Sapphire Crescent (24 page)

neighbors about the attempt on Hetta Matrell’s life, Emriana neither knew nor cared. Most remained, though, and she supposed it was out of both courtesy and concern for her grandmother. They closed in around the balcony, murmuring among themselves, waiting for Dregaul to give them some news.

“Lords and ladies,” Dregaul repeated, “I am delighted to tell you that my mother is recovering nicely”—there was a genuine cheer of happiness at those words—”and is going to be fine, thanks to some quick action on several people’s parts.”

The cheers turned into full-blown applause.

Emriana simply watched, feeling stone faced, even though her uncle had ordered her to smile. She simply could not.

“In addition,” Dregaul continued once the uproar had died down somewhat, “House Matrell has some very exciting announcements to make. First and foremost, I would like to pass along the news that we are entering into a strategic partnership with two other Houses, beginning immediately. One of the two, House Talricci, is already tied in a familial relationship with us because, as I’m sure you all realize, my oldest nephew Evester is married to Marga Talricci. We are simply formalizing a bond that already exists.”

There was more clapping, though this was more polite than genuine enthusiasm. To Emriana, it seemed that the guests were just as confused as she was as to why Dregaul would choose right then to announce such news. Numerous groups of people began whispering behind their hands to one another, occasionally shaking heads.

Sensing that he was losing his audience, Dregaul raised his voice even more as he proceeded.

“And,” he said, giving a slight pause to let the crowd quiet a bit, “the third House that will be joining us in our new ventures will be House Pharaboldi—”

Emriana didn’t initially hear the rest of Dregaul’s speech, for suddenly, she felt that sense of needing to throw up overwhelm her again. She staggered where she stood, the realization of what her uncle was saying racing through her. He was going into business with the Pharaboldis? That was impossible! She and Vambran had all but proven that House Pharaboldi had somehow been responsible for the deaths of two people, and still her uncle wanted to work with them!

Suddenly, it all began to make sense. Dregaul’s reluctance for either of them to remain involved in the investigation was driven by the knowledge of who was behind it. Emriana’s own uncle was a part of the conspiracy! The business relationship that the high priest had referred to was right there, under her own nose.

The girl felt unsteady on her feet and thought she was going to have to sit down before she fell down. Then she realized that everyone in the audience was clapping and cheering and looking expectantly at her. Except for Denrick, she realized. He was coming up the steps, Dregaul turning to greet him with an outstretched arm, shaking the Pharaboldi heir’s hand warmly.

What was happening? Emriana thought, panicking. What had Uncle Dregaul just said? She made herself go back over what her subconscious had heard, recalling the words. When it came to her, Emriana lost her breath.

“In honor of the commitment of these two Houses to work together in a true partnership, and in order to strengthen those ties, we are proud to announce that Emriana Matrell will give her hand in marriage to Denrick Pharaboldi.”

• • •

Vambran wasn’t completely aware of the stranger until the other was almost upon the mercenary. The

lieutenant had been so preoccupied with carefully observing the buildings across the street that he had failed to keep a watchful eye on the rest of his surroundings. Thus it was more than a little surprising when the red-attired figure suddenly darted under the awning and sat down across from him on the window sill of the pottery merchant’s shop. He couldn’t see the person’s face, for it was draped in cloth so that only the eyes were visible, though in the near-darkness there, he wasn’t even certain he could make those out.

Vambran went to draw his sword, but the figure held up both hands, empty, and said, “Before you run me through, I have some information you might want to hear.”

It was a woman’s voice, and one he knew.

Vambran stilled his hands, shaking then, wrapping his mind around memories that flooded into him after hearing that voice.

“Aunt Xaphira,” he breathed, not sure he could trust his ears. “It can’t be you.”

The woman chuckled softly, sending a shiver down Vambran’s spine.

“It can and it is,” she replied, reaching up to undo the mask that covered her face.

Even in the shadows, he could see the long, lustrous black hair and the dusky complexion. She stared hard at her nephew for a moment.

“It really is me,” Xaphira said, more softly, and she tentatively reached out a hand to her nephew. “I can only imagine what you’re feeling right now, and I’m sorry for that. But it was necessary.”

