus. With luck, they would eliminate each other and rid him of both problems. It was an interesting line of thought, one he filed away for the future. He didn't dare upset the delicate balance so close to the fruition of his dream. At this moment, the prelate slept soundly within the walls of Castle DiVecci, never suspecting that his doom approached on silent steps. Va.s.sili almost wished he could see the look on the old fool's face when the end came.

Smiling to himself, he took the scroll from his desk drawer and read its contents again.

CHAPTER NINE.

-he feeling of being watched followed Caim through Low Town as dawn's first rays painted the city in shades of purple and orange. He glanced over his shoulder from time to time, mixed up his pace, and took wrong turns on purpose, but never caught sight of a tail. Meanwhile, the events of the previous night played over and again in his head. Questions piled up, but they lent no answers.

He emerged between two brownstones and hooked a right onto Fulcrum Close. It was a bit of backtracking to get to his destination, but the habits that had kept him alive all these years were ingrained into his bones. When the hairs on the back of his neck tingled, he knew better than to ignore it.

He turned down a street and skipped to a halt as the iron gray walls of the city workhouse emerged from the morning mist. Strands of pearlescent fog snaked through the hollow window sockets of its squat towers and clung to shadowed doorways where the sunlight could not penetrate.

Caim huddled within his cloak as he continued on his way. He made several more turns before he reached the Three Maids. A soft knock at the back door summoned a plump scullion girl who gave him entrance with a smile. The cooks paid him no mind as he slipped through the kitchen. The common hall was empty except for the dregs of last night's carousing, sleeping off their hangovers on the floor. The morning bartender, a lanky six-footer with a floppy crop of orange hair, nodded to him.

Caim placed a silver coin on the bar. "I need to speak to Mathias."

"He hasn't come down yet. He had company last night. Might not be a good idea to disturb them."

This whole night's been a bad idea. "I'll risk it." "I'll risk it."

The bartender made no move to stop him as he headed for the back stairs. Caim thought back to his last visit, when he met Ral on the stairs. How would Ral have handled last night? Probably would have slit the girl's throat and been gone before the law arrived. That's what I should have done. That's what I should have done. But he couldn't muster any real enthusiasm for the idea. Killing innocents never appealed to him. Then again, it seemed like the whole world was going to h.e.l.l these days. Maybe innocence didn't exist anymore. But he couldn't muster any real enthusiasm for the idea. Killing innocents never appealed to him. Then again, it seemed like the whole world was going to h.e.l.l these days. Maybe innocence didn't exist anymore.

The upstairs hall was dark. Caim paused at the door. Mathias was a friend, as much a friend as he had in the world, besides Kit. He might not take kindly to someone barging into his abode at this hour. Then Caim remembered the imbroglio on Esquiline Hill and his anger returned. He was a marked man. With the city already cracking down on illegal activities, it was the worst time for such a catastrophe. Maybe Kit was right. Maybe he should leave Othir and start a new life someplace else.

No. He'd been running all his life. It had to stop somewhere.

Caim turned the k.n.o.b, pushed open the door, and froze with one foot over the threshold as an icy finger of caution slipped down his backbone. Everything appeared ordinary at first glance; the furniture was laid out just as it had been on his last visit. The scent of the exotic incense Mathias favored lingered in the air. Heavy window shades shut out the morning light, but there was nothing sinister about that; Mat was a notoriously late riser. Still, something wasn't right.

Caim drew one of his knives. "Mathias?"

He crossed the room on quiet steps. The suite consisted of several interconnected chambers. Caim parted a curtain of blue silk dividing the front room from the living areas. A short corridor gave entrance to three archways. The doorway at the end was blocked by another curtain.

Caim went down the corridor on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet, knees bent. The floorboards flexed under his weight, but did not squeak. He peeked into the side archways as he pa.s.sed. The left led to a s.p.a.cious kitchen. Everything appeared in order, from the pristine marble countertops to the copper pans and utensils lined up over a big iron stove. The right arch opened into a private salon. There was a small desk shoved into a corner, its surface piled with loose papers, pens, ink jars, and ledger books.

Caim moved to the last doorway and pushed aside the curtain. He paused a moment for his eyes to adjust. This room was the darkest of all, the windows not only shaded but covered by heavy curtains. A ma.s.sive canopy bed, large enough for three adults, rested on the far side of the room. Two shapes nestled under the diaphanous awning.

"Mat." He let his voice rise from a whisper. "It's Caim. I need to talk to you."

The shapes on the bed did not stir. Caim eased the other suete from its sheath and circled around to the side of the bed. He watched the dark corners of the room for movement. His ears strained, but there was only the whisper of his own footsteps as he stepped across the carpet.

He stopped at the bedside. Two bodies stared up at the ceiling with dull, blank eyes. Lyell had been one of Mat's favorite pretties. He looked like a doll, pale, with long blond hair fanned around his head like waves of beaten gold. Someone had opened a second smile across his throat with a narrow blade, very sharp. Dark lines of blood were encrusted on his chest. Caim doubted the youth had wakened until the last throes of death were upon him.

Mathias lay beside his paramour. Even in death his bulk was impressive. His slick hair was mussed in disarray. His throat was uncut. Instead, a b.l.o.o.d.y hole gaped between his b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The edges of the wound were tinged with black discolorations. Caim didn't need to check to know Mat's heart had been removed. It was just like the Esquiline Hill job.

