Arc 4: Chapter 4: Ties That Bind

Arc 4: Chapter 4: Ties That Bind

Rosanna Silvering, Empress of the Accorded Realms, paced before the window of her private office. The morning sunlight piercing through the glass seemed to catch on her fair skin, and gave the anger in her emerald eyes a glint like green fire. She wore a blue dress threaded in silver and sashed with samite, and the gold-and-silver tiara on her brow seemed to burn like a halo where the morning light caught it.

I still wore the rain-and-blood soaked coat from the previous night. I hadn’t bathed, or slept. I stood in the shadows near the door, waiting for the Empress to speak.

Rosanna paced to one side of the huge window, brought her ring-burdened hand up to her lips as though to chew on her thumbnail, then caught herself before she could indulge in the old habit. She spun on me instead, her jaw tight.

“Explain.”

She said nothing else, and the ensuing silence hung in the room like the aftermath of a thunderbolt. I took a breath and began to speak in a calm tone, touched with a slight rasp from weariness.

“We knew the Priorguard had been investigating a dye maker in one of the guild quarters. They were chasing a lead on the materials some of the city's artists have been using, thinking they might be continental imports — potentially compromised. Cursed.”

Rosanna’s regal features shifted into a frown. “Were they?”

I shrugged. “We know the larger guilds in the continent use Devil Iron and other dangerous materials. Evil paint seemed a stretch, but something has been making members of the city’s renaissance movement go mad. It wasn’t a bad lead, once we knew what they were looking for.”

Infernal influence aside, I knew that the demon Yith’s personal mark very closely resembled a type of beetle used for red paint — hence the name Carmine Killer. And more artists had turned manic, even violent, in recent weeks the same way the lady Yselda of Mirrebel had.

Oraise was onto something. I just couldn’t shake the feeling he had more pieces to the puzzle than I did.

“After some digging,” I continued, pushing aside my private thoughts, “we found out that one of the larger dye makers had been struggling with theft. Turns out one of his apprentices had been stealing from him to conduct a private practice in his home. Kid was an aspiring Anselm.”

I paused and added, “It was Emma who found out. She met Kieran at one of the taverns. Stroke of luck, really. In any case, after investigating the apprentice’s home it became obvious he’d been afflicted by demonic influence.”

Rosanna frowned. “Obvious how?” She’d started pacing again, her long skirts trailing behind her with soft rustling sounds.

“He was painting scenes of the Abyss and Hell,” I said. “Just like Lady Yselda.”

Rosanna paused, absorbing that, then motioned for me to continue.

“Kieran had been seeing a noble in the Fountain Ward,” I said, naming the upper-class district I’d been in the previous night. “A young lady of House Greengood. We were going to question her after we talked to the boy, but then Kieran went and jumped off a bridge above one of the canals. I think the demon drove him to do it. He ended up reanimating. I had a suspicion where he would go. Bad luck the Priorguard chose that same night to raid the Greengood estate and take Laessa into custody. I assume they knew about her connection to Kieran, and that he’d been painting blasphemous things.”

“And no doubt they wanted to point the blame at the nobility,” Rosanna said, catching my thread. “The boy was just a patsy to them, and the Grand Prior knows House Greengood is my ally at present. I am quite certain I know where he intended to aim the muck of this little scandal.” Rosanna sighed and rubbed at her temple. “And you still don’t know where this apprentice is?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “He’s still out in the city somewhere, and I’ll figure what he knows if I can find him before the veils. So far, he’s the only one who was haunted by the Carmine Killer and can still tell us anything.”

Rosanna nodded, thoughtful. “Laessa is my guest, at present. Perhaps I can convince her to tell me where her paramour might be hiding.”

Then, her expression hardening, she met my eyes. “Now you will tell me why you left a trail of bodies across half the city.”

I kept my own gaze steady, refusing to show any contrition or doubt. It wouldn’t help me here. “The Priorguard moved to capture Laessa while I was tailing the apprentice. I'd call it ill luck, but he went into her room right as they arrived. I wasn’t going to let either one of them be captured. They would have scourged Kieran’s soul for reanimating as an unsanctioned undead, and tortured Laessa until she confessed to whatever they wanted her to say.”

“No doubt,” Rosanna agreed darkly, pressing her hands to the table. She winced, straightened, and half turned from me, pressing a hand to her belly. Her layered garments didn’t quite hide the growing signs of her third royal child.

“Are you alright?” I asked, concerned. I didn’t have much experience with children.

“Just some discomfort,” she said, her brow furrowed. “It’s not my first time enduring it.” She took a deep breath and readopted her austere pose. “So you fought the priorguard through the streets, trying to secure our two witnesses. What exactly happened after, with this... Monster? There are wild tales all throughout the city. Even the palace is abuzz with them. I need a firsthand account from someone who was there.”

“A storm ogre,” I said. “I think. I’d never seen one so close. I believe it was from the continent — I can’t tell you how I know.” I shrugged. “Intuition. It didn’t smell like Urn.”