For the first several heartbeats, Vambran simply sat there and stared, having a hard time believing his own eyes. Then, drawing a deep and ragged breath, Vambran grabbed her and hugged her, just letting the emotions wash over him. Xaphira hugged him back, and they simply held that for a long moment.

Everything that had happened, all the guilt and sorrow he’d felt in the intervening years since the night she’d left, just welled up inside the mercenary, and he felt twelve years old all over again. It took him a moment to realize he had tears in his eyes.

Finally, Xaphira pulled away.

“Now,” she said, “I know you have questions, but they have to wait. I’m with Kovrim. He needs to talk to you. He’s hiding on the porch of a shop over on the next block and around a corner. There are people after him.”

“Uncle Kovrim?” Vambran said, stiffening in alarm and half rising to his feet. “Where is he? What’s the matter?”

The woman held her hands up and gestured for Vambran to calm down.

“Easy, there. Keep your voice down.” As the lieutenant relaxed, she continued, “He’s fine. But we all need to talk. It’s urgent.”

Vambran nodded and stood.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Tell me what’s happened on the way.”

“He found out what the temple is involved in,” Xaphira said, also rising. “He was trying to get to you to tell you, and they tried to stop him.”

“Is it House Pharaboldi?” Vambran asked.

“Yes, among others,” Xaphira replied. “There’s a lot more to this than you realize, but now’s not the time. He’s still in danger, and we’ve got to get him somewhere safe. I tried to talk him into going into hiding and just letting me tell you, but he refused. He wants to talk to you himself.”

“Who are the other Houses?” Vambran insisted. “First we go to him. Then you can talk about the larger problem.”

“Who?” the mercenary demanded.

Xaphira sighed again.

“Ours,” she answered quietly. “Matrell. And Talricci. They’re all three in it together.”

“Oh, hells,” Vambran muttered. “Uncle Dregaul…” Then, realizing he had left Emriana by herself, he swore again. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “They don’t know.”

“Vambran, wait!” Xaphira begged, grabbing her nephew by the arm. “You can’t fight them all by yourself. Kovrim and I can help, but you have to wait for us.”

Vambran stood indecisively, knowing the woman was right but feeling a panicky need to race back to the estate. He’d just left Emriana, left all of them. And they didn’t have a clue. His desperation was overwhelming him. But he needed allies. With a great effort, he turned back to Xaphira.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s get him. And we don’t stop until we’re back at the house.”

The two started walking quickly, Xaphira taking furtive looks everywhere as they traveled. She had rewound her mask around her head and drawn up her hood. Vambran kept pace with her easily, though he wondered why she seemed so jumpy. He had a million questions he wanted to ask her.

“Is Kovrim all right?” the mercenary finally asked.

“He is, but only because of some dumb luck. That, and the fact that I was there to help him.”

That relieved Vambran—for a moment.

“Wait!” he said, stopping in the middle of the darkened street. “I know you’ve been following me since I got back into the city. It was you at the wagon yard, and again last night at the warehouse. But why? You’ve known something was going on for a while, now.”

Xaphira raised her hands and again gestured for her nephew to calm down.

“Keep your voice down,” she said, reaching out and taking his hands in her own. “Yes, I have, but I couldn’t risk revealing myself too soon. There’s so

much more going on here, Vambran. I want to tell it all to you, but you’ve got to trust me that now is not the time for all this. Come on.”

They continued on, keeping their pace quick without actually running. When they reached the porch where Xaphira had left Kovrim, he wasn’t there.

“Now, where did he get to?” Xaphira murmured, peering in both directions. “He promised me he would stay right here and wait for me.”

“Something happened,” Vambran said, the panic rising again. “The men who were after him must have discovered him. We’ve got to find him.” The mercenary struggled to keep a clear head. He was torn with fear for both his uncle and the rest of his family. He hated that he was being forced to choose who to rescue first.

“Listen,” Xaphira said. Vambran cocked his head, holding perfectly still. There was a shout, muffled but distinct enough that he could tell it was coming from the alley behind the shop.

