Chapter 14 Cenric #4
Vana walked with Cenric up to the weaving house. The doors were open to let in light and inside, Cenric could see perhaps a hundred women hard at work carding wool, spinning thread, and weaving what would become the great sails.
Cenric stopped well outside the boundary line. He couldn’t see Sifma, but she should be there.
“What is the message you have for the queen?”
Cenric handed Vana the sprig of pennyroyal. “Give her this and tell her I am waiting outside.”
Vana shot Cenric a sharp look. “What does it mean?”
“The less you know, the better.” Cenric was only involving her in this because he had no other way to get the message to Sifma. “But be discreet. I doubt she will want people to know.”
Vana opened her mouth, and he feared she would argue or demand more answers, but then she simply frowned. “Very well.” She marched up the steps, into the weaving house.
Cenric turned away and rounded the corner of the building, out of sight of the main street. This didn’t seem like the sort of thing to be done in daylight. Cenric might be going about this all wrong.
Ovrek would never believe him, but he would believe his dear queen if she confessed—at least, Cenric hoped he would. He didn’t have any better ideas, nor did he imagine there was much time to think of a better idea.
Cenric paced, waiting for the queen. He didn’t have to wait long.
It was barely a few moments before he spotted Sifma’s red dress and glinting temple rings. She appeared with several maids in tow. Vana trailed after her, looking bewildered. Apparently, Sifma’s reaction had been exceptional.
Sifma shooed her servants and Vana back before storming the last few steps to Cenric. “What is the meaning of this?” Sifma demanded, coming to a stop in front of him. She was a small woman in stature, but she glared fearlessly.
Cenric might be a warrior and foreign alderman, but Sifma had known him when he was a stripling youth scarfing down bread at her table. More than that, she was the wife of the most feared man on these islands. Cenric bowed to her. “Queen Sifma. You honor me.”
“What do you want, boy?” The queen glanced over her shoulder to where Vana and her maids waited, but out of earshot.
Normally, she would have kept them close, but it seemed she didn’t want additional listeners for this audience.
She held up the sprig of pennyroyal in front of her so that only Cenric could see. “What is the meaning of this?”
Cenric remained silent for a long moment, not sure what to say. He was new to blackmail and found he did not enjoy it. “Tell Ovrek the truth—that you killed Gistrid.”
Sifma’s spine stiffened. “You dare to accuse me?”
“If you will not tell Ovrek,” Cenric added, “I will.”
“He would never believe you.” Despite her words, Sifma’s eyes went wide.
This was not going well. Cenric wasn’t happy about the concubine’s death, but he had never even met the girl. Now these people were determined to blame his wife, and he was not going to allow it.
“Tell Ovrek that you did it or I will tell him why.” Cenric spoke the words flatly, before he had even fully considered their implications.
Sifma’s nostrils flared, her spine stiffening even more. “Ovrek would never believe you,” she repeated. “Such an accusation—”
“No,” Cenric agreed. “No, Ovrek wouldn’t believe me.” He folded his arms across his chest, thinking through his next words. This was a risk, but he was backed in a corner. Brynn was backed in a corner. “If I tell Ovrek the truth, he might well kill me and my wife, too.”
Those words didn’t seem to soothe Sifma. She cocked her head, eyes narrowed.
“But he will remember what I said.” Cenric leaned down, fixing the queen in a hard look. “Perhaps nothing will come of it, but you know your son. Tolvir is reckless and lacks all discretion.”
At the mention of the boy, Sifma’s face showed fear for the first time. Perhaps she had hoped that Cenric didn’t know the whole truth, but he’d just let her know he did.
“Ovrek will remember it and Tolvir will reveal himself at some point. Perhaps not this summer, this winter, or next spring, but eventually, Tolvir will open his mouth and confirm what I say to Ovrek and then…” Cenric let that sentence hang.
Sifma seemed to swell with indignation. “Ovrek found you when you were nothing,” she spat. “Just a starveling without an eating knife to your name.”
Cenric remained steady. If Sifma called his bluff, he wasn’t sure if he would follow through with it or not, but if this was going to work, she needed to believe he would.
“This would destroy Ovrek.” Sifma leaned in, her voice turning sharp. “His life, his legacy.”
“Yes.” Cenric felt no joy at the word.
“You don’t want that,” Sifma whispered. “I can see you don’t want that.”
Cenric looked away.
“Ovrek will not hold this against you. I heard of your bravery today.” Sifma rested a hand on his forearm. “My daughter is newly widowed.”
Cenric did not like where this was going.
Sifma squeezed his arm. “Let this play out.”
Let Brynn take the blame, that was what Sifma was asking him to do.
“Please,” Sifma whispered as her voice turned pleading. “You will be Ovrek’s son, just as you always wanted.” The queen bowed her head with something like shame. “He once told me he wished you were his son instead of Tolvir.”
Cenric felt a stab of guilt tempered with resentment at that. He had adored Ovrek, idolized the man, but after how Ovrek had treated Brynn, it was too little too late.
If he had truly been so dear to Ovrek, why had his old mentor ignored him for years until the day he wanted something?
“She is one Hyldish woman,” Sifma pressed. “What is she next to your family? Your friends?”
“That Hyldish woman is my wife,” Cenric growled back. “And I would sacrifice many things for Ovrek, but she is not one.”
Sifma’s mouth pressed into a hard line at that. “Lovesick children will be the death of me.” She snatched her hand away from him.
“Tell Ovrek,” Cenric repeated. “I doubt your punishment will be too severe.”
Sifma made a vague punching motion with one hand. “Ovrek must be able to trust me.”
“You should have thought of that before you killed his concubine.”
As if hearing the words spelled out had unleashed something, Sifma’s eyes flashed. “I am trying to help him!” She shot a glance to her maids, still watching from paces away “If word of this spreads, no one will ever respect Ovrek again.”
“You’re right,” Cenric agreed. “So, I suggest you tell him half the truth before I tell him the whole truth.”
Sifma exploded. “None of this would have happened if not for your meddling Hyldish bitch!”
Cenric had no response for that. Unlike with Hróarr, he couldn’t punch a queen in the face.
“Without her, the dose would have worked the first time, and I wouldn’t have…” Sifma swayed from side to side, like a trapped animal without the room to pace. “The sorceress deserves to die.”
Cenric forced himself to remain calm, to remain unmoving.
Sifma studied him, searching for a sign her words had any effect.
“Sunrise, Queen Sifma. Tell Ovrek before tomorrow’s sunrise, or I will.”
“You wouldn’t. You don’t want to hurt Ovrek. I know you, boy.” Sifma’s eyes narrowed as if searching for proof her words were true.
Cenric glanced up to the sky, judging the horizon. “I recommend you act quickly.”
“Cenric!” Sifma shouted after him, but he was already walking away.
Frustration grated inside him as he walked back toward the camp where Brynn waited. Her life was at stake. She would be far better suited to this than he was, but she didn’t speak the language and all they had was him.
Cenric kept his outward reactions restrained. Sifma might call his bluff, she might not. Either way, he was playing a dangerous game. Would threatening the Valdari queen work? Only time would tell.
At his side, Snapper woofed happily, tail wagging.