Herald of the Storm (40 page)

Her brow furrowed, and for a second Merrick wondered if he’d gone a bit far, until she nodded. He knew he was probably taking it out on her because he’d thought he was out, free of all this shit, and now it was damn clear he wasn’t.

‘I think I know how you feel about this. I feel the same, but we’ve got to get used to the people we’re in bed with.’

‘I’m not—’

‘It’s a turn of phrase, Kaira. It means shut the fuck up and survive another day.’ She just gave him a blank look. ‘Arlor’s Blood! This is like talking to a child.’

He walked off, too frustrated to speak, needing time to himself for once, but there was no chance he would get it. Her long stride easily matched his own and she clearly couldn’t take a hint.

Time for a drink, and no amount of whining or bullying from his blonde-haired, blue-eyed conscience was going to stop him.

As Merrick walked into the alehouse he half expected her to grab his arm and pull him clear, but she didn’t; she just followed him inside.

‘Wine,’ he ordered at the bar. As the landlord poured him a goblet Merrick told him to leave the bottle. To his surprise, Kaira asked for a second goblet.

‘What’s got into you? Think you can stomach some wine now?’

‘I’m finding in recent days I can stomach many things I thought I couldn’t.’

Was that a dig? Did she mean him?

Oh, who cared?

‘To getting through this,’ he said, raising his goblet. She just stared at him until he signalled for her to do the same. He clinked his goblet against hers and quaffed the lot down. She looked at him, then at her full cup with some trepidation before draining it in one. Merrick was already refilling the goblets as she winced at the taste. He had to admit, it wasn’t the best vintage, but he hadn’t thought it anywhere near that bad.

‘Did you mean what you said?’ she asked, after they’d drained two more cups. ‘About feeling the same?’

‘Feeling the same? About what we’re doing? I guess so. Why, how do you feel?’

She thought long and hard before answering. ‘As if I’m being used. As if I’m some kind of tool someone else is using to keep their hands clean. And the more they use me, the filthier I become.’

For a woman who didn’t say much, this Kaira certainly did plenty of thinking.

‘That’s a … very good way of putting it. But it’s best not to think like that. It’ll only lead to doubt. Doubt will lead to hesitation and that will get you killed. Or worse: it’ll get
me
killed.’

‘We all die, Merrick Ryder.’

‘Fuck, woman, enough with the philosophy. We’ve got a job to do. Pissing and moaning won’t get it done for us. I don’t know why you’re crying about it so much anyway. Surely you can walk away from this any time you like. Me, I’m tied to this by the balls.’

She shook her head. ‘I too am tied to this.’
But not by your balls, I hope
. ‘And I must see it through to the end.’

‘Well then,’ Merrick raised his glass again, ‘here’s to happy endings.’ They clinked glasses and downed their wine once more. ‘Now, speaking of happy endings, I have to go and pee.’

He gave her his best smile, then walked out the back to drain his bladder, hoping on hope Kaira didn’t take Buttercup’s earlier advice and follow him to the privy.

S
he watched him go, and it wasn’t until he had exited the door at the rear of the alehouse that she realised she was smiling.

What was it about him she found so fascinating? It wasn’t as if she had never come into contact with men before. She knew many men – merchants who traded at the temple, soldiers who came to train with the Shieldmaidens, the poor and the old and the sick who came for succour from the Daughters.

But she had never met a man like Merrick Ryder. Yes, she had met handsome men, most of them arrogant souls who knew how good looking they were and would play on it for the rewards it could bring. Ryder was not
just
one of those men though; there was something troubling him within, something more to him than just an easy word and an easy smile. Every now and then there would be something in his eyes – a far-off look as though he were haunted by the past … or perhaps by his current deeds, Kaira could not tell which.

Either way, she was determined not to fall prey to his charm. Yes, he had offered regret at what he had to do, and it was likely his claims were genuine, but the day was soon coming when she might well have to end his life. Were she to concentrate too much on his more attractive qualities it might make that task so much more difficult.

