The not to distant scent of magic permeated the eather. Kall-Su sensed it. Schneider did and they hesitated on the stair. A quick burst and another. Nothing tremendously powerful. Nothing to make the city shake or the skies darken. Schneider shrugged it away.
"Arshes doing some damage." He surmised and did not give it more interest than that, Yoko urging him from behind to continue up the stairs. Kall couldn't make himself retreat, despite the very great desire to rid himself of the bloody clothing. He let them go back up and went back towards the courtyard, through the group of servants that Keitlan was chasing back to their duties with sharp words and waving hands. She cast him a sidelong, worried look, but did not dare to try and implement her tendencies towards dictatorship with him.
He walked out of the doors and into the confusion of the courtyard. Men cast wary stares his way. There was a sense of uncertainty mixed with the purpose in this yard. A clamor at the gates and guards clustered there, containing some disturbance. The hoarse screaming of a man, the unsettling murmur of a small crowd. He motioned to a guard and the man ran up to him, out of breath and grim-eyed.
"What is this at the gates?"
The man shook his head almost reluctantly. "My lord --- the merchant who owned the shop down the street -- there's a crowd." The man hesitated.
"The building that was destroyed?" His memory of actually destroying it was vague, he'd been so blinded by anger. The merchants were angry about the building. He shook his head, dismissing it. "Tell him there will be recompense."
"My Lord. There were folk inside. His wife and daughter were killed when the roof fell in. Its not recompense that has them at the gates -- its grief."
He stared at the gates, stricken, breath gone shallow and fast. More innocents to grace the field of dead that mocked him from that other place. And these from the ranks of the people he had chosen to protect. More blood on his hands. Angelo was right. He could not escape the nature of his existence. Two more anchors to pull his soul down to hell.
"Let him in." He said softly and the man blinked, surprised. Stood a moment more then started to run towards the gates, when Kall-Su started walking that way himself. They opened the lesser, man-sized gate and the guards kept the rest of the small crowd of people back while they let one, ravaged faced man in. He saw Kall-Su in the midst of the guardsmen and stumbled towards him. Guards made to stop his approach, but stopped when Kall held up a hand. The man stopped a few feet distant, tears running down his face and cried.
"They're dead. Maggie and little Tryn. And not even by our enemies!! You did it. You killed them. You were supposed to protect us."
"I'm sorry. It was not meant to happen ---"
"You're sorry? Sorry?" The merchant screamed. "What good does your sorry do me? Will your black sorcery bring back my little girl?" He spat. It hit Kall-Su's tunic, dripped there with all the blood. He flinched, aghast at the hate in the eyes of such a powerless, mundane little man. The hate and the grief that allowed such a man to make an affrontage to a sorcerer that could destroy him out of hand. He had not seen hate directed at him from the people of this city since he had taken it so many years past, and then he hadn't cared. The things that mattered now had been shadows then.
"You should have never come back." The bereaved merchant cried. The guards had had enough. They caught hold of the man, gently but firmly and forced him back towards the gates. Kall stared, hollow eyed until the gate was closed and all he could hear was the murmur from outside. Someone said something to him, but he didn't catch it, suddenly overwhelmingly aware of the blood that lay upon him like a shroud. He rubbed his hand down the front of his tunic and it came away smeared with it. He stared at it, horrified. Tried to wipe it off on his cloak, but it left streaks. His blood. But it might as well have been the blood of innocents that he'd spilled. Thoughtless, thoughtless thing to do. To cast such a spell in the heart of his city.
Keitlan was hovering at the door when he went back into the castle. Whether she had heard what had been said or not, he didn't know or care. Numbly he said to her.
"The man whose family -- was lost -- see that he gets -- adequate ---" He blinked, train of thought lost momentarily. "-- give him whatever he wants.
"My lord." She was white faced and distressed. He left her at the doors, still wiping his hand uselessly with the edge of his cloak. The blood was persistent. It would not come off. He'd wanted the blood of the bandit so bad the chase had consumed him. But the satisfaction of killing that man did not stick so firmly in his mind as the faces of the people that had watched it. God, god, god, when had it ever mattered? He could not find that elusive disregard anymore. It was lost with the part of him Ansasla had destroyed. That Angelo had destroyed. For the first time in weeks he could not find his focus. The blood interfered, it brought back images of other blood shed, which he could not easily deal with.
He stopped at the half-open door to Schneider's room and stood there, listening to Yoko recounting how frightened she had been and Schneider's grunted reply that he hadn't felt a thing then, but his head hurt like hell now. She walked past the door with discarded clothing in her hands and saw him. Stopped and half smiled at first, then the smile faded and she moved towards the door, opening it.