“Come on,” Xaphira and Vambran both said at the same time, jumping off the porch and rushing down the street toward the corner. The pair of them raced around to the back and into the alley.

Kovrim was there, surrounded by perhaps a dozen men. Several of them were pointing crossbows at the priest.

I can’t believe he would do this to me!” Emriana sobbed, her face buried in her pillows. “He ever even talked to me about it!”

Jaleene sat beside her charge, gently stroking her hair and trying to soothe the girl with soft sounds.

“Your grandmother would never let this happen,” the handmaiden said. “When she finds out, she’ll put a stop to it.”

Emriana sniffed and said, “Grandmother Hetta doesn’t seem to know what’s going on.”

The thought occurred to her then that perhaps her grandmother was in agreement with Dregaul, that the two of them had made the decision together that she should marry Denrick. As ridiculous as that seemed, especially after the conversation the girl had had with the elderly woman only two short days

before, the notion left a cold hole in the middle of her stomach. She began sobbing again, feeling like her world was crashing down around her.

When Emriana had first pieced together what her uncle had announced, she didn’t believe it. She didn’t think that she was remembering correctly. But there was Denrick, climbing the steps and greeting Dregaul warmly, that sickly wolfish smile on his face. And she knew. In her heart, she realized that Uncle Dregaul had sealed the business relationship with her life. He had promised Denrick that the boy could have her, as though she were some prized horse or plot of land. And she understood, too, then, in that terrible moment of realization, that Jithelle Skolotti had been slain, had been murdered with Denrick’s unborn child in her womb, because the heir to House Pharaboldi was to wed Emriana. The poor servant girl had died because Emriana Matrell was waiting in the wings. It made her physically sick.

She ran, then, turned and fled the balcony, dashing past both Dregaul and Denrick, who looked on with a mixture of surprise and amusement. Dregaul called to Emriana, shouted at her, demanded that she return and show proper deference, or some such nonsense, but she ignored him and ran, all the way back to her rooms.

Jaleene had arrived a few moments later, having been a witness to the whole thing, and was trying to calm her.

“Hush, Em,” the woman soothed. “It’s going to be all right.”

Emriana sat up and looked at her companion.

“How can you say that?” she wailed softly, her eyes burning with tears. “They killed that poor girl because of me. Uncle Dregaul probably knew about it. He probably insisted on it before he would agree to the merger. What am I going to do? He’s already planned my future for me, with that, that—”

“That what?” came a voice from the doorway to the balcony. It was Denrick, standing there looking in, a faint smile on his face. “What am I?” he asked.

Emriana physically recoiled from the boy, even though he was halfway across the room leaning casually against the frame of the door.

Jaleene got up and moved to stand between the intruder and her charge.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the handmaiden said, her hands on her hips. “It’s not proper to visit a young lady in her private chambers. Leave now, or I’ll call the house guards to remove you.”

Denrick simply chuckled, making no move to go in either direction.

“Will you, now?” he said. “And do you think they’ll respond to you, a servant, when the man they actually answer to is of a far different mind? I’ve already been told that I was welcome to come up here and visit my fiancée, and that is exactly what I’ve done. No house guard is going to throw me out, I can assure you.”

“Don’t you talk to her that way,” Emriana said, rising from the bed to stand beside her handmaiden. “You might treat your own servants like dirt, but you will not do so here.”

Denrick laughed again.

“You’re still convinced I did something to Jithelle, aren’t you? Well, my dear, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I did no such thing.” He took a step into the room, interlacing his fingers and thrusting them out, palms downward, to crack his knuckles. “She was a comely one, and I’ll admit only to having a weakness for falling into her wonderful eyes and a need to nestle against her other womanly charms from time to time. But that was the extent of it.”

“You sorry bastard,” Emriana sneered. “The sorrow by the cistern was just an act, wasn’t it? You didn’t feel anything about her loss, or the fact that she carried your baby.”

Denrick smirked.

“She was a diversion, that was all,” he admitted. “A man of my tastes has a variety of needs, and she fit some of them nicely, but that was all it was, and all it would ever be. If she believed there would be more to it, that was her mistake, not mine.”