CHAPTER 36
The light of the early morning played on my desk and the pages of a genealogy book.
Escaping the Citadel yesterday had taken some doing.
Clover had returned with Gort and the brothers, and nobody had told me.
Who knew how long Bellen would’ve kept them waiting, except that he got a message via another squire.
Something had happened that required his attention, so he regretfully released me.
Bellen’s interest in me was a new development. He wasn’t in the books, so I was flying in the dark. If this had been the first week of me being here, that fact would’ve sent me into a spiral of anxiety, but I had adjusted now. This world was so much bigger, and I’d already seen too much of it.
I had other ways of getting information now. He had to be fairly high in the Defender Order. I needed to figure out which noble family he was affiliated with. Trouble was, Derog’s genealogy books were way out-of-date.
Someone rapped their knuckles on the doorframe. I looked up. Will leaned in the doorway of the office. His color was off, his face looked like he had slept on it, and a spectacular shiner clutched at his left eye. Blue and purple, it had swollen to a glossy puffiness like some sort of awful jewel.
“Rough night?” I asked.
“You might say that.”
I pointed at one of the chairs. Usually he dropped into them, but this time he sat kind of carefully, like he was sore.
“What happened to you?” I waved my finger around my left eye, indicating his shiner.
He grinned. “I picked a fight with some mercs from the South. We threw some punches and then got drunk together.”
“Did you get anything good?” He wouldn’t have done that unless he had an agenda.
“A busted eye, a hangover, and the Butcher’s name.”
The reed pen fell out of my fingers. Finally.
“Tell me.”
“His name was Serem Vor. Born to a family of weavers out of Kwinspir. He was from the Lower Middle Fields.”
“Hreban’s domain.”
“Yes. He enlisted in the King’s Army at seventeen and was assigned to the Blir.”
The southern border of Rellas ran along the Copper Mountains, an older, drier mountain range.
On the other side of it lay the Jastoro Tribe Horde, a nation of a thousand tribes united by faith in Kamagant-God, the Great Serpent.
The Jastoro was a tribal theocracy, where chiefs ruled their tribes with the blessing of the tribe high priests, and every high priest fancied himself a prophet.
Serving at the southern border meant repelling a constant tide of raids as the roving tribes took turns testing Rellasian defenses. It was a small never-ending war. And if you were captured, you would be tortured and murdered. Kamagant-God liked his sacrifices well tenderized.
“Serem Vor was knighted at twenty-three for talent and wartime achievements,” Will continued. “Most of his fighting happened on the Jastoro border. The clansmen raid constantly. It’s a shit post. The way people tell it, the stuff that happens at that border will turn your hair white.”
“The Jastorons don’t see other people as people,” I told him. “To them, only those who worship the Kamagant-God are human. Everyone else is just a living corpse without a soul. One doesn’t have to feel bad about atrocities committed against a corpse.”
Religious extremists rarely had room for compassion. They were too busy making their religion into everyone else’s problem.
“That’s what I heard,” Will said. “Most people only last a few years at the border, then they get transferred. Serem Vor did twenty-two.”
“Did he upset someone important?” I guessed.
“Several people, but that wasn’t what kept him there. He was offered a transfer several times. He declined. Word is, he liked it. Fit right in and gave as good as he got. The Jastorons had a name for him. I can’t pronounce it, but they called him the blood reaper.”
Ah. So that’s how he’d honed his human-cutting skills.
“He wasn’t well liked, but it was known that if he went out to repel a raid, that clan wouldn’t come raiding for a while. The man was uncanny at tracking. He could find some tiny scrape on a rock and tell you how many of the clansmen passed and which way they went.”
“Makes sense.” That’s how he had noticed me.
“A year ago, the Blir got a new commander. He arrived with a fresh detachment of knights and two of his kardars. Serem Vor was told to take one of the kardars and her knights to the mountain border passes and give them the tour. Show them the lay of the land.”
“How did that go?”