"Kall? Are you okay?" She peered up at him, her fine brows drawn. Schneider sat propped against a great pile of pillows at the foot of his bed, divested of his own blood drenched clothing and wearing loose silken trousers. His hair was wet and clean of blood, though his eye was still deeply bloodshot.
Kall-Su held up his hand helplessly. "I have blood on my hands. I can't get it off."
"Well go change clothes, idiot." Schneider snapped.
As if it were that easy. He stared at his hand while they stared at him. "I killed a child and her mother in that building --- murdered them and the spell didn't even get the assassin."
"What building?"
"Oh, goddess, Kall."
"How do I get rid of that? There are so many innocent dead I can't see the end of them sometimes." He looked away. Felt wetness on his cheek and wondered if it were the crimson red of blood. It ought to be.
Yoko reached towards him and he shied away from her, wild-eyed. Held up a hand to wave her sympathy away. Tried to regain composure while she was staring at him, stricken and Schneider was glaring from behind her.
"Don't you dare go mental on me again." Schneider hissed. Schneider was uneasy support at the best of times. He was irritated and ill tempered from the ache in his head. He did not -- could not understand. Kall didn't know if he did. He was acutely aware of the possibility that Schneider was right and that he was flirting with the boundaries of that place he had been in the days following his return here. It was not a good place. He dreamt about it enough not to wish it upon himself during waking hours. But it was so very hard to push away once its nightmarish tentacles wrapped around him.
He forced his eyes to go cold. As cold as he could with wetness spiking his lashes and inclined his head. "Don't worry." He replied to Schneider's blunt command. He spun and stalked down the hall, Yoko peering out the door behind him. Don't rub at the blood while they could see him. He balled his hand into a fist and held it rigidly at his side until he was through the portal to his chambers and safely behind closed doors. He shed the ruined clothing and tried to rinse away the residue of blood on his skin with the basin of clean water the maids always left, morning and evening. He was not completely certain he'd cleaned it all away. It was not within his capacity to convince himself of his immaculateness. Guilt was too familiar a companion.
You're only a sinner if you believe in the sin. There's nothing that can't be repaired, or forgiven or changed. The girl's words. She was naive, but she didn't condemn him, even though he occasionally saw fear in her eyes. He still wasn't sure it was fear of him or something else. He wondered what she would say when she heard of the innocents that had lived right outside these castle walls that had died by his hand.
Lily slipped out the kitchen gates in the confusion. There were twice the normal amount of guards there, but they let her pass, used to the sight of her by now and more interested in the furor that had taken up residence within and without the castle walls this morning. She had to leave, duties or not. If she stayed in the castle she would go mad. She had to banish the memory his blood and those terrible bolts piercing his body. The other wizard had healed him, she'd heard that while she was hiding in the kitchen courtyard, but being so close and not being able to see for herself -- it made her head spin. So she had to flee.
The city was a familiar maze to her now. But today it was crowded with excitement and fear and resentment. She heard the rumors as she passed. She saw the great, crumbled remains of what had been a two story building. The shop of a glass artisan, she thought. The crowd outside it was wretched. There were covered, still forms under blankets on the rubble littered street. A man crouched over them, howling his misery to the world. Guards mulled about nervously.
She hurried past, white faced and sick. To the tavern her minstrel friends frequented, hoping they would be there. She need not have worried. The tavern was full. Fuller than it might normally have been so early in the day. The room was abuzz with conversation. The words swam together forming one large cacophony of noise. She saw Dell's head through the crowd and worked her way towards him. Allun and Thizura were with him, drinking at the bar, listening intently to the discussions flowing around them. It was the way of the harper, to listen to the gossip and the news and spin it into fables that might be carried from one place to the next.
Thizura saw her fist, fixed her with his dark eyes and nudged Dell with an elbow. Dell turned, mug half lifted to his lips and regarded her with an arched brow, curious look. She blushed under that gauging stare, not certain why she was the recipient of it.
"Lily, what brings you out of the castle so early? Don't you have duties to attend?" Dell asked, making room for her at the bar. Allun jumped off the stood he'd been perched on and offered it to her. She was not much of an ale drinker, but she felt the need for a mug now and signaled the barkeep.
"No one noticed." She explained. "It was crazy there with --- with all that happened."
"Oh, yes. We've heard." Dell said.
"And saw." Thizura added. She looked at him uncertainly. There was a hint of malice in his voice.
"A most amazing display." Dell said. "We were at market when the lord of this city took a man apart piece by piece. How privileged you are to justify such an escort through the night."
