Bloodforged (23 page)

‘Boyarina, please!’ said Ulrika desperately. She dropped to one knee. ‘For your own wellbeing, hear me out. I know you believe the cult’s chances are slim, but what if they succeed? What if the city does fall to the hordes? What will happen to you? The servants of Chaos have no love for the lords of night. They will not spare you.’

‘You try my patience, girl,’ growled Evgena, but Ulrika kept talking.

‘Where is the harm in making certain of the cult’s demise?’ she asked. ‘What will you say to the Queen of the Silver Mountain if you are driven out of the city when you might have prevented its destruction with a night’s work?’

The boyarina crossed her bony hands in her lap and sighed. ‘You seem in earnest about our safety, child, so I shall explain. The harm lies in drawing attention to ourselves. Already you are the cause of rumours – men drained of blood, men torn apart, cellars full of bloody corpses. The whispers of “vampire” are in the air again.’ She shook her head. ‘Even in our own defence we cannot take our wars to the streets and risk being discovered by the Tzarina’s agents. Instead, we must make our plays from the shadows, at second and third hand. Our attacks are a word in the right ear. Our battles are dances at court and banquets in the houses of the rich.’

Ulrika wondered when the boyarina had last attended a dance. Not in a hundred years, she wagered. She stood again. ‘Then fight in your fashion, mistress,’ she said. ‘We –
I
have lost the trail of the cult, but I know they are well funded. They must have patrons among the ranks of the wealthy and noble-born. Can you not put a word in the right ear for
this
? Or perhaps you have already heard something. Is there no one at court or in town that is whispered about?’

Evgena glared at her, saying nothing, but beside her, Galiana looked up from under her heavy wig.

‘Surely we can do this much, sister,’ she said. ‘We can at least see if there is a threat to be concerned about.’

‘No,’ said Evgena. ‘Even to ask about the cults is to draw suspicion that one is a cultist oneself.’ She laughed, sharp and angry. ‘What comedy that would be – to be accused of daemon-worship and discovered as vampires.’

‘But, sister,’ pressed Galiana, ‘there are some we could ask who would not dare speak against us. If we were to–’

‘Enough, beloved,’ said Evgena, and Galiana stopped speaking immediately.

There was a tense silence while Evgena stared at Ulrika unblinkingly. Ulrika didn’t dare speak again. Any more pleading would only anger the boyarina into obstinacy – if it hadn’t already.

Finally Evgena snapped open her fan, then slapped it shut again. ‘Leave us, girl,’ she said. ‘Severin will take you to the library. We will make our pleasure known to you there.’

Ulrika blinked, taken aback, then bowed as one of the men-at-arms crossed and opened the door to the corridor.

‘Thank you, mistress,’ she said, and turned and stepped out, hope rising within her. She had thought she was about to be thrown out on her ear. Perhaps her gambit had worked after all.

The immense majordomo waited for her in the hall. ‘This way,’ he said, and led her deeper into the bowels of the huge, silent house.

Ulrika paced the library for what seemed an hour, waiting under the frozen scrutiny of a pack of white-furred winter foxes who prowled the tops of the dust-furred bookshelves. She looked at the spines of books in a dozen different languages, and occasionally pulled one out and flipped through the brittle pages, but she was too anxious to read. Were the boyarina and her sisters discussing the merits of her request, or were they discussing how best to kill her? Would they come through the door with open arms, or armed with wooden stakes?

In the end, it was neither. They came unarmed, but hardly welcoming.

Boyarina Evgena entered and glided noiselessly to the centre of the room with her men-at-arms behind her and Raiza and Galiana ranked to either side.

‘We have made a decision,’ she said.

Ulrika bowed. ‘I am eager to hear it.’

‘Raiza believes you care nothing for us,’ said Evgena. ‘And that you mean to use us only to further your human-loving foolishness.’

Ulrika struggled to kept her face still. It was unnervingly close to the truth.

‘But Galiana believes your motive doesn’t matter,’ Evgena continued. ‘Whether you act in our interest or your own, the threat, if it exists, affects us all.’ She clenched her jaw. ‘In the end, I agreed.’