Rosanna pressed her forefinger to her lips. “I asked one of the palace clericons about it, and she insisted no great spirit from Edaea could come over our shores. The Heir’s blessings protect us.”

“That,” I agreed, “and the Choir. There are Onsolain guarding the skies and mountains. It shouldn’t be possible.”

“And yet...” Rosanna trailed off, her gaze drifting back to mine.

“And yet,” I agreed. I hesitated then, and almost told her — about the Riven Order, about the potentially dire consequences of her husband breaking it.

For centuries, the Riven Order had protected Urn from certain dark elements in the wider world. In particular, it kept the infernal missionaries known as the Crowfriars, the monks of the Iron Hell, from entering the subcontinent and poaching souls with their contracts and devil’s bargains.

However, then the newly risen Emperor of the Accorded Realms had declared open trade between the Accord and the city-states of Edaea, and the great guilds which ruled them. Markham Forger was the first to hold the title of emperor in our corner of the world for the better part of half a millennium. As far as supernatural powers were concerned, he was the leader of all mankind in the subcontinent, and that placed him in a position with few precedents.

With the backing of the Empress and other monarchs, he had broken the ancient pact keeping the Crowfriars and their dark masters out of the God-Queen’s realm. He hadn’t done it intentionally, and he’d done it for good reasons, but it still had consequences. Were we just starting to see more dramatic effects of that change? Were other protections, such as those of the Choir, now rendered null?

A terrifying thought. Urn was, in many ways, an island surrounded by a tumultuous and hostile ocean. Inwardly, I shuddered at the thought of all those predatory waters crashing in on us.

“Alken?”

Rosanna had said something, and I’d been so lost in my own thoughts I’d missed it. “Sorry,” I mumbled, rubbing at my eyes. “What was that?”

Rosanna shook her head. “Just making sure you’re listening. So you believe this creature was unrelated to your battle with the Priory?”

I nodded. “I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or the opposite.” I shrugged.

“The whole city is in a stir,” the Empress said grimly. “The nobility is in a clamor, calling for heightened guard and more auguries to determine if the threat persists. There’s even talk of this being a declaration of war, though everyone seems to have their own opinion about who from... The Fall is still very fresh for many. There’s talk that the war never truly ended, only put on hold.”

I folded my arms, chewing on that. “You mean Talsyn.”

Rosanna nodded. “Some of the rumor-mongering insists Hasur Vyke is behind this. You are certain the creature was from the continent?”

I closed my eyes. “Less certain now. But I might have a way to find out.”

I could practically feel Rosanna’s glare when I lapsed into silence rather than explaining. I was very used to being alone with my own thoughts. “The Choir has been silent a long time,” I said. “They...” I hesitated, knowing this to be a troubled topic. “I’m used to hearing from them on occasion, for my duties.”

Rosanna’s face went distant. “I see. You believe they may know something?”

I nodded. “I’ve been thinking about trying to commune with them, for other reasons too. Might be time to do that.” Another thought came to me then. “Do you think last night is going to cause more trouble with the Priory?”

Rosanna shook her head, looking strangely unconcerned. “The Grand Prior and his dog Oraise are going to have a very difficult time explaining why House Greengood found the bodies of Inquisition agents in their estate, all armed with implements of capture and torture. The Greengoods are a respected family in Reynwell, and they will make a fuss, with all the nobility behind them this time.”

Rosanna’s lips curled very slightly, and she continued in a satisfied tone. “I think the Grand Prior is going to be very cautious from now on. I wouldn’t expect any bold moves from him for a while, at least until he finds some angle to place himself back in favor.”

I nodded. At least some good had come from all this. “I’m going to check on Emma,” I said. “After that...” I sighed. “On to the next lead.”

“Keep me informed,” the Empress said, moving to her desk and sitting. “The summit begins in eight days. I would very much like some good news before then.”

Eight days. No pressure or anything.

“Do not talk down to me,” the girl snapped, half turning to glare. “I am the eldest daughter of House Greengood’s main branch. I will rule it one day, and you...”

Her lip trembled. “I saw what you did last night, to all those people. You are a killer.”

I didn’t say anything. Why deny it? She was right.

Laessa Greengood took a moment to master herself, then spoke in the precise, authoritative voice trained into her by a highborn upbringing. “I know you serve Rosanna Silvering. I understand you saved my life last night, and that I would have received far less gentle accommodations from the Inquisition had they gotten there first. I am no fool.”

She turned fully then, facing me while framed in the daylight shining through the narrow window at her back. “Regardless of what happens to me, I have every reason to believe you represent a danger to Kieran. I know that he’s... Changed. Damaged.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “You said it yourself last night. Any right minded person would destroy him. How do I know you will not do the same, once you’ve found him and he’s told you what you want to know?”

I opened my mouth, probably to speak some heated words, to tell her she was being a fool. I stopped myself, and considered what I was actually looking at.

