Demonbane (Book 4) Read online

“If she really is a witch, I think we should just kill her,” said Tomas coldly.

  Joseph stared aghast at both men. “Listen to yourselves. I can’t believe we’re talking like this. We can’t just kill a woman in cold blood.”

  “I agree,” said Kendril swiftly. “Bronwyn’s too valuable to us alive. We need to get her away from the guests, get her out of the house, then question her.”

  “We can’t do that, either,” said Joseph in horror.

  Kendril snapped his head towards his friend. “She’s a witch, Joseph. A servant of the dark powers. She knows how to use the Soulbinder. Do you understand? In her hands the Soulbinder is even more dangerous than in Dutraad’s.”

  “Then who has it?” Tomas said in frustration. “Bronwyn or Dutraad? And where is it?”

  “Now you see why we can’t go rushing into the house,” Kendril replied. “And why we need Bronwyn. She’s the key to all this. I know it.”

  Tomas sighed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, thinking carefully. “We need to let Madris and Olan know what’s going on. At the least.”

  “Find Hamis,” Kendril said. “He said he would be outside the estate in one of the streets. Pass the message on to him, and he can alert the others. But don’t let them come barging in. Not yet.”

  “Olan says you’re not to be trusted, Kendril,” Tomas said bluntly.

  Kendril met the other Ghostwalker’s gaze. “You know my opinion of Olan.”

  Tomas stepped toward the door. He looked back over his shoulder at Kendril. “This is on your head, Kendril. You’d better be right about the witch and the Soulbinder.”

  Kendril said nothing.

  Without another word, Tomas disappeared into the whipping snowflakes outside the stable.

  Joseph nodded grimly. “What about us?”

  “We need to find Maklavir and Kara’s room before the ball begins.” Kendril turned to the door of the stable and peered out into the yard.

  “To warn them?”

  “To capture Bronwyn.” Kendril looked back at his friend. “As much as I hate to admit it, I need Maklavir’s help.”

  “Why, Mr. Maklavir, you certainly have led a fascinating life. Tell me more about what Wodin was like when you were there.”

  “Please, just Maklavir,” replied the diplomat. He poked at his food uneasily. “And there isn’t really much to say about Wodin. Kalingland is a cold country, much like Valmingaard. They share many of the same customs—”

  Brionne leaned in, her face resting on one perfectly perched hand. “There’s just something so familiar about you, Maklavir. I wish I could place it. You were at the King’s court, you said? In Varnost?”

  “Uh, yes,” Maklavir responded. He tugged nervously at his collar, trying to keep his attention on his food and not the gorgeous woman beside him. “For a time. Nothing to say about it, really. Have you tried the duck? Absolutely fantastic.” He took a sip of wine, then glanced up the banquet table towards where Kara sat.

  The redhead sat with a desperate smile frozen on her face, making awkward conversation with the two men seated next to her. She caught Maklavir’s gaze, and gave him a silent pleading look.

  He gave her a quick, apologetic smile.

  The hall was stuffy and loud, filled with the rumbling murmur of a hundred conversations. Servants bustled in and out constantly, bringing steaming trays filled with meats, breads, and pies of every description. Six large cooked geese were positioned strategically along the length of the table.

  “It’s such a pleasure to sit next to a refined gentlemen such as yourself,” Brionne purred in his ear. “A man of genuine distinction, I mean.”

  Maklavir jumped as Brionne’s bare foot slid rubbed against his leg.

  “Yes, well, I—” he stammered, momentarily flustered. He glanced up the table again.

  Dutraad was barely eating his food. His eyes were fixed on Kara.

  Maklavir felt a sudden prick. Fake marriage or not, he didn’t appreciate the baron eyeing his wife.

  “You are a handsome man, Maklavir,” Brionne continued, her voice soft and sensual in his ear. “Kara is a fortunate woman.”

  Maklavir blushed despite himself. There was something about Brionne that threw him off-balance. It was hard to think, hard even to breathe around her.

  “I’m glad that you’re here in Vorten,” Brionne said. She sidled up next to him, rubbing his arm in a more than friendly manner. “It must be nice for you. A chance to step into society again. To wear the finest clothes, attend the finest dinner parties…” She licked her lips. “And to meet the nicest people.”

