52. Bane
Chapter 52
Bane
C an you believe it’s been a whole year?
The carriage clattered over the smooth cobblestones of the Silver Road. The white towers had been visible for hours, drawing ever closer.
I’d chosen to sit in the carriage with my wife, this time on the same seat, holding her close the entire way. It was a far cry from that first awkward ride home, with Wyn between us, and Cirri in the corner, cut off from all communication, terrified, and reeking of rowan.
“No. It feels like a month spent in a fever dream.”
And it did, though it was a pleasant dream, feverish or not.
Cirri, as the Scrollkeeper, had completely taken over the library with the aid of her golems. Half of it was in the process of reorganization, pulling books and scrolls from the depths of the stacks beneath the library proper and cataloguing them, searching each and every document for more of the history of our kinds.
But it was a slow project, because she had reached out to our people and acquired another journal, this one to become a hand-embellished copy of the Lore of the Rift , by Cirrien lai Darran.
From north to south, Rift-kin had been coming to Ravenscry, bringing her folktales of their own to be committed to books. Every village had their own tales, some passed down for centuries; some Rift-kin required coaxing and bribery to share their stories, while others were pleased to see their family tales put to paper, a mark of legitimacy to their claims.
But when they came, Rose and Thorn had to hide; the Rift-kin weren’t ready to be in the same room as Fae-made golems. So the library went unorganized during the day as she diligently took down first, second, up to twelfth-hand accounts of the Fae and their spirits.
In this manner she had begun the process of courting the Rift-kin, allowing them to see her not only as their Lady, but as a fellow human being who would speak for them, the human voice representing their kind amidst the rule of vampires.
And then she’d added a correspondence with Auré fel Seren to her plate. Now she wrote to my fellow vampire at least once a fortnight, responding to long letters that discussed the Fae folklore of wherever Auré happened to be traveling; the ambassador had become my wife’s eyes on the ground. I’d peeked at the letters a time or two, wondering if they were still frosty towards each other, but Cirri’s efforts to work on our language and decipher the charm seemed to have thawed the last of Auré’s reservations, and Auré’s willingness to report on the Fae had charmed Cirri.
They were becoming friends on paper, at least. It pleased me to see Cirri carving out her own niche among my people.
With this much to do, she often burned the midnight oil, coming to bed in the wee hours with ink-stained hands and tired eyes, stripping off her dresses to be enthusiastically mated before sleeping for six hours and rising to do it all again.
With this week-long journey, there would be no Rift-kin in the keep; I hoped Rose would manage to organize it all before her return. Cirri’s work ethic made me feel lazy, now that patrols were reduced. I’d taken to overseeing the opening of the mines and quarries, doing everything in my power to dispel the fears of the folk and joining them in the work, toiling in the mines alongside them, scouting the old mines for any sign of Fae. Whatever ensured we were actually producing; wargs or not, I intended to see every village’s defenses shored up and done properly this time.
But it was not necessarily a week of rest, this trip to Argent.
Even with the titles she could now claim—Wargbinder, Scrollkeeper—Cirri had elected to keep her family name for most of her work.
But she had decided, after much thought, that she didn’t want the family estates. Ravenscry was her home now; she had no real memories of her life before the Silver Sisters took her in—only bits and pieces, none of it forming a whole.
Several knights and the steward had gone to the lai Darran lands in her stead. Her family was properly buried, all marks of Miro’s treachery and Hakkon’s agents erased, and they’d brought back the key.
It hung around her neck on an iron chain, a blunt, twisted thing of dark metal. She stroked it, staring out the window at the walls and towers of Argent.
A year since I’ve seen it , she said, her hands moving almost absentmindedly. All by an accident of fate, and I’ve never regretted a moment of it.
“I would hope not,” I growled, thinking of last night, and how we’d decided that perhaps in five years or so, we’d be ready for children. Not now, not with Cirri’s work and the need to stabilize the Rift, but in the meantime, we were practicing like rabbits.
She turned her head to glance at me sidelong, smiling slightly. I take that back—my only regret was that the inn didn’t have a larger bed.
It had been small, true. Not too small to push her back onto it and spread her thighs, feasting until she shivered apart, but Cirri liked plenty of room.
