Ice Forged (The Ascendant Kingdoms Saga) (48 page)

“What did you hear?” Dawe asked, his sword still gripped in his hand.

“People said desperate men made the low places their own, to keep their necks out of the noose,” Verran replied. “I heard there were monsters down here, like that barghest and worse.” His gaze flickered nervously toward Geir. “And vampires.”

Geir spat out a harsh laugh. “And do you always believe children’s fables?”

“That barghest was no fable,” Dawe countered.

Geir did not slow his stride as he answered. “Yes, beasts like the barghest dwell down here. As for the
talishte
, we had no need for refuge in these tunnels until the Great Fire.”

They wound through a maze of cellars, tunnels, and cave passageways. Blaine had given up on trying to mark their way. They had walked for miles, and Blaine hoped Piran would be able to fight off both blood loss and any poison from the barghest’s fangs long enough to reach the healer Geir promised.

Blaine glanced toward Connor, who had said nothing, taking up the rear of the group.
Did Connor betray us? Or was he as surprised by Geir’s appearance as the rest of us?

“We’re here,” Geir announced. Geir led the way up an old set of stone steps to a door. It opened before they reached it, giving Blaine to guess that their approach had been observed. They followed Geir into a large cellar room appointed like the salon of a down-at-the-heels noble. Tapestries and curtains covered the room’s stone walls. Torches in wall sconces and oil lamps lit the room as if it were merely night outside. The room was comfortably furnished in the manner of a drawing room, with a desk, a couch, and several upholstered chairs. Each wall had a closed door. Antique Lethurian carpets covered the floors. Blaine wondered when Lord Penhallow would make his appearance.

A blond man stood beside the door. Geir bent to speak in low tones to the guard, who nodded and gave a quick glance toward Connor. In a moment, the man slipped through another door and left them alone in the chamber.

Geir laid Piran on the sofa. Kestel sank to her knees beside him. She looked up in alarm. “He’s barely breathing.”

Geir touched Piran’s forehead, and Piran awoke with a start. “Merely a courtesy, m’lady,” Geir said. “My kind have certain abilities that are native to our blood. Among other things, we
can slow down a heartbeat and depress respiration. It made the journey easier on your friend.”

And it would certainly come in handy subduing prey
, Blaine thought.

“Where’s the healer you promised?” Blaine asked.

“On her way. But there is something I can do for him in the meantime.” Geir motioned for Kestel to move out of the way. He knelt beside Piran and tore his shirt open as if it were gauze, revealing a nasty wound that was already beginning to fester. Geir spat onto the palm of his hand and then pressed his palm against Piran’s wound.

“What in Raka did you do that for?” Dawe protested. “Can’t you see it’s already going sour?”

Geir said nothing, but moved his hand slowly over the raw gash. Verran grabbed Geir’s shoulder as if to throw him aside, but Geir was immovable, and the twitch of his arm sent Verran sprawling.

“Look,” Kestel said quietly to Blaine, pointing. Where Geir had touched the wound with his spittle, the blood had stopped flowing, and the skin, torn and ragged just moments before, was visibly knitting closed.

Geir stood and went to wash his hands in a nearby basin. He turned back to where the others stood. “Our saliva staunches blood flow and encourages the skin to heal rapidly. It’s necessary, given that we don’t need to kill the creatures from which we feed.”

“And the infection?”

“I will see to that.” They turned as a woman with long dark hair entered the room. She was dressed in tunic and trews, like a man. The heavy brocade cloth was of superior quality, though it was stained and worn in places.

“This is Anya,” Geir said. “She’s a healer.”

“How is it that the
talishte
have need of a healer?” Kestel asked Geir as Anya knelt beside Piran. “What can ail the dead?”

Geir regarded her with a half smile as if he enjoyed Kestel’s sparring. “While we are indeed undead, there are certain… vulnerabilities… that are more tolerable when eased by a healer. And we take our responsibilities to our human envoys quite seriously.”

“You mean ‘servants,’ ” Dawe challenged.

Geir raised his head, looking at Dawe with an unreadable expression. “Not servants in the manner in which you mean the term, as chattel. Longtime retainers, envoys who manage our daytime affairs with our complete trust, members of our household.” He turned his gaze back to Blaine. “I believe you would understand the term in that manner from your own experience, would you not, Lord McFadden?”

