Sapphire Crescent (11 page)

The lieutenant climbed a circling staircase that spiraled just inside the main outer wall of one of the towers, rising a couple of levels and passing narrow, arched windows on occasion. When he reached a landing that let out into a large, open rotunda, he stepped off the stairs. There, the temple was airy and bright, exposed to the outside through numerous additional arched openings set high in the dome overhead. The indirect light of the morning sun shining through those windows was further enhanced as it reflected off the gold leaf of the ceiling. As was common in the architecture of Arrabar, a fountain bubbled in the middle of the rotunda, and all around the perimeter of the chamber, doorways led into offices.

Vambran turned to one side and passed through an arched opening, moving not into an office but out onto a bridge that spanned the distance between the tower he had ascended and a second one next to it. The walkway was not long, and the protective walls along either side of it not so high that Vambran couldn’t see some of the city from the vantage point if he wished to, but it would require squeezing between the various

of the tower, keeping the near side in shade. In the afternoon, when the day was at its hottest, the sun would normally shine directly onto the balcony and into the priest’s office, making it stifling. The trellises were a necessary relief from the afternoon heat. Still, on that morning, like every morning, the view from such a vantage was wonderful. Vambran could see the open expanse of the lawns below, green and lush, with a number of priests and visitors strolling in small groups or alone. Others had found a shady spot, either on stone benches or on the grass itself, beneath any of a number of large shadowtops that grew throughout the property.

Out beyond the temple grounds was the city, sloping gently down toward the harbor, where Vambran could clearly see the piers jutting out from the quay and the various ships currently in port. He spotted Lady’s Favorin the same spot where he’d left her the previous night and noted that she rode high in the water. Her cargo had indeed been unloaded and she was waiting for a new one. In fact, as Vambran squinted, he could see swarms of men just beginning to shift crates around so that cranes could hoist them off the pier and down into her holds. The lieutenant estimated that she would be departing before nightfall. He felt a small pang of regret that he would not be going with her.

“Vambran!” Kovrim’s voice boomed from behind, and the lieutenant spun to see his uncle walking into the office, a sheaf of parchment and a hunk of sealing wax in his hands. “Hello, nephew,” the priest said, smiling broadly and dumping his work onto the desk so that he could properly greet his visitor.

“Hello, Uncle Kovrim,” Vambran replied, smiling himself and crossing the distance between them to give his relative a hearty hug.

“It’s great to see you home,” Kovrim said, slapping Vambran on the shoulder before stepping back

Vambran only smiled and said nothing.

“So, how’s my sister?” Kovrim asked, leaning back in his chair. “How is everyone over at House Matrell?” Vambran tried not to grimace.

“Mother’s fine, as always,” he answered, trying to keep his voice light. “She still spends most of her day helping Grandmother Hetta, who’s still going strong. And Em’s growing like a weed,” he added with a laugh.

“I’ll bet,” Kovrim said, chuckling along with his nephew. “Well, I’m looking forward to visiting for Em’s birthday in a few days. It’ll give me a chance to catch up with the family. And I know Ladara will be happy to see me.”

“Yes,” Vambran said. “Mother will certainly like that, and everyone would enjoy your company. Just don’t show up without a big, expensive present for Em, or she’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

They both laughed.

“Well, are you ready to settle these accounts?” Kovrim asked, rising from his chair to grab a large, leather-bound ledger from a shelf behind his desk. “We can get these books in order and go have a bite to eat.”

Vambran let the smile fade from his face.

“Uncle Kovrim, I have a problem,” he said. “I need your advice.”

Kovrim grew serious as well and sat back down. “Certainly, Vambran, whatever I can do to help.” Vambran sighed, unsure how to explain things. “Last night,” he finally began, “On the way home

from the docks, there was a killing.”

Kovrim grunted, shaking his head in sorrow, but gestured for the lieutenant to continue.

“City guards accosted and ‘dealt with’ a pair of common folk in an alley near our estate. They claimed that the two victims were falsely marking themselves thrice.”

“I figured you would be the one to know, if anyone did,” Vambran said. “I think the magic plague is just a ruse. Someone is hiding something, and I’m worried about the implications that these two priests are involved in it.”

