Bloodmage Page 23

  “Who was he?” said Roza from the chair opposite. Katja was startled by her voice. She’d forgotten anyone was in the room. They were in the kitchen at the back of the shop. Glancing at the sky out the window Katja idly noticed the sun had finally risen above the horizon. She’d been watching it since dawn and had been awake for hours before that.

  The kitchen smelled of freshly baked bread, honey and hazelnut from the ghastly coffee that Gankle insisted on drinking. Perhaps a cup of it would have been a better idea than tea. It would certainly have woken her up and helped shake off some of her lethargy. But not all of it was in her muscles. She felt a deep weariness in her bones and a weight on her soul, if such a thing were even possible.

  “I’ve gone over and over it,” Katja said finally. “As far as I can tell, he wasn’t anyone important. But somehow, he was obstructing their plans.”

  “What can you tell me about him?”

  Katja closed her eyes, trying to recall as many details as she could about the man she’d murdered.

  “He had thick arms and shoulders, so his job was quite physical. He didn’t have any calluses or burns, so he’s wasn’t a smith. He’s not a sailor because he didn’t smell like the sea. And at the end he said a prayer to the Maker, and I’ve yet to meet a seaman who didn’t favour Nethun.”

  There was something she’d forgotten. A small detail she’d noticed as she let go of his body, which suddenly felt so heavy and still. It was right there, but her thoughts were just too slow and she couldn’t grasp it. Digging her fingernails into her palms brought a short sharp pain which started to cut through the fog in her mind. She tightened her grip and as she focused on the pain the fog receded just enough for her to dig down and recall the elusive detail.

  “He was a baker,” said Katja, opening her eyes. “There was a smudge of flour behind his ear and a certain smell on his skin.”

  “I’ll get some people to do some digging. See if we can find out if any local bakers have gone missing. Why would they want to kill him?”

  Katja didn’t have an answer and she knew Roza was just thinking aloud. It was a question she had asked herself a hundred times already. She could see some of the pieces on the board, but not all of them, or how they all fitted together. Rodann was loud and full of himself, but there was a sly cunning behind his friendly manner. And then there was Teigan. She wasn’t just there to intimidate people. There had to be another reason she was involved.

  “Something has been nagging at me,” said Katja and Roza raised an eyebrow. “Rodann and Teigan, I don’t get the impression that either of them comes from money, which means someone else is providing it.”

  “I’ve got people looking into it and all of their history,” said Roza, draining the last of her tea. “We’ll find out who they really are.”

  “I think Rodann has some connection to Queen Morganse. Every time he speaks about her it almost sounds like it’s from personal experience. As if she’s personally aggrieved him somehow. There’s also been no mention of Queen Talandra, not even any sly comments. Are we sure they’re going to target her?”

  “You heard what the Silent Order said. Queen Morganse was only half of the contract they turned down. You just have to be patient,” counselled Roza. “You’ve shown them your commitment, but I doubt they really trust you yet. When are you seeing them next?”

  “This afternoon. Rodann is sending me on my first mission.”

  “Keep me posted. I’ll send word if we find anything,” said Roza, getting ready to leave, until Katja put out a hand to stop her.

  “About the other night. Those two men I killed.”

  “You’re lucky, so far the Guardians haven’t found any clues and eye-witnesses are scarce. No one saw you.”

  Katja shook her head. “I don’t care about that. It was self-defence and I had no choice. But last night, murdering a defenceless man while they watched, that was something else. The weight of it is unbearable.”

  “What are you saying?” asked Roza.

  “I think you might be right. I’m not sure this life is for me.”

  Roza was quiet for a long time, lost in thought. “If I could take your place I would, but they want you. When this is over, if you still want to go home, that’s fine. Can you hold on for a few more days?”

