Chapter 25 - Falsehood
"-Two days."
The tasteful, measured opulence of Hilma's residence had changed, since my last visit. I couldn't help but notice how some of the tapestries had been taken down, the more expensive furnishings conspicuous in their absence.
She'd been sipping nettle tea and reading, when I called upon her in her parlor. Succy - Silent and unsmiling as ever - had ushered me in, watching me like a hawk the entire time. It wasn't hard to see why; there was a tension in the air that hadn't existed before, one that was entirely my fault.
Hilma's abode was a tranquil, introspective place. Everything genteel, ordered, perfectly suited to her sensibilities. I had invaded the tranquility, and the thought was enough to send a swift, sharp pang of guilt stabbing through me.
"Grandmaster," she'd said, gravely. Not so much warmth in her greeting, today; This was, after all, business. Hilma had inclined her head in a brief nod, setting aside the folio she'd been reading, as she turned her attention to me - Her pale, elegant features like a porcelain mask with amethysts for eyes, giving away nothing.
"You'll be pleased to know that the Crown's suspicions were entirely justified," Hilma began, without further preamble. Her slim fingers toyed with a wavy tress of blonde hair, brushing it back from her cheek. "It seems that Viscount Fondoll-"
Her lips curved downward, briefly. Just for a heartbeat, there and then gone.
"...has been in contact with a certain Cocco Doll. Do you know him?"
I must have started. "I know of him," I said, cautiously. Wishing, for a moment, that someone else - anyone else - was here in my place. Or accompanying me, even; I could feel my palms begin to sweat, a certain clamminess to my skin beneath that carefully neutral gaze.
Kelart, however, had insisted. She'd wanted to keep our cards as close to our chest as possible, and made it clear that the less Hilma knew, the better. I'd been the one to make first contact with the facilitator, and I would be the one to bring this to a close. Never mind that Lady Aindra would have been a far better choice - No-one could know that the Blue Roses were involved in this.
Not yet.
"Besides, you have an honest face," she'd said, and laughed as if at a private joke. "I've got complete confidence in you, Sir Samuel. Especially when it comes to women."
For a moment, I'd been tempted to ask if she thought I was oblivious to sarcasm. Kelart had sent me on my way with a flutter of her fan, smiling with acid sweetness the entire time; Unbidden, I'd thought about Climb, and felt a distinct pang of envy.
Being Princess Renner's bodyguard had its downsides, I didn't doubt. But given how the Third Princess was all innocent obliviousness and light-
Between the two of us, his job was way easier.
With an effort of will, I brought my mind back to the here and now. Hilma's level gaze never wavered, as I gestured for her to continue. At the acknowledgement, she drew a slow breath, and went on.
"It seems that the Viscount is a man of...impressive appetites. Appetites quite beyond his means, substantial estates or not. His open-handedness has led to equally impressive creditors - As you'd expect, they're eager to collect. He is, of course, even more eager to avoid embarrassment…"
"Because of his father?" I asked. Stating the obvious, really - But Hilma dipped her head, acknowledging the point.
"Indeed," she said, her hands folded primly on her lap. "Count Eike, despite his advancing age, commands a certain respect amongst his peers. If a natural son of his were to jeopardize that…" She let her voice trail off.
"Well, I suspect the consequences would be sufficient to give anyone pause."
That was putting it mildly. From what I'd heard, the old man was not someone to be trifled with - Even Marquis Boullope treated him with the utmost respect. Family or not, I had no doubt he'd protect that reputation with everything he had.
"I see," I said, and Hilma fixed me with a thoughtful look.
"Do you indeed? Then you'll understand the importance of the coming meeting; The Viscount seeks to renegotiate the terms of his repayment. Unless he's abruptly come into his inheritance, it seems unlikely he'll be able to make good. And that, of course, leaves a single alternative."
"-His status as a noble," I murmured, and was rewarded with the faintest smile.
It was almost deceptively simple, when you thought about it. A favor for a favor; Just like that, the Nine Fingers had another vector of influence. Like a cancer, spreading through an already-ravaged body.
With a lurch, I wondered how long they had been at this. How many nobles they'd already subverted. I swallowed, past a sudden dryness in my throat; Just thinking about it sent a thrill of paranoia through me.
I was no spymaster - I had no particular talent for intrigue, the game of cloak-and-dagger that the great and good of Re-Estize had adopted as a national pastime. All I knew was the job ahead of me, and I was struggling with that. Not for the first time, it felt like the water was closing over my head.
"Succinctly put, Grandmaster," Hilma said. Somehow, she managed not to sound patronizing. "I assume that this would be of interest to the Crown?"
It was a rhetorical question. I nodded, my mind working; It was, in fact, exactly what we needed. If we could apprehend them - both of them - it would mean the end of the Nine Fingers and the Nobility faction.
