Bloodfeud (The Scarlet Star Trilogy Book 3) (29 page)

He unlocked the door and stepped inside the tower. A curious, not entirely pleasant, smell prickled his nose. He climbed the stairs, taking the steps faster and faster with every glance he took around him, eyeing the dust and dirt. The smell was getting worse.

It was only when he heard the shallow breaths of his wife that Dizali knew what had transpired: neglect. The butler had not been doing his job of letting in the maids. His wife was gasping as though she was on the edge of death. Dizali grabbed a glass of water and helped her sip it. As soon as the last drop had met her cracked lips, he hurled the glass against the far wall and stormed back down the stairs.

‘Pontis!’ he bellowed to the corridors. ‘Find me Mr Pontis! I want him in front of me in the next minute!’

A handful of maids at the far end of the hallway heard him, and disappeared down the stairs like mice down a hole when the lantern’s lit. They echoed his cries.

‘PONTIS!’ Dizali roared.

Hanister came running up, hands already delving inside his jacket for a vial or two. ‘Lord Protector?’

‘I want that butler, Pontis, found. I’m going to skin him alive!’ Dizali strode past him and stood in the centre of the grand atrium, furious yet patient, waiting for his man to be delivered.

‘Here’s one that knows something, Milord,’ said Rolick, marching up with a startled-looking maid in tow. He held her firmly by the wrist but she knew better than to struggle.

‘You!’ Dizali levelled a finger at her. She reacted as if it were the barrel of a pistol, whimpering pitifully. ‘You tend to the tower in the northeast wing, do you not? I’ve seen you there.’

‘I do, Milord!’

‘Then explain to me why it is in such a sorry state of affairs!’ he yelled, inches from her face.

‘Mr Pontis, Milord, he ‘asn’t come to fetch us in a day or two now. Usually comes callin’ for us, but he ‘asn’t.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Nobody’s seen ‘im, Milord.’

‘He’s disappeared?’
With his key, no less
.

‘I don’t know, Milord.’

‘And you did not think to come and advise me of this?’

The maid whimpered.

‘Have the dogs chase this one from the estate,’ ordered Dizali. She struggled, squirming like an electrified cat. She was too shocked to scream, but that would come as soon as she heard the barking.

Dizali walked briskly towards the wing where the workers slept, Brother in tow. ‘I want Pontis found. Query the maids and butlers, all of them except for the ones allowed in the tower. I want them put to work immediately. And check Mr Witchazel is still with us!’

*

Calidae had been hanging out of her window for an hour now, pretending to watch the bright fingernail of moon hover over the trees. In truth, she was cursing magpies, wishing death upon them all. Magpies and Lord Protectors, for that matter.

She was still fuming from losing Slickharbour Spit. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t expected to sacrifice the estate; that was just a bitter side-effect of the plan. It had been expected, mulled over, talked about, and, furious though it made her, was a necessary move; like sacrificing a pawn to save a queen. Dizali needed something to gnaw on to keep her at his side.

At the very least, Calidae had hoped to stall enough to keep Slickharbour. What stung was the trick he had pulled in the Order meeting, blindsiding her at the table. She had let her curiosity of the Order distract her, and she had stumbled. But hating oneself for tripping over a root is a waste of time. Better to learn, and grow wiser of the tree. She had seen Dizali’s ploys in action now, and she had made sure to etch them into her mind.

There had been success today, overshadowed though it may have been. She was inside the Order now, and that alone kept her from strolling out of her room and sinking a knife into Dizali. She was at the rotten core of the apple, dressed up as one of the maggots; right where she belonged. It was why she had played so sweetly even after scrawling her name on her father’s deeds. Calidae let her angst die, to be replaced with something cool and calculated.

A thin, shrill tail of a scream reached her ears and she squinted at the gloom outside her window. She saw nothing on the grounds besides the wriggling trees, their leaves shaking in the light breeze. She slipped to her side table and dimmed the lantern. Pressing her elbows into the windowsill, she thrust her head out into the night and listened hard.