  And all to get a stupid pendant, Maklavir thought bitterly. He was playacting, nothing more. This was all a pretense, a façade, all so that Kendril and his paranoid friends could get their precious Soulbinder back.

  He took a breath, staring at the food piled on his plate. With a sudden, sharp stab of envy that shocked him to his core, Maklavir realized that he wanted it all to be real. He wanted to start his life over again here in Vorten, have Baron Dutraad for his benefactor, the beautiful Kara as his doting wife, the applause of his fellow barristers—

  And in time, perhaps, a request from the King. A crisis with the Baderan monarch. Something that required a diplomat of Maklavir’s skill. All would be forgiven. Would he come back? Could he come back?

  Maklavir couldn’t move. He wanted it all. More than anything he had ever wanted in his life. It was a hole that burned in the middle of his chest, an ache that wouldn’t go away.

  Brionne suddenly snapped her fingers, bringing Maklavir rudely back to the present moment.

  “Balneth,” she said with a triumphant smile. “That’s where I’ve seen you before.”

  Chapter 2

  “Where do you two think you’re going?”

  Kendril and Joseph paused in the corridor. The noise from the dining hall echoed behind them.

  Two armed men blocked the hallway ahead. One stepped forward, brandishing a musket. “I asked you a question,” he snarled.

  “Friendly folk,” Joseph said under his breath.

  Kendril lifted the bag he carried with a smile. “We’re just taking this luggage to Mr. Maklavir’s room. Perhaps you could help us find the way?”

  The guards exchanged glances.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” one said.

  “Look,” said Joseph, “we’re not trying to cause any trouble. We came with Mr. and Mrs. Maklavir. Ask Gole. Tuldor’s beard, ask Mr. Maklavir himself. We’re just trying to find his room. We need to set their things up for them. Lady Maklavir is particular about her toiletries.”

  There was a long pause.

  “Alright,” grumbled the first guard. He stepped to one side, then motioned with his weapon. “This way. I’ll take you there.”

  “How kind,” said Kendril. He lifted the bag and slung it over his shoulder.

  “Most people don’t comprehend the intricacies of brewing.” General Ulinov stabbed a deviled egg with his fork. “It’s vital to pick the right kind of hops—”

  “Fascinating,” said Kara through a pained smile.

  On her right, Eregan dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Oh, do shut up, General. You’re boring the poor girl.”

  “Boring?” Ulinov’s face flushed. “Perhaps, sir, if you kept your eyes on your food, and off the poor woman’s—”

  “Ahem.”

  They turned around in their chairs to see a smiling Dutraad standing behind them.

  Ulinov started to rise. “My lord, I—”

  Dutraad raised a hand. “No, no, my good general. No need to get up. My poor wife has retired for the night, and now Lady Frenzina has departed as well.” His eyes fell on Kara. “I was hoping to steal this charming young woman from you for a few minutes. It gets so lonely at the head of the table.”

  Both seated men opened their mouths as if to object, but were too stunned to say anything.

  Kara shot up out of her seat. “I would be more than happy to
sit next to you, my lord.”

  Dutraad gave a satisfied grin and held out a hand to the young woman. “Wonderful. And like I said before, Kara, call me Dutraad.”

  “Balneth?” Maklavir fumbled for words. His mind searched frantically for a way out of his situation. “I don’t—I mean I haven’t been to Llewyllan in—” He stopped and stared at the beautiful woman beside him.

  There was something about her, Maklavir realized. Something oddly familiar—

  Then he remembered. In Balneth, Kendril had mentioned a courtesan, a woman involved with Lord Bathsby. What had her name been…? Bronia, Brennan…

  Bronwyn.

  Brionne shrugged her pale white shoulders. “Hmm. My mistake, then.” Her eyes flitted up towards the head of the banqueting table. “It appears that your wife is certainly becoming fast friends with the Baron.”

  Maklavir glanced up.

  Kara was seated next to Dutraad. Their laughter spilled down across the pile of food on the table.

  “Yes,” Maklavir managed to say, “well, she has always been a bit of a free spirit.”

  “So am I,” Brionne breathed. She pressed her supple body close to Maklavir. “Well, if she is enjoying the Baron’s company, I don’t see any reason why you and I can’t spend some quality time together as well. Are you staying for the dance?”