She glanced around the alehouse, trying to distract her thoughts from how this might end. The place was busy, mostly with men and serving maids, a hum of conversation filling the room. She could hear much of it; mundane talk and speculation, some of it lascivious, some of it panicked speculation on the future of the city.

She desperately wanted to be back in the Temple of Autumn. They would be making their preparations even now, readying themselves for war. If indeed the king had been defeated there must be a counterattack before the Khurtas could move into the Free States. Who better than the Shieldmaidens to lead such an attack, to strike forward into the heart of the enemy and stop their advance?

Would it have been better for her if she had been allowed to go to the front when she had requested it? She might have met her end at Kelbur Fenn with the rest of the army, but surely it would have been a better fate than the one she had to look forward to now – condemned to the squalor of the city, tasked with an impossible mission.

But she had to see this through. For better or for worse, this was her fate, and she would face it as a true sister of Vorena should.

Kaira raised the goblet to her lips, tasting the bitter, vinegary concoction that passed for wine in this place. In the Temple of Autumn they would drink on ceremonial occasions or at feast times, and wine of superior vintage, not like this filth. It was yet another reminder of what she was missing, of what she had thrown away when she had made the High Abbot pay for his affront.

Still, Kaira found it difficult to admonish herself about that. Yes, she had all but ruined her future and brought shame on herself, but oh, how that man had deserved his punishment.

She sighed and stared at the goblet of wine. Despite its sour flavour it must have been strong. Kaira felt a sluggishness in the head, her sharp edge gone. What was she doing, here in this place? Mixing with these lost souls, drinking this muck?

For a terrifying moment she saw what her future might be. What if she should never satisfy the Exarch and the Matron Mother? What if she should never be allowed to reclaim her place within the Temple of Autumn? Would she be condemned to a life of squalor in this city? Forced to live alongside the feckless and wanton of Steelhaven for the rest of her days? Made to rely on the same pointless distractions of wine and lust and …

Kaira stopped herself.

Lust indeed. What was she even thinking?

‘Something on your mind?’

She looked up to see Merrick standing there, smiling at her as if he knew her thoughts.

‘No.’

‘All right, don’t worry yourself, I was only asking. I’m sure it was nothing that bad.’

If only you knew.

They had another drink. This one was easier to get down, smooth almost, and Kaira was beginning to feel comfortable for the first time since she’d left the temple. Part of that worried her, but another part simply didn’t care.

‘I think you should tell me more about yourself, Kaira. If we’re stuck in this for the duration, we should at least get to know one another.’

She thought desperately. Should she make something up? Should she just tell him the truth?
No, the truth would not do
. Kaira cursed herself and her luck. She hadn’t envisioned this, and Buttercup certainly hadn’t warned her that there might be some kind of interrogation, that she might need to cover her tracks with subterfuge.

‘I’m … well … there’s nothing to tell really.’

‘Nothing to tell? You’re a woman, yet you fight like a man. The only women I’ve ever seen do that are the Shieldmaidens …’

Kaira felt panic rising within her as he trailed off. She hadn’t said a thing and yet already he had discovered her. What if he delved deeper? What if he worked out why she was using him?

‘I was disgraced,’ she said, knowing no way to speak but with the truth. ‘I struck the High Abbot and was dismissed from the order.’

Merrick smiled. ‘You struck the High Abbot? Ha! I love it. You’re a dark horse, Kaira. The more I learn, the more I like you.’

‘And what about you?’ she asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from herself.

‘Me? There’s not much to know,’ he replied. ‘But since you asked.’ He smiled at her, then glanced past her shoulder. ‘Barkeep! Another one of these!’

Kaira looked down, shocked to see they had drunk the entire bottle between them. Almost instantly both their goblets were filled anew, and Merrick was raising his to his lips. When he had quaffed down the goblet he stood theatrically, as though he were about to take to the stage.

‘I know it might surprise you to learn, since you’ve only seen me at my worst, that I was raised of noble stock. My father was a captain in the Sentinels of Skyhelm, my mother the third daughter of a Braegan earl or baron, I forget which; he was dead before I was born. Anyway, I was raised for greatness, trained in the sword and the horse, educated by the greatest of tutors and taught all the manners befitting a man of my birth.’