  Katja wanted to say no. To forget about Teigan and her dead eyes. Forget about Rodann and his stupid face. She just wanted to crawl into bed and wait for it all to be over. But she didn’t. Her Queen was still in danger, and it was Katja’s duty to protect her. Not just because of the damage her death would cause in the west, but also because of the impact it would have on the people of Seveldrom. They were still deeply wounded by the loss of Talandra’s father and barely a year on they had not recovered. A sense of normality had returned, but like here in Perizzi, it felt like a paper mask covering the horrible truth. It wouldn’t take much to hurt them again. She was sworn to protect the Queen and would give anything to keep her alive.

  “I will see this through to the end,” said Katja, calmly meeting Roza’s stare.

  Katja spent the next few hours trying to rest, but only managed to fall asleep for a few minutes at a time before coming awake from a nightmare. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him again. Sometimes he was whole and he begged her to spare his life. Other times he was already rotting and he reached for her with skeletal hands from an unmarked grave, trying to pull her down into the cold, damp earth beside him.

  Feeling more tired than when she lay down Katja gave up on sleep. She washed and dressed in fresh clothing, then ate some fruit with a little bread and soft goat’s cheese. Gankle came into the kitchen from the shop and his normally bland face was tense.

  “There’s a woman here to see you,” he said.

  The word sounded alien in his mouth, as if he’d never seen a woman before in his life. Katja raised an eyebrow and followed him to the front.

  Standing in the middle of the shop with her back to Katja was a priestess of the Blessed Mother. Her white robe shone like fresh snow and it wasn’t until she turned around that Katja saw why Gankle was so nervous.

  The Faithful of the Blessed Mother preached purity of spirit, which they said could only be achieved through a balance of maintaining a pure body and mind. That meant never eating to excess, avoiding all intoxicants and cleansing the mind through prayer, chastity and being generous to others.

  Her priests were supposed to lead by example, but the sacrifices that demanded proved too difficult for some and discipline varied in different countries. In Morrinow the priests flagellated themselves to maintain their purity and drive out wicked thoughts. Here in Yerskania they were more lenient, but not nearly as relaxed as the woman standing in front of Katja.

  Her white silk robe was not transparent, but it was so tight it left little to the imagination and showed off her generous proportions. As soon as Katja saw her face she recognised the faux priestess. It was the wealthy escort from Rodann’s group of conspirators.

  “Good afternoon, sister. I believe we have an appointment.”

  Katja said nothing and played along, pulling her grey robe on top of her clothing. Gankle lurked at the back of the shop, gawping at the escort, his eyes lingering on her hips and breasts. The escort heaved a few deep breaths, making her bosom swell against the material, which made Gankle sweat. She laughed at his expression and Katja wanted to punch her perfect rosebud mouth. Even her laugh was generous and warm.

  Katja flung open the front door and marched out, picking a direction at random. The escort caught up a short distance away and Katja slowed down to a more sedate pace.

  “What should I call you?” asked Katja, knowing that she would have many different names.

  “Faith.”

  “Is that supposed to be a joke?” asked Katja, gesturing at the robe.

  “Faith is what my parents named me at birth. My working name is Violet, if you’d prefer.”

  Katja didn’t know if it was Faith’s idea at humour, o
r an attempt to get under her skin, but she tried to ignore it and not let it bother her.

  “So where are we going?”

  Faith offered her a wry smile. “To reward some true believers. But first we need to pick up a few more of the Faithful.”

  She led Katja into one of the seedier areas of the city, away from the main streets that were regularly patrolled by the Watch. Here people lurked in doorways offering any number of services, and several buildings had roses painted on their front door, indicating that companionship could be purchased within.

  Faith led her to a building that looked in a better condition than either of its neighbours. The windows were clean, the paint was fresh and colourful flowers in pots brightened up an otherwise drab street.

  Faith knocked loudly and the front door quickly opened to reveal a statuesque blonde woman. She wore a pair of long curved daggers on her belt and Katja noticed a small scar on the woman’s chin and more on both hands. The blades were not decorative.

