Baroness of Blood

THIRTY-ONE

From the Diary of Baroness Ilsabet

I waited long enough to be certain Peto was dead, then turned toward the open door. The fog was rolling across the floor. It had already covered Shaul's body and was moving toward the bed. There, Jorani sat, looking down at my husband as if he weren't certain he'd caused the terrible wound in Peto's neck. A moment later, the fog covered them both.

I thought of Lekai and made my way through the thick cloud to the nursery. Since I could scarcely see a foot in front of me, I traveled on memory. More than once I shut my eyes against the horrors the miasma displayed. I will not detail them now, only say that every ghost I'd glimpsed before took on greater clarity in the swirling tendrils until it seemed that they were the living creatures, my castle and myself the ghosts. I even saw my father, whole and alive, his expression condemning me as the others did.

It was a trick of the Seer's; a revenge for her death. I let her play her useless games, for I'd moved beyond caring.

The nursery was empty. I ignored my fury and felt my way down the stairs and out the doors that some fool-some traitor most likely-had left open, letting in the cursed cloud.

Jorani's horse was tethered to a post near the castle gates. Nearby, a stableboy cowered beneath a blanket. I pulled it back and crouched beside him. "Did you see my servant and my son?" I asked.

He trembled so hard that I had to slap him to get him to respond. "The people in the fog," he whispered. I repeated my question with greater force. "Sagra went out in the fog," he replied. ^ttI told her not to go, but she wouldn't listen."

"On foot?"

He nodded, and I let him cover his head once more. Truthfully, if not for my need to find Lekai, I would have gladly joined him.

Jorani's horse shied at my touch. Perhaps it too saw things moving in the fog-mountain cats, or cave bears, or fantastic creatures from equine nightmares. Even if I'd ridden, I could hardly have gone faster than on foot, and might easily pass Sagra by. With that thought, I ran through the gates, then continued on at a quick but quiet pace, listening to the sounds of the world around me-for my servant's quick breaths, or hopefully, my child's muffled cry.

There was nothing but the low, dense clouds pressing against me. I went on, hurrying as quickly as I dared, wondering if the miasma had been this thick when Sagra abandoned the castle. She would no doubt head for the path that climbed toward Pirie then turn west toward Sundell. I followed, but at the place where the drop to the river was steepest, I saw a patch of color against the dull brown road and went to it.

Sagra's russet cloak lay on the ground, and just visible beneath it were the bright blue pants and sweater Lekai had been wearing. Sagra had stopped to undress him. Then I remembered Jorani's words-Strip him! He must have been alive, or she would not have bothered.

"Sagra!" I called, then held my breath and listened.

Nothing, save the sound of the river fifty feet or so below me. I knelt and studied the bank. There were signs that someone had stepped off the side of the road and down the steep drop to the river. I looked closer at the road, but many people use it. If someone had waylaid Sagra here, I'd have no way of knowing.

I backtracked a quarter mile and found a narrow footpath down to the water's edge. Once there, I moved upstream toward the place where Sagra-or, I shuddered to think of it, Lekai-had fallen.

I wasn't mistaken. My servant lay faceup, half in and half out of the water. I looked close and saw that her neck was broken. There was no sign of my son.

I searched downstream, then above the place where Sagra had fallen, but Lekai had vanished. This troubled me. I wanted to know for certain whether he lived.

If he did, someone had taken him. Rebels may have abducted him. More likely, though, some of Peto's scouts had remained in the area and saw a chance to spirit him away to Sundell. I pictured Sagra fighting with them to keep hold of the child, then falling to her death when they wrenched the boy out of her arms.

If he had gone to Suncjell, someday the son on which I'd placed all my hopes would be a threat to me.

With this in my mind, I started up the footpath, but paused, hearing the waters of the Arvid begin to beat against the banks as if rising. I quickened my pace, but midway up the footpath, a shifting wind struck me with such force that I knew the fog had turned to a deadly storm. Lightning flashed in the swirling clouds. Thunder deafened me.

I took refuge in a stand of boulders, wedging my body into a narrow crack, envying the stableboy his blanket as the rains began to fall in a cold torrent.

