Thieves of Blood

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Makala awoke upon a soft mattress covered by a satin sheet that felt more luxurious than anything she’d ever known. The room was lit by the gentle glow of a lantern sitting on top of a dressing table of highly polished wood. A gold-framed mirror hung above the table next to a huge jewelry box with the lid raised. The box had to be kept open because of the massive mound of jewelry spilling over the sides: pearls, diamonds, rubies, opals, and shimmering crystals that Makala suspected might be miniature dragonshards. In the corner of the room was a tall wardrobe, its doors partially open to reveal the ornate gowns hanging inside. Other than these things, the room, hewn from the same smooth rock as the rest of Grimwall, was bare of furnishings and possessions.

This was Jarlain’s room, though it seemed the woman wasn’t here. After Erdis Cai had given Jarlain charge of Makala, the pale raven-haired beauty had escorted her though the corridors of Grimwall to her own quarters. She’d chatted along the way as if the two of them were old friends instead of captor and prisoner. When they’d reached Jarlain’s room, a meal was waiting for them-shark steaks and white wine on silver platters laid out upon Jarlain’s dresser. It had been so long since Makala had eaten that she couldn’t keep from salivating as soon as she smelled the freshly cooked fish. She’d eaten her own portion and then, at Jarlain’s insistence, the other woman’s as well. With a belly full of food and too much wine, Makala had found herself becoming increasingly drowsy. She barely remembered Jarlain helping her undress and get into bed.

Had she been drugged? Makala wondered. No, she decided. She felt no ill aftereffects. Most likely she’d simply been exhausted due to hunger and fatigue.

She sat up, the sheet slipping down to reveal her bare chest. She glanced around the room but didn’t see her clothes. Considering how filthy they’d become, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. What was a bad thing was that she also didn’t see any weapons. She supposed she could use the lantern if necessary, assuming it used fire and oil to produce light instead of magic, and if she rifled through the jewelry box she might find some brooches with sharp fastening pins. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

She started to get out of bed, then the door opened and Jarlain entered. Despite her wardrobe full of clothes and her box overflowing with obscenely expensive jewelry, the woman was dressed in the same red leather bustier and black skirt she’d been wearing when Makala had arrived.

Jarlain smiled, unaffected by Makala’s nakedness. “Good morning, or since the sun set a short time ago, perhaps I should say good evening.” The woman carried a pile of folded clothing.

She crossed over to the bed and set the clothes down next to Makala. “I had one of the new servants launder them for you. The woman was given explicit instructions to take extra care with your outfit, but the fool still managed to tear a hole in one of the knees of your leggings. She repaired it, of course, under my extremely strict supervision, but I’m afraid she did only an adequate job.”

“It’s fine,” Makala said without really looking at the leggings. “Fashion has never been one of my primary concerns, especially when I’m being held prisoner.”

Jarlain smiled. “You amuse me, Makala. You really do.”

“You can’t imagine how happy I am to hear that.” Makala threw off the rest of the sheet and began getting dressed.

“The wash-woman will be punished, naturally,” Jarlain said. “Perhaps I made a mistake assigning the old shifter to laundry duty, but then I can only choose from those Onkar and his crew bring me.”

Makala stopped dressing and turned to look at Jarlain. “This elderly shifter… was her name Zabeth?”

Jarlain gave Makala a quizzical look. “Perhaps. I don’t know any of the servants’ names. Once they come here, they no longer have any use for names.”

Makala had to quell a sudden urge to lash out with her fist and break Jarlain’s jaw, but as satisfying as giving into that impulse might be, she knew it wouldn’t improve her situation. If she were to have a chance to survive Grimwall, let alone escape, she needed to remain calm and learn as much about this place and those who ruled it as possible. If she did find a way to escape, she vowed that she’d find Zabeth and take the old woman with her.

Makala finished dressing then checked her hair in the mirror-not much she could do with it without taking a long, hot bath first. She noted the reflection of Jarlain sitting on the bed, giving one more bit of proof that the woman wasn’t a vampire.

Makala turned around to face Jarlain. “What now?”

“Erdis intends to give you a guided tour of our home a bit later, but he thought it might be nice if we had a chance to chat first.” She patted the bed beside her, indicating that she wanted Makala to sit.