  “Did you get everything on the list, Laure?” asked Faith and the enforcer nodded. Laure gestured for Katja to take a seat while they went into the back room. Katja’s eyes briefly scanned the room, noting the rich and brightly coloured furniture, all of it covered with lots of soft cushions and no sharp corners. Wine and several other bottles containing spirits sat idle on a side table beside fluted glasses. A bowl of fruit with apples, grapes and even succulent spiny pears stared at her, tempting her to try something. Expensive items to leave gathering dust. All of which told her the clientele who came through the front door had very deep pockets.

  Faith returned with Laure and four strangers, two men and two women, who she guessed were prostitutes. All of them were very beautiful, and given her expensive surroundings Katja would’ve been disappointed if they weren’t.

  “Has Laure explained what you need to do?” asked Faith and the four prostitutes all made sounds of agreement.

  Laure handed out white silk robes like Faith’s and they quickly stripped off without any signs of being self-conscious about their nudity in front of strangers. All of them were lithe with well-toned bodies that seemed without any flaws. Next they removed any indications of wealth as befitting Faithful of the Blessed Mother. All rings, piercings from ears and nipples, necklaces and bangles, were secured in a cloth bag for their return. The women washed off all make-up, leaving them slightly red faced and looking more vulnerable. Katja noticed Faith didn’t wipe her face clean.

  Faith handed Katja a white robe, which she swapped for her grey, but she kept her small clothes on underneath. Faith gathered up two bulging satchels, which she passed to the others to carry, then gestured for Katja to follow her. They went out the back door and along several alleys before rejoining the main streets. With their hoods pulled up the six had become a clutch of the Faithful, going about their work for the Blessed Mother with eyes demurely downcast and mouths closed.

  “What are we doing?” whispered Katja. “And what, exactly, is my role in all of this?”

  Faith glanced behind and a smile flitted across her face as she saw where Katja’s thoughts were leading. “Don’t worry. You’re not here for that. We’re on our way to the home of Lord and Lady Venarra. They’re rich and easily bored, so they’re always seeking new distractions. Their latest is embracing the religious fringe. For years there’s been a rumour about an inner circle in the church of the Blessed Mother. A higher echelon which unlocks great spiritual mysteries for those daring enough to explore it.”

  As part of her job Katja was aware of the rumours, but after years of working in the shadows, she knew it to be false. There was no sacred text or ritual that could bring about enlightenment. Any who claimed such a thing existed were charlatans exploiting weak-minded or desperate individuals. She wondered which category the Venarras fell into.

  “You still haven’t explained my role,” said Katja.

  “They’ll keep the Lord and Lady busy,” said Faith, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “While you and I have other work to attend to.”

  “Which is?”

  “You know scripture. You could probably quote the whole book chapter and verse. We need you to set the scene for the Venarras. Build expectation in their minds of what they might discover if they have the courage. Then we’ll put a little something in their drinks and they’ll drift off. I’ve brought all sorts of religious paraphernalia to help create a tableau. When they wake up they’ll believe whatever they want to.”

  Faith hadn’t mentioned what she would be doing while she and the others conducted the elaborate charade. Despite Rodann’s declaration that she was now part of the group, Katja was still being kept in the dark about the plan.

  “I can do that,” said Katja, staying positive, and she saw Faith smile. “But what are we actually doing?”

  “Just focus on your job,” said Faith with finality. Katja bit her tongue to stop herself slapping the other woman and shaking her for answers.

  Long before they reached the Venarra estate Katja knew the owners were not ordinary nobility, but one of the older families. As they started the climb into the wealthier district, the number of houses on either side of the street started to dwindle. The houses became bigger with more fanciful architecture, often designed simply for the sake of decoration rather than function.

  By the time they stood at the front gates of the Venarra house Katja could only see half a dozen houses and most of those were hidden from view by high walls. Armed household guards in yellow and black livery greeted Faith with sincere reverence. They were escorted through the grounds and deposited in a large sitting room decorated with black metal furniture stuffed with white cushions and expensive silk tapestries on the walls depicting passages of scripture.