Lightning bolts struck the water, spreading a strange cloak of sparks over the river. I glimpsed things moving on the water, shapes of dragons, of creatures with vaguely human forms but so hideous and malformed that they must have come from the netherworld. I also saw the castle in the distance and envied those safe in its walls in a storm such as this.

Hours passed. The storm abated somewhat, the visions vanished. Nonetheless, I remained where I was throughout the night.

In the morning, the sun rose and burned through the fog. When its rays hit the ripples of the river, they shone so brightly after those days of gloom that I had to turn my head away and wipe the tears from my eyes. I went down to the river, rinsed the mud from my hands and face and hair, and started for home.

The area outside Nimbus Castle was occupied with stalls of merchants selling produce and wares, and all were doing a lively business. Buyers and sellers alike recognized me and bowed respectfully as I passed, though they eyed my ripped and filthy garments strangely. I was the only tattered creature there. The booths were in pristine shape and the grounds around the castle manicured as I had never seen before. As I walked among them, I heard much chatter, but nothing about the terrible fog or the storm that had ended it. For all their interest, it might never have happened.

Perhaps it hadn't, at least not to them.

For the first time since Father died, I was terrified-certain if I mentioned my experience to anyone in Kislova, they would think me mad, or worse.

walked through the open gates of Nimbus Castle, also bustling. The stablehands were leading away a pair of horses, and there were three others waiting to be tended to. The doors to the hall stood open, and I saw a flash of color on the stairs; someone going up. One of the guards on duty at the gates ran to me, fell to one knee, and without asking where I'd been, offered me his blue Kislova cloak. I accepted it graciously, letting him escort me up the stairs.

"Such a terrible accident," the man said as we went.

wanted to ask him what he meant but didn't dare. Fortunately, I didn't have to.

"Shaul was a good soldier. Everyone who knew him is in shock," he continued. "Even though the body is being taken back to Sundell for burial, the guards hope you'll give permission for us to hold a ceremony here to honor him."

At any other time, I might have been furious at the suggestion of honoring a soldier from Sundell. Now I was only perplexed. "Tomorrow morning," I said.

And what of the baron? I wondered, but dared not ask. Instead I hid my growing discomfort and walked into the room where Peto had died.

General Raimundi and some of the Pirie merchants were sitting at Peto's bedside, conferring with Jorani. I dismissed the guard and paused just inside the door. The men were discussing improvements that needed to be done in the city, as well as additions to the wharf that served the castle. Often they addressed Jorani, but sometimes they seemed to be speaking to Peto as if he could hear and understand, as if he were still alive.

Jorani noticed me first. He stopped speaking in midsentence and walked toward me, his expression as concerned and confused as the guard's had been.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

I nodded. Until I determined precisely what was going on, the best course seemed to be deceit. "I

went down to inspect the wharf. The pilings were slippery. I fell in. The current caught my gown. I nearly drowned." I looked at Jorani's face as I spoke, pleased to see the same dullness I had noted in Emory's eyes, the same dumb adoration. Though I regretted what had happened to him, at least one thing remained the same since last night.

I walked forward to the bed. Though Peto was as motionless as if he were dead, there was no trace of blood on his bedclothes, nor any sign of the wound Jorani had made. I moved closer. Peto's eyes opened, and he looked at me. I saw the horror in their depths.

"He seems much improved," one of the merchants commented.

"So he does," I said. I dismissed everyone and sat at Peto's side.

"It's a trick," I whispered to myself. "Another vision of the Seer's, or a dream. I'm still on the river-bank, still curled against that cursed rock, riding out the storm. That's the reality, while this…"

Though I swear Peto's expression did not change, I sensed some grim humor in him, as if he enjoyed my confusion. "You know what happened," I whispered. "You remember."

With an effort, he managed to nod, then shut his eyes again.

"And the merchant is right, you are much improved." I wanted to laugh, but the sound would not have been one of mirth, or triumph, but of hysteria. "Too much so. If you think the Seer saved your life, I can tell you she's only condemned you to a second, more painful death. Think about that until I return."

I went to my chambers, bathed and dressed as befitted my station, and sought out Jorani.

