The Tattered Banner (Society of the Sword Volume 1) (38 page)

Despite not taking very long, it felt as though it had taken an eternity to reach the Sail and Sword. What he found there caused his jaw to drop. There was a gap on the street frontage like a missing tooth. Where once the Sail and Sword had stood, there was now nothing more than a charred remain. A low fence had been erected in front of it, so it was clear that it had burned down some time before. He hopped over the fence and wandered around in the ash. From recent habit he looked for charred bone fragments, but saw none. Perhaps no one had died in this fire. It almost seemed too much to hope for.

What had happened to Alessandra?

He left and turned back toward Highgarden, heading to Amero’s town house. He hoped that he would be there and expected that he would be. Amero was not known for spending much time out of the city at his country estates

He was recognised by the servant who led him into the palatial house and to the drawing room. Despite the wealth of his neighbours, Amero’s house was by far the most impressive on that street. He was now head of one of the oldest and wealthiest families of the Duchy. Many of his ancestors, and most recently his grandfather, had been elected as Dukes of Ostenheim. His wealth was said to be enormous and that was confirmed by his town house. There was one question about him that had never truly been answered. With such wealth why would he bother with duelling in the arena? It certainly was not the financial reward that most were drawn to it for that attracted him. The joy of perfecting his art said some; to further inflate his ego said others, usually those who disliked him. Whatever the reason, it had made him hugely popular with the ordinary people of the city.

Soren waited for some time before Amero breezed into the room with his usual alacrity. He was finely dressed as always, but not entirely in the peacock-ish fashion of many young aristocrats, particularly those who had not bothered with an Academy education, foregoing its hardships for an indolent lifestyle of idleness and luxury. His entire dress and poise suggested that he was as ready for a fight as he was a social engagement.

‘Banneret Soren! Well, the hero returns from the East. I’m sure you will be delighted to know that I have heard your name being mentioned more than once at court. It seems that my faith in your potential has proved well placed!’

‘Thank you, my Lord. I wanted to call on you promptly after returning. I am glad to see you well. I wondered though, if you might recall the girl I asked you to take the message to before I travelled east?’ said Soren.

‘The girl?’ Amero asked, as he sat down. ‘Oh yes, the girl. Emeric took her the message as requested. That’s the last I heard of it though. Why?’

‘I’m looking for her. I haven’t been able to find her yet. The Sail and Sword was burned to the ground,’ said Soren.

‘Burned to the ground? I hadn’t heard, but I’m afraid I can’t help you. Anyhow, don’t you think you were setting your sights a little low there? You’re a banneret now and have already won yourself a little fame in the east. There are wealthy ladies in society who you would have eating out of your hand. You have advanced in the world, and wealth will follow, but allying yourself with the right families is important. A well considered marriage, perhaps to the daughter of a grand burgess or a minor aristocrat, would do your career the world of good. If you wish to take your place in my retinue, better things will be expected of you.’

‘Perhaps, my Lord. Right now I just want to find out what has happened to her,’ said Soren.

He returned to the Academy, deciding to eat while he tried to work out what his next step in finding Alessandra would be. He was walking across the quad when a high-pitched voice rang out through the air.

‘Look, look! It’s the hero of Fort Faraway!’ A chorus of decidedly lower pitched laughing followed it.

Even in falsetto, Soren recognised the voice as Ranph’s. Soren awkwardly exchanged pleasantries with Ranph and the others with him for a few minutes, all the while hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere. He deflected the questions that would require lengthy answers before finally asking for a word alone with Ranph.

He explained quickly how he had gone looking for Alessandra and how that had resulted. He asked Ranph to find out what he could. Ranph agreed without hesitation, but it took a moment of uncomfortable silence before he realised that Soren wanted him to do it right away. He hurried away when he did, leaving Soren to fret, not really knowing how to make the time pass until Ranph returned.

He spent the time finding the small room that would be his for the year, which was situated in the front building of the Academy. It overlooked the Old Square, and Soren sat on the edge of his bed, staring out the window for any sign of Ranph returning. The day faded into evening, and evening quickly into night. Mage lamps created orange tinged pools of light around the square, giving it a warm, welcoming feeling. He began to wonder what could be keeping Ranph so long. Finally fatigue got the better of him and he collapsed back on the bed into a deep sleep.

He awoke to the sound of the door to his room opening. Ranph was standing at the end of his bed by the time he managed to open his eyes. It was morning and the room was bright.

‘Did you find her?’ he asked groggily, squinting at Ranph’s silhouette.

‘After a fashion. Get washed up and I will meet you at the dining hall,’ Ranph replied.

They sat at the top table in the dining hall, which was reserved for bannerets, usually members of the Collegium but occasionally also a visiting banneret from another city-state, but the privilege of being there was lost on Soren. All he wanted, all he could think about was what Ranph had to tell him.