  Maklavir felt hot. He pushed his wine glass away, determined not to drink any more. “Yes, Kara and I are both staying.” He made sure to emphasize his wife’s name.

  Brionne fluttered her eyelashes. “How splendid. Something tells me that you are a very good dancer, Maklavir.”

  He smiled awkwardly, feeling the woman’s warm body pressed against his arm and side.

  Something told him that it was going to be a long evening.

  “Where did Maklavir manage to find a jewel like you?” Dutraad draped one arm over the back of his chair. “I thought I knew most of the noble families in Valmingaard.”

  Kara smiled shyly, and buttered a hot roll on her plate. “Well, I’m not from Valmingaard. My family comes from Arbela. We lived in New Marlin after the revolution.”

  Dutraad clucked his tongue. “Such a tragic event. Your family must have lost much.”

  Kara took a demure bite of the roll. She swallowed, then sighed. “My father had an estate almost as large as this one, just west of Shawnor. Fortunately we fled just in time.” She paused, and looked sadly at her plate. “Many of our friends…were not so lucky. As it was we barely escaped with our lives. I remember seeing the flames devouring our house as we escaped, hearing the screams of the mob--” She turned her head away, and bit her lip hard.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Dutraad sincerely. “It was stupid of me to bring it up. Candle Ice is a time for joy and celebration. Tonight you are my honored guest, Kara. Please consider me your humble servant. If there is any way I might bring you even the slightest bit of pleasure, you have but to ask.”

  Kara gazed softly at the man. “That is very kind of you, Dutraad.” She folded her hands in her lap and looked out over the bustling dining hall. The room shimmered in the golden light of the candles. “You know, I do feel happy here,” she sighed. “It reminds me of the parties my father would throw at our estate back in Arbela.” She turned her head back to Dutraad. “But where is Lady Dutraad? She seems to have vanished.”

  The smile disappeared from the Baron’s face. “She was feeling…unwell,” he said stiffly. “She retired to her room for the evening. I imagine once she gets a good night’s sleep she will feel much better.” He frowned. “Truth be told, Mina has never really enjoyed gatherings like this. She tends to be more of a…solitary soul.”

  Kara laid a hand on the man’s arm. “That must be hard for you.”

  Dutraad put his own hand over Kara’s. “Come, my lady. Let us speak of pleasant things. I will not mention the Arbelan revolution if you do not mention my wife. Agreed?”

  Kara’s eyes twinkled. “Agreed.”

  “It’s bloody cold out here.” Hamis shifted where he lay huddled against the alley wall, wrapped in a worn gray blanket. There was already a light covering of snow on top of him. “What’s going on inside? Do you have the Soulbinder yet?”

  “Not even close.” Tomas looked back over his shoulder. The Dutraad estate was just visible outside the mouth of the alley, across the lit street. “There’s a wrinkle. Kendril has identified a witch at the festival. He thinks she’s in league with Dutraad.”

  Hamis got quickly to his feet. He wore tattered clothes that reeked of alcohol. With the unkempt beard and ragged blanket, he looked the part of a slovenly drunk to perfection. “Does Kendril want us to move on the manor?”

  Tomas paused. He looked back hard at the lit town house just across the street. “Go back to The Crooked Goose and tell Madris and Olan what’s going on.”

  Hamis stared hard at the other Ghostwalker. “You didn’t answer my question, Tomas. Do we move in?”

  “Kendril doesn’t think we need to yet,” Tomas responded.

  Hamis snorted derisively. “Kendril hates Olan’s guts. Or hadn’t you noticed? I’m asking you, Tomas. Is the situation out of control?”

  There was another long pause. The cold night wind whipped down the alleyway. Gusts of snowflakes blew into their faces.

  “No,” said Tomas at last. “Not yet.”

  “This whole situation is out of control.” Maklavir flopped into a chair against the wall of the bedroom. “Did you see the way Brionne was hanging on me? She mentioned Balneth. How does she know about that? What if she says something to Dutraad?”

  Kara sat on the edge of the bed. She brushed the red hair back out of her face. “I thought you would have enjoyed the attention she was giving you.”

  “You certainly seemed to be enjoying Dutraad’s attention,” Maklavir replied testily. He looked over at Kendril, who was leaning against the wall by the fireplace. “Brionne’s really that courtesan from Llewyllan, isn’t she? The one you mentioned. Bronwyn.”