Assuming, of course…
"Where?" I asked, keeping my voice carefully level.
Hilma smiled. A small smile, but a genuine one this time. "Ah," she murmured, low. "That, I'm afraid, depends on the Crown's generosity." She canted her head to one side, regarding me sidelong; the silken fabric of her cream-colored dress caressed pale skin, as she shifted in her seat.
"It's always a pleasure to speak with you, Grandmaster...But sentiment only takes one so far."
The winding serpent-tattoo swayed in the warm light, as Hilma leaned her chin into her palm. "Forgive me for my directness, but - I do hope you have a substantial offer to make."
"You don't mince words, do you?"
Slim shoulders lifted in the slightest shrug. "When it comes to something this important? I'd prefer to cut to the heart of the matter. After all, it'd save us both the indignity of haggling."
Hilma pronounced the last word as if it was vaguely uncouth, her lips shaping each slow syllable. That pert nose wrinkled in faint distaste, an expression that wouldn't have looked out of place on a noblewoman.
Fortunately, I'd come prepared. Paper rustled, as I reached into my tunic; With care, I flicked open the cream-colored letter, and held it out between two fingers. The royal seal lurked at the bottom, like a punchline.
"A letter of referral to the Pharmacist's Guide, regarding trade rights managed by the Crown for the last twenty years. They're prepared to cut in you, quite handsomely."
With a delicate grace, Hilma leaned forward. She took the letter, her violet eyes skimming the neat lines of text; After a moment, she lowered it, easing herself back. Some of the tension seemed to drain from her lissome form, as she carefully folded the parchment away.
"Well judged," she said, a note of amusement to her voice. "Handsome indeed - A nice, neat bribe."
I almost - but not quite - heaved a sigh of relief. I don't know what I'd have done if she'd refused the offer; I wasn't sure if I could take any more delays.
"Then-" I prompted, fighting to keep the eagerness from my voice.
Hilma's gaze flicked to me, and she giggled. It was a low, soft sound, half-concealed by a pale hand as her eyes shone with secret amusement. Not for the first time, I was reminded - vividly - how utterly transparent I was, to her.
"...I suppose there's no point putting it off any longer, then," Hilma murmured. She glanced up, and at some silent signal, Succy withdrew, shutting the door behind her with a distinct clack. We waited, as the sound of her footsteps receded into the distance; when the last echoes had faded into nothing, Hilma drew a slow breath, her hands resting on her lap as she steeled herself for what was to come.
"Forgive the turn of phrase, but...Are you aware that the capital is home to - a certain establishment?"
Faintly, I heard an echo of Princess Renner's words.
"...a house of ill-repute in the capital, staffed by slaves. The stories I've heard…"
Gagaran, her craggy but good-natured features furrowed in a rare scowl:
"They've refurbished it, made it all respectable, but it's still a front for slave-trading. People died in there, you know? Died ugly, too."
I nodded. Slowly.
"Only by reputation," I said. I met Hilma's gaze, willing her to go on.
"The Viscount's rented the whole place for the night. Not just for himself - For his entourage, too."
"And you know this, because…?" I asked, keeping my expression carefully neutral. Careful, now-
She smiled, half amused and half sad. "He sent me to help make the arrangements. Finding entertainers, caterers, making the place ready...Such things don't happen on their own, you know. Nobles are so much less careful when they consider you entirely beneath their notice."
Hilma's gaze turned inwards. "And, of course - Men are so much worse at lying when they have no clothes on."
I must have winced, because her expression hardened, her lip curling ever-so-slightly. I'd offended her, but she made no comment. Gave me the time to think it over.
Could it really be that simple? I racked my mind, hunting for the flaws, the omissions, the slightest hint of a lie…
"You have proof of this?"
"Papers, in my safe. I can show you."
She said it without hesitation, with a quiet confidence. That was good enough for me - I supposed that Prince Zanac and Kelart would be the ones to go over them.
"My thanks," I said, and Hilma shook her head.
"This-" She lifted the letter, with a faint rustle of paper. "-is thanks enough. Pardon the discourtesy, but I would appreciate it if you could show yourself out." A tight-lipped smile. "...It appears that I have other, more pressing engagements now."
"Other engagements?" I asked, like an idiot.
"-I've got to pack." Hilma gestured, taking in the gilded, tasteful elegance of her room with a wave of her hand. "In two days, the Viscount and his sponsors will be dead or in the dungeons...But their friends will remember me. I'd much prefer to leave before they start asking questions."
Ah. Again, I felt the sharp stab of my conscience. I wondered how much it'd cost her to uproot her life on such short notice - How she'd fare, elsewhere. Whether she could ever run far enough, even with the head start she had.
I couldn't help it. I had to ask: "Where will you go?"
