Ghosts in the Snow (35 page)

Bostra staggered to his feet, his hands held in front of him. He could see, but the world spun and wavered. Dien, however, remained clear and sharp. "Do you want to know what happened, or do you just want to kill me?" He pulled one hand back to wipe at his bleeding mouth, but kept his face turned toward Dien.

"Talk. But make it quick."

Bostra nodded again and his world went black. He heard a bell ringing in his ears and wondered if it was his death knell. He took a breath or two and leaned against the wall before his legs gave out from under him. "After Maura was born, we tried to have another, but it never happened. Jhandra never quickened." He shook his head again, remembering. "I think Maura was three summers, maybe, when Jhandra's monthlies stopped altogether. The physicians said she'd gone barren. She was only twenty-one summers old. She never recovered from the news. A summer or so later she got sick, nearly died, and the surgeon in Waterford… he…"

Bostra heard Dien mumble something, but he pressed on. "They took out her womb and no one knew. No one but me. Heather kept getting pregnant and each one tore at Jhandra. Heather lost five babies between Risley and Torrent, did you know that? Every one, every loss, made Jhandra worse, but I worried that having a real live baby that close would be worse still. She doted on the staffs newborn children, visited every new mother in town, held every infant she could get her hands on. It drove the other women crazy and we lost more staff those long summers than you can imagine. Babies were all she thought about, all she dreamt about. Nothing else mattered. Not her daughter, not her life, not me. Just babies."

He took a breath and looked toward Dien. The world had stopped its lurching and spinning, but the bells in his head remained. "One spring, I suggested we come here and visit her family. Stay till fall. I thought maybe a change of scenery would help. Do you remember? We had dinner with you and Sarea, back when you still lived in the village."

"Yeah, I remember. Kia was just toddling around and Jhandra played and played with her, carrying her everywhere. It about drove Sarea batty," Dien said softly. "But you left a few days later without saying good-bye. Sarea
still
remembers that."

"Yes. We'd been here no more than a couple of phases or so, and Jhandra comes back from visiting Friar Bonne with a baby. A damn baby! Someone had left him in the temple doorway, an orphan, and she begged me to let her keep him."

"Lars," Dien whispered as if his heart would break.

"Yes. I was hesitant at first. I mean, we had no idea whose child he was. No idea at all. Would they want him back? What if there was something wrong with him? And I also worried over what we would do with a baby. Maura was maybe ten summers, a long way from babyhood, and we were getting too old and set in our ways for the demands of a baby. But Jhandra cooed and awed over him, and she seemed so happy. I thought maybe if she had a baby of her own again I could have my wife back. I was wrong."

Dien took a single step back. Bostra said, "We returned to Haenpar immediately and Jhandra told everyone the child was hers. Wasn't it a
wonderful
surprise? Isn't he a beautiful baby? She became the focus of attention, and I couldn't begrudge her that after she had pined for so long. I think Kyi and Heather suspected the truth, but they've never said a word about it to me. I just went along with her story, not denying but not confirming, even though it was obviously a lie. She had her baby and I hoped our life would settle again.

"I tried to be a father to him. Changed his diddy, bathed him, read him stories. He was a good baby, hardly ever cried, and I don't remember him ever getting sick. I started to like the idea of having a son, but the day he took his first steps, all that changed."

"Go on."

"Jhandra wouldn't let him walk. She had to do everything for him, to keep him a baby. She hand-fed him, doted on him, dressed him like a doll. I told her to let him be. Let him run and play and get dirty. Let him eat the damned dirt if he wanted. Let him grow up, for Goddess's sake. I fought with her over the boy constantly, but she wouldn't listen. He was her baby, after all."

Bostra sighed. "He was always a pleasant child, intelligent, polite, and I know Kyi and Heather did what they could, but I spent so much time fighting with Jhandra over how to raise him, I grew to…" he paused, trying to find the best word, the one that wouldn't get him killed. "I grew to resent the boy. He wasn't mine. I didn't want him. And his presence sent my wife further into madness. Every time I looked at him I saw her madness. I still do." He paused and said, "I finally had enough of his eager-to-please whimperings and inability to stand up for himself. He was a boy, not a doll or a plaything. Dubric agreed to accept my wife's sheltered, pampered toy as a page, so I sent him here without telling Jhandra what I'd planned. She almost divorced me for taking her baby away and still hardly speaks to me. But he's better off here, where he can think for himself. Where he's not a mama's boy. Where he can grow up."

