The Winterstone Plague (The Carrion Cycle) (4 page)

“Did you have another of those dreams last night?”

Valthian blinked, trying to clear the fog from his mind. He glanced at his mother and nodded. “Yes. Three times in as many nights it has happened. I may have to pay a visit to Olivar Bastrik’s shop for something to help me sleep I keep having them.”

Merriam glanced at her son, an eyebrow raised. “Perhaps you should stop reading those dreadful stories that you love so much.”

Valthian sighed. “You too? Tomas said the very same thing!”

Merriam laughed. “He’ll get an extra helping of pudding tonight, then.”

She reached over and patted Valthian’s head softly, and then her smile faded as suddenly as it had appeared.

“Who is this man in your father’s study, Valthian? I do not take kindly to anyone who makes him late for his supper. He works too hard to go without food for as long as he does.”

“We caught him making trouble amongst the villagers,” Tomas said. “He had half the village frightened out of their boots before we stepped in!”

Merriam’s brow furrowed. “I see. And now this troublemaker is in our home?”

“She was speaking to me,” Valthian said. “Must you always interrupt?”

“I’m sorry, but I never get to say anything!”

Valthian tried not to chuckle. Tomas was quite skilled at putting his foot in his mouth, and this case was no different. He wasn’t the sort of person who could think about his words before they left his lips.

“Mother, please do not worry about it. He was merely talking nonsense. We quickly disbursed the small gathering and brought him to father. He has a loud mouth, but he does not seem a dangerous man.”

“I hope not,” Merriam replied. “But I am sure your father will deal with the situation. I just wish he would hurry it up.”

“Hurry what up?”

Merriam placed her hands on her hips. “There you are, Philip. I was beginning to think you were going to take another meal in that cramped study of yours. And what of the man with whom you were speaking? I hear he stirred up some trouble—”

“The old man?” Philip waved dismissively. “He is nothing to think on. And why would I eat in that drab study when I have such a beautiful family waiting for me?”

“You can spare us the flattery and take a seat. Tomas? Will you please fetch the bread? It has been baking in the oven long enough.”

“Of course,” Tomas said, disappearing through the door leading into the kitchen.

Valthian waited for his mother and father to sit, and then took his own seat. It was difficult to resist taking up his spoon and plunging it into the thick brown stew. Its pleasing aroma practically begged him to eat, but first the blessing had to be given.

Tomas quickly returned carrying a large plate with a loaf of fresh, soft bread resting upon it. He placed it at the center of the table and sat in his own chair.

“Will you be the one to say a blessing this evening?” Merriam asked.

Philip shook his head. “I have heard enough of gods for one day. If prayers are to be said, Valthian can handle the duties.”

“Philip! Is it not a bad idea to commit blasphemy at the dinner table? It is our duty as the ruling house to pray once to each of the gods worshipped in Solstice.”

“Since when have you cared about that?” Philip asked.

Merriam shrugged. “I have felt
strange
these last few days; that is all. It is difficult to describe, but I have taken to prayer. It puts me at ease.”

“There is nothing wrong with that, I suppose. Valthian, would you be kind and do your mother the honor of a blessing?”

“Always,” Valthian said. “Shall we bow our heads?”

“If it pleases the gods, I suppose.”

Valthian shot his father a glance and waited for all eyes to close before starting the prayer.

* * *

A
heavy snow had just begun to fall, forcing Alain Lespane to shield his face with an old scarf he kept rolled up in the inside pocket of this thick woolen overcoat. The temperature had fallen dramatically in the last several hours, and the rain that almost everyone was expecting to come had become fat, white and frozen. He tried not to shiver as he made his way down the twisted path to the manor house that was his destination. He bore news that simply could not wait until morning to impart upon Philip De’Fathi; it was the only reason he dared make the two-mile journey in such extreme conditions. He caught himself half hoping that there would be a warm fire waiting when he arrived, but Alain knew that there wouldn’t be time to partake in such pleasures. Elyna was home alone, and he was not about to leave his only daughter to fend for herself while he warmed his weary, cold bones. The rumors being passed around the village were alarming enough that he almost refused to leave the house altogether; what if what was being said about dead men proved to be true and Elyna was harmed because there was no one there to protect her?

