Handmaiden's Fury (10 page)

Sire Mattias’ spy, Emlie, met us at
the well house, hidden in shadows and mist. When we grew close, she called to
us, a whispering hiss in the darkness.

“Here.” She stepped into the dim
light and waved us over. When we were safely in the shadows, she fell to her
knees.
She was so tiny,
I almost thought her a child but for her voice. It bespoke maturity, even
through the single word she had uttered.

“Sire.” She would not meet his
scrutiny.

“Rise, Emlie. You do not need to
honor me. For your work, I owe you honor.” He caressed her chin, and she looked
up at him, smiling.

No child, Emlie must have been
nearing her fourth decade. Her thin face was worn, whether by care or hard use,
I couldn’t say. Faint lines permanently etched her brow and around her eyes and
mouth. Her hair had been cut short, almost a boyish style. I presumed to keep
it out of her eyes while she bent over her work. Her large eyes were dark in
this light, but I felt as if they might have been hazel or even true green.
They held a light like I had rarely seen as she gazed at Sire Mattias. She was
awestruck.

Then her smile faded. “Sire, I am
sorry I did not reach you. Something is happening. Devariis has been moving in
secret, and strangers are on the grounds.”

I caught his gaze. “The guards hinted
at such. They indicated that it was a special night and that he wouldn’t have a
courtesan tonight.”

Sire Mattias nodded slowly. “I have
known that he was maneuvering in secret and that his paranoia has sharpened,
but I didn’t know anything special was happening tonight.”

“I know where he is.” Emlie’s whisper
sounded eager. “His guests have been escorted to the inner gardens.” She
flashed a crafty grin in the faint light. “They are locked, but I made away
with the steward’s key.”

Sire Mattias lifted her to her feet
and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Your service is admirable, as always,
Emlie.”

She beamed. “Come with me. I’ll show
you the way in.”

We followed her through Orin’s
darkened grounds.

As we slipped from shadow to shadow,
I realized that Emlie’s work had been far more cautious than I had realized.
She had doused several gaslights so that we could slip to the house unseen.
This was all the more impressive when I realized that she must have done it
while there were still five guards patrolling the area.

Sire Mattias’ trust in her seemed
well placed.

“There are six guests here that I
have never seen before.” She kept her voice low as we skulked through the damp
gardens. “The last one arrived well over an hour ago. I did not see any faces,
as I was working at the time and could not make away.” She seemed regretful at
this.

“You have brought us far more than we
would have had without you, sweetling.” Sire Mattias placed his hand on her
back.

“The inner gardens are almost never
used. Only the steward himself has a key besides Orin. I never see anyone enter
to tend or plant.”

“I assume you have never been in
yourself.”

She shook her head. “I can only get
you to the door. The most I have seen of the inner gardens is from windows on
the third floor.”

Sire Mattias gave me a quick glance.
I knew what he was thinking: a visit the third floor wasn’t quite worth our
while but almost. If we had known beforehand—

It didn’t matter. Our plan would go
forward.

“Get us to the door, Emlie. Let’s be
silent and swift. Then, get the key back to where it belongs. I won’t have you
outed.”

“Yes, Sire Mattias.” She led us to a
small door at the side of the manse. When she opened it, we were in the
darkened kitchens. Only the palest of light shone from the embers in the
fireplace.

“Handmaiden?” Sire Mattias turned to
me; I nodded and fed the fire the smallest whisper of power from
Ouigiin.

The fire sprung briefly to life.
Emlie used a straw and lit a small lantern off the flame.

“We pass through this door and down
the third wing corridor.” Emlie’s voice came hushed. “The steward only has
guards this way once every quarter hour. Usually, the kitchens are busy, so if
anyone came in this way, the guards would know before they made it far.” She
opened the stout door and led us down a dim passage. It was cool compared to
the kitchen, and our footsteps echoed oddly.

Sire Mattias pulled the rod from his
back. In the flickering light, it gleamed red and gold.

“Lead on, Emlie.”

The cool darkness swallowed us.