At first Kaira was unsure whether or not he was jesting; he spoke every word with a wry smile, but there was something about his manner, the way he spoke, that made them believable.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he continued. ‘How on earth did he fall so low? It’s a sad tale, and I’m sure you won’t be interested in all the details, but it begins with my father, the great and honourable Tannick Ryder, abandoning my mother when I was still but a boy.’ The wry smile was gone now, and Kaira could almost taste the bitterness of his words. ‘Just upped and left one night, without a word. We knew he hadn’t been kidnapped or murdered, because he was seen riding out of the Lych Gate on his horse. Left his sword and armour behind too, so wherever he was going it wasn’t into battle. Never to be heard from again. It broke my mother’s heart.’

He stopped, as though the thought of his mother’s loss brought him pain. Kaira reached over to place a hand on his, but he moved it before she could touch him.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘Oh, don’t feel sorry for me. I haven’t even got to the shit part yet. The part where my mother is carried off by the Sweet Canker and poor little Merrick’s left behind to manage the estate. Poor little Merrick with no parents to guide him, a fancy for the ladies and a fondness for the gambling tables. Three years I managed to hold on to that fortune. Three years before I had to sell the house and lands, along with my father’s sword and armour. It was surprising how little they went for … or at least how little I sold them for, but that’s the thing when you’re young and drunk and desperate; you just don’t realise the value of things.’

It was clear he was realising the value of things now.

He raised the goblet to his lips again, pausing as he did so, as though the wine was the root of all his problems – before succumbing to its temptation and taking a long sip.

Kaira felt a pang of guilt at his words. She was using him, this man who had lost everything, but she couldn’t bring herself to pity him. Merrick had been the cause of his own problems – given everything, only to squander it needlessly. It was easy to put that down to the folly of youth, but there were plenty of others who had suffered more at the hands of the Sweet Canker. There were others who were suffering now, who had never got to experience the privilege brought by luck of birth.

Merrick was a product of his own folly, but it was clear there was good in him.

‘Your past is behind you now. Perhaps there is hope for your future?’ she said, after taking a sip from her goblet.

He smiled at that. ‘Damn right there’s hope. As soon as I’ve finished with this crappy business, all debts will be paid off. Then I’m free to leave this place and its shitty streets behind me.’

For all he had suffered, Merrick seemed to have learned nothing. All he thought about was himself, caring not a bit for those who would pay for his future with their liberty.

‘But what of those who will be sold into bondage? Is it right that their suffering should benefit you?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you preaching at me now, sister? I know you were a Shieldmaiden, beholden to your temple, but all that’s gone now. You kind of blew that away when you gave the High Abbot a kicking. Save your sermons. I don’t need them.’

‘But there is—’

‘Enough!’ He slammed his goblet down on the bar. Several patrons nearby stopped their conversations, looking on at the promise of violence. ‘I don’t have a choice in this. And neither do you. You can’t go back to your temple any more than I can go back to my …’

He stopped, as though he realised he had lost control and was speaking too loud. In an instant the smile was back on his face.

‘Look, maybe delving into one another’s past was a poor idea. You’re right: it should be the future we think about.’ He moved closer to her. She could smell him; a deep musk, as though he had bathed in exotic oils. Mixed with the wine she’d drunk it almost made her head spin. ‘Those years you were locked away in that temple – they’re behind you now. You can do anything you like, go anywhere you want, be with anyone you desire.’

Merrick grinned, raising an eyebrow and moving closer so she could almost feel his breath on her face. She had never been this close to a man other than in combat, but still she didn’t push him away. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to.

‘What say we get ourselves a room?’

He ran his fingertips down her arm and into her open hand. She could feel his touch teasing her palm.

Kaira gripped Merrick’s hand, squeezing it so that at first he thought she might be reciprocating his approach. Her grip tightened, and Merrick’s expression soon turned from one of smug confidence to consternation as his knuckles cracked and ground together.