“Stop scaring yourself, old man.”

He wasn’t accustomed to talking to himself, but at least it helped. Alain did his best to force the dark thoughts from his mind for the time being. Stopping in front of the wrought iron gates of De’Fathi Manor, he took a deep breath and mouthed a silent blessing. With any luck, Philip would lend him a horse to help him make the trip back home. Being a blacksmith, Alain only owned a pair of pack mules, both of which were far to old to support the weight of a man. These days, business was limited to a few swords and shields when a village watchman was careless and required a replacement. Sometimes, on a good day, he would receive a commission for spurs or wagon parts.

Alain threw open the gate and made his way up the steps leading to the house, walking slowly to avoid slipping on the ice that was already covering the ground in thin, clear sheets. He took a deep breath and approached the door, praying that the man of the house was home.

* * *

“F
ather,” Valthian said after swallowing a heaping spoonful of stew. “What of the supposed priest? Did you see what I meant when I said he wasn’t trustworthy? There is something about him that chills me to the bone.”

“I would agree that he is quite different from the kind of folks in which we are accustomed,” Philip replied. “But he has knowledge that I believe will benefit this entire village.”

“What are you saying, then?”

“I have made him a temporary guest. He is to take residence in the old chapel. As soon as I have the information I seek, our honored guest will be free to stay or leave as he pleases. It is not my place to send an honest man packing, especially if he has something to offer our people.”

“But father!” Tomas’s was flushed a deep crimson. “You did not see what he did!”

“Do not yell at your father,” Merriam chided. “That is not how we raised you, young man!”

“No,” Philip said, waving his hand. “He is right to question my motives. I am pleasantly surprised by your passion in regards to this issue, my son. You might yet begin to show signs of maturity.”

“This is no laughing matter,” Valthian said. “Abytheos does not seem a dangerous man, but he is well learned in the art of making trouble. Is whatever knowledge he possesses worth what we may be forced to endure from this man?”

“I make no jokes. Tomas has rarely taken issues seriously. The interest he takes in his neighbors makes me proud. As for the holy one, I will keep a close eye on him. For now, he is free to live amongst our own. He also claims to have proof to back up his words.”

“What kind of proof?” Valthian asked, placing his spoon inside the empty bowl. “How can you be certain he isn’t lying?”

“I can’t be certain,” Philip said. “But he promises to show us this proof in the morning. He requested an armed guard.”

Valthian was about to grab another hunk of bread when a loud knock sounded at the door.

“Who could possibly be out there at a time like this?”

“Stay put,” Merriam said. “I will see to the door.”

She rose from her chair and slipped into the main hall.

“Should I follow after her?” Tomas asked.

“That’s not necessary,” Philip said. “Finish your supper. I’m sure everything is fine.”

“Father,” Valthian said. Perhaps one of us should follow after her. Just in case it’s something urgent, of course.”

“Stay in your seats,” Merriam said, pushing the door open and stepping back into the room. “Philip, you should come quickly. Alain is here.”

“Gods,” Philip breathed. “He’s walked all the way here from that smithy of his; at this hour? There’s snow falling outside!”

Merriam nodded. “He says it’s important but won’t speak to anyone who isn’t you about it. There’s a sense of urgency about him.”

Philip wiped his face with a napkin and stood. “You boys finish supper and get on to bed.”

“May I come with you, father?” Valthian asked. “I’m worried about Elyna.”

“I am sure your sweetheart is well,” Philip said, smiling. “And I doubt this is about her, but you will be the first to know if it is. Now do as I have asked. Merriam, see to it that these boys are washed up and ready for bed within the first stroke of the next hour, please? Depending on what news he carries, I could be up quite late.”

“Of course,” Merriam replied.

Philip said nothing more; he placed his soiled napkin on the table and disappeared through the heavy door leading through the kitchen and into the hall.

“You boys do as your father said. I want you washed up and in your beds as soon as supper is done.”