  Kendril stared pensively at a patch of floor. “Yes.” He looked up at Maklavir. “Think carefully. Did she recognize you?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” Maklavir frowned in thought. “Didn’t you say that Bronwyn was some kind of a…witch?”

  Kara looked over at Kendril. “She’s here, and she’s using a fake name. So what do we do?”

  Joseph leaned forward in his own chair. He clasped his hands together. “We have a plan,” he said quietly.

  “I thought we already had a plan,” said Maklavir sourly.

  “Things have changed,” Kendril said.

  “You mean things have gotten worse,” the diplomat quipped. He looked over at Kendril and Joseph. “The two of you seem to have no trouble roaming about the house. Why don’t you start ransacking for this Soulbinder?”

  Joseph rubbed his face. “Dutraad has armed guards in the halls. I spotted at least a couple more around the stairs. We barely made it here to the room. There’s no way we could get upstairs.”

  “At least not without a fight,” said Kendril darkly.

  “Yes, well if we’re going to do that we might as well call all your Ghostwalker friends in and start a war.” Maklavir got up from the chair and paced over to the window. “This whole thing is a bloody disaster. I should have seen it coming.”

  “It’s not. Not yet, anyway.” Kendril tapped his chin. “This is still our best chance. We know that Bronwyn and Dutraad wouldn’t let the Soulbinder out of their sight. It has to be somewhere in this house. Maybe even on one of them.”

  “Dutraad is interested in me,” Kara said quietly. “If I play this right I could search him and his room for the Soulbinder—”

  “Do I have to keep reminding you that you’re a married woman?” Maklavir turned hotly from the window. “Besides, how do you know Dutraad is interested in you at all?”

  Kara gave a mysterious smile. “Please, Maklavir. I’m a woman. I know when a man is interested in me.”

  Joseph shifted
uncomfortably in his seat.

  “Look,” Kara said with a wave of her hand, “we want to find this Soulbinder, right? That’s why I’m here, because I’m a thief. Well as a thief, I’m telling you that this is my best chance. Seducing Dutraad gets me past the guards, with luck gets me upstairs, and gives me time.”

  “That just leaves Bronwyn.” Kendril lifted his eyes and stared intently at Maklavir.

  “Why are you looking at me?” the diplomat asked sulkily.

  “Because I need you to distract Bronwyn. Keep her away from Dutraad, then lure her to somewhere else in the house.”

  Maklavir narrowed his gaze. “Why?”

  “Bronwyn knows where the Soulbinder is. Once you get her out of the main hall, Joseph and I will grab her, drag her somewhere private, and get the information out of her.”

  “Somewhere private?” Maklavir raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Like where?”

  Kendril shrugged. “The stables. The cellar. I don’t know. It’s a big house. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

  “And how exactly am I supposed to lure Brio--I mean Bronwyn away from the celebration?”

  The Ghostwalker sighed. “Do I really need to spell it out for you, Maklavir? Kara said that Bronwyn was practically hanging on you all throughout dinner. Just use that boyish charm of yours.”

  “Let me get this straight.” Maklavir crossed his arms and cocked his head. “You want Kara to seduce Baron Dutraad, ransack his room, and search him for the Soulbinder, and at the same time you want me to feign interest in Bronwyn, get her to an abandoned room so that you can coldcock her, tie her up in the cellar, then torture her for information?”

  “I thought I’d let Tomas do the torturing,” said Kendril with an evil grin. “He’s much better at it than I am.”

  Maklavir sank back in the chair, his hand over his face. “Oh, why do I even bother?”

  “I won’t have torture,” Joseph said sternly. “I don’t care if she’s a servant of the dark powers or not. We can question her, but not hurt her.”

  “Make no mistake.” Kendril looked around at all of them. “Bronwyn won’t hesitate to kill all of us if she knows who we are and what we’re doing here. Our only advantage here is speed and surprise. Either Dutraad has the Soulbinder, or Bronwyn does. If it’s not on either of them, then it’s undoubtedly hidden nearby. Bronwyn will know where. We need to find that Soulbinder, get it out of here, and eliminate Bronwyn. That means doing two things at once. Kara goes after Dutraad, and we go after Bronwyn.”