Makala pulled the chair out from the dressing table, turned it around so it faced the bed, and sat on that instead. If Jarlain was upset by this small display of defiance, she didn’t show it.

“As you’ve no doubt ascertained by now, I am responsible for the day-to-day operation of Grimwall itself. Onkar commands the Black Fleet, and Erdis-”

“Commands both of you,” Makala said.

Jarlain smiled, but her eyes glittered like chips of ice. “Indeed. I also have the honor of serving my master in one additional capacity. You see, Onkar and his raiders sail the Principalities to procure much-needed supplies for Grimwall, and chief among those supplies are people.”

Jarlain said this so matter-of-factly that Makala felt a chill ripple down her spine. The woman might not be a vampire, but that didn’t make her any less dangerous than one.

“We need servants,” Jarlain continued, “and we also need a certain amount of nourishment for Erdis, Onkar, and the others.”

Others? What others? The only vampires Makala had seen in Grimwall thus far were Erdis Cai and Onkar, so who where these others of which Jarlain spoke?

“We also have need for… special individuals, ones who possess extremely strong spirits. It is my task to identify these people for Erdis.”

Makala wasn’t liking the sound of this. “And I’m one of these ‘special' people?”

Jarlain shrugged. “Onkar thinks you might be, and so does Erdis, but that’s for me to determine.”

“Say you find out that I am one of these people you’re looking for, one with a strong spirit, whatever that means. What then?”

Jarlain smiled. She rose from the bed and walked over to kneel next to Makala. Jarlain then reached out to take hold of her hands. “Now let’s not get ahead of ourselves, dear.”

Jarlain’s grip tightened, and Makala tried to pull away, but she couldn’t. It was as if she were no longer in control of her own body. She felt a presence in her mind, an intruder, like a thief who had broken into a locked home and was moving stealthily at first but with increasing boldness and confidence as he began searching for something of value to take. Makala hadn’t felt anything like it since the day she had lain on the obsidian table in front of the altar of the Dark Six in the basement of Emon Gorsedd’s manor. Part of her was terrified and outraged at this loss of control, but part of her, a part which had been so lonely since the exorcism of her evil spirit, welcomed it.

Then she felt herself falling into darkness. Down, down, down…

She hid in the shadows of the alleyway between two buildings, one belonging to a bookseller, the other a mapmaker. This part of Sharn lay close to Morgrave University, and though it was late, the streets remained crowded. That came as little surprise, since the City of Towers never slept. The pedestrians were primarily students, Makala guessed, given their scholars’ robes and youthful age. They traveled in loud, laughing packs as they searched for distractions on their various quests for amusement. The noise and commotion of the students didn’t bother her, however. Quite the opposite. They would provide excellent cover while she went about her work.

The alley was cleaner than she’d expected, with just a few scattered bits of trash about-apple cores, crumpled vellum, a few chicken bones that had been picked clean by vermin-but there were no rats here now, and the ground was thankfully clean of urine and feces. This wasn’t the first time Emon had dispatched her to Sharn, but it was the first time that her assigned task had brought her to this part of the city. It was certainly a step up from the working-class section of Cliffside, where she’d worked before. Maybe if she were lucky, the next time she was sent to Sharn, she’d get the chance to work in the Skyway, where only the wealthiest citizens lived.

The mapmaker’s shop was closed, but Makala knew the man was still inside, waiting for a courier who was due to arrive sometime before midnight. Makala had no idea what the courier carried or why the mapmaker preferred to have it delivered after business hours. Her orders were simple: when the courier arrived, kill him before he entered the shop, take the leather pouch he was to deliver to the mapmaker, and bring it back to Emon, and that’s precisely what she intended to do.

She heard nothing, but she felt air move lightly across the back of her neck, and she knew she was no longer alone in the alley. Without hesitation, she drew a dagger, whirled about, and threw it at the newcomer.

The blade flew straight at the man’s heart, but he didn’t so much as flinch. His hand swept up in a blur, and there was a metallic clang as he deflected her dagger with one of his own. Makala’s blade struck the outer brick wall of the bookseller’s shop, then fell to the ground, point dented, the knife now just one more bit of detritus in the alley.