Valthian smiled warmly and tried to return to his meal. He wasn’t so sure that he was as hungry as he initially thought. His curiosity about Alain’s news was dancing through his mind. He watched as his mother picked up several empty plates to take into the kitchen.

“Val,” Tomas said. “Do you really think it’s about Elyna? Do you suppose—”

“No, brother. I know it isn’t about her. Her father wouldn’t have made this trip if she were ill. He would be at her bedside or off to see the mystic. This is about something else entirely and I was hoping father would let me in on it.”

“Should we eavesdrop?” Tomas asked. “If it is truly important, we have a right to know about it.”

“We are better off doing as we were told, Tomas. Now let’s help mother clean up these dishes. I have some studying to see to before bed. I am sure you have some unfinished work of your own.”

“But—”

Valthian waved his hand. “Just once will you not argue? Our father is perfectly capable of handling matters of concern without our nosing about.”

“If you say so.”

Tomas stood from the table and grabbed an armload of plates. Valthian was determined to get to the bottom of matters. If his father did not want to include him, he would just have to wait for Tomas to get out of his hair and investigate on his own. He had a bad feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that would not go away, no matter what he did.

Something was just not right.

* * *

“A
lain,” Philip said, stepping into his study. “Are you a madman? That smithy of yours is well outside the village and the snow is falling furiously! Please, have a brandy and warm your bones. I insist.”

He grabbed a glass from a hook on the wall and filled it with potent drink. Alain accepted it, nodding in thanks.

“This couldn’t wait. I fear the reports from earlier are true. I do not know this for sure, but events that have transpired at The Hound’s Rest seem to back up those claims.”

“The inn? What in the name of Alvanshia happened there?”

Alain’s eyes were harder than usual; his gaze was wooden. “You know I am not one to spread rumors. Before I speak further, please tell me that you understand this of me.”

“Of course I know this. You are an honorable man; one I would trust with my life if it came down to it. Now speak! By the gods, tell me what happened!”

“I don’t believe there are gods anymore,” Alain said. The quiver in his voice was darker than the words he spoke. “Philip? The dead have risen. I have seen it!”

––––––––

P
HILIP DISMISSED Alain as soon as he had been prodded for enough information to locate the victims and their attacker. They had been moved from the inn to keep patrons from panicking. Olivar Bastrik, the mystic, had them in his custody now. Alain’s immediate needs had been seen to. He now had thick furs to protect him from the bitter cold; Tomas and Valthian were to escort him back home before the snowstorm got out of hand. Philip had mounted the fastest horse in all of Vintermore and rode off to get to the bottom of things.

Midnight
, the gelding in which he rode was of the highest bred horses raised by Master Nuru, specifically for riding quietly into battle. His refined head and elegant gait bespoke of countless years of selective breeding, and Philip trusted the animal with his life. Though he was not riding into war, he had chosen Midnight for his quick, yet silent step.  A distracted soldier would not hear horse and rider approaching until his throat was slick with his own lifeblood, for Midnight was also so black in color that he often blended in with darkness itself. On a night like this, Philip wanted no one to know where he was going until he had already arrived. Any precautions taken to keep more rumors from spreading were more than worth the trouble.

He dismounted and tied the horse to a nearby post.

“I am sorry you have to endure the cold tonight,” Philip said, stroking Midnight’s short mane. “It won’t be for long,
Old Boy
.”

Shielding his eyes from the torrential snowfall that threatened to blind him, he scanned the area until the mystic’s shop could be seen. Approaching the building proved to be somewhat difficult due to the frozen earth below, but with some concentrated effort he finally made it. Once inside, Philip stripped the extra cloak and scarves from his body and hung them on a hook protruding from the wall.

“Olivar?”

The shop looked to be abandoned; the nubs of several candles still flickered, casting an eerie glow all around. Bottles and vials filled with contents unknown to him rested on shelves behind a tall, darkly varnished wooden counter. Philip had only been inside Olivar’s shop a handful of times, preferring to stay clear of things in which he had little understanding. Each time was the same; the various potions and reagents scattered about made his skin prickle.