“On the way, they ran across a Jastoron party gathering herbs, no warriors, only civilians. Serem Vor charged them, running down the women and children without provocation. The kardar ordered him to stop. Serem ignored the command and killed two kids before the kardar knocked him off his horse. Serem Vor lost his shit. The knights surrounded Serem, and he told them that they had all better fucking learn how things were done around there and decide which side they were on before they ended up on Jastoron sacrificial poles wrapped in their own guts. He was detained, brought back to the fort, and tried for failure to heed command. They stripped him of his knighthood and released him from the king’s service.
He got to keep his head in light of his many years of meritorious tenure, but not much else. ”
And now the Butcher’s hatred of knights made perfect sense.
He had climbed the ladder from a weaver’s son to a soldier and then to a knight, who was respected and trusted.
His ascent to the knighthood must’ve meant a great deal to him.
It had given his life meaning. Then the King’s Army stripped him of his identity and spat him out with nothing.
“When did they throw him out?” I asked.
“Just under a year ago.”
A long time to stew in his anger.
“Here is the best part.” Will smiled. “Serem Vor had one friend during his years of service. Likatine of Praul Grast.”
“Aha.”
“He runs security for Castle Hreban in Lower Berem.”
“The Butcher’s best friend is the head of Hreban’s hometown guards?”
Will nodded.
Perfect. If we managed to get the contracts, they would be damning. But if we failed, this link would come in handy, and Will had just brought it to me on a silver platter.
“Will, this is amazing. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Will squared his shoulders. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something else for a while. First, the old man lied to you and never apologized for that.”
“I’ve had this conversation with Lute. Your father did what he thought was best for your future. He didn’t know me, and he owed me nothing.”
“I know. As I said, first the old man lied to you. Then we failed to kill the Butcher. Then Lute allowed you to be taken. We keep fucking up and I’m tired of it. That’s not the way we usually do things.”
“I don’t see it that way but go on.”
“The old man has his ideas about the Sleepless Duke and what serving him means. But that’s his plans. Lute and I talked it over. The Sleepless Duke is a force, but you were the one who kept the old man from dying. You have my axe and Lute’s sword.”
“Didn’t you swear fealty to Everard?”
He shook his head. “No.”
For some reason, I had assumed they had.
“The Sleepless Duke can do so much more for you than I can,” I told him.
“We know. We are our own men. We’ve made our decision.”
“Are you sure? Because I’m about to pick a fight with Damaes of the Mage Tower.”
Will raised his eyebrows and winced when the skin above his black eye stretched. “Well, I’ve never gone up against an Archmage before. Might be fun.”
I felt so touched.
“I appreciate it more than I can express, Will. I will not treat your loyalty lightly.”
“Maggie!” Clover called from downstairs. There was a slight note of alarm in her voice.
I sighed. Something else had happened.
Will smiled at me and we headed downstairs to put out another fire.
The scroll case lay on the kitchen table. It was about a foot long, a wooden tube treated with resin. Decorative vines, carved with precision and care, wrapped around it. It looked expensive.
“Where did you find it?” I asked.
“On the side by the northern wall. It was attached to an arrow,” Lute reported.
The six of us pondered the tube.
“You don’t suppose there is a snake inside?” I asked.
Clover gave me an odd look. “Why would there be a snake?”
“No reason.” Digi’s aunt had once sent a poisonous viper in a scroll tube to someone she hated.
Kaiden pulled out his knife. “If there’s a snake, I’ll kill it.”
“Where did you get that?” Shana demanded.
Kaiden looked at Gort.
“You gave him a knife?” Shana asked.
“He’s old enough.”
“He’ll cut himself.”
“That’s what he said,” Kaiden said. “He also said cutting myself would teach me to be careful with it.”
Gort, a fan of consequence parenting.
“Get your knife ready,” I told Kaiden.
He raised his dagger.
I pulled the top off the scroll case and tapped it on the table. The edge of a scroll came out. No snakes.
I pinched the edge of the scroll and pulled it out. Slowly.
Nothing, except the scroll itself. It was thin and light with a trace of golden flecks embedded in the paper.
“Gilded vellum,” Clover whispered.
“Expensive?” I guessed.
“Very.” She nodded.
I unrolled the scroll and read out loud, “His Royal Majesty, King Sauven Savaric, the Sword and Shield of Rellas, father of the nation, long may he reign . . . blah blah blah, it’s good to be the king, very impressive .