Still holding onto his dagger, the man approached her. He was dressed all in black and wore a traveler’s cloak with the hood pulled up to conceal his features. Despite the hood and the alley’s gloom, Makala knew who it was. How could she not?

“Diran!” she whispered. Even the surprise of seeing him wasn’t enough to make her break training and call out to him in a normal voice.

The man reached up with his free hand and drew back his hood. “Hello, Makala. Good to see you.”

Makala wanted to rush forward and embrace Diran, but there was something different about him. His voice, his eyes… plus he still held that dagger.

“What happened to you?” she asked. “You disappeared after being sent to kill that magewright’s daughter.”

“She was but a child, and an innocent one at that,” Diran said. “I couldn’t kill her.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d feared Diran had met with foul play, though she’d still held out hope that he would return to her alive. Now, to hear that he’d purposely abandoned his assignment…

“She was nothing more than a job, Diran. Emon accepted a contract on her, and he sent you to carry it out.”

Diran smiled sadly. “I couldn’t.”

“I could and I did. Emon sent me to finish the job.”

Her words seemed to strike Diran with the force of a physical blow. Shock and sorrow registered on his face.

“Makala… she was no more than five…”

Makala shrugged. “And now she’ll never reach six. Death comes to all of us eventually. It just came to her a little sooner.”

“Don’t quote Emon’s words to me! I know them just as well as you!” He was almost shouting now, his hand gripping the dagger so tightly his knuckles were white.

“You’ve become so emotional, Diran, I don’t…” She trailed off as she realized what had happened to him. “You no longer possess your dark spirit!”

“You mean, it no longer possesses me,” Diran corrected, “but yes, I am free of the foul thing.”

“Foul? Diran, the dark spirit is a great gift! It sharpens the mind, strengthens the will-”

“Hardens the heart,” Diran said grimly.

She nodded. “Necissarily so. Without it, we would be lost.”

“I am without it, and for the first time in a very long while, I don’t feel lost at all. I’ve… found a new purpose, Makala, a new place to study, a new teacher… I’ve come to ask you to forget the man you’ve come here to kill, to forget the Brotherhood, forget Emon, and come with me. My new teacher freed me of my dark spirit, and he can do the same for you.”

Diran sounded almost as if he were pleading now, and his display of emotional weakness disgusted her, or rather, it disgusted the dark thing that dwelled within her, but as there was little difference between her spirit and its, it amounted to the same.

“Don’t be foolish, Diran. Let me finish this job, and then I’ll take you back home. Perhaps Quellin can-”

“I’ll never permit another entity to possess me,” Diran said. “I’d rather die first.”

Despite the fact that he still held the dagger, Makala moved closer and put her arms around his waist. “Diran, listen to yourself. The loss of your Other has unbalanced your mind. You’re not thinking clearly.” She gave him a quick kiss on the end of his nose before releasing his waist and stepping back. “Now just wait here and be silent. My target is due any-”

“The courier isn’t coming,” Diran interrupted. “In order to find you, I had to discover what your assignment was. I intercepted the courier before I came here and warned him off. By now he’s likely aboard an airship and making ready to depart the city.”

Cold fury surged through Makala. “I have never failed a job!”

“Until now,” Diran said.

Kill him! She heard the thought in her own voice, but she knew it belonged to the Other.

I can’t… It’s Diran. I love him!

The fury continued to build inside her, overshadowing all other feeling, all other thought. When it was done, all that remained was the desire to slay a traitor to the Brotherhood of the Blade.

She reached for her sword, but she’d only managed to pull it halfway out of the scabbard before Diran reached into his cloak, brought out a dagger, and flicked it toward her with a smooth, graceful motion.

The last thing she remembered seeing was Diran’s tear-filled eyes.

“How delightfully tragic!”

Jarlain let go of Makala’s hands. Feeling weak as a newborn infant, Makala rose from the chair, staggered over to the bed, and flopped down onto the mattress. She immediately tried to rise again, but her body was too weak and refused to obey her.

Jarlain came over and patted her on the leg. “Don’t worry. The fatigue will pass soon and you’ll be able to move again.”

Jarlain crossed to her dressing table, turned the chair back around, and sat down. She picked up a pearl-handled brush and began to run it through her long, raven-colored hair, gazing at her reflection as she stroked. The woman’s normally pale face was slightly flushed and she wore a lazy, dreamy smile. Makala thought she looked like a woman who’d just experienced a most pleasurable session of lovemaking.