“It’ll be a week of small beds.” I sighed sadly. “Oh, no. You’ll just have to sit in my lap.”
Her smile grew a little wider, her scent deepening, but what could have proven a very diverting amusement gave way to a serious expression, her brow creasing as the horse slowed.
The gates of Argent stood open, and as they had a year ago, the guards sent us on at the sight of the crest on the carriage. Cirri’s hand tightened on mine.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked her. I knew she would say yes, but still I felt compelled to be sure. Even if she changed her mind, decided the lai Darran estates would be hers forever, she knew I would never let her go.
I had accepted what I was, to the degree that I refused to wear a hood or hide my face these days, but my selfishness… that had not changed. She was mine for as long as we lived.
Cirri nodded firmly, her chin raised. I don’t want it. I can’t even bring myself to go there.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
Inside? she asked. Of course. I don’t want to face her alone.
She licked her lips, a hint of her nerves, and that was what worried me far more than her desire to offload her inherited estates.
Cirri was rarely nervous about anything these days. She had carved out for herself a role no one else could do. She was heard more often than not; Brother Glyn had remained to teach her language to the rest of the keep, and taught courses for the Rift-kin. She seemed determined to stand up straight, taking pride in her achievements, as she should.
It was only the thought of what lay ahead that bothered her.
Eryan drove the carriage on a familiar route through the city, and once again I had a strange sense of familiarity as he stopped in front of the Cathedral of Silver. I unbarred the door, unfolding myself to full height outside, ignoring the stares as I held out a hand for Cirri.
She took it, brushing off her skirts and looking up at the towers of the Cathedral.
It seems so much smaller than I remember , she said, brows rising with surprise. I used to think it was a marvel of Veladar.
I glanced over my shoulder; the towers were smudged with soot, the rowan in the doorways long-faded and desiccated, the silver bells tarnished.
“They’ve been fading in popularity for some time,” I said, keeping my voice low. “And your name has spread across Veladar. You were one of their own, and now everyone knows you’ve married a vampire and work on our language.”
She looked at me, eyes wide with alarm. What if she thinks it’s my fault? I did belong to the Cathedral—she might think it looks like I turned my back on them.
“I’ll be happy to put her in your place. You didn’t defeat the wargs for the sake of irritating the Eldest.” I snorted in contempt at the idea. “Times change. As we must, so must they.”
Cirri swallowed, gazing at the towers once more, and finally nodded. You will translate for me, please?
It had been months since I’d needed to translate for her, with Brother Glyn drilling everyone on the priest’s tongue. “Of course.”
She had gone slightly pale, but she still strode to the front doors with the confidence she’d developed, and knocked hard three times.
A Silver Sister answered the door, and I was surprised to see that her white robes were slightly threadbare, with a stain near the collar. It was a far cry from the immaculate picture they’d presented when I’d come for my bride.
“The Lady of the Rift, Scrollkeeper of Ravenscry, Cirrien lai Darran the Wargbinder, and her husband request an audience with the Eldest Sister,” I intoned, giving a hint of growl to the words.
The Sister went pale, nodded, and dashed off. I pretended not to notice my wife’s stare burning a hole in my face.
“Yes?” I asked, all innocence.
Must you? Cirri asked, aggrieved. What about your titles?
I tilted my head, pretending to think. “Lord Bane the Rockbreaker? Doesn’t sound quite as important.”
Her eyes narrowed to a dangerous degree, but the Silver Sister saved me, slipping through the door and bowing to us briefly.
“Eldest Sister Sifka will see you now,” she said, her voice as soft as a frightened mouse.
Don’t think I’ll forget , Cirri said, the tiniest smile giving away her amusement, and she swept in like a queen. I followed; the rowan over the door was so old and dry, it hardly had a scent left. My nostrils twitched only slightly as I passed beneath it.
The inside was equally as shocking as the exterior; the tidy, rosewood-and-beeswax scented cathedral was now dusty, a cool draft slipping through a loose window, cobwebs clinging high in the ceilings.