I was pleased with Emlie’s work; we
would have been lost without her. We ghosted our way down the third wing
corridor for several minutes, and then she suddenly pulled us into a small
library. In the hallway outside, we could hear the faint echo of voices.

She explained in a strained whisper,
“It’s Marq and Johnlin. Little more than boys, really. They’re probably heading
to the kitchen for a lil’ something.”

With a grim, cool nod, Sire Mattias
indicated, young or no, if they found us, these two were mine.

I returned the gesture in
understanding: Better Rydia’s pleasure than my Sire’s rod.

We listened as they walked close and
then kept going. They were laughing about something, making enough noise to
rouse ghosts.

Emlie poked her head out. “They’re
gone. Let’s move.”

Soon we turned from the third wing
corridor and made our way up a narrow stair. In the flickering light of Emlie’s
lantern, I could see woven tapestries lining the walls. Then, we stepped
through tasteful statuary and into another hallway.

“The doorway is up here.” Emlie
glanced back at us. “It will lock if you close it again.”

“Do you know if it opens from the
other side?” Sire Mattias took my hand and led me forward.

She shook her head. “No way to know.
I’ve never been beyond.”

“So we could be locked in once it
closes.” My gaze flickered from her to him to make certain I understood.

She tried to reassure me. “You can
try the door after we close it. That way we know.”

“Either way, the plan is the same.”
Sire Mattias’ voice was smooth as sweet rum. “We can’t risk Emlie getting
caught with this key. We also can’t risk Orin’s steward figuring that someone
stole it.”

“If it locks, we push on regardless.”
I squeezed my Sire’s hand.

He squeezed back.

“Correct. It’s important to know if
we are locked in, but it doesn’t change anything.”

Once we arrived at the door, Emlie
fumbled a moment with the key before getting it into the lock. It turned
smoothly, soundlessly, as only a well-tended lock would.

“You’ve served us well, Emlie.” Sire
Mattias took her head in his hands and kissed her forehead. “The Lady Rydia
will remember you. Come see me at the House of Pleasure when this is over.”

She flushed. “Yes, Sire Mattias,
thank you.”

Still holding me by the hand, Sire
Mattias stepped through the doorway into the dark courtyard beyond. When Emlie
quickly shut the door, he reached for the handle and tried to turn it.

He gave his head a grim shake.

“Locked.”

I nodded quickly. “It’s well enough.
There may be another way out.”

He strode forward into the courtyard.

“Come along. Let’s get this business
finished.”

I followed him, the cool grass
beneath my feet, the moon over my head, and only horror before me.

Even in the dim light, the courtyard
burst with beauty. Meticulous paths wandered near a gurgling stream. Flowers
nodded everywhere: cultivars of lilia, darknettle and nightblooms. All of which
required large amounts of careful attention. I pondered Emlie’s assertion that
few entered the inner gardens.

“Stay to the shadows, Handmaiden.” He
had sensed my distraction.

I flushed.

“Yes, Sire Mattias.”

From darkness to darkness, we slipped
through the garden.

The inner courtyard spread far larger
than I had believed.

The further we went, the more I
realized that Orin’s manse wasn’t nearly the size it appeared from outside. No,
it was more of a facade for this garden than a proper manor house. Now it made
sense that he had asked me to meet him in a garden cottage rather than his
manse proper.

Suddenly, Sire Mattias squeezed my
hand and stepped into the darkest of the shadows. I peered through some of the
foliage and could see a faintest flicker of firelight in the darkness ahead.

Was that a small building?

Indeed a small stone building sat to
the side of the path. The size of a one-room cottage, it had a peaked slate
roof. Ivy covered it, a quaint conceit, as it tried to blend in with its
greener surroundings. A single door hung open at the front, and firelight flickered
from within.

“Be wary and watch, Handmaiden.” Sire
Mattias panned the shadows. “See anything?”

Doing my best to avoid the flickering
light as it would ruin my night sight, I concentrated, seeking movement or
human forms.

“Nothing, Sire. It seems empty.”