“Of course, Diran threw the dagger hilt-first, and you were struck on the head and rendered unconscious. When you came to, it was well past midnight and Diran was gone.”

Makala was just barely able to make her mouth and voice work well enough to answer. “Y-yes.”

“And that’s the last you saw of him.” Jarlain paused in her brushing to glance at Makala in the mirror. “For a while, at least.”

Makala wondered just how much knowledge Jarlain had pulled from her mind. Did she know of her reunion with Diran? Port Verge? Did she know Diran had become a priest of the Silver Flame, and even now he and Ghaji might well be on their way to rescue her?

Jarlain resumed brushing her hair with long, slow strokes. “I must say, this Emon Gorsedd of yours sounds like a most intriguing character, and the way he controls his assassins by implanting an evil spirit inside them is most ingenious, but like Diran, you no longer have your ‘Other’. Unlike him, you didn’t choose to give yours up. You lost yours.”

Jarlain continued brushing in silence for several moments. Makala was beginning to regain control of her body slowly but surely, and she managed to push herself up into a sitting position by the time Jarlain put the brush down on her dressing table and turned to face her.

“Do you know why Erdis values my services? I possess the ability to reach into someone’s mind and root out her most secret fears.” She smiled. “Of course, I have other talents as well.”

Makala thought of how Jarlain had touched her in Erdis Cai’s vast trophy chamber, and how she’d felt a paralyzing, overwhelming fear.

“The little memory drama you were so kind as to share with me taught me a great deal about you, Makala. I now know what your two greatest fears are, and believe me, they’re juicy ones. Would you like to hear?”

“Can I keep you from telling me?”

Jarlain laughed with dark delight. “Not at all! There are two main themes that are embedded in that particular memory. One is that of the dark spirits. Diran found the strength to give, his up willingly. While you have been able to continue without yours, you miss its presence-the power and confidence it granted you. You fear that, like an addict who can no longer refrain from taking her favorite drug, you will one day return to Emon Gorsedd and plead to have a new spirit implanted within you.”

Makala felt as if Jarlain had punched her in the stomach, but she fought to keep from letting the woman know how much she’d gotten to her.

“You said I had two fears.”

“That’s right. Your second greatest fear is of losing Diran for good. They’re connected, you know. Your fear of losing Diran helps give you the strength to resist during those times when you feel the need for the Other. Imagine how disappointed Diran would be if you willingly returned to your previous life, but of course, one of the mean reasons you don’t want to lose Diran is you hope his love will fill the empty space in your soul left behind when the dark spirit was exorcised. What if it doesn’t? What if nothing can ever fill that space? Nothing except being joined to an Other again? It really is all too amusing!”

Jarlain laughed with almost girlish delight.

“I’m glad you find me so entertaining.” Makala managed to keep her voice calm, but inside she was a turbulent mass of emotions. Fear, shame, anger… Jarlain had violated her in a way Makala had never imagined possible. Right then, Makala vowed that she would see Jarlain dead, even at the cost of her own life.

“I find you much more than that, dear.” Jarlain’s eyes glittered in the lamplight, beautiful, cold, and hard. “I find you worthy. That’s going to come as good news to Erdis, very good news indeed.”

“Thank you for agreeing to be my guest this evening.”

Erdis Cai moved somewhat stiffly as he escorted Makala down the dimly lit corridor, and she wondered if it was because he was attempting to walk like a mortal man. If so, he’d lost the knack. He seemed more like a wooden marionette, with none of his vampiric grace.

“I wasn’t aware that I had a choice.”

The two of them were alone. Erdis Cai had come to Jarlain’s quarters to fetch her, and now they wandered through Grim-wall, seemingly without purpose or destination.

“Of course you had a choice.” Erdis Cai gave her a closed-mouth smile, as if he didn’t wish her to see his enlarged canine teeth. “But I don’t think you would’ve enjoyed the alternative to coming with me.”

“What would that have been?”

“Spending a few more hours as Jarlain’s plaything.”

Makala thought of the effortless way the woman had infiltrated her mind. “You’re right. This is better.”