Another screech echoed across the rolling grounds, louder and closer this time. Calidae looked right, following the shadow of the wall, until she caught a flash of white dashing across the dewy grass.

The woman was running at full pelt. Calidae could almost see it in her eyes, which strained to pop from her face. Her breath was a terrified pant. It may have been the wash of the moonlight, but there was not a hint of colour in her face. She was as white as a servant’s gown.

A deep shout stretched across the grounds, followed sharply by a rising roar of dogs barking; a score of them, from the noise they made, baying and howling and yelping at the darkness. Even devoid of language, Calidae understand it well enough. It sounded like
hungry
.

Dark shapes began to flow from the house beneath, a strip or patch of white here and there to betray their numbers. When their mouths weren’t mid-bark they were slavering and bearing teeth. Calidae watched, morbidly fascinated, as the dogs gave chase to the white figure. She put up a good race, making it almost to the trees before the gap was closed. Her last scream was cut short and ragged, its echoes left to wander the grounds.

Calidae wondered what the maid had done to deserve such treatment, She shuddered as her mind darted back to Pontis’ crumpled body in the cupboard. She wondered whether she could make it to the treeline.

She began to pace. Should she stay put, or go downstairs and risk becoming embroiled, possibly even blamed, for whatever drama had unfolded below? Just as she concluded that staying holed up was more suspicious, there came a thudding on her door.

‘Yes, who is it?’

The door was flung open by Rolick and two of his lordsguards. Rolick bobbed his head apologetically as he barged inwards.

‘Sorry, Milady. Lord Protector’s orders.’ As the men began to poke around her room, Calidae put her hands on her hips. ‘We’re looking for a missing person,’ added the captain.

‘I hardly think I would have failed to spot them in my own room!’

‘You never know,’ replied Rolick with a wry grin.

‘Then I shall take this intrusion up with the Lord Protector,’ she said, trying to ignore the heat in her cheeks. Calidae strode from the room and marched the halls until she found His Lordship.

‘What ever is all this fuss?’ she demanded, after spying Dizali and Hanister standing together on the landing.

‘Lady Serped,’ Hanister said, bowing.

‘Calidae, this does not concern you,’ Dizali snapped.

‘It does when my peace and privacy are disturbed without an explanation,’ she said, purposefully leaving the ‘Lord Protector’ part out.

Dizali was not in the mood to parry words. He fixed her with a cold stare.

‘One of my butlers has forsaken me, if you must know. Absconded with a precious item of mine. Now, if it is not too much of an inconvenience to you, I shall return to the matter at hand, so it may be resolved! Good evening.’

Calidae knew when to bow out and did so swiftly.

‘Yes, my Lord. I was headed for the kitchens in any case. I’m afraid supper left me hungrier than I would have liked. Excuse me.’ Hanister moved aside to let her pass, and she worked her way down the stairs, not too swiftly, but quick enough. She wanted to sprint.

In the kitchens, she found the maids working on tomorrow’s bread, nattering between each other like sparrows on a line.

‘Milady,’ one called out, upon spying her in the doorway. There was a rolling wave of curtseys from the low-ceilinged room. The mighty ovens made it swelteringly warm in there.

‘Please, that’s not necessary,’ she said with a smile. The maids didn’t know what to make of that. ‘I simply wanted to know what happened tonight.’

The nearest maid cleared her throat, wiping flour across her nose.

‘One of His Lordship’s butlers is missing.’ She’d meant to go on, but the maids needed no encouragement to start spilling the gossip. The story’s pieces came thick and fast. Calidae’s neck ached after trying to keep up.

‘I’ve heard as much,’ one said.

‘Took a key with him.’

‘And guess who has the other one?’

‘Dizali, that’s who.’

‘He keeps somethin’ secret in the northeast wing, in a tower with a locked door.’

‘Pontis was the butler in charge of letting in the special maids.’

‘They never talk about their duties. Not a peep!’

‘Fear for their necks they do.’