"Does Dubric know?"

"No one knows. It would kill Jhandra to be caught in the lie, and I saw no other way to save them. I did the best I could."

Dien moved a step closer again. "But you turned your back on him! You're his father."

"No, I'm not. I don't know who his father is, but it's not me."

A moment later, Bostra landed in the mud again, his vision spinning, his mouth filling with blood.

"There's more to being a father than begetting! He might not be of your blood, but you accepted him as your son. Gave him your name and let him think he was yours. You at least owe him the decency of a kind word or two, and if you were half the man I always thought you were, you owe him a lot more than simple politeness. He's a damn good lad and he deserves better. You just think about that."

Dien turned and stomped into the alehouse, slamming the door behind him.

Bostra shook his head, struggling to stand, but warm hands were there to help him. "Take it slow," Dubric said. "You will survive."

Bostra wiped blood from his mouth. "Why in the seven hells did you let him do that? For Goddess's sake, he could have killed me and you'd have gone to war! Don't you care about Faldorrah?"

"Yes," Dubric said, handing Bostra a clean kerchief. "Of course I do. But sometimes other matters take precedence. You should count yourself lucky. We had decided this particular matter was better discussed by Dien than I."

Dien came through the door, a pair of mugs in his hands. "Here," he said, shoving one at Bostra. "It will lessen the pain so you can talk."

Bostra looked between the two Faldorrahn men. "I think I'd rather you'd talked to me about Lars," he said to Dubric. He took a sip of the cider, winced, spat, then took another.

"Nope," Dien said. "Dubric just wanted to kill you, but I thought my solution might prove more practical, considering our current situation.
And
not leave the lad fatherless."

Watching the two men, Bostra sipped the cider. "I don't like either option." He looked Dien in the eye. "Are we finished?"

Dien sighed, nodding. "You just remember what I told you."

Dubric watched the exchange with glittering eyes but said nothing. Bostra sipped his cider and tried to gauge the old man's demeanor. He shivered at the cold fingers dancing up his spine; something behind Dubric's eyes seemed dead, yet horribly aware.

At last Dubric spoke. "Risley killed eleven people, ten of them young women, and injured three others. One was your son."

"He's damn lucky to be alive," Dien muttered.

"For that," Dubric continued, "I will see him hanged. That is the rule of law you and I are both bound by. Kyi knows this."

Bostra picked a hunk of mud from his robe and flung it into the night. "Lord Kylton Romlin has received word of these absurd accusations against his son and instructed me to offer an… arrangement."

"How?" Dubric asked. "Before we discuss transfer requirements, I want to know who told you. A spy in my castle will not improve Lord Risley's chances for survival. War or no war."

"Our priest received a message from your Friar Bonne. Apparently the girl Risley is smitten with— Nella, I believe her name is—asked Bonne to help her aid Risley. Bonne sent the notification in her stead." He took another sip and met Dubric's gaze. "We have no spies in Faldorrah. You have my word."

"What is your offer?" The dead awareness in Dubric's eyes had gone, leaving weariness behind.

Bostra reached inside his robe, retrieved a rumpled envelope, and presented it to Dubric. "Our most generous offer is twofold."

Dubric opened the envelope and cursed. "A Royal Decree demanding his release."

"Peg!" Dien snarled, slamming his fist against the wall.

Bostra felt the blow shudder the planks and he swallowed, thankful to be alive. "Yes, King Romlin was most upset at his grandson's arrest. We received the decree this very morning."

Dien frowned. "All the way from Waterford? It's a two-phase ride. We tossed Risley's ass in the gaol yesterday."

Bostra shrugged. "We have our ways."

"Powerful frigging magic is what you have," Dien grumbled. "That's no parlor trick. Isn't sorcery supposed to be illegal?"

"The King desires to remain in contact with his family and you expect
me
to tell him it's illegal?"

Dien moved forward, but Dubric's hand on his arm brought the big man to a halt. "What is the second portion of your 'generous offer'?" Dubric asked.

