Sworn To Transfer (6 page)

As the name emerged from Morris’s lips, the boy turned toward Ciardis in awe.

“
The
Weathervane?” he said.

“Get GOING!”

Ciardis giggled into her hand as she watched the boy scramble away.

Within minutes, Varis Turnfeather was escorted to the gate. Smiling as he wiped his hands on a handkerchief, he said to Ciardis, “Well, what an unexpected pleasure it is to see you today, Mistress Weathervane.”

Ciardis looped a companionable hand into the crook of his elbow as they proceeded to walk across the main street in front of the Imperial palace.

“I know, but I’m glad it’s a pleasant one,” she said as they reached the other side of the street and walked into the city’s public gardens. It was the only green area maintained by the Imperial household, a gift from the emperor to the city’s inhabitants.

“Well?” he said, tapping an occasional rock in their path with his long cane.

“Haven’t you ever heard that patience is a virtue, Milord?”

“Yes, but it’s not one of the virtues that I’ve known you to be even passable at.”

“That’s true,” said Ciardis as a rueful smile graced her lips. Looking up towards the sky she couldn’t help but admire the wits of the tall, but gangly man who towered above her with long gray hair falling to his shoulders. 

“I need your help, Lord Varis,” she admitted. “Just with information.”

“There’s nothing just about seeking information, Ciardis Weathervane. Particularly in the Imperial Courts. What is that you wish to know?”

“Why is the Duke of Cinnis trying to kill Prince Sebastian?”

“He’s not.”

“But...”

“He’s trying to kill
you.
”

“That’s impossible. There have not been any attacks on me...not recently, anyway.”

“That you know of,” he pointed out.

Varis looked down at her thoughtfully and then said, “That information was free, Ciardis. Ask me another question.”

She stood flummoxed for a moment, but decided there was only one question that was pertinent now. “What can I do about it?”

“Not why? Very good. You can run...”

Her stiff expression told him what she thought of that idea.

“Or you can fight,” he said.

Ciardis nodded. “The latter will be more to my style.”

“And the most likely to get you in trouble,” he said dryly. “Well, my dear, according to the ears I have on the ground, no one has made direct moves against you yet.”

“And indirectly?”

“Rumors circling around. Some courtiers of the Duke have been whispering unpleasant things about you to receptive Imperial ears. Not the Prince Heir’s mind you, but the ears of those he must pay attention to if you catch my meaning.”

She did. If the Duke had enough clout to poison the Emperor’s thoughts against her it was no wonder that Prince Sebastian had been avoiding her for months.

“But it doesn’t seem to have the desired effect. Prince Sebastian has closed his ranks, has begun relying only on trusted advisors,” Varis said in a lower voice. “And he hasn’t renounced his intention to make you his Companion. Despite significant pressure.”

Ciardis nodded, trying to keep her face impassive. To be honest, she hadn’t been aware that was even a consideration.

“The duke is not appreciative of your influence on Prince Sebastian.”

“Well, I’m not appreciative of his butting into my personal affairs.”

Vardis sighed and cautioned her, “Be careful. You aren’t protected by Imperial forces. And the duke is quite sure the Prince Heir’s bold endeavors in the matters of the Imperial Courts are a direct result of your whispers in his ear.”

“Impossible.”

“Why? One would think the rumors are true. You are practically his unofficial Companion and it’s said that he invites you to the Aether Realm for private consultations.”

Ciardis frowned, while partly true she didn’t feel like opening up about her relationship with Sebastian. They’d just gotten back on friendly terms. “It’s not relevant.”

As they headed back to the palace, Varis left her with whispered warnings.

“Most of all, Ciardis, keep your head down. The duke shouldn’t attack if you don’t strike first. And stay out of trouble. Your court escapades over the summer have angered quite a few, the Duke not least among them.”

T
he next morning Ciardis rose bright and early. A light fog had drifted in on the coast and she watched it silently from the balcony of her apartment. Staring out at the sea, she quietly gathered her thoughts. She knew, deep down, that many things were about to change.