Cirri’s face was carefully blank; she followed the Sister past the cathedral proper, into a winding warren of additions. We passed numerous rooms, the doors all firmly shut, but the Sister led us to an office high above the others, up a narrow set of stairs. I had to turn sideways to creep up, ducking under fresher, more astringent rowan wreaths into the Eldest Sister’s presence.
The old woman sat behind a desk piled with books and papers, looking more shrunken than I’d ever seen her; her silver teeth and gray gums were bared in an unfriendly grin. “Well, look who it is. Was this one a little too quiet, Lord Bane? Come to try another? As you can see, not much is left to offer.”
Cirri lifted her head, and I spoke as she did, giving voice to her words: I am the one who chose to come, Eldest Sister.
Her hands were trembling ever so slightly, her movements sharp with irritation.
Sister Sifka turned her rheumy gaze on Cirri, not softening in the slightest. “What more do you want from me, girl? We married you off to a lord. There’s nothing left here for you.”
To be a translator was to hide in the background, offering nothing but her words; it took every last shred of willpower in me not to growl as the old woman called the Lady of the Rift ‘girl’, as though she were still no more than a serving maid here.
I’m not here for what you can do for me , Cirri said firmly. I’m here because of what I can do for you.
“Is that so?” Sifka picked up a pipe from her messy desk, striking a match and lighting it; pungent smoke billowed as she eyed Cirri. “And what might that be?”
Cirri hesitated only briefly. You may have heard the rumors that the lai Darrans are all dead. I’m the only one left.
“We might’ve heard something of the sort.”
The rumors are true. This is the estate key . Cirri touched the knobbled key around her neck. Whoever possesses it now owns the deeds and rights to the lai Darran lands and fortunes.
“Well, la-dee-dah,” Sifka snapped, sending another plume of smoke into the air. The tiny room was now harder to penetrate than the mist of the Rift; from the pungent scent, the quality of her tobacco had gone the same route as the rest of the Cathedral. “Are you here to rub my nose in it? I gave you away, and now you need your last laugh? Good for you! How wonderful that you’ve inherited yet another vast fortune on top of your marriage! Is that what you want to hear?”
No . Cirri unclasped the chain in one quick motion, holding out the key. I’m here to give it to the Sisterhood.
Sifka stared, frozen with the pipe at her lips, as Cirri held it out. A long, still moment passed. My wife finally gave up, dropping the key on top of a stack of papers, and Sifka leaned forward with sudden snake-like quickness.
“What in the Lady’s name makes you think I want your charity?” she spat. “Do you know what they say now, when they say your name? That even the Sisterhood’s acolytes love the vampires.”
To my surprise, and the Eldest’s—Sifka reared back in affront—Cirri rolled her eyes upwards for a moment.
It’s not meant as charity , she said, signing with sharp, snappish gestures. And I can’t help what they say. I’m here because I want nothing to do with those lands—I have no good memories, nothing tying me to them. But they’re rich in farmland, in apiaries and silkworms. It’d be irresponsible to let them fall into total decay.
I’m offering it to the Sisterhood as repayment for my education. I owed you fifty more years of indentured work. If not for that education, I wouldn't be where I am now. The Sisterhood ensured not only my life, but my life’s work, then gave me away with the debt intact, and I’m trying to repay that.
Sifka sucked her lower lip, gimlet eyes peering at Cirri over the fug of pipesmoke. “Repayment, eh?”
There was another long silence that stretched between them, but this one was less awkward, and more of a silent understanding.
You know the vampires are here to stay , Cirri said. The blood shops grow ever more popular. I’ve heard some weddings have even taken place here. The Sisterhood as it stands now will die a slow death. But you don’t serve yourselves; you serve the Lady of Light. If I can repay my fifty years of debt with this key, then I too serve the Lady in my way. Bring the Sisterhood to the estates and start over. It’s good land, good money. There’s no need to cling to a dying tradition in this city when it’s already moved on without you.
Sifka made a face at that, her wrinkles deepening for a moment, but she puffed the pipe in contemplation.
When the silence stretched too long, Cirri sighed. It’s not charity. It’s years owed for an education. The Sisterhood did save my life once; now I can repay that.
“No strings attached?” Sifka asked sharply. “I won’t have you as our overseer.”