This time, her smile was almost exaggeratedly patient. "Does it matter?" she said, almost to herself. It's better if you don't know, her eyes said, as she reached for the little silver bell at her side, about to summon Succy-
"Wait," I said, and Hilma paused, mid-motion. There was something wary in her gaze, her pale hand an inch away from the handle.
"You could come with me," I said, putting every ounce of sincerity I could muster into my words. Trying to sound as confident, as reassuring as possible. "I - the Crown - could keep you safe, until all this-"
I tried not to think what 'all this' might entail. "-is over. You wouldn't have to…"
My voice trailed off. I felt abruptly, painfully adolescent, in spite of myself - I swallowed, hard, past the lump in my throat. "...you know."
Fabric rustled, as Hilma drew her hand back. "Do you mean it?" she asked, softly. That same enigmatic smile played around her lips. "Would you give me your word on that?"
"I-"
My breath caught. I knotted my fingers together, to keep myself focused; All of a sudden, my mouth was as dry as a desert on fire.
"...Yes," I said. In that moment, I meant it: I'd already brought appalling ruin to Hilma's life, barging in and conscripting her into this scheme. It felt like I owed her - To do what I could to make up for that breach. For that fundamental betrayal of trust.
She laughed. Actually laughed. There was genuine amusement in her voice, now.
"You're a sweet fool, Grandmaster. I have no doubt you would try your very best, but...I'll take my chances." She rose, with that dancer's easy grace - Her hands clasped demurely before her, as she dipped her head in an ironic bow. "Thank you for seeing me."
"I'm sorry I couldn't-"
"You are a strange one, aren't you? I've never heard of an apologetic knight before." I stiffened at that, and Hilma smiled to take the sting from her words. "Your offer's appreciated, though I'm afraid I must decline. Still...It was nice to have been asked."
She offered me her hand - Her fingers cool against mine - and I bowed over it, as Gustav had taught me. I didn't think I'd ever get used to the idea of kissing one; Even now, it struck me as too slavish.
As I straightened, raising my eyes, the ruby gleam of the brooch I'd given her caught my eye. In the light, the knotted snakes seemed to move, to writhe, an echo of the vivid tattoo that coiled down her slim shoulder and over her slender arm.
"I would wish you luck, Grandmaster - But it seems I might need some myself, in the days to come."
Her voice was light, but there was a grave sentiment to her words. Distantly, I wondered if this would be the last time I ever saw her alive.
"-Succy will show you out."
Interlude - Murmur
"Lakyus."
"Evileye? Is that you? It's been days since your last message."
"..."
"-Is all well?"
"We've been on the move, that's all. Tia and Tina are fine, thanks to Wolfgunblood."
"He's with you? So *that's* where he went."
"He's the reason why we're still alive. It seems the rumors are true, after all - He's really something, isn't he? I've never seen anyone move so fast and kill so hard. If not for him…"
"-Did something happen?"
"We found the Dust caravan. But it was a trap: They had Davernoch with them. Undead, too. Even a skeletal dragon, like in-"
"...E-Rantel, yes. Zurrenorn. Wolfgunblood was there, too - Do you think there's a connection?"
"Who knows? 'Endless Crimson Rain' exploded him before we could ask any questions."
"That's unfortunate - But at least the Six Arms are down a member, now. What do you have to go on?"
"Tina's found a trail. They'll have covered their tracks, but...There just might be a chance."
"-And Wolfgunblood?"
"He says he'll do whatever we ask. Honestly, he probably thinks he has a chance with Tia. Or Tina. Both, maybe."
"...You don't like him, do you?"
"He's too smooth. Too polished. Something about him doesn't feel right - I can't quite put my finger on it. No, rather...He reminds me of someone I knew, a long, long time ago."
"..."
"Lakyus?"
"Wait - Don't tell me…!"
"T, that's not important right now. The delegation from the Holy Kingdom - We've got their full support. That Grandmaster of theirs...He seems earnest. I'm not sure if we can trust him, but that Holy Sword of his - It's the real thing."
"What do you make of him?"
"-Honestly, I'd have preferred to work with Commander Remedios. This 'Order of Yggdrasil'...If he was all the Holy Kingdom could spare, things must be truly desperate. Climb, at least, gets on well with him."
"Did you say-"
"-Evileye?"
"...Nothing. It's nothing."
"Lakyus, I think your guess was right. I don't think this is about Dust at all. The Nine Fingers are planning something - Whatever it is, it has to be stopped."
"If you need our help-"
"No. The four of us will be fine. The timing of this, though...Something's not right."
"-I agree. The raid's in two days: One way or another, we'll find out soon. Is there anything else?"
"Just one more thing. You're still in touch with the old woman, right?"
"You know she doesn't like to be called that. But yes."
"It may be nothing. But, just in case-"
"...There's a message I need to send her."