. . invites the bearer of this scroll to bask in the presence of His Majesty at the Joedurar on the twentieth of Redberry . . .”
Clover gasped.
“A snake would’ve been better,” Shana said.
I read the scroll again. It didn’t say anything different.
“You can’t go,” Gort said. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I absolutely have to go,” I said.
“Gort is right. Nothing good can come from being near Sauven,” Shana said. “He’s not right in the head.”
“This didn’t come from Sauven. If the king wanted to see me, he would wave his hand, and people in armor with scary weapons would drag me out of this house and deliver me to him.
” I tapped the vellum. “These invitations are sent in batches. Meaning if Sauven wants to see Everard at the joedurar, he will send him not just one, but several invitations, which Everard will then distribute among his people. Every Great Family gets a few. This is probably one of those extras.”
“Could it have come from His Grace?” Clover wondered.
“Not a chance. It isn’t from Solentine either. If it was, the Shears would’ve hand-delivered it with explanations.”
Neither Everard nor Solentine would want me anywhere near the joedurar. To borrow Everard’s metaphor, Rellas was an ocean of monsters and going to the joedurar would be like jumping into the deepest part of it.
“If it isn’t from the king directly, then all the better,” Shana said. “Sauven doesn’t know you exist. If you skip, nobody will know.”
“It doesn’t matter if it didn’t come from Sauven directly. Ignoring it is still treason against the Throne. And it’s not just me. I’m now a lady of a noble family, and everything I do in public reflects on my parents and relatives. If I don’t go, the entire Demarr family could be in hot water.”
Shana swore. Clover stared into space, her eyes distant.
“But does anyone even know you’re a Demarr?” Will asked.
“There is no way to tell. Solentine could’ve updated some official records somewhere.
Sauven sent him home to fetch his father in person.
That tells me that he is paying close attention to the Demarrs right now.
I can’t afford to give him any excuse to find fault with them.
Whether anyone knows or not doesn’t matter.
The fact is, I’m now Lady Marigold Demarr.
I have to conduct myself as my name dictates. ”
“Everard said not to let you out of the house,” Kaiden said. “Before he left, he talked to Gort, Will, and Lute, and he said that if something happened to you, he would not forgive.”
Thank you, Your Grace. So lovely of you to terrorize the Magnars. “And where were you when that talk took place?”
“Hiding on the wall above them.”
“I’m unlikely to get murdered at the joedurar, Kaiden. This is the king’s special gathering. If anyone embarrasses him in any way during it, he will have their head. I should be safe. I will go there, show my face, turn right around, and come home.”
“We will need a dress,” Clover said.
“I’m sorry?”
“We’ll need a dress in the Demarrs’ colors.” She broke her trance and looked at me. “We’ll need jewelry, footwear, and accessories. In fourteen days.”
“How long does that usually take?”
“For a gown fit for the king’s court? Six weeks. Two months would be better.”
“Can you do it?” Shana asked.
Clover raised her chin. “Absolutely.”
Shana and I looked at her.
“We have fourteen days to brush up on dinner etiquette and dancing. You will be fine.”
“Dancing?” That’s right. The joedurars ended in a combination dance and banquet.
“Yes,” Clover confirmed. “What dances do you know?”
“None.”
Clover blinked. “None at all?”
“None that wouldn’t get me instantly killed.”
Throwing my hands in the air and seductively wiggling my hips would probably get me decapitated.
“I could go and just not dance,” I said.
“That may not be an option,” Clover said. “Some invitations shouldn’t be declined.”
She was right. The entire upper echelon of Rellasian society would be there, not to mention the foreign dignitaries. In those circumstances, dancing went beyond simple social entertainment. If I refused the wrong person, I could make an enemy, and once again the Demarrs would be dragged into it.
Having a family was turning out to be a lot more complicated than anticipated. I could picture Everard leaning against the wall across from me like a tall dark wraith. I warned you.
Yeah, well you can just shut the hell up.
Clover wrenched a smile back on her face. “Don’t worry. We have fourteen days. We can do a lot in fourteen days.”
Shana put her hand over her face.
“Fourteen days,” Clover repeated like a prayer. “Stay right here. I need to get you measured.”