I found him in his tower rooms, lying faceup on the hard pallet he had always used as a bed. Though his eyes were open, he did not look toward me when his hawks screeched a warning. I sat beside him and bent down to kiss him. He turned his head away.

"Do you really think it fitting to love your slave?"

"And if I ordered you to lie with me?" I replied.

"I would do as you command. Is that what you want?"

There was no emotion in his voice, and I knew the man I had loved was as dead to me as Father.

"No," I said, and looked away. I wondered if I would ever look at him without thinking of all I had lost with his death. "What do you remember from last night?"

"Returning from Argentine in the fog. Giving the potion to the baron. And I remember…" He hesitated, finishing with a tone of wonder. "… dying. You brought me back. Then you ran away into the fog. Why, Ilsabet?"

"To find Lekai."

"Lekai is in Sundell. You sent him there yourself two days ago."

I began to understand the depth of the Seer's power. "And what do you recall of Peto last night?"

"Just the potion."

"Nothing else?"

"Blood. But that must have been a dream. He's still alive; it must have been."

He spoke so earnestly, I could only reply that, yes, it was a dream, nothing more.

We ate an early dinner with the merchants who had been at Peto's bedside that morning. I was pleased to see Jorani eating; this meant he was like Emory, well in control of his needs. By the time we'd finished, it was near dusk, and fog was rising from the river.

"We'd best leave for Pirie while we can," one of the men said.

"Of course," I replied. "But return in the morning, and we'll talk further about trade with Sundell."

I walked outside with them, then left them with Jorani and went to bed.

In spite of all I'd been through, I could not sleep. Peto was alive, and as long as he remained so, I would rule beneath him. I considered my options and decided on an immediate course. I left my chamber doors open, listening until I heard the servant who tended Peto leave him for the night.

I lit the lamp in my room and went next door to the room where Greta had slept. Her clothes were still in the cupboard, and I pulled a servant's sash from a drawer. Hiding it in my dark robe, I walked softly to Peto's chambers. I lit the candle beside his bed, sat there, and took his hand. "Lekai isn't in Sundell. You know that as well as I do. I'll find him, Peto. I'll bring him back and raise him. That's my final promise to you."

I held up the sash. "There are spies everywhere," I said, then dropped it across his chest.

I kissed him one more time, then took his sword from its place on the table beside his sickbed. It was heavy, but I had enough strength to lift it, to hold it above him, to stab down into his chest.

I saw him wince, but his eyes stared at me, condemning me. With a stifled cry of rage, I lifted the sword again and brought it down, separating his head from his body as he had done to my father only three years before.

"Let's see if Sagesse can bring you back now," I whispered, then laid the sash in his hand and left him.

Safe in my own chambers, I lit an oil lamp, carefully washed the few drops of blood from my robe, and got ready for bed. When I turned to blow out the light, I saw fog leaking through cracks in the shutters, as if it were smoke, not vapor. It must have been as thick as the night before, but I dared not open the window, fearful of what creatures I might let inside. Instead, I lay curled in a tight ball, too frightened to sleep.

I missed Greta, Sagra, the man Jorani had been. But most of all, I missed my son. I had never felt so alone. My only comfort was the thought that tomorrow, when the merchants returned from Pirie, they would find my husband dead, a servant's sash clutched in his hand. There are assassins everywhere. It would take months to find the culprit.

I lay in bed until late the following morning, waiting for someone to come and tell me my husband had been killed. Eventually one of the maids did knock politely on my door and ask if I needed any assistance. I sent her away and dressed quickly in my best blue morning gown.

The merchants were already in the room with Peto, hovering around the bed. Jorani was with them. I heard him explaining dryly how the additional docks should be built. I paid little heed to his words, walking forward on legs scarcely able to hold me.

There was no blood on the bed or the floor or the sword, now lying in its usual place on the table. Peto, his body propped up by a dozen feather pillows, sat looking at the men. When he saw me, he even managed a smile.

I dreamt that I killed him, what else could explain this? I walked forward and saw the brown sash just visible on the floor.

As I bent down to kiss his cheek, it occurred to me that this facade would go on and on for the rest of our lives. I would never be rid of him, would forever rule beneath him. That was the curse Sagesse had left me.