  “Welcome, welcome,” burbled a middle-aged balding man dressed in an expensive but ill-fitting outfit of yellow and black trousers with a matching shirt. He greeted them warmly, shaking hands and chatting as if they were old friends. Following behind at a more sedate pace was a tall woman, dressed in a high-necked dress in the family colours. Her demeanour was far less welcoming and she studied them all with a critical eye.

  “Welcome to my home,” said Lord Venarra. “And this is my Lady wife. I am a wealthy man, but all of the gold is dull in comparison to her beauty.”

  “Which of you is the High Priestess?” asked Lady Venarra, ignoring her husband’s attempt at flattery.

  “As I’m sure you know, Lady Venarra,” said Katja, “there is only one High Priest and no other hierarchy below that, just the Faithful. However, I am the most knowledgeable.”

  “Ah, then I’m sure you recognise the miracle of rebirth,” said Lady Venarra, turning Katja’s attention to one of the tapestries hung over the marble fireplace. It depicted an old woman dying in a cave, apparently forgotten by the crowd who stood around a crib, cooing over a new-born child.

  “Taken from the second book of the Harvest, verses seventy-eight to one hundred and eleven.”

  She tested Katja on half a dozen more passages, sometimes obscure and ambiguous parables, but nothing she mentioned came as a surprise. Katja could recite it all if necessary, as well as several more religious tomes.

  Finally Lady Venarra sniffed and fell silent, apparently satisfied but somehow still unimpressed. Faith made a peculiar flipping gesture with her hands and Katja understood.

  “Perhaps I should test the limits of your faith,” said Katja, the tone of her voice making Lady Venarra raise an eyebrow. “You may be nobility, Lady Venarra, but I am one of the Faithful and I did not come here to be quizzed like a child.”

  “My wife meant no offence,” apologised Lord Venarra, wringing his hands.

  “I can speak for myself, Tommo,” said Lady Venarra, smoothly gliding over to stand in front of Katja, who held her gaze evenly. “I apologise. I’ve heard stories about charlatans robbing gullible nobles.”

  “Money can be useful, but it is not the core of my belief or the stone on which my faith rests,” said Katja
, paraphrasing a verse from the Book of Sorrows, one of the old texts of the Twelve. At the hint of something that sounded vaguely religious Lady Venarra seemed to come awake.

  “We’re ready to be guided by you,” she promised, suddenly as eager and accommodating as her husband.

  “We’ll see,” said Katja as Faith approached and whispered something in her ear. “First, you need to cleanse your body and your mind.”

  Faith poured glasses of water for everyone from a large jug while Katja span out more mystical-sounding promises of enlightenment if they were willing to throw off the shackles of the mundane.

  From her eye corner she noticed Faith added some white powder to two of the glasses, which briefly fizzed before settling. Moving to the table Katja added a single drop of red wine to every glass of water. The Venarras raised an eyebrow but said nothing and accepted the drink.

  “Water brings life, but within you is the seed of corruption.” Katja showed her glass of pink water to the room. The Venarras watched her with rapt attention. “You can pretend it’s not there, but impurity stains us all. First we must identify and embrace it, before we can be cleansed.”

  Katja gestured at everyone’s glass and then drained hers in three quick gulps. The others followed suit and looked at her again as if expecting to feel instantly different. Faith ushered the two male prostitutes to stand beside Lady Venarra and the two women stood beside her husband.

  “Now you must cleanse the body,” said Katja. “They will help you, while we prepare the room for the ritual of awakening.”

  The nobles were led away while Faith helped her move the furniture to the edges of the room. Inside the cloth bags she found an assortment of candles, incense, chalk, a few pots of henna paint and several coils of thin white rope. There was also a pot of red mud that came from the coast of Shael. There were several religious icons and books in the bags, but Katja ignored them. If they were to create a lost ritual it would work against her to stick too closely to scripture.