She stared, wide-eyed, not fully understanding, but realizing that they had ascertained who had walked her to the tavern that night.
"What are you talking about? What happened in the market?"
They told her and she sat and gripped the mug until her fingers were numb. Finished the ale in a few breathless gulps and sat there shaking. Minstrels were very detailed in their descriptions. But they spoke as if it had been some innocent bystander that Lord Kall-Su had decided to butcher out of hand.
"He was an assassin." She said in defense. "A bandit that tried to kill Kall -- Lord Kall-Su and Lord Schneider. They were both injured. It was just, what he did."
"No, no, no." Dell laughed mirthlessly. "Just is a hanging or a beheading or even a good old knife through the heart. I was there, Lily and what was done to that man was -- just brutal."
"No more so than any of the things done during the wars." She shot back and wished she hadn't said it because Dell got a smug look on his long face and leaned close to remind her.
"Oh and how many of those much more brutal things were perpetrated by your precious Ice Lord? Quite a few, I would imagine. Shall I name a city or two destroyed personally by him?"
"No." She whispered, having heard the same tales he had. But it wasn't the same anymore. She knew that. She had to hold onto that, because one could hardly feel the things one did about a monster and still live with one's self. She did not want to talk with Dell anymore. She wished Crayl were here to temper the conversation.
She rose, ready to abandon them to their own assumptions, but Allun caught her arm and smiled at her encouragingly. "Ignore him. He's high on all the speculation. Play with us this evening. We'll do a duet, you and I. The Moonswan song. You can do the Kaulura dance and take everyone's mind off the tragedies of this morning."
He had such a sadly, sweet smile, he was hard to resist. And they did sing beautifully together. Thizura was jealous, they blended so well. Allun gave Dell as reproachful a look as he was capable and suggested. "We'll go practice now if you've the desire to stay away from the castle."
She bit her lip. Dell sniffed. Thizura glared. She nodded and Allun took her arm and the two of them waded towards the back of the tavern room to the stairs leading up to the rented rooms above.
The one the minstrel's shared was in the loft. Bare floor and blankets, and slanted ceilings forced one to duck near the walls. A cheap room, but large enough for four minstrels. Their instruments were carefully stored. More carefully than clothing gear. Allun picked up his lute and sat by the open loft window. She sat with her back against one of the supports in the center of the room. He did not bring up uncomfortable subjects. They sang the song. Practiced harmonies and experimented with variations. They tried another one. A very old one from the times before. Blowing in the wind. She had never sang it herself, for it required layered harmonies and she'd always sang by herself. It was good to be a part of something. It felt right, the essence of the music, the way it made her spirit soar and forget the hurtful things.
When they'd finished, Allun sat staring at her, half a smile on his lips. "There's something about you, when you put your heart into a song. You exude something. Crayl does too. Its powerful."
She looked down, embarrassed. "Its just music."
"Just music? Blasphemy from the lips of a harper. For shame, Lily."
He made her smile.
"You waste your talents away, working as a servant in the castle."
"I know." She sighed.
"Come stay with us. Join us and you don't ever have to be a servant again." You need never be enslaved again.
"I was a slave. Being a servant is not so bad."
He stared at her. She rubbed her hand self-consciously. She did not want to be a servant. She did not want to stay in that castle where her heart was constantly torn to pieces. Better if she were away. Better that the thin threads that did exist were severed.
"Would it be okay with the others?" she asked uncertainly.
"Crayl suggested it. Dell is too eager, but don't fret, his bark is worse by far than his bite. He is a gentleman at heart. Thizura likes you."
"Even if he is jealous?"
Allun blushed a little. "Even so. He'll get over it. He always does."
She took a trembling breath, felt herself on a precipice that once crossed, could not be regained.
"I'll need to go back and get my things."
What few things she owned could be carried in one arm. She left the drab maid's uniform, which had not truly been hers to begin with on the bed and left in her vivid harper's colors, lute over her shoulder and small bag of belongings under her arm. She would have liked to speak to Yoko, who had been a friend to her, but that lady was not to be found. One suspected she was with her wizard and one did not wish to intrude upon him. She found Keitlan and informed the housemistress of her plans. The woman frowned her distaste and commented how boundless the life of a traveling harper was, but gave Lily a whole week's pay, despite the fact that it was only half over. The woman patted her on the cheek in a moment of affection and told her to be careful of scoundrels and to watch her purse and her person if she insisted on frequenting taverns and inns.