“Yes,” Kovrim said absently, scratching at his head again, deep in thought. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“I mean, it may be nothing, but a moment or two conversing with the spirits of the slain couple could have cleared it all right up.”

“Yes, it could have. So, did you voice your doubts to this captain?”

‘ “I did. She was not interested in listening to me. Claimed to have put a couple of her men on it, and that was that.”

“And you’re not satisfied with her efforts.” Vambran was silent for a long time. Finally, he looked his uncle squarely in the eye.

“You know what’s troubling me,” he said at last.

Kovrim nodded slowly and said, “You can’t keep blaming yourself for that, Vambran. You were just a boy.”

“You know that doesn’t make it feel any better. It haunts you just as much as it still troubles me.”

“That’s different. I was an adult, I should have known better than to have given you that crossbow. If I hadn’t—”

“So neither of us can forgive ourselves so easily. The fact remains that all I can think about is what Rodolpho’s family must have thought when they heard the news and afterward. Bewildered, wondering why someone would assass—” Vambran clamped his mouth shut, unwilling to continue that thought. “Anyway, now, I see it happening all over again. I can’t help but wonder how the families of these two are feeling, thinking their dead kin were criminals. It’s not right.”

“I understand your passion for this, Vambran, I really do. But I’m not sure you can do anything

made its way through the merchant’s district of the city, the iron-rimmed wheels rolling loudly over the cobblestones and jostling the occupants incessantly. Emriana looked out the window, watching the hustle and bustle of the city flow past them while Ladara made small talk with Hetta and the attendants who had traveled with them that day.

Emriana tried to tune her mother out, completely disinterested in the latest gossip concerning the truly wealthy of Arrabar, the plots and intrigues they were involved with, and the speculation over what marriages might be occurring between Houses in the near future. She wished Jaleene were there to give her some companionship that would be more to her liking, but true to his word, Uncle Dregaul had ordered the handmaiden to remain behind to be disciplined. At least she wasn’t going to be let go, for which Emriana could thank her grandmother. Hetta had revealed to the girl before they finished their breakfast that she had informed Dregaul he was not to relieve the handmaiden from her duties, but that he could make the threat to do so if it made him feel better. Apparently, the man had taken his mother up on her suggestion. Though she would not be losing her confidante and friend, Emriana still felt no small amount of sympathy toward poor Jaleene over the day she was bound to have, being scolded by the master of the House.

“Em, I do hope you don’t sulk like that when we arrive. It is so unbecoming,” Ladara commented, drawing the girl out of her thoughts.

“What?” Emriana asked, blinking and looking up to see the entire entourage of women watching her. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mother,” the girl replied, trying to smile. She realized she must have been looking very morose, contemplating her maid’s fate. “I will try.”

It wasn’t easy, putting on airs, but she did it because of what her grandmother had revealed to her that morning.

shade of those trees. Beyond them, on the open lawn, horses grazed, a large herd of them, for horses were one of the prized possessions of the Pharaboldis.

Eventually, the coach pulled up to the front of the mansion, coming to a stop in the rounded drive that encircled a great fountain and accompanying flower-filled beds. The home itself was several stories tall, and all four sides were surrounded by open-air porches pierced by arched windows that looked out on the grounds. The whole thing had been painted a warm shade of tan, with burgundy and pale blue highlights accenting the whole.

Attendants stepped forward from the shade of the porch to open the doors of the coach and assist the women in stepping out. Ladara climbed out first, then turned to help Hetta, with Emriana following to ensure the older woman didn’t teeter and fall. Once they were all safely on the graveled walk, they flipped open their parasols and strolled together up the steps, which were flanked on either side by great planters teeming with a variety of tropical blooms. At the top of the staircase, standing regally on the tiled front porch, Anista Pharaboldi waited on her guests with a proud smile upon her face. It was not the first time the Matrells had come calling, but it seemed like each time Emriana remembered visiting, the woman practically glowed with satisfaction at the appearance of her stately home.

“It’s so nice of you to come visit us today,” Anista called out as the Matrell women made their way to the porch. “Please, come inside where it’s bearable.”