“I will step in first.” His words
whispered through the mist. “If it’s clear, I’ll wave you forward. If I’m
ambushed, come in behind me, use your sigils, and don’t reserve your strength.”

“Yes, Sire.”

He squeezed my hand once and then
stepped into the light.

His grace resembled that of a
dreadwolf slipping from the shadows. His rod in hand, his eyes flickered about,
assessing our safety.

A long moment passed.

We seemed to be alone.

Then he waved me forward, and I
quickly stepped into the light.

The cramped building, no larger than
a small cabin, was surrounded by winterbloom and climbing yris. I stepped up
next to Sire Mattias, and we peered inside.

Casting the flickering light, a small
lantern hung on a hook in the corner. It was set quite low but still spilled
enough light for us to see by.
The cramped room matched our expectations from the outside. Several long
shelves lined each of the side walls, leaving the smaller back wall bare.
Gardening equipment and various other metal creations unidentifiable to me
crowded the shed, all perfectly ordinary. However, the ornate, wooden wardrobe
pushed against the back wall and the open hatch in the floor with a metal
ladder jutting out came as a surprise.

A wardrobe? Why hang clothes in a
garden shed? As we stepped inside, I took hold of the wardrobe door and swung
it wide. It opened easily on well-oiled hinges.

How odd. It actually was a wardrobe.

I had expected more garden tools or
perhaps dirty coveralls. But no, there were sets of shoes in the bottom, women’s
and men’s alike. S
ets of
clothing hung neatly on wooden hangers, clothes that looked in no way as if
they belonged in a garden but rather some genteel party.

“That’s unexpected.” Sire Mattias
felt the top of the wardrobe, as if he would find some secret key or latch
there.

“Not entirely.” I looked at the shoes
and counted again. “There are seven sets here. One set for each member of
Orin’s gathering, and then one for himself.”

He examined the shoes and then me.
“Are you saying that Orin and his little party are naked?”

I shrugged. “I’m saying that Emlie
said there were six people besides him in here, and there are seven sets of
clothing.”

“Odd.” He glanced at the clothing and
felt through them to the back of the wardrobe.

“Is this where we steal their clothing
and run?” I grinned at him.

He shook his head. “I don’t know what
to think of it, but I know we’re going down.” He eyed the ladder. “The thing
is, we don’t know if there’s anyone down there, right at the foot of the
ladder.” He gave me a meaningful glance. “So I am going down blind and won’t be
able to defend myself for a moment while I’m on the ladder.”

I shook my head at him. “You’re
thinking too straight. It’s not always about charging into the darkness.” I
picked up a pair of the shoes. They were cute, strappy sandals with a tall
heel. I stepped over to the ladder and looked into the dark below.

“You’re going into battle with
shoes?” He gave me a wry grin.

“I’m seeing if we need to go into
battle at all.” I reached over the hole and dropped the shoes down the side.

For just a moment, my Sire’s eyes
went wide. Then he grinned. “I guess that will tell us if we are alone.”

Together, we peered down the hole,
waiting to see if anyone noticed the rogue footwear.

A long heartbeat passed. Two. No one
appeared at the bottom of the passage.

Mattias clasped my shoulder. “Well,
either there is no one at the bottom, or they are superb tacticians, waiting
for us.”

“That or they could believe that the
shoes are haunted.” I grinned.

Sire Mattias glanced at me and shook
his head. He took the small lantern in hand and put his rod on his back.

“I’ll make certain we’re clear. Then
you should follow.”

I watched him disappear into
darkness.

Moments later, he held the lantern
into the slender passage. “We’re clear down here. Come along.”

I descended the ladder, cursing the
heels on my boots as I did.

When I got to the bottom, Sire
Mattias held the lantern high, its weak light quickly lost in a long, dusty
passageway.

Packed earth composed the floor under
my completely unsuitable shoes making a firm but hardly smooth surface. The
tunnel ran in one direction, off to my right. It seemed as straight as
possible, but the lantern only lit so far.

Sire Mattias turned. “I thought I
heard something, but it was just an ech—”

There. I heard it too, a dry rustling
like scratching against wood. It was a whisper in the dark of winter.