Erdis Cai laughed and put an arm around her shoulders as if they were good friends. He still wore his black-metal armor, and it felt cold, hard, and heavy on her shoulders. More, it seemed to weigh on her soul, as if his touch were as much a spiritual burden as a physical one.

Makala had been trained in any number of unarmed combat moves that would allow her to render an opponent helpless, or should she wish to, kill him instantly, but she didn’t seriously contemplate attacking Erdis Cai. Not only was the man a vampire, he exuded an aura of dark menace that spoke of just how powerful a vampire he was. Attacking him barehanded would not only be foolish, it might well prove suicidal.

“Speaking of Jarlain, she said she’d found me ‘worthy’. What precisely does that mean?”

They came to a set of stairs, the first she’d seen since arriving at Grimwall. Erdis Cai removed his arm from her shoulders and gestured for her to precede him. The stairs led upward into darkness, but she knew that, one way or another, she would be going up them, so she chose to do so under her own power. There was no railing, so she kept her hand on the wall as she climbed. She couldn’t hear Erdis Cai following behind, which was all the more impressive-and frightening-because he was garbed in full armor. Thus, when he spoke again, the sound of his voice coming so close to Makala’s ear startled her.

“There will be plenty of time for us to talk about whether or not you’re worthy-as well as for what-but keep this in mind: Jarlain only makes recommendations. It is I who render the final judgment.”

Makala didn’t like the way he seemed to stress the word final.

They continued climbing in silence for some time after that until finally Makala saw light ahead of them, however dim. They came to an open doorway, and Makala stepped through-

— and into wonder.

As large as Erdis Cai’s trophy chamber had been, it was nothing compared to this. It was as if the entire cliff had been hollowed out inside, though how that could’ve been done without the entire place collapsing, she had no idea. There were vertical support beams visible, thick columns covered with runes engraved in a language she didn’t recognize, but there were far too few to support the entire ceiling. Magic was involved somehow, but what sort and how it was applied, she didn’t know.

Within the vast opening lay a small city with domed buildings of various sizes carved out of rock. The streets were lined with smaller columns atop which rested braziers burning with the same greenfire as had those in Erdis Cai’s trophy chamber, and just like those, these produced no smoke, and Makala suspected, no heat. The streets were filled with men and woman garbed in black and gray-some dressed as raiders, others in robes or simple tunics. All of their heads had been shaven, and they ranged in age from late teens to early fifties.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Erdis Cai said. He stood beside her, hands clasped behind his back, looking out over the subterranean metropolis and its people like a proud patriarch. “The ceiling is three hundred feet from the floor, and the city itself is a square mile wide. Most of the structures follow the dome pattern that you can easily see is so prevalent. The builders didn’t possess much imagination, but they surely were geniuses at architectural engineering.”

“You didn’t make this?”

“Of course not, lass! I find things, take them and make them mine, but I do not create them. However, that doesn’t keep me from admiring the accomplishments of others and using them to suit my needs.”

“What others? Who made this place?”

“Goblins,” Erdis Cai said, “back when their kind ruled Khorvaire, before the invasion of humans from Sarlona. Though we’ve only been able to uncover a small portion of Grimwall’s secrets, it is my belief that this underground city was built as a kind of refuge for their kind, a place where they could live in secrecy and safety, as well as a place where they could conceal their greatest treasure.”

Erdis Cai’s red-tinted eyes got a far-off look in them, and Makala sensed that he was picturing this fabulous treasure, whatever it might be.

“What treasure could be so valuable that a people would create an entire hidden city to safeguard it?” she asked.

“What indeed? Come now, we mustn’t be late.”

He started toward the city, with long, purposeful strides, and Makala hurried to keep up with him.

“My crew and I discovered Grimwall during one of our earliest voyages; although if truth be told, we blundered across it after losing our way in a dense fog. Still, a discovery is a discovery, eh? Grimwall was deserted then, its occupants having long ago departed. We decided to make this our home port, and it served us well for many years. No one but myself and the crew of the Seastar knew of Grimwall’s existence, let alone its location, and that still holds true to this day.”

As they walked among the black-garbed, shaved-head citizens of Grimwall, the people stopped what they were doing and turned toward Erdis Cai, prostrating themselves on the ground as if they were in the presence of a living god. Cai paid them no notice as he passed through their ranks, as if their obeisance was not only normal and expected but also boringly routine.

