Back From Chaos (38 page)

When Klast spotted Gaelen approaching, he unhooded the lamp he had lit and unbarred the door. Gaelen motioned Klast to precede him in.

The prisoner leapt up wildly, arms shielding his eyes, blinded by the sudden light. “Who be there?” he cried out.

Klast set the lamp to one side on the floor and stood between it and the man, who by now had sunk back onto the stone bench that, with one ratty blanket, served as his bed.

“
I am the nightmare you had last night and this is the man who will decide your fate.” Klast made his voice cold and menacing. Gaelen stood back in the shadows, arms crossed, feet well apart, giving the impression of great size and immovability.

The man shrank away further until the wall pressed against his back. His hands clutched the edge of the bench, white-knuckled.

Ornan had not been trained as a soldier. He carried only one dagger as a rule, which had become dull from using it to cut rope and meat. As a messenger/trader such skills had not been necessary. Lone, poor traders generally travelled safely, as they carried nothing of value to thieves. Courage and cunning were other qualities lacking in this man. He knew how to follow orders, not make decisions. He had not been required to think for himself. Now he sat paralysed with terror.

Gaelen spoke from his place in the shadows.

“
You will not speak unless spoken to. You will answer all questions. If your answers are useful you may live a little longer. If not … I’ll leave you alone with my man here. I am sure he can find a slow and painful way to rid Bargia of you. He is most skilled in such things. I do not think you will be missed.”

Klast gave a low-throated snarl that made the man start to whimper.

“
P … please.”

“
Quiet!” Gaelen spoke to Klast then, his voice cold. “If he speaks other than to answer, break his fingers … one at a time, mind.” Klast jerked a nod.

“
Your name?”

“
Ornan,” he answered, his voice strangled with fear.

“
Who sent you?”

Ornan hesitated until Klast started coolly forward. “Wilnor,” he stammered.

“
What were your orders?”

He hesitated again until Klast made to reach for his hand.

“
To deliver a message and bring back the answer.” He leaned forward slightly, opened his mouth as though to continue, took one look at Klast and sank back again.

“
Tell all of it. Leave nothing unsaid. My man will know if you try to hide something.” Gaelen let a note of sinister satisfaction creep into his voice. “Earth has given him a special gift.”

Ornan’s tale came out in halting pieces. It proved much more involved than expected. Wilnor had fled Catania City to his estate in the country when the demesne had been overthrown. When it became clear that Wilnor could not influence Argost, he contacted Lord Wernost of Lieth. He made him an offer of assistance if that man wished to take over Catania. In return Wernost was to make Wilnor governor. When the plague killed Wernost that plan had been postponed, and now Wilnor schemed with Sinnath instead.

Ornan had been Wilnor’s man since well before the invasion. His duties had taken him to various places within Catania for years, while Wilnor still had Cataniast’s ear. But Wilnor, a cunning conspirator, needed more ways to increase his power. So when a man arrived spreading hints of a plot to overthrow Gaelen and take Bargia, he befriended him. Ornan had acted as Wilnor’s go-between, both in Bargia and in Lieth.

“
We must see to it that Merlost of Lieth understands it would be unwise to entertain thoughts of challenge to Bargia or Catania,” Gaelen declared. Klast grunted assent, not taking his eyes off their prisoner.

Ornan had travelled to Bargia with messages twice, but this was his first visit to the inn. Norlain’s greed had made her an easy mark. One of Sinnath’s men had prepared her for the coded message. She had offered her son as delivery boy. Ornan had an address, but not the name of the man who planned the takeover.

It seemed Sinnath had remained most circumspect. He had sent the ring and the address to be used for correspondence via his own man. Ornan could not read and did not know what the correspondence contained. Wilnor also had not revealed the details of their plans to him. Ornan did divulge that Wilnor had concentrated his efforts on Sinnath after the death of the lord of Lieth from the plague. The ring had come back the last time with only the verbal message to wait for further instructions. He did not know who owned the ring. Norlain also did not know it, he said. He had asked her. He had not had time to discover who owned the address.

When Gaelen had no more questions he looked at Klast. “Let him rot here for now. We may have use for him later.”

Klast nodded silently, picked up the lamp and followed Gaelen out the door, barring and locking it again. They waited until well out of earshot before they spoke.

“
It is fortunate that we have the letters from Sinnath’s desk. Without those Ornan is of little use,” Gaelen said.

Klast nodded slowly. “You know that I do not wish to involve the boy. I have given my word to Haslin that I will do what I can to keep him and Norlain safe, but I fear it may be necessary to have the lad tell his tale.” He shook his head. “I am loath to break my word.”

“
I agree. We may yet avoid it, at least in public. You do agree that a public trial is necessary.” It was more statement than question.

“
Indeed. The people must see clearly that Sinnath has turned traitor. Anything less leaves you open to conspiracy, even rebellion.” Klast grew silent for a moment, and asked, “How do you propose to handle Sinnath himself?”

“
I think we leave him alone, with no access to information or visitors. When we have all our other evidence in order, we will set it before the council. We will include Ornan and perhaps the boy. Then, with all of this already arranged in the council chamber, we bring Sinnath in and confront him with it. He will see his guilt laid out, as will the other members of the council. You will be present as well, of course.”

“
A good plan I think. But we must keep him hidden and unaware until we are ready. If any news reaches him he will use it to plan his defence.”

“
Agreed. No one but Grenth knows where he is held since you changed his cell. Only you shall bring him food and drink until this is over. I trust no one else.”

“
As you wish, my lord. I have hand picked the guards. I believe they can be trusted. They do not know who we hold there. The door has no window and sounds cannot penetrate the walls. They have been posted well down the hall, as you have seen.”