All her hostility and noble airs aside, Laessa was very young. Emma’s age, I thought, probably no older than eighteen. She had just experienced a very sharp, very cruel night. Her life had been threatened in her own home, and she was now away from her family, all but a prisoner in the sanctuary of one of Urn’s most powerful personages. She didn’t know what would happen to her, and she had to be very, very scared.

And she was in love. I knew well enough what that felt like, and how blinding it could be. So I calmed myself, and then spoke.

“I’m interested in Kieran for my own reasons,” I said, choosing honesty. “But I also have more than a little experience with what he’s dealing with. Do you know what an Abgrûdai is, my lady?”

Laessa frowned. “I... The word sounds familiar, but...”

“It’s a fancy way of saying demon,” I said. “A spirit of the Abyss.”

Laessa’s dark skin turned ashen.

“Kieran was haunted by one before he died,” I said. “I believe it’s what killed him, or drove him to kill himself.”

The girl paced to one corner of the room, folding her arms as though cold. “...I see,” she said, her voice hushed. “He was acting very strange the last several weeks.”

“Strange how?” I asked patiently.

“He didn’t sleep well,” Laessa said, not meeting my gaze. “He had night terrors, and acted manic... He showed me some of his newest paintings. I always loved his paintings. He was a strange boy, and put odd things to canvas, but those last pieces...”

She shivered. “They scared me. It was like the things in them could see me.”

I nodded. “He’s not the only one who’s fallen victim to this thing. I’m trying to find it, and stop it, and I believe Kieran can help me. I can’t do anything if I don’t know where he is, or help him.”

I stepped closer then. Laessa backed away from me, distrustful, but I showed her my palms.

“Death isn’t the end of it,” I told her. “He’s a dyghoul now, my lady. The longer he stays that way, the more attached he’ll get to his own corpse. It’s not a pretty thing, and there’s a chance this monster’s influence on him could make things even worse. He’s suffering.”

Laessa chewed on her lip, hesitant. Then, in a voice far meeker than she’d used before she said, “But he’s still him, right? We can... Help him. Fix him. There’s magic. My family is very wealthy, we could have a cleric raise him properly, or—”

“The Church only raises the dead to seek their council,” I said, cutting her off. “They never bring them fully back. Dead is dead. What you’re talking about is necromancy, and it’s heresy.”

I saw the anger return to Laessa’s face, the stubborn defiance. I spoke quickly, before she could work herself up again.

“You saw him. You saw how damaged he is. Do you really want him to stay like that? That isn’t love, Laessa.”

The girl blinked, and tears began to fall. She didn’t scream, or wail, or anything dramatic. She just bowed her head.

“It’s not fair,” she sobbed.

It wasn’t. “If you want to help him,” I said softly, “then help me. Tell me where he might have gone.”

She looked up then, meeting my eyes. Her own, dark as onyx, widened suddenly as though she’d only just then gotten a proper look at me.

“Your eyes,” she whispered. “They’re... Shining.”

I hid my frown. My eyes always had a soft glint to them, as though lit by a dim flame from within. They’d been that way ever since I’d sworn my oaths to the Alder Table, and had its magic fused with my own soul. I knew that sometimes, when I used my abilities, that light would grow more intense.

I hadn’t intended to use any aura in trying to convince the young noblewoman. I had the same preternatural charisma many elves and some members of the high nobility did, but I didn’t like using it unless in great need. It felt wrong to override people’s will that way.

Had I used aura? Or had something else happened?

“Who are you?” Laessa asked, breathless.

I wondered if I should tell her the truth. Would it convince her to answer honestly?

“I’m someone who can help the man you love,” I said. That was honest enough.

Laessa squeezed her eyes shut, and another loose tear fell. She turned, sniffed, then wiped at her face with the back of one hand.

“Promise me you will help him,” she said without turning back. “Swear it. I don’t care what a priest might say. He is not a monster. I spoke to him last night. He’s still him, and he deserves to be saved.”

I clenched my jaw in frustration. Had she been listening? Some people couldn’t be saved.

Does that include you? A quiet little voice in the back of my mind whispered. Does that include Emma? Or Donnelly, or Ser Maxim?

Taking a breath I said, “I will do everything in my power to help him. I won’t let the demon take him, or the Inquisition.”

A foolish oath. I felt it tie a knot in me. If I failed to uphold it, it would tarnish the light in me even further. My powers were already diminished enough.

Always making the same mistakes.

Several minutes passed before Laessa spoke again. When she did, she’d grown calm as winter.

“We met in a graveyard. One of the maids I’d been close to as a child had been buried there by her family, and I was leaving flowers. Kieran was looking for...” She let out a quiet sound, not quite a laugh. “Inspiration, I suppose. It’s a quiet place, secluded. We met there often.”

I nodded, though she still had her back to me. “Thank you.” I turned to go.

“What is your name?” Laessa asked as I put my hand on the door latch.

“It’s Alken.”

Then I left her to her grief.