Interlude - The Night Shift
At night, the meat chiller was a grim place. The magic that kept the warehouse cold - maintained at substantial expense - gave it a sepulchral, sinister air; the ravages of time gave it a dilapidated, unclean appearance, and the clammy fog that rose from the river that ran through Re-Estize didn't help.
The paint-scabbed doors creaked as Uwe turned the key in the lock, his boots crunching through the faint patina of hoarfrost underfoot. Cold as it was outside, it was colder here; He worked his hands in their gloves, blew on them for all the good it did.
He didn't want to be here, not at this hour. Esmail paid him a handful of silvers every month to turn a blind eye to the comings and goings, to make sure that the place was given a wide berth. Uwe wasn't stupid - With the Annual War on the horizon, meat was at a premium, and the halfway decent beef went right from places like this to the black market. It was a harmless sideline, which meant that his conscience was clear, and the payoff was better than good; If it was up to him, he'd never darken this place's doors.
But he'd had...misgivings. In his line of business, there was never a good time for a man to grow a conscience. His concerns were rather more down-to-earth: The volume of cargo had doubled, then tripled - Crates of meat ready for the cold-store, packed and sealed. He'd been paid double his going rate, but the sheer quantity disturbed him…
-That, and the smell.
The miasma - for want of a better word - had been growing, over the past few weeks. This close to the river, things got waterlogged, damp...But the few times he'd dropped by, to make sure that all the right palms were greased, that everything was in order, he'd sensed it.
Uwe considered himself a cautious man. A little rancid meat never hurt anyone, but if it someone was spreading sickness, spreading plague...The City Watch didn't look kindly on that kind of thing. A man could end up on the gallows for that, bribe or no bribe.
That was what he told himself, as he made his way forward, the gloom lit only by the naphtha flicker of his lantern. Lank pieces of meat hung from hooks, slabs of frozen beef and pork, others lying turgid and slimy in half-open crates. Here, at least, all was in order; He made his way forward, one slow step at a time, pushing past the hanging carcasses the way a man pushes his way through the crowd-
There. The back room. The one place he hadn't searched, not yet.
They'd changed the lock, but he'd made a copy of the key. Leverage, he'd told himself at the time, but it was really just caution. A braver man might have tried to skim a little off the top, asked for a little more, maybe set aside a few for himself...But Uwe knew better than to push his luck.
Then what do you call this? a tiny voice whispered in the back of his mind, and he clamped down on it ruthlessly. He had to do this, or flee screaming into the night - With each step, his sense of unease only grew. As the door squealed open on rusty hinges, the heavy padlock clattering as it bounced - once - off the stone, he cringed instinctively at the noise, the hollow sound echoing from the walls…
A beat.
Another.
Nothing.
Uwe uncurled from his petrified crouch, and began to breathe again.
Through the door, the smell hit him full-force. It wasn't bad, not really - He couldn't quite describe it as a stench. But there was something in it that made his skin crawl, as the swaying light of his lantern darted over the piles of neatly-stacked crates. All sealed, all innocuous, except for…
He heard: Drip.
Cold or not, water - or something like it - was seeping out of the crates. His boots splashed in the growing puddle, as he drew closer; Now he could smell it, a rank, spoilt smell like-
Like-
A terrible suspicion seized him. Breathing through his mouth, his mind whirling, he unshipped his crowbar, slid it beneath the lid, and applied force. It took a push and a grunt of exertion, but it gave - Far easier than he could have expected, so abruptly his feet nearly skidded on the meltwater underfoot.
The smell, immediately, got demonstrably worse. It was almost palpable in its foulness, as abrupt as a fist in the face - Rot, grave-earth, necrosis. Even as the lid clattered to the side, Uwe felt the back of his throat burn, his eyes watering as he gagged, waving a hand in front of his face to clear the air-
He would've given a king's ransom not to look.
He looked anyway.
There was a corpse inside the crate. Pallid, grey-skinned, curled up like some obscene fetus, it was naked - Entirely hairless, the lips had peeled back from the skull, exposing pointed and shockingly white teeth. The proportions were all wrong, the limbs elongated and warped; the fingers ended in long claws, in calcified talons, that stretched all the way to the ground.
"No," Uwe said, out loud, and it stirred. Pale lids opened, revealing the hollow sockets beneath; Like bottomless pits, like holes into infinity, weeping trails of smoke.
He backed away, as the abomination rose from its resting place - Unfurling itself, as if it had merely been sleeping. It moved with a terrible silence, with a fluid grace - a purpose - that made it all the more terrible.
"No-!"
Uwe lunged for the door, but the bodak was far too fast. A blur of grey, it reached him in a second, and seized him by the throat. Yellowed claws bit into his neck, and pinned him down.
He had time to scream, just once. His heels drummed the ground, nails raking long lines in dead flesh as the iron grip tightened on his throat.
He was still alive when it began to eat him.
Next: Before the Storm