With that, the Pharaboldi matriarch turned and marched through the great front doors into the cooler, darker interior. Emriana followed her grandmother and mother inside, letting her eyes adjust.

Like the Matrell estate, the Pharaboldi home was a spacious, open-air place, allowing cooling breezes to blow through and keeping the warmth of the

Emriana found a seat at one end of the table, off by herself, and sat. A serving woman dressed in a crisp outfit appeared beside her, placing a delicate Calishite porcelain cup and saucer before her and filling it with rich, aromatic Amnian tea. A second dish containing thin wafers made of sweetened bread topped with whipped honey was set beside the tea, and the servant was gone, leaving Emriana to her own devices.

The girl spent a few moments just taking in the room, which, though it was no more opulent than the Matrell residence, was nonetheless impressive in its luxuriousness. Sitting where she was, Emriana could ‘ see down into the waterway that encircled the sitting area, and she spotted a school of brightly colored fish, red and blue and all feathery fins, swimming lazily about. On impulse, she broke off a bit of the sweetened bread and tossed it into the water. In the blink of an eye, the fish swarmed toward the bits of food, darting toward the surface and slipping away with the crumbs. Several of the creatures began to fight over the unexpected meal, and Emriana watched as they darted and ran, making ripples in the surface of the water.

“Oh, Em, you are a vision today,” Anista said, her high-pitched voice drawing the girl back to the conversation. “Denrick will be very impressed,” the woman added, a knowing grin on her face. “I’ll bet you’d much prefer to go visit with him than to sit around here with all of us stuffy old crones, now wouldn’t you?”

Emriana opened her mouth to deny the notion that she would like to spend any time at all with the woman’s boorish son, then snapped it shut again helplessly as she spied her mother boring a hole into her daughter with her gaze. It was clear to the girl that her mother wished her to be as endearing and cooperative as possible.

Emriana finally nodded and managed to croak, “Yes, ma’am.”

Denrick looked crestfallen, but for only a moment before he brightened again.

“You can wear some of my sister’s!” he said. “She has scads of things still in her old rooms, and I’m sure some of them will fit you.”

Emriana swallowed, feeling backed into a corner.

“Oh, well, I…” she stammered, trying to think of an out. “My personal maid, Jaleene, was indisposed today and could not come, so there’s really no way I could change without help, and—”

“I’m sure Patimi can help you,” Denrick said, his smile fading as he looked at Emriana expectantly. “Surely it’s not that difficult to change your clothes.”

Emriana sighed quietly and succumbed. “Well, then, I’d be delighted,” she lied.

“Wonderful! I’ll have Turcan prepare a horse for you while you change.”

With that, the young man stood up and began instructing the stable boy to fetch Emriana a gentle horse and put a suitable saddle on it.

Patimi, meanwhile, led the girl back into the house and into the chambers of Denrick’s older sister, Lobra Pharaboldi, who had gotten married and moved into her husband’s estate a couple of years previous. Emriana remembered meeting the woman but once, a long time ago. Patimi showed the girl where the wardrobes were and helped her choose a suitable outfit for riding and assisted while Emriana changed clothes. The girl thought the servant seemed a bit subdued, for Patimi spoke very little, other than to offer a word of instruction, but Emriana was too preoccupied with her impending afternoon with Denrick to think to ask the woman what was wrong.

At last, the girl was dressed in a set of breeches and a shirt with a loose-fitting vest over it, accompanied by a wide-brimmed hat and durable gloves, perfect for riding. She had to admit that she was more comfortable

The rest of the morning went as smoothly as Vambran and Kovrim had hoped. He and his uncle spent it in the older priest’s office,

going through the manifests of the cargo that had been offloaded from Lady’s Favor, cataloging it and reconciling it against the coffers of coin and goods that had been shipped out two months previous.

Standing watch over trade goods as they were shipped from one port to the next was certainly the least glamorous aspect of the life of a mercenary officer, but sometimes, no one needed the services of a professional fighting force, and when that happened the temple found other uses for its private army. Ensuring the safe transfer of cargo and funds in foreign lands—especially in places where the dealings didn’t always go as smoothly as