No strings , Cirri promised. Rename the estate what you want. Make the most of it. It’s no longer lai Darran land and I have no desire to see it, nor hold a single coin of its profits, ever again.
The Eldest Sister stared at her hard, and finally snatched up the key. She tucked it into her robes, hiding her shaking hands. “Well, then.” She exhaled, puffed the pipe, peered at me. “Well,” she repeated. “Debt’s paid, then.”
I wish you all good fortune , Cirri said sincerely. May the Lady smile on you.
She turned and had nearly managed to scrape past me to the door when Sifka coughed and barked out, “Wait!”
Cirri turned, her eyes gleaming even through the smoke.
Eldest Sister grimaced, hesitating, and finally said, “It was kindly done, Cirrien.” She looked as though she were in physical pain from the not-quite-gratitude.
Cirri nodded, smiled, and swept through the door. Both of us breathed deeply of the air down in the hallway, the dustiness a thousand times cleaner than the cheap tobacco.
“Not even a real thanks,” I grumbled. “You handed them a fortune. That was worth far more than fifty years of servitude.”
Cirri glanced up at me sidelong, amused. Nobody likes to think they need charity. It wounded her pride. Besides, I didn’t do it for thanks. I really did sell them fifty years of my life for an intense education, and I feel that the Lady, or Mother, or whoever might be out there, would be a little miffed if I ran off on the debt after it brought me to where I am now. It’s only right that I pay what I owe, and give the Sisterhood a way to start over into the bargain.
The Silver Sister who had let us in opened the cathedral door, hiding in the shadows until we passed.
It was the last time I ever needed to step foot into the Silver Cathedral; I gave it one last glance in farewell. It was where I had met Cirri, which made it special in some way, but it was more of a memory of the place she’d escaped than anything special.
I held the carriage door open for her.
I couldn’t just let them die out , she said suddenly, still standing in the street. They take girls from all walks of life. If not for them, Light knows where half of the Sisters would’ve ended up. My parents might have just tossed me in the street to fend for myself. But they bring the girls in and give them an education and keep a roof over their heads. It was the only home I’d ever really known. Yes, Eldest Sister is horrid, and yes, they hate vampires, but they do some good in this world and I couldn’t stand to see it ruined.
“You don’t have to justify yourself. That was entirely your choice, and I believe it was a good one.”
Cirri stared up at me, the white towers reflected in her green eyes, and suddenly smiled. Her shoulders relaxed, the tension flowing out of her. From the moment the steward brought the key to Ravenscry, putting the lai Darran estates and family burials into her hands, she had been knotted up with worry of what to do about it.
Now it was gone, her decision made and carried out.
It was the right choice , she said. The only choice. And now I’m completely free.
With that, she ducked into the carriage, pulling me in after her. I barred the door, grabbed my wife, and pulled her onto my lap before knocking on the ceiling.
The carriage lurched into movement, and Cirri tipped her head towards me, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth.
To hell with this trip , she said suddenly. Let’s go home.
“So desperate to get back to work?” My tongue flicked out, playing over the smooth skin of her throat, and she shivered with pleasure.
A little , she admitted.
I raised my brows and tilted my head, angling my mouth towards that delicate point on her throat where her pulse danced just under her skin.
Mostly desperate to be away from here , she said, and I kissed the soft thump of her pulse, feeling its speed as she gazed out the window. This place is the past to me now. It’s meaningless. I want to be at home with you.
“And your books and pens and quills and stories…”
Cirri grinned at me.
“I do understand what you mean.” I glanced out at the streets of Argent, the choked rows of houses, stacked one on the other, the ever-present smog. I missed the cool, clean air of the Rift, the winding forest paths we could walk together. “To home, then, Lady Scrollkeeper. The work won’t wait, and neither will the bed.”
How glad I am that you know me so well . She pressed her forehead to mine, eyes closed. You hear me, and I love you .
I wrapped my arms around her, a far cry from that first carriage ride, holding her close and savoring the beat of her heart under my palms. With my blood in her veins, it would beat for eternity, binding her to me more closely than any charm ever could.
My Cirri. The fire of my life, the light in the darkness.
I took her hands, kissing her silver-laced fingers, and slowly, carefully formed words in her language as her smile widened.
You see me, and I love you .
THE END