Gaelen gave a small distracted nod, frown lines creasing his forehead. Then he gave his head a quick jerk as if to clear it, turned to Klast as they approached the door to the exit and said, “Now, my friend, my orders are to go and get some food and sleep. I know there has been little of such for you these last days. I need you alert.” The last came with a slight smile and twinkle of the eye.

Klast nodded his understanding, and they exited into a back hall and went their separate ways. But instead of heading for his room to sleep off his exhaustion, Klast decided he still had time to visit Simna.

~ 91 ~

SIMNA

So much had happened the last days that Klast had had no time to spare for the situation with Brensa. He had eaten nothing since early morning. A good meal would revive him. So he entered the Lucky Stallion as the moon climbed high and the stars told him it was not too late to find Simna available. He hoped she was not entertaining another client. With luck the last one would already have left. He knew from past visits to the inn that she often sat with a goblet of wine and a late meal before she retired to her private chamber to sleep. This chamber she kept for herself alone. She had another, richly appointed, where she entertained her clients.

It seemed Earth conspired in his favour. This evening, he found Simna sitting quietly in her favourite corner, just finishing her drink. The main room was empty of other clients. When Klast entered, the sound of the door brought a fleeting annoyance to her face. He watched her expression change to one of genuine pleasure as she recognized him.

“
Klast! What brings you to seek a lady’s company at this late span?” She turned to the kitchen and called out, “Mearin, bring more wine and some of our good cheese and cold fowl for my friend.”

The innkeeper stuck his head out, nodded brusquely and disappeared to do her bidding. He grumbled just loud enough for the words to reach them about needing his bed and having baking to do before dawn.

Klast gave Simna a weary smile and sat down gratefully at her table.

Simna had reached that stage when most women had born a child or four and begun to wear the badges of age. Simna, however, had weathered the years remarkably well. Approaching thirty, her figure had filled to maturity, and her expensive gown showed her full breasts to advantage. She still had a slim waist, and her skirt draped the curves of her hips enticingly where she sat at the end of her bench, open to view. She had arranged her hair in a loose braid, wound about her head to enhance the softness of her cheeks. Her lips showed just a hint of red stain from the berry juice she used. Yet somehow she managed to combine all of this with an air of dignity that belied her profession.

Very early on, Simna had mastered the art of seduction while still maintaining control over the men who sought her favours. Only twice had she miscalculated and been left with bruises from men who needed to inflict pain in order to be aroused. They had appeared so charming before they entered the bedchamber that she had been fooled. But only twice. Simna now immediately recognized their subtle signals and avoided engaging such men. And the two who had abused her had found themselves barred from at least five of the better establishments. Her ability to read people well was a trait she shared with Klast and one of the reasons he admired and trusted her.

Klast was aware of the code that existed among the ladies of pleasure. When one woman found out that a man had certain tastes, word passed around. Such men soon found it difficult to engage any woman on whom they could inflict their rage or hatred. On rare occasions, when a woman had been badly injured or maimed, the man who had inflicted her wounds ended up dead in a gutter in another part of the city, stabbed through the heart or with his throat cut from behind. Their assassins were never apprehended. No one mourned their loss.

Klast had met Simna several years earlier when business had brought him to the Lucky Stallion. Simna had come to see that Klast did not desire a woman in that way. Over time and many shared meals, they had formed an understanding that resembled friendship, though Klast would not have recognized it as such. Klast trusted her not to ask unwelcome questions, and she welcomed the company of a man who merely wanted conversation.

Now, Klast could see her assessing him with mild curiosity. No doubt she could already tell that this occasion was different.

As they waited for the food and wine Simna kept silent, but Klast could tell that her interest was piqued. Klast was grateful that she knew him well enough not to pry. She knew he would tell her what he wanted in his own time. Simna had learned patience over the years. Theirs was a comfortable bond with no unwelcome expectations.

They waited for the food to sate his hunger and the wine to ease a little of the tension in his shoulders. Simna leaned, relaxed, into the back of the bench, letting go the airs and postures she employed to call attention to herself. When he finally looked up to meet her gaze she quirked a brow in encouragement.

He cleared his throat. “Simna, I have a strange request to make of you.”

Simna could not help herself. Her eyes danced and she put a lilting flirt into her voice, though her relaxed position did not change. This was teasing, not seduction.

“
Why Klast, are you finally here to succumb to my charms and let me take you to my chamber? You won’t be disappointed.” Her laugh was rich and throaty, her face alight with mischief.

Klast, too weary and nervous for banter, just shook his head and continued. “No, Simna, I need your wisdom and your help with a delicate situation.” He hesitated, then plunged on. “It concerns a young woman.”

She looked at him in mock surprise, having intuited where this was leading. “Klast, I do believe you have fallen in love. I had not thought to ever see you subject to the wiles of a woman.”

Klast shook his head again. “No wiles, Simna, quite the contrary.” He told her very briefly how he had met Brensa and fallen in love with her. Simna listened without interrupting, nodding occasionally. As Klast told of Brensa’s rape and rescue she grew serious, and her face took on a deep compassion and understanding. Simna well understood the harm some men could do.

At last he came to his reason for seeking Simna out. “Simna, I need to learn how to woo her, to help her relax and to desire me, so that I do not frighten her or hurt her. I must not cause her more pain. I would rather live without her.”

He put his elbows on the table and rested his forehead on his palms, his hair clenched roughly in his fingers. “Simna, though I have just said so, I cannot live without her. She fills my thoughts and my dreams. I must find a way to help her find contentment … no, for us to find it together, or we shall both live in need and misery.”

He looked up at Simna, making no attempt to hide his feelings. “Simna, I have not the skills to court her. I do not know where to begin. You know how I have shunned such things.” He held her eyes a moment then let his head fall back into his hands.