For better or for worse, she couldn’t tell.

The door to her bedroom banged open with a loud crack.

Starting now
.

Turning swiftly in her gown and robe, Ciardis confronted the person who’d barged into her room. She stared in shock at Stephanie, a transfer Companion with the talent to copy and deliver a specific talent from one person to another. Ciardis hadn’t seen the girl in almost half a year—not since they’d made the transfer deal for the Sahalian language at the very beginning of her arrival at the Companions’ Guild.

“What in a demon’s ass do you think you’re doing?” Ciardis demanded in outrage. She swiftly strode forward, intent on pushing the woman out of her room. But then Stephanie stepped around the bed and Ciardis stopped in her tracks. She held a loaded crossbow in her hands.

Hastily backing up a step, she said, “I mean...Stephanie, it’s been so long.”

She saw the second weapon she’d been training with out of the corner of her eye: her glaive. It stood in the corner, a wooden staff built of the finest hardwood with a wicked sharp curved blade on the end. She was as good at wielding the staff as she was at firing a bow and arrow. But it was something to defend herself with. Ciardis lunged for it and brought the weapon up so that the sharp end was pointed at her opponent. Standing with the glaive in her hands, her feet spread for traction and swift movement and her nightgown fluttering in the morning air, she didn’t look like the greatest warrior. But it didn’t matter so long as she came out of this alive.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Stephanie said with exasperation.

“Oh, well, then I guess I should put the glaive down.” She wasn’t stupid; the weapon didn’t move an inch.

Sighing, Stephanie tossed the loaded crossbow on the bed and held her hands out by her sides.

“Better?”

“I’ll ask you again: What in a demon’s ass do you think you’re doing?”

“Saving your neck.”

Stephanie lunged towards Ciardis’s bed and grabbed her loaded crossbow in a smooth movement. Turning toward Ciardis, she fired a bolt. Ciardis dropped to the floor, evading the shot but unfortunately putting herself at a disadvantage. The glaive had fallen. And the way her body lay facedown made it hard to use the staff for any sort of defense. As she pushed herself off of the floor, keeping an angry eye on Stephanie, she frowned at sudden wetness on her hand. Bringing her hand up to her face, she stared in horror at the red blood dripping down her fingers.

She wasn’t wounded. But someone was.

Turning around, Ciardis saw a man lying on the floor. Face up, with a crossbolt sticking out of his chest.

Standing up and moving off the bed, Stephanie said with sarcasm, “You’re welcome.”

“What? Who?”

“One of the Duke of Cinnis’s men,” answered Stephanie as she came over and yanked her crossbolt out of his chest. “I don’t think I have to tell you why.”

Pale and shaky, Ciardis moved away from the body, laid the glaive down on the bed, and sat down.

“I’ve been doing this all wrong, haven’t I?”

“If by ‘all wrong’ you mean making enemies, pushing away allies, and generally making a nuisance of yourself, then I’d say yes.”

Ciardis grimaced. “I did what I had to do to save Sebastian’s life.”

“And endangered your own. Did you think that you were the only one who cared?”

“I was the only one who did anything when his powers were failing,” countered Ciardis.

“We were working on that behind the scenes. You managed to turn a two-year investigation into the loss of the Prince’s powers on its head in less than a week.”

“I solved it in less than a week.”

Stephanie put an impatient hand on her hip and glared.

“Who’s ‘we,’ by the way?” asked Ciardis innocently.

The look Stephanie returned said she wasn’t fooled. “That’s not important right now.”

“Really? I think it is.”

“You know what is important?”

Ciardis stood. She was tired of being talked down to.

“Getting some straight answers out of you.”

“No, getting this body out of here before someone sees him.”