Sire Mattias edged forward.

The weak lantern light seemed to cast
odd shadows in the dust-filled air.

“Can you see—?” Sire Mattias stopped
mid-word as that strange skittering noise came again.

It was followed by an odd little
screech. Something about the sound raised my hackles. It brought memories of
hiding in the dark as a child, clutching at blankets as if there were something
watching.

Something hungry.

Sire Mattias stepped forward, casting
the light into every corner possible. He took another step.

The scream echoed through my mind,
bestial, full of rage. I recoiled.

Sire Mattias did too but then leaned
forward grinning.

Readying my sigils, I stepped up next
to him, looking up the stairs.

Nothing was there.

But something was
there. It
scrambled around in the back of my head, in the places where the waking mind
never went. The creature hid behind memory and dream, casting forth threads of
terror
.

 It was a spider, huge and bloated,
with long, grasping legs, yet it was a girl-child with only a mouth on her face
and eight shiny eyes. She hungered. She wanted more than my flesh. She wanted
me. She wanted to drag me away and take me to mate before sinking fang into
flesh. She would lay eggs in my body—

“Bitch!” Sire Mattias roared.

There was nothing there, understand.
Nothing
.
It was an empty tunnel next to a ladder leading through a hole in the ceiling.
Yet my Sire strode forward, furious. His rod appeared suddenly in one hand,
shining red and gold with more than sigil and scroll-work. Meanwhile he held
the guttering lantern aloft in his other hand.

He raised his rod high and whispered
a prayer. I couldn’t hear the words, but I felt the power of my Lady.

The creature screamed—

It burned. The light now blazing
forth from my Sire’s rod was like the fire behind the sun. It cascaded all
around us into every dark corner. Everywhere it touched the spider, its black
carapace burned. Everywhere the blaze touched the girl, her skin melted into
rivulets of horror. When she opened her mouth to scream, I could see row upon
row of sharp teeth lined her throat. A wound flashed at me then, a gaping,
scarlet hole through the back of the girl’s sharp throat.

She scuttled toward me.

Has me. She has me; she has me; has
me!

“Keiri!” His voice rose in panic.

I couldn’t quite figure out why he
was screaming.

He stepped down the passage, swinging
his rod at nothing.

I felt it crunch into wet carapace,
smelled the rot and bile.

There was pain. White, hot pain.
Razor-sharp barbs embedded in my spine only to be pulled out through my ears
when I heard another scream, her scream. She was a spider and a girl, a
girl-child who hungered for me. Insubstantial as a dream, she was very real.

I looked down at empty floor, and the
spider-child looked up at me. Her black eyes gleamed with a hungering madness,
and I knew that even now, as she lay dying, she would tear me apart and bury
eggs in me to watch them hatch and devour me from the inside out while I still
lived.

I took a ragged breath and stumbled
back from the empty patch of packed-earth floor.

Then she was gone as if she’d never
been, yet blood dripped from my ears.

“Keiri? Are you—?” My Sire took my
head in his hands, trying to get my eyes to focus.

After a second, I blinked and I could
see.

“What…” I looked at him, brandishing
his rod like a great torch. “What was…?”

“I have no idea.” He seemed calm. Too
calm. “Sorcery. An abomination.” He paused. “Dead is what it is now.”

I glanced around. No body. No gore.
Only a vile stench and blood dripping from my ears. I was crouching, one hand
on the floor. I pushed myself up to standing. For a moment, I swayed, a bit
dizzy.

“I’m fine.”

He looked at me, unbelieving.

“No, really. Whatever it was, it
didn’t”—I paused, looking for the word—“grasp hard enough. I’m really fine.”

“Not fine yet, Handmaiden.” His face
turned stony. “We still have to find Orin. Are you well enough?”

I nodded. “It didn’t quite get a grip
on me. I’m fine.” My heart felt like birdwings in my chest.

He put a hand on my shoulder,
checking my eyes. After a moment, he nodded, satisfied. He turned and began to
walk down the passageway. The light from his rod began to fade.

Somewhat shakily, I followed.