Ulrika bowed again, letting out a long-held breath. ‘Thank you, mistress!’

Evgena waved her fan. ‘Thank Galiana, if you must thank anyone. She was your advocate. Now, hear me.’

Ulrika came to attention again. ‘Mistress.’

‘We have consulted with each other and our swains, asking after rumour and innuendo at court and in the city, and have thought of a man who might be what you seek.’

Ulrika blinked, stunned. ‘This is more than I had hoped, mistress. What is his name? I will go to him.’

‘You will not,’ said Evgena sharply. ‘Not alone, at any rate. I know what happens to men who you “go to”. They end up in dead in alleys.’

Ulrika prickled with annoyance, and almost protested, but instead just hung her head. An outburst here might ruin everything.

‘Raiza will go with you,’ said Evgena. ‘And teach you something of spycraft.’

Ulrika fought to hide her alarm. ‘Er, thank you, mistress. I am honoured at the company.’

Galiana tittered. ‘Are you, now?’

‘But first,’ said Evgena, raising her fan, ‘we must reach an understanding.’

Ulrika straightened. ‘Y-yes, mistress.’

Evgena crossed to a table and sat, maintaining her perfect posture, but did not offer a seat to Ulrika. Raiza and Galiana took up positions at her shoulders, then she spoke. ‘You said you were here to swear fealty to me.’

‘I – I did.’

‘As I mentioned,’ the boyarina continued, ‘Raiza thinks this was only a ruse, so that you might say your piece, and I am inclined to agree with her.’

Ulrika opened her mouth to protest, but Evgena stopped her with a flick of her fan.

‘There is no need,’ she said. ‘For regardless of your intent, I have decided to hold you to your words. I accept your offer of service. You will make your pledge to me, or you will not leave here alive.’

Ulrika darted glances around at them all. Evgena looked smug. Galiana’s button eyes glittered with amusement. Raiza was as unreadable as ever. Ulrika swallowed. Before, filled with noble thoughts of defending Praag, she had been ready to make the pledge, but now that it came to it, she was feeling less sanguine. What was she agreeing to? To serve Evgena until death? For a vampire, that was a long time. She might be trapped in this musty mausoleum for a hundred years, or a thousand!

‘Tell me what vow you wish me to make,’ she said.

‘You will accept me as your mistress, and vow to serve me until such time as I free you from my service,’ said Evgena, and Ulrika could tell she had said it many times before. ‘You will protect me from harm and work to further my interests in all things. You will cause no harm to come to me by your actions or inaction, nor will you make intrigues against myself or any in my service, or against any of my allies. You will obey my orders above all others save those of our Queen. Do you so vow?’

The words, ‘Until such time as I free you from my service,’ rang loud in Ulrika’s ears. It was as bad as she had thought. ‘And… and what do I get in return for my service?’ she asked.

Evgena sneered. ‘Besides your life?’

‘Besides that, yes.’

‘In return,’ Evgena sighed, ‘you will never lack for blood to drink, nor shelter from the sun. You will live in comfort and share in the spoils of my conquests. You will rise as I rise, and fall as I fall. Is that fair enough?’

Ulrika’s fists clenched at her sides. This was not a step she wanted to take, but she could not see a way out of it. She nodded at last. ‘It is. I accept these terms. I vow to serve you as you ask.’

Evgena at last let a smile curl her wrinkled lips. ‘Very good,’ she said. ‘You are smart enough to surrender when cornered. It remains to be seen if you are honourable enough to stay true to a vow made under duress. We shall have to watch you.’

Ulrika drew herself up. ‘I am a boyar’s daughter. I do not break vows.’

Evgena raised an eyebrow. ‘Strange. I have never met a boyar who did not.’ She waved aside Ulrika’s outraged retort with her fan. ‘No matter. No matter. If your fears about this cult are true, we have no time for japes. Now, the ceremony.’

She motioned to Galiana, who took from her satin robe a shallow gold bowl and a small curved knife with Nehekharan hieroglyphics etched into the blade, and set them on the table before her. Ulrika watched in alarm as the boyarina stood and picked up the knife, then held it up and began muttering over it in a language she didn’t understand.