"Survival. We know your army winters away from the castle. Ours doesn't. Lord Romlin himself commands a contingent of more than one thousand men and they're riding for your borders as we speak. If I don't return with Risley, alive, in two days, they'll seize Faldorrah.

"It's your choice, my friends. You can either hand Risley over to us, or we can take him by force."

"Bastard son of a pig-riding whore!" Dien snapped, punching the wall. "What the peg do you expect us to do?"

Dubric folded the Royal Decree and placed it in his notebook. "We have two days?"

Bostra relaxed his official posture and rubbed his aching jaw. "Not exactly. Kyi realizes you may need time to prepare, but he prefers Risley to leave under cover of darkness."

"Tomorrow night, then." Dubric pocketed his notebook again.

Bostra finished his cider. "That's what he hopes, yes. Unofficially, he's willing to give you another day or so, if need be, but don't stretch this out. He doesn't have much maneuvering room."

Bostra pursed his lips and lowered his voice. "Tunkek blames this entire situation on Lord Brushgar; you know how the two despise each other. He's ready to wipe Faldorrah clean, and he doesn't care if Risley is guilty or innocent or anywhere in-between. But I want you to know that as far as Kyi and I are concerned, it's just a convenient excuse to reopen old wounds. We both had a piss of a time convincing Tunkek that we could remove Risley peacefully. We wanted to open a dialogue, find a compromise, perhaps start our own investigation, but Tunkek wouldn't hear of it, insisting that we threaten war."

He paused, looking into his empty mug. "Our hands are tied, too. Considering the political implications, we truly feel releasing Risley to us is the best option, for everyone involved."

Dubric swore under his breath. "He slaughtered ten women! How can you take that back to Haenpar with you? Your people will be in danger. Your wives, your daughters."

"He'll be guarded and under house arrest, locked in his rooms until the trial. You have my word, and Kyi's."

Dubric sagged against the wall. "He is utterly, unavoidably guilty. What is Tunkek going to do when Risley is brought before Council? Insist they find him innocent or face war, as well?"

"I don't know. At this point I'm just trying to keep the northern territories from being ravaged." Bostra straightened his back, shuddering as he spoke. "If found guilty, Risley's fate has already been decided. It will take perhaps a fortnight for the sages to arrive from Waterford."

"Then what?" Dien asked, paling.

Dubric winced as if an old pain had suddenly flared, and rubbed his eyes. "Then three blessed clerics of Malanna's Holy Church will use their filthy white magic to wipe his mind clean. It is a vicious technique they perfected during the war to control captured Shadow Followers."

"You're pulling my leg!"

"No," Bostra said. "Lord and Lady Romlin decided they'd rather have their son be a living idiot than a dead monster, regardless of political cost."

"If it does not kill him outright," Dubric muttered, pacing. "Surely a quick hanging is kinder than using religious mania to make the boy an imbecile."

"Peg yes!" Dien said. "Has the whole damn family lost their sense?"

"Sometimes I wonder," Bostra said. "How guilty is he, really? Do we have any hope of acquittal?"

"None," Dubric said, revealing the evidence against Risley. "He had topped our suspect list for days, then we found a piece of his razor inside a victim and his hair inside a package he had sent us. A gloating, disgusting bundle of kidneys, hair, and other trophies. We have evidence of exposure to Wraith Rot, as well. An honest Council will have no choice but to hang him."

"That's what we feared. We knew you'd never accuse him unless you were certain," Bostra said. "But you're confident it's Risley's hair and razor?"

"Absolutely. I have a Far-Sight glass. There is no doubt."

Bostra raised an eyebrow. "Not only a sight glass, but a Far-Sight? You tricky bastard! And you accuse us of having illegal magic."

"I said no such thing," Dubric muttered, shrugging toward Dien. "He spoke his own opinion, not mine."

While Dien grinned at him, Bostra said, "If you have any other ideas, I'm willing to hear them. But King Tunkek won't settle for anything less than release."

"Nor will Nigel," Dubric said. "Tell Lord Romlin we agree to his terms, and we will release Risley into your care tomorrow night. Once he is in Haenpar he is no longer my concern, but if he harms one more Faldorrahn, I will execute
you
for his crime."

Bostra's throat clenched, then relaxed again.
What trouble can Risley get into during a day's ride
? "Then we have reached an agreement," he said, offering his hand.