‘I know where she is,’ Ranph said solemnly.

Soren’s heart leapt. ‘Where? Tell me! I’ll go at once.’ He blurted the sentence out, only then noticing the ominous tone in Ranph’s voice. ‘Is she all right?’

‘Yes, she’s fine. Look, Soren, she’s a tavern girl. I know what your background is, but please believe that I am saying this to you as your friend. You’re a banneret now. If you want to get serious about a girl, there are plenty of nobles that would be delighted to marry a daughter off to a famous young banneret. Hells, I’d even marry you to my own sister, if she wasn’t such a harridan. I wouldn’t wish her on my worst enemy!’ He chuckled, but it sounded forced. ‘My point is though, if you want to get ahead in society, it’s the only option. I mean, if you wanted to take her as your mistress, that would be fine, but I know you and I know that’s not what you want. You need to forget about her Soren, for your own sake.’

Soren could feel his anger rising. The same anger he had felt when he thought of the Androvs being slaughtered and their daughters being taken as slaves. He pushed it away as quickly as it entered his mind; it had use in battle, but had no place here, among friends. Ranph was only trying to help. Nonetheless, when Soren spoke his voice was cold and flat.

‘Just tell me where she is,’ he said.

Ranph frowned and let out a sigh.

‘Fine. If you’re sure that’s what you want, I’ll take you,’ he said.

C h a p t e r   3 8

AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY

R
anph led Soren out of the Academy and down the hill into Oldtown, not to Docks or Crossways as he had expected. Oldtown was a fashionable area and had been for many years, where the wealthy younger members of society would take apartments. It was the original site of the city before it had grown to its current size and it was an expensive area to live, second only to Highgarden, where many of Oldtown’s residents would ultimately live when they settled down.

They walked in silence until they reached a well-maintained building with an ornate door.

‘How can she afford to live here?’ Soren asked, his surprise overshadowing any inquiring thoughts.

‘She’s called Bevrielle now,’ Ranph said. He gave out the information with great reluctance.

Soren’s heart dropped. It had been racing ever since Ranph had told him that he knew where she was, but now it slowed. A wave of nausea swept over him and took a firm hold of his gut. The only women that changed their name were whores.

‘Do you still want to go in?’ Ranph asked.

‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ Soren asked, choking down anger.

‘You wouldn’t have believed me. But now you can see for yourself. It’s early, so she probably isn’t entertaining any clients yet. We can call on her,’ he said, reaching for the doorbell.

‘Wait,’ Soren said, the cold edge returned to his voice. He stared at his feet for a few moments, his brain fuddled with confusion. How could she have become a whore? What could have happened while he was away? He reached for the doorbell cord and gave it two firm tugs.

‘Wait for me here. I won’t be long,’ said Soren.

A maid opened the door.

‘How can I help you, sir?’

‘I’m here to see Madame Bevrielle,’ replied Soren.

‘Of course, sir. It’s a little early, but if you’d like to come through I shall let the lady know you are here.’

He sneered at the use of the word ‘lady’, and cast a look at Ranph as he stepped through the doorway, oblivious to the fact that the shocked look on Ranph’s face was due to the dark expression on his own.

The maid led him into a comfortable sitting room, scented with lady’s perfume, and another heavier, muskier scent; the residue of dream seed smoke. The apartment was not quite what he would have expected of a whore, but he had never seen the inside of a brothel before, so he had nothing to gauge it by.

‘A fine apartment,’ he said. His knuckles were white on the hilt of his sword as he struggled to contain the anger that was welling within him.

‘Yes, my Lady has taken the bottom two floors of the building. It suits her very nicely. If you’ll excuse me, sir, I shall go and tell her that you are here.’

He nodded his acquiescence and watched her leave the room. He thought about sitting, but he was too uneasy to sit, and stared out of the window into the harbour as he tried to think of anything that would not make him angry. He waited for some time.

‘I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, sir, but I was not expecting any callers at this hour,’ said a lady’s voice. It was one that Soren recognised instantly.

He turned to face her and she stopped in her tracks, her mouth open with surprise.

‘I see you missed me!’ he said brightly, forcing a smile to his face, his hands beginning to shake with anger.

‘Soren, I…’ Her voice faltered, the look of surprise completely taking over her face.

‘You took to whoring very quickly. I was gone less than a year,’ he said, his tone still bright, incredulous, but now betraying a hint of the cold hard anger which was coursing through him.

She walked further into the room and sat down on one of the plush chairs. For a moment Soren wanted nothing more than to forgive her, to take her in his arms, to just hold her and breathe her in. She looked exquisite, beautiful, fresh, just as he remembered. Now though, she was dressed in the finest clothes money could buy, her hair styled in the noble fashion and her face ever so carefully made up, just enough to accentuate her features, but not so heavy as to stand out. It was gilding to an already beautiful lily, but the effect was such that it was overpowering.