“A retainer’s status depends upon the character of his lord,” Blaine replied, hoping he did not look as uncomfortable with Geir’s use of the title as he felt.

“Indeed,” Geir replied with a hint of cold mirth.

Blaine returned his attention to Anya. She had withdrawn a shallow cup and vials of powder from the pouches at her belt, and a small flagon of what appeared to be wine. Anya poured a portion of the powders and wine into the cup and stirred them with her finger, then poured out the mixture slowly over Piran’s rapidly healing wound. Piran gave a cry and lurched, but Anya pressed him back into the couch one-handed, despite Piran’s bulk. The mixture fizzed and thickened, gradually disappearing into Piran’s skin.

Anya straightened and dusted off her trews, returning the vials and cup to the pouch on her belt. “Your friend will live,” she said, her voice thick with an accent Blaine could not place.
“He must rest. A barghest’s bite is not poisoned, but they are foul creatures, and their wounds, you see, sour quickly. I’ll see to his care while you’re a guest here.” With that, Anya swept out of the room.

Geir turned back to Blaine and the others. “I need to make arrangements for your food and to assure your quarters are acceptable. Make yourselves comfortable. Lord Penhallow will join you shortly.” Geir left by the same doorway that Anya had used. For a moment, Blaine’s group was silent, and then Dawe moved to the door Geir had just opened. It did not budge.

“Locked,” Dawe reported.

Kestel sat down in the chair nearest to Piran. “What now?”

Blaine turned toward Connor. “That’s a good question. How about it, Connor? Did you betray us?”

Connor reddened. “No, or at least, not intentionally. The
kruvgaldur
bond isn’t something I initiate or control. Communicating through the bond never happened when I was just Garnoc’s messenger.”

Connor sighed. “I told you about the dreams while we were at sea. I don’t know what Penhallow can read from my mind when we’re not in actual contact, or how far away his link can reach. His touch was lighter in Edgeland, only at the brink of wakefulness. The closer we came to Donderath, the more I felt his presence on the fringes of my thoughts.”

“Did Penhallow order you to get us into the cellars?” Dawe demanded.

Connor shook his head. “No. Engraham told me about the cache and gave me the key. I had no idea where Penhallow was. He disappeared on the eve of the last battle.”

Kestel stood up and placed herself between Dawe and Connor. “Whether or not Connor could have guessed Penhallow
knew where we were, it’s damn lucky he did. We were losing the fight before Geir showed up.”

Dawe turned away grudgingly to find a seat on the other side of the room. Blaine returned his attention to Connor. It was possible, he guessed, for Connor not to know the full extent of the vampire’s hold over him. And it was also true that Connor had not hidden the link between himself and the vampire, a connection that had now rescued them twice. Connor had endured the same hardship as the rest of them on the journey back to Donderath, a journey he had not been forced to make. And in the battle with the barghest, Connor had fought as hard and as bravely as any of them, though he was clearly not a seasoned warrior. Hardly the actions of a man who knew help was on the way.

“Give him a break, Dawe,” Blaine said. “For now, I’m willing to take him at his word.”

Connor visibly relaxed. “I don’t believe Lord Penhallow means you harm,” Connor said with a glance toward the door. “He may be able to help us. Even if he offers us no other boon, his protection is quite valuable.”

“Or at least it was,” Blaine replied, beginning to pace. “If he’s so powerful, why hide down here? Why flee on the eve of battle? We don’t know the landscape anymore. Obviously, Donderath has changed.”

They fell silent for a few moments, and then Dawe turned to Verran. “The tools worked, huh?” Dawe asked.

“You made him a set of thieves’ tools?” Kestel asked incredulously.

Dawe shrugged. “Figured we’d have to forage once we got here. When Verran showed me what he had, I saw how to make him a better set. Just planning ahead, that’s all.”

“Don’t let him kid you,” Verran said. “Dawe built me the best set of tools I’ve ever seen. He’s got real potential as a thief, I’m telling you.”

Connor sat on the edge of the group. After a while, Kestel walked over and sat down beside him. “You don’t have to keep your distance,” she said.

Connor shrugged. “They don’t trust me.”

Kestel looked at Blaine and the others and turned back to Connor. “Don’t take it too hard. Blaine doesn’t like surprises. That barghest was a damnable surprise. And I think we’re all pretty shaken up over what happened to Piran.”

