Cethe (5 page)

moment.”

“Real y? I’d always thought he was the responsible sort.”

“As long as he’s under Grandfather’s stern eye.”

They paused a moment to consider the Arranz family’s intimidating patriarch.

“What a shame. I don’t suppose you would consider… ”

Mick rol ed his eyes at the very notion. “At least Chris has more human blood than not, and looks it,” he replied lightly. “I

shudder to think what your new parish would do if faced with a dreaded h’nar ruling over them.”

Eldering’s subjects had hated their earl with a dul , hopeless intensity, but they hated h’nara even more. Since Michael’s

“arrival,” Severyn’s spies in the vil ages reported rumors flying of the demon in the castle. He would have to act fast to distract the

people. In his experience, men with ful bel ies were more tolerant.

“The vil ages are in shambles,” he sighed. “I can’t even guess when the last repairs were made on some of those cottages. No

wonder the parish is al but deserted. It’s a damn shame, too. These are some spectacular grazing lands.”

“I hear it gets hel ish cold.” Michael shuddered.

“Lately, it’s been cold everywhere,” Severyn replied glumly.

“Not like these northern steppes. According to my erstwhile hosts, the fortress is snowed in and the roads impassible from

Icekel to Brivkel. Six months is a long time to spend indoors.”

Severyn thought of the extra fields planted at Messerling, the crops he’d hoped would feed the troops soon to be posted at the

new base. How many vil ages were there in Shia Parish? Five that could be honestly termed as such and that didn’t take into

account herders’ cottages, dozens of which were scattered about the open plains. Shia might be convenient for his plans, but it was

turning out to be damned expensive.

Looking around, he sighed. “The castle may be the worst expense of al ! Loth! Everything wil have to be replaced. The wood

rots, the plaster is moldy, rubbish is piled up everywhere! Rats, spiders! I wouldn’t keep criminals here, let alone my brother!”

“The more reconstruction you do in the main house and in the vil ages, the fewer people wil question al the wagons and

supplies we’l need to expand the barracks.”

That was true. Furthermore, the bones of the old keep were decent enough. Properly refurbished, it could be a showplace.

“Maybe we’l find more treasure,” said Severyn, determined to keep an optimistic attitude.

Instead, the next morning, they found the worst horror yet.

He and Mick were in the old earl’s study, going over plans for the reconstruction when Captain Corliss appeared,

accompanied by two of his men. Seeing their ashen faces, Severyn’s impatient question died on his lips.

“Sorry to interrupt, Your Highness,” Corliss’ voice shook. “But you had better see this.”

Just outside the castle wal s where the new portion of the garrison was planned was an enormous mountain of rotting,

stinking refuse. Why anyone should choose to dump their garbage so close to their own habitation completely escaped Severyn.

Not only was it a haven for vermin, it gave forth an unbelievably foul odor that frequently wafted over the wal s and through the

entire castle. Severyn had gotten into the habit of carrying a scented handkerchief in his breast pocket for just such occasions.

The unlucky men assigned to moving the fetid mountain to a more reasonable distance stood in smal groups by the back

gate. They wore masks over their mouths and noses, and heavy gloves. Armed with pitchforks and shovels, they quickly came to

attention as Severyn and Michael approached.

Fortunately, it was not necessary to visit the heap itself. Nearby, the soldiers had started a smal pile of their own. Human

bones!

“We’ve been finding them everywhere in that mess.” Corliss jerked a thumb toward the garbage pit, shuddering.

Aghast, Severyn could only stare at the pitiful pile. “Make certain al skul s are recovered and set aside,” he said final y.

“Y-Your Highness?” Corliss was not happy to hear this and nearby, his men reacted with equal dismay.

“Whoever they were, they deserve a decent burial.”

Sickened, Severyn could barely bring himself to look at Michael. Almost certainly these were h’naran bones. Dear God! There

could be dozens of bodies here!

“Let’s go,” he said, putting a hand on Mick’s shoulder. “They’l take care of this.”

Mick jerked away. Turning on his heel, he strode back through the gate. Corliss shook his head. He waved to his men, grim-

faced. Muttering and grumbling, they headed off to resume their grisly task. Severyn stood a moment, looking down at the bones,

then fol owed his friend.

Mick waited for him in the house. His mouth was set in a thin, white line. “I’m going to have a word with Eldering.”

Severyn needed only one look to retort, “No, you’re not! I know that expression. You’l kil him!”

“How many died?
How many
?” Mick trembled, beyond anger. “And how did they die? Loth! Did you see how smal some of

those bones were?”

“You don’t know they were h’naran. He may have thrown his dead servants here, too. What a pig!”

“The pig’s son can tel us!”

“Fine. I’l talk to him but you stay away. We need him, remember?”

“He’s not the only one with the Blood!”

“Is that so? Who else?”

There was, of course, no answer. Michael swore and swung a punch at the wal , leaving a hole in the crumbling plaster.

Severyn was in no mood to confront the new earl. Since assuming control of the castle, each day brought to light shocking

new information about its late owner. This gruesome discovery, however, exceeded everything they’d uncovered so far. Michael was

right. The entire bloodline needed to be wiped from existence.

And you’re marrying one of them
.

Eldering’s room was on the top floor of the north wing, not far from the library. A guard was on duty just outside the door,

springing to unlock it and let Severyn in. This had been the sin-catcher’s room before his father’s death, as wel , a sign, doubtless,

of Stefn’s tenuous place in his family’s regard. The dingy plaster wal s were cracked and ful of holes. It was nothing more than an

attic, sparsely furnished with cast-offs: a narrow bed, a table and an elderly, threadbare chair. A pariah’s room.