"You're a good girl, and you did my lord a service. Take care, for this is not the safest time to be wondering the city, what with bandit assassins and nomads in our very own city, and I promise to tell Lady Yoko where you've gone -- if she can ever be pried away from that rogue who's bespelled her." This last was muttered under the house mistress's breath. Lily smiled. Looked up the stairs that led to the residential wing and bit her lip.
"Please -- please express my thanks to Lord Kall-Su for his generosity." She could not say more. So she turned and hurried out the doors. She took the main gates this time, the guards letting her out through the portal to the side. She stood outside and looked back once, certain that she would never pass them again. And in a few weeks she would be out of this city when the minstrels left to tour the south and then she could start to forget.
Gara and Arshes were in Kall-Su's study, along with Kiro and a reluctant Schneider. From the look on his face, he wanted to be there about as much as Kall-Su did himself. He sat slouched in a chair, fingertips massaging his temples, eyes shut. One had to recall he'd had an arrow through the eye no less than six hours past and miraculous healing abilities or no, that sort of injury did not vanish without side effects. He was lucky it was nothing more than a headache he could not magic away. He was still in a black mood. He'd glared at Kall when he'd stalked in as if the whole thing were his fault -- which was probably true, when one got right down to it -- then claimed the only other chair in the room besides the one behind the desk and sat there, refusing to comment, while the Gara and Kiro discussed what had happened, how lax city security was, and what they might do to improve it. Arshes stood with her arms crossed by the window, looking impervious and grim, only speaking when Kiro pressed her to explain about the nomad shaman she and Gara had taken out. Nomad magic was earthy and rune oriented. They were, despite their fierce demeanor and nomadic qualities an intensely spiritual people. Which was what made them dangerous. They had no fear of death. No care for the world outside their own existence. It was an amazing thing that a mere bandit chieftain had managed to spur them into a pact to extend their territories. It was amazing that one had taken the trouble to travel to Sta-Veron.
Kiro discussed retaliation and strategy. Kall-Su's attention drifted from the conversation, less interested in troop formation and movements than he was than thinking about the face of that merchant who'd accused him of murder. No one else had. No one else had mentioned it -- at least within his hearing. He would not be held accountable -- just as he had not been held accountable in the past. Who would dare, other than a grief stricken father and husband, to point the finger at him?
He looked at his hands, scrutinizing them for some tell tale sign of blood. Then shook his head to clear it of such madness. Fool. Fool. He'd washed it all clean. He clasped his hands before him and pressed his lips against his knuckles.
"My Lord?"
Kiro was staring down at him, concerned. Kall-Su looked up at the expectant stare, completely lost to the thread of conversation.
"Do whatever you think necessary." He said, an adequate answer for whatever he might have been asked. He trusted Kiro. Schneider opened one eye to look at him. He avoided that stare, rose instead and abandoned them to their talks of assassination and revenge. He had already taken his and he did not at the moment feel the need to track mountain bandits through the wilderness to inflict more. He might feel differently later.
To his rooms, he retreated and sat in the windowseat, staring out over the city beyond the walls until the shadows lengthened and cast the world in shades of purple. Keitlan came in with an armful of folded clothes and asked if he wished his supper in his rooms or if he would take it downstairs. In his rooms most definitely. She put the clothes away. He thought he recognized the tunic from this morning. Washed of blood and mended of slits made by assassin's bolts. He'd rather it had been thrown out. Then he thought of the girl, who worked in the laundry and wondered if she'd had a hand in the cleansing.
"Mistress Keitlan," he said to her as she was bustling out of his rooms. "The girl -- Lily --?" He stopped, not knowing exactly what he wanted to ask of her. Not knowing what he could ask of her without making a fool of himself. Keitlan stood there, waiting, until she realized he had no intention of finishing the question.
"What of her, my Lord? She left the castle today, if that's what you're inquiring about?"
He blinked at her. "Left?"
"Ah, silly girl has the notion to take up the life of a minstrel. Worthless bounders the lot of them, if you ask me. But it's in her blood. I gave her a weeks pay, knowing that she helped you in that place. She was a good girl, if not a bit quiet, so I wish her well."
She had gone. He had seen the horror in her eyes that morning. She had run because of it. He felt betrayed and there was no good reason for it. Lies when she said she wasn't afraid of him. Respect and loyalty were so fickle. The people outside his gates had cried justice, as if he were some marauder instead of their liege lord. Schneider had always refused such a responsibility -- the ruling of a land -- he complained that it was too hard a task to win and keep the allegiance of a people. Easier to just conquer them and give the task to someone else with more patience. He supposed he deserved it. Being abandoned. By her, by the good faith of his people. It was a consistency in his life. One learned to expect after a while to be betrayed when it happened enough. But it never quite stopped hurting.