“I didn’t intend to betray anyone,” Connor said, an edge of controlled anger beneath his voice.

Kestel regarded him for a moment. “No, I don’t believe you did intend to, and I’m not convinced that leading us to Penhallow is a betrayal. If he’s as powerful as you say, we may need his help, or at least his patronage. What’s in it for him?”

Connor was thoughtful for a moment. “While I respect Lord Penhallow’s power, I’ve never had cause to fear him. I can’t say the same of many mortals at court, men who were completely without scruples. Penhallow’s existed a long time, and he says he’s seen magic collapse before. He warned me, and got his people to safety. He didn’t seem to anticipate any gain from the upset. If anything, knowing what was likely to happen seemed to make him melancholy.”

“Very human of him,” Kestel remarked.

Connor shrugged. “He and Grimur and the other vampires I’ve met seem more like us than not, despite their age. Perhaps even death can’t change some things.”

“You might be surprised.” The voice came from the doorway. Blaine and the others rose to their feet defensively as the
door swung open to admit the speaker. Lanyon Penhallow was a tall man. Long brown hair fell loose to his shoulders. His face was angular, neither handsome nor unpleasant, yet striking for its confidence. He moved into the room gracefully, with an air of bridled power, reminding Blaine of a racehorse, or perhaps, more correctly, one of the large mountain cats in the forest. Everything about the man spoke of wealth, from the fine brocade of his trews to the cut of his waistcoat. Blaine met his gaze and repressed a shiver. The power that was only hinted at in Penhallow’s manner was utterly clear in his eyes.

“Connor,” Penhallow said with a hint of a smile. “I am truly relieved to see you looking well.”

Connor gave a slight bow. “Thank you, m’lord. It’s been an interesting journey.”

“Indeed.” Penhallow turned his attention to Blaine. “Lord McFadden,” he said, though to the best of Blaine’s memory, he and Penhallow had never met.

“I go by Mick these days,” Blaine replied.

Penhallow’s thin lips twitched in amusement. “Reinventing yourself for Velant? I know something of adapting to suit the circumstances. Why have you come home?”

Blaine did not look away. “Can’t you read my mind?”

Penhallow’s laugh was deep and rich. “You are not afraid of much, are you, Blaine McFadden?”

“Exile tends to reduce what you fear.”

Penhallow’s expression sobered. “It does indeed.” He turned away, and his glance fell in turn on each of Blaine’s companions. “Geir said Connor had brought friends.” He smiled when he saw Kestel, who nodded her head in recognition.

“Mistress Kestel I have met before,” Penhallow said. “Perhaps introductions for the rest of you are in order.” Penhallow
moved slowly around the room, listening intently as each of the group made an introduction. Finally, Penhallow stopped beside Piran’s couch, and looked down at his sleeping form.

“That’s Piran,” Connor said. “The barghest caught him by surprise. Your healer and Geir seemed to think he would be all right.”

Penhallow frowned as if deep in thought, and then spoke. “Yes, I believe he will be. His life force is growing stronger. Fortunate that Geir caught up with you.”

“I had a feeling that bit of luck was arranged,” Blaine said neutrally.

Penhallow gave an offhanded shrug. “If you’re implying that I set the barghest on you to force your audience with me, the answer is, no. Did I have the sense from the
kruvgaldur
that Connor was in danger? Yes. I had hoped that Geir would intercept you without incident.”

“What do you want from us?” Blaine lifted his head challengingly.

“I would like to see you succeed,” Penhallow replied, with a gesture that bade them sit.

Blaine shot a glance toward Connor. “What do you know about our plans?”

Penhallow’s expression was unreadable. “As I have not had a chance for Connor to brief me, I know very little. But I have gleaned insights through my bond with him, whispers at the edge of wakefulness. You would like to see magic return as it had been. No doubt, Valtyr’s maps play a role in your plan. I sent Connor to save the last map the night Donderath fell.” He paused. “I suspect that you have learned something important to your quest. Otherwise, I don’t think you would have returned, am I correct?” Penhallow asked.

Grudgingly, Blaine nodded. “You’re correct.”

“Perhaps I can be of greater help if I am fully apprised.” Penhallow looked to Connor. “I need your memories.”

Connor began to roll up the sleeve to his shirt. His face was blank as he offered his forearm to Penhallow, positioning it so that the vulnerable inside elbow with its throbbing vein was easily accessible.