Jumping to his feet, the young Earl of Shia dropped the book he held and faced Severyn with defiance. He saw the skul in the

prince’s hand and blinked, looking confused and apprehensive. Severyn threw it at him and he caught it before thinking, then

dropped it with an exclamation of distaste.

“We found the charnel heap,” said Severyn.

Lord Stefn’s dark brown hair looked like he’d cut it himself, yet the tousled style suited him. Wisping over his col ar, it was thick

and soft, tumbling into green eyes which were themselves quite large and with an odd, but pleasing almond shape. Those eyes

gazed back at Severyn without comprehension.

It was grotesque that the monster who had ruled Shia, who had committed unspeakable atrocities, could have produced a son

of such startling beauty.

“What sort of savage disposes of human bodies like that?” Severyn asked. “Who are those poor wretches in your garbage pit,

Eldering? How did they get there?”

“B-bodies? In the pit? What are you…?” Eldering’s voice trailed away at Severyn’s expression. He swal owed hard, then went

on. “Sometimes Father would capture witches. Of course, they must be executed, but I thought they had been buried or burned.”

“Executed? Do you see the size of that skul ?”

The boy looked away, jaw clenched. “This — We are a Covenant Parish of the Church. We hold to the rulings of Holy

Zelenov. It is lawful… ”

Severyn sneered. “The Celestial Council is fil ed with corrupt and selfish men, but I have yet to hear any of them cal openly

for the slaughter of innocents. Tel me, Eldering. What’s it like to murder children?”

The young earl stiffened, hands clenched into fists. Behind the outrage, however, Severyn saw a flash of fear. “You’re lying!

Wasn’t it enough that you murdered my father in his own house or used foulest witchcraft to seize control of his daughter and

estate? Now you must slander him, as wel ?”

“Slander?” Severyn laughed harshly. “You’re a sin-catcher! Do you think Loth visits such curses on the blameless?”

The earl whitened, eyes stark.

“Come with me,” Severyn said. “We’l see about slander!”

Lord Stefn had little choice but to precede Severyn from the room, limping down the stairs, through the house, and out into the

bright, windy afternoon. When he passed through the gate and saw the pit, his ashen countenance took on a greenish hue.

“He’s to dig with the others,” Severyn ordered Corliss. “Make sure he works without stopping until sunset.”

Corliss nodded, grinning.

Severyn stood, arms crossed on his chest, watching with grim enjoyment as a pitchfork was thrust into the young man’s hands

and he was sent stumbling into the debris.

“And for Loth’s sake,” added Severyn, belatedly remembering his first encounter with the doe-eyed earl. “Don’t let him get

away.”

Michael tried to keep his mind on business for the remainder of the day. He stood with Severyn’s engineer on Shia’s

overgrown parade ground and listened while the man pointed out where he envisioned various buildings.

“ …mess hal . Most of the additional barracks wil be tents at first, of course, but we expect to have a permanent structures to

hold at least five hundred additional troops by next year. Eventual y, men with families can settle in the nearby vil ages, or so we

hope, but we’l stil need barracks for those without families… ”

None of them actual y used the word “revolution.” It was such an ugly word, implying violence, wholesale destruction, and

death. Loth wil ing, theirs would be a bloodless coup and any opposition slight. Arami would abdicate quietly, wil ing to spend the

rest of his days in a transformed Shia, wel -guarded, surrounded by every luxury, and free of the responsibilities he ignored routinely

anyway.

Tanyrin needed a king, a strong one. Each year, it seemed, the weather went from bad to worse. Summers had become cool

and wet while winter’s icy reach extended further south every year. Beaten down by winds and rain, grain rotted in the fields.

Reports of crop failures grew. Hunger and fear spread like some deadly disease. In the east, famine was said to be widespread. Yet,

in spite of the obvious hardships of their people, the Church and the Royal Court demanded more and more from them. Even the

nobles were feeling the strain.

Al the while, King Arami kept to his rooms, lost in pelthe dreams, oblivious and uncaring. If the Wet was indeed returning, the

people of Tanyrin would turn to whoever offered the promise of safety. The nara were no longer here to blame, but there were

plenty of h’nara. If the House of Lothlain couldn’t protect the people, then it would be the Church. And if it were to be the Church,

God help them al .

Returning to the main house, Michael found the prince on the second floor of the west wing, looking down on the lane.

“These are good rooms,” said Severyn by way of greeting. “Look at the view!”

Obligingly, Michael joined him. The windows were filthy and a few had rags stuffed into empty panes, but Severyn was right.

The view was spectacular.

Shia was built on a large, artificial hil . The keep occupied its highest point and from it, one could look out across the

outbuildings, over the top of the wal s, and onto the rol ing land beyond. From here, he could see the meadows, turning gold with the

approach of autumn. To the east, the blue shadows of spruce forests marked the foothil s. Banks of white, fluffy clouds hid the more

distant peaks of the Lothwal range.

“Storage,” Severyn said, shaking his head. “The rooms are either empty or stuffed ful of rubbish. What do you think about

turning them into bedroom suites? Gods, can you imagine a summer sunset through these windows?”

“Do what you wish,” replied Michael. “It’s your brother who wil be living here.”

“Yes.” For a moment, sorrow touched Severyn’s face, then his jaw hardened. He shrugged. “But when he passes on, it wil

revert to your family, as it should.”

“After al the evil done inside these wal s, I’m not sure I want it back.”