Caim stood motionless. Death was an old companion to him, but his hands shook as he looked down on the man he had known and worked with for six years. He gripped the hilts of his knives until his palms hurt. Stay in control. Stay in control. He took a deep breath as he catalogued every detail of the scene. The boy had likely been killed first, and quietly. Mathias hadn't awakened until he was already dead. That gave the killer as much time as he needed to do his grisly work. The sheets were drenched in blood, but there wasn't a drop on the carpet. He took a deep breath as he catalogued every detail of the scene. The boy had likely been killed first, and quietly. Mathias hadn't awakened until he was already dead. That gave the killer as much time as he needed to do his grisly work. The sheets were drenched in blood, but there wasn't a drop on the carpet.

Caim went to a window and peered through the curtains. A grille of stout iron bars secured the entry. There were no signs of forcing. The killer must have entered from the front. He was good, a professional. That shortened the list of suspects considerably. Most hired killers were elevated street thugs with more muscles than brains. Only a handful achieved the level of skill it took to enter a locked room and kill without rousing the neighbors. There were a few who could have done this, and most of them worked for Mathias. Sadly, this sort of thing had probably been overdue. Men who murdered for a living came in two categories. One type killed for the money; it was a job for them, the same as hauling crates on the docks or sweeping out stables. The other type was a completely different animal. They took pleasure in their work, deriving some sort of twisted satisfaction that Caim had never been able to fathom; but he had ridden with men in his early days out west who would take their time with a kill, making it last while they watched with sick smiles.

In Mat's line of work, he dealt with both types of killers. Had Had dealt with them. It had only been a matter of time before one of them came after him, because of a perceived slight or a disagreement over money, but Caim didn't believe this was a coincidence. It wasn't a random murder. It was meant for someone to see, and Caim had a suspicion that someone was him. dealt with them. It had only been a matter of time before one of them came after him, because of a perceived slight or a disagreement over money, but Caim didn't believe this was a coincidence. It wasn't a random murder. It was meant for someone to see, and Caim had a suspicion that someone was him.

A footstep from the hall shook Caim from his thoughts. He c.o.c.ked his arm for an underhand throw even before he finished turning. He held the action as the outline of a tall, mop-haired man filled the doorway. The bartender stood stock-still with a wooden platter in his hand. The smells of fried eggs and bacon cut through the stale air.

"Mr. Finneus?"

"Dead." Caim lowered his knife. "Sometime in the night. Did anyone come up here last night except Mathias and the boy?"

The bartender shrugged. The tray rose and fell with his shoulders. "I don't know. Olaf was working last night. He went home."

"Go back downstairs and send someone to fetch the law. Don't mention I was here. Understand?"

After a long look at the bed, the bartender turned and shuffled back down the hallway. Caim waited until the apartment door closed. He looked down at his dead friend. You were a good man, Mat, and a good friend. You never did me wrong. You were a good man, Mat, and a good friend. You never did me wrong.

Not the most elegant of eulogies, but those were the best words Caim could come up with. h.e.l.l, they were the best words he could say about anyone.

He left via the back stairs and ducked out the kitchen. The streets were filling up as the denizens of Low Town left their homes to begin another day, none of them realizing that one of their own had been lost during the night. Most wouldn't care if they knew. That was the sad truth of it. Like him, Mathias had been a product of society's underbelly, a crea ture both loathed and feared even though he served a necessary function. Caim had come to terms with that realization a long time ago. He hoped Mathias had as well.

Despite the rising warmth of the day, he pulled his cloak tighter around his body. The hood hid his face from view. A mix of emotions roiled inside him over Mat's murder: sadness, regret, perhaps a touch of guilt, but anger burned hotter than all else. Anger at whoever had killed his friend, at himself, at Mathias for leaving him when he needed answers. The game continued, and he was falling farther behind. Worse, he was running out of sources of information. The girl was the key. He only hoped she knew something worthwhile.

Otherwise, he might have to take Kit's advice.

- From the rooftop across the alleyway from the Three Maids, Levictus worked his knife as he watched his target depart. White-gray wings fluttered in his hands.

With the fat man's blood still wet on his blade, he had waited here while the city awoke to the new day. He had taken no joy in extinguis.h.i.+ng the death merchant's life, nor that of the elder on Esquiline Hill. They were simply tasks consigned to him by his master. Ordinary tasks, as mundane as cleaning a pair of boots or beating a mattress. Over the past decade and a half he had given up on the idea of finding a challenge worthy of his talents.

Until now.

He tightened his grip, and tiny talons scrabbled inside his fist as he considered the man below. This one might prove entertaining. Va.s.sili was growing more arrogant and demanding by the day; treachery dripped from his every word. If not for the power he wielded through the Elector Council, Levictus would have left him long ago. But his family's souls cried out for vengeance. Through the long years, he had utilized his sorcery to track down those who had tortured and murdered them. He had dragged Inquestor agents by the dozens out to the forgotten sanctuaries beyond the city walls and given them over to the dark powers of the nether realms. Yet his thirst for vengeance would not be slaked while the initiator of the pogroms, the man who had devised the doctrine of bigotry that had resulted in the death of thousands of innocents and then ridden the tide of bloodshed and torture to the very pinnacle of his order, yet lived. The prelate of the True Church. Until Benevolence himself lay dead at his feet, Levictus would not stop. All that he had done, it meant nothing if he did not accomplish that.

He flicked the blade of his knife and wished he could eliminate the prelate now and be done with it, but Va.s.sili preached patience and Levictus waited. Yet he would not wait much longer. The archpriest's plan had brought certain opportunities to light. The a.s.sa.s.sin with the lazy smile and eyes like blue crystal was an interesting prospect. Headstrong and ambitious, that one would be easier to manipulate. Perhaps it was time to make a change, or he could do as Va.s.sili wanted and kill the man in the street below.

Or he could do both.

The target reached an intersection and vanished around a corner.