‘Rumour has it that Dizali has locked a relative away up there.’

‘I heard it was a raving lunatic. A sister or somesuch.’

‘Better keep out of it, Milady!’

Calidae made her excuses and left, darting back down the hallways and narrow corridors until she was deep in the dark and forgotten passageways of Clovenhall once again. It took her no time to find the cupboard, going by memory and the faint glow of a distant torch. The body had not started to reek yet, thanks to the corridor staying relatively cool, but it was on the turn.

She reached into her dress and pulled out a key that dangled on a silver chain around her neck. Her fingers found the lock in the gloom and had the cupboard open in seconds.

It was then that the smell hit her. Not quite a rot yet, but getting close. Calidae winced as she reached to pluck a key from around the corpse’s disturbingly soft throat. She held it up to the dim light. It was an intricate thing, expertly made. No wonder Dizali set his dogs loose tonight. It just happened to be the wrong person, an innocent maid. Something close to guilt jabbed at her, but she shrugged it off.

She stuffed the key into her a pocket, vowing to wash it as soon as she was able, and possibly burn her dress. Once again, the cupboard was locked up tight and left to the darkness.

Calidae made it back to the atrium without raising a single eyebrow. From what the lordsguards were muttering, Dizali was in the midst of ripping the workers’ billets apart, and would be busy for some time. She bit her lip, wondering if she should try her chances and sneak a look in the northeast wing. But it was an unpredictable night, and she didn’t fancy ruining the grand plan.

As soon as her door was locked, she went to the bathroom to wash her hands and the key. A quick change of clothes later and she was sliding it onto the chain around her neck. It hung alongside the cupboard key, dwarfing it.

There came a harsh caw from behind her and she practically jumped off her stool. The magpie ducked under the open window and flapped to her desk. It strutted about in a circle before depositing a letter onto her lap. ‘Clever bird indeed,’ she told it, unfolding the letter.

C,

10th confirmed. Deeds are under control. Keep head down and carry on your work. You need to convince W.

Any names for me?

M.

P.S. Just talk to Jake. He can understand you.

‘And it gets madder,’ she muttered. Calidae met the bird’s one-eyed gaze; beady and black. The magpie cawed once more. ‘So, you’re Jake. Well, Jake, you can tell the good Master Hark that Dizali has Brothers working for him,’ she began, speaking slowly. ‘Like Gile and Gavisham. The Eighth.’ For that she drew the number in the air, as if it would help. ‘Tell him I’m a member of the Order now, though it cost me the Spit. That Dizali is planning to have Victorious hanged, and give him the names Longweather, Oswalk, and Darbish. And tell him to hurry up!’

Jake cawed again, and flapped towards the window, blowing Calidae’s hair in all directions. With one more clack of his beak, he shimmied under the window and disappeared into the evening. Calidae shook her head before heading back to the bathroom to re-wash her hands. Birds carry all sorts of diseases.

‘Damn you, Tonmerion Hark,’ Calidae whispered to herself as she unlocked the door and tip-toed along the corridor. She knew Witchazel needed convincing. How dare he throw orders about! She had already tried twice.

The first night he had not answered her quiet knocks and whispers of escape. She had slipped a quick letter under the door and left, having heard boots coming down the hallway. Brother’s boots.

The second, a letter had been slipped the other way, saying only, “NO!” She had told him that Merion was alive, that he wanted to free him, rescue him, even. Witchazel had to be ready. And yet still the foolish lawyer refused to agree, whispering something unintelligible about the Bulldog and broken promises.

Tonight, she would convince him. She would talk some sense into the lawyer or poke him in the eye with a needle through the keyhole. She wasn’t in the mood to get caught arguing with a door, not with so much zealotry afoot.

She paused at a junction of three opulent corridors, heart beating harder than usual. The lawyer’s room was close, tucked inside an alcove. Calidae was about to move when she heard the whump of a closing door. A figure appeared in the hallway, adjusting his bowler hat as he walked away. It was a Brother, though she didn’t know which one. There were three of them now.