“You keep speaking of your crew, but so far the only member I’ve seen is Onkar. Unless some of the raiders-”

“None of those you see around you belonged to my original crew. These are all new recruits, culled from those whom Onkar brings me, though I confess that we’ve been doing this so long that some of these people are actually the children of those we first captured. Don’t concern yourself about my former shipmates, lass. They’re still around, as you’ll soon see.”

As they continued walking through the city, Makala kept her eye out for possible escape routes, but she saw nothing that looked promising-no tunnels, no other stairwells, nothing but domed houses with semicircular doors and no windows, and everywhere she looked, bald men and women who revered the vampire walking at her side as their lord and master.

For the first time since she’d been captured, she began to hope that Diran was coming to rescue her, for it certainly looked like she wasn’t going to be able to get out of here on her own.

The domed buildings became fewer and farther between until they gave way to a large amphitheater carved into the ground. The greenfire braziers that ringed the top level of the amphitheater were larger and blazed more brightly than others in the city, no doubt to provide more light for whatever activities took place here. The circular stone seats were empty, save for one person sitting on the lowest level: Jarlain. Onkar stood on the smooth stone floor at the center of the amphitheater, holding the hollow curved horn of some large beast in his hand.

As Erdis Cai and Makala began to descend into the amphitheater, the undead explorer nodded to Onkar, and the vampire commander put the horn to his lips and blew a single long low note. He then walked over to Jarlain and waited for Erdis Cai and Makala to reach the bottom.

Makala heard noise behind them, and she glanced over her shoulder. The citizens of Grimwall were entering the amphitheater, summoned by the blast of Onkar’s horn. Obviously something important was going to take place here tonight, but what? Whatever it was, Makala doubted it would be pleasant.

Erdis Cai reached Jarlain and sat next to her. He gestured for Makala to sit on his other side, and after a moment’s hesitation, she did so. Onkar remained standing, though he set the horn down next to Jarlain, then grinned at Makala, looking at her with something too close to hunger in his eyes.

“I trust you’re enjoying your stay so far? We’ve got a bit of entertainment for you this evening. Something special.”

Erdis Cai flicked his gaze toward his former first mate, eyes glowing a brighter red, but his voice remained calm as he spoke.

“That’s enough, Onkar. We don’t want to ruin the surprise for her, do we now?”

Onkar glared sullenly at his master, as if he’d been sternly rebuked and resented it, but all he said was, “Yes, Captain.”

They sat in silence for a while after that as the amphitheater seats slowly filled. Erdis Cai’s subjects came down as far as they could, and they managed to occupy the entire bottom five rows before the last of them was seated. No one sat within twenty feet of Erdis Cai in any direction, however. While most of the citizens were men and women in the prime of their lives, there was a scattering of children and oldsters, though none of the latter appeared older than their early seventies. Makala wondered if any of them had belonged to the crew of the Seastar. Certainly they were old enough.

Onkar gave Erdis Cai a questioning look, and Cai nodded. Grinning, the vampire commander stepped into the middle of the stage area and raised his hands. The citizens had been speaking in hushed, excited whispers, but at Onkar’s signal they quieted instantly.

“People of Grimwall! Tonight you have the privilege of being present to witness your master dishing out a well-deserved dose of justice! As you no doubt know, the Black Fleet and I came home yesterday after a successful raid on Port Verge!”

Onkar paused and the citizens, who counted the Black Fleet raiders among their number, cheered. When the cheers died down, Onkar continued.

“Of those we brought back with us, five have been found to be unsuitable for one reason or another. Tonight, they will be punished for proving unworthy of serving the master!”

More cheering, this time with a decidedly bloodthirsty edge to it.

Makala had a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She remembered something Jarlain had told her.

The old washer-woman will be punished, naturally. Perhaps I made a mistake assigning the old shifter to laundry duty, but I can only choose from those whom Onkar and his crew bring me.

Makala turned to Jarlain, but the woman just looked at her and smiled.

“Let the failures come forward!” Onkar commanded.

The audience had left space for a narrow pathway on the opposite side of the amphitheater, and now two raiders began walking down, escorting five people bound with wrist manacles. Three men and two woman, one of whom was, as Makala had feared, Zabeth.