‘What is this?’ Ulrika asked. ‘Is my word not enough? I never did this with Countess Gabriella.’

Evgena stopped her invocation and lowered the knife, annoyed. ‘She was your blood mother. There was no need. You are bound to her by birth. We share no direct kinship.’

‘This will bind my will to yours, then?’ Ulrika didn’t like that idea at all.

‘You will not be my mindless slave,’ said Evgena, ‘if that is what you fear. No oath would be necessary then, would it? It is only a symbolic joining of blood. It will make you part of our family. I will be your mother.’ She lifted the knife again. ‘Shall I continue?’

Ulrika shuddered. The boyarina’s explanation wasn’t making her any more eager to participate, but there seemed nothing for it. There was no backing out now.

She nodded. ‘Please.’

Evgena raised the knife again and resumed her invocation, closing her eyes as the strange words slipped from her lips like hissing serpents. Despite her assurance that it was all mere symbolism, Ulrika felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck as the chant continued. There were suddenly other presences in the room, unseen but watching, as if called to witness the oath, and the knife shone with reflected moonlight, though there were no windows in the room.

Finally, the chant stopped and Evgena drew the blade across the palm of her left hand, then clenched it over the golden bowl. She was so desiccated and gaunt Ulrika wondered if she would bleed at all. She did. The blood dripped from the jutting bones of her wrist into the bowl until some fifty drops had been shed, then Evgena lifted her hand and the blood ceased to flow as if there had never been a cut. She held out the knife to Ulrika.

‘Repeat after me,’ she said. ‘Then cut your palm and bleed into the bowl.’

Ulrika hesitated, then took the knife. It felt like she was taking a piece of ice. It was freezing cold, and stung her fingers. She gripped it and laid the edge against her palm.

‘Neferata, Queen of the Night, whose blood is my own,’ said Evgena.

‘Neferata, Queen of the Night, whose blood is my own,’ repeated Ulrika.

‘In your name and by your law,’ continued Evgena, ‘I pledge myself to your servant, Boyarina Evgena Boradin, and accept her ever after as my mother, whom I shall serve faithfully and obey in all things as a daughter should.’

The words stuck in Ulrika’s throat, and she had to push them out by main force. ‘In your name and by your law, I – I pledge myself to your servant, Boyarina Evgena Boradin, and accept her ever after as my mother, whom I shall serve faithfully and obey in all things as a daughter should.’

Evgena nodded gravely. ‘Now cut,’ she said.

Ulrika drew the freezing blade across her palm and felt a wave of dizziness that had nothing to do with pain. It felt as if the blade was taking more from her than blood. She swallowed thickly, then held her fist over the bowl and squeezed her hand. Blood ran from the cut into the vessel and mixed with Evgena’s.

Evgena, Galiana and Raiza watched intently for a full minute as the level of blood in the bowl rose, then Evgena raised her hand.

‘Enough,’ she said.

Ulrika withdrew her fist and set down the knife as Evgena picked up the bowl with both hands and lifted it to her lips. She looked Ulrika directly in the eye.

‘Daughter, in the name of the Queen of the Silver Mountain, I accept thee. Our blood is one,’ she said, then drank.

After a few sips, she held out the bowl. Ulrika took it in both hands, then did as she had done, holding it to her lips and looking directly at Evgena.

‘Mother,’ she said. ‘In the name of the Queen of the Silver Mountain, I accept thee. Our blood is one.’

She tipped the bowl and finished the blood. It was nothing like drinking directly from the vein. There was no pulse of life behind it, yet there was something there, some emotion that entered her as the blood spread through her. Not exactly affection for Evgena, nor loyalty born of respect, but attachment, precisely the same sort of attachment one felt for family, no matter how little one cared for them. It was a breakable bond, thought Ulrika, but not one that could be severed without consequence.

Evgena took the bowl and the knife and handed them back to Galiana, then returned her gaze to Ulrika.

‘Welcome to the family, daughter,’ she said. ‘We are pleased you are one of us.’