They both looked down at the dead man lying on the floor. Ciardis couldn’t say she disagreed. A dead man would be one more thing she would have to answer for and with the way things were going she didn’t have much faith in the Companions’ Guild backing her against charges of murder from a Duke. All of this made her wonder why Stephanie was here though...surely the Guild hadn’t sent her?

Stephanie sighed, “Look we don’t have much time and I can’t explain to the council that I’m here so we
have
to get rid of the body.”

An hour later, they had him wrapped in a blanket and were busy hauling him through a tunnel that existed behind a secret door in Ciardis’s room. The man was big, and carrying him was putting a strain on both women.

“Some stairs are coming up,” said Stephanie as they wedged around a corner.

Ciardis gritted her teeth as she lifted his feet while Stephanie angled his upper body, taking most of the weight, as they went up the stairs. Luckily it was just a few steps, and then they were in a different tunnel.

“About five feet to the right there’s a hole,” Stephanie said.

“A hole large enough to drop a body?” Ciardis questioned.

“It’s the trash chute that goes direct to the underground sewer, so yes.”

As they knelt down and awkwardly shifted the body around to drop him in head first, Ciardis had to wonder what her life had come to. From laundress to Companions’ Guild trainee to accomplice in a murder who couldn’t talk about the murder in case the assassin’s master wanted to take another shot at her. Meanwhile, Stephanie searched the dead man’s vest. She was methodical, looking for anything that would link him to the duke. In his inner pocket she found just what she needed: a bronze crow pin. The duke’s symbol, and worth its weight in gold.

“I have what I need to prove the duke ordered the man to kill you,” Stephanie said.

“Why would he be carrying that?” said Ciardis.

“I suspect because he never thought you’d catch him.”

“And the Duke? Once his man fails to return he’ll find a way to pin this on me or send another assassin.”  Bitterly Ciardis spoke, “I’m not sure which would be preferable. Accussations of murder or another attempt.”

“With this pin I can make sure the Duke knows that we know about him. He won’t try again,” Stephanie said cryptically.

“Fair enough, as long as I’m not indicted for this crime.”

Stephanie nodded. She didn’t want to be accused of a crime, either.

Together they pushed the man over the side.

As they walked back in silence through the tunnels, Ciardis thought of the past. For a long time the only life she had known was the vale—the day-to-day drudgery of being a laundress and the hope of marrying well. She almost felt as if she’d left that life too soon. She had come into the courts eager to succeed, eager to show that she belonged. Now she was dumping bodies in holes, ducking arrows and breaking up assassination plots. In many ways she was worse than those at the courts she had initially sought to emulate.

“Wake up, airhead,” said Stephanie, “We’re back.”

And so they were. Opening the door into Ciardis’s room, they walked in to silence. The room looked normal except for the glaive and crossbow resting on the bed. And the pool of blood on the marble floor.

“We need to clean up the blood,” said Stephanie, looking around for cloth.

Ciardis was already on her way to the bathroom. “I’ve got it.”  She returned with a bucket filled with lemon water and sanitizer as well as some rags. Stooping down, she started wiping to get every drop of red.

*****

S
itting down on the bed, Stephanie watched as the young woman bent over the floor. Ciardis wasn’t saying a word. Stephanie was wondering if she was in shock or perhaps planning. Either way, she hoped the pretty hair and the soft nightgown hid a young woman who could do more than speak and dance well.

The Shadow Council needed people who could do more, people with talents, people with the strength to make a difference, and those willing to sacrifice for the common good. Ciardis had shown that she had two of those three qualities. But her performance needed a lot more polishing.

“Where have you been?” said Ciardis, not looking up. The blood had already turned the bucket water red, though there were still spots to clean up.  She didn’t see Stephanie watching her as she finished cleaning off the crossbolt that Stephanie had removed from the dead man’s chest with a handkerchief from Ciardis’s nightstand.

“Away,” the woman said. “Training.”

“With whom?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“And you evade all of my answers,” said Ciardis pointedly.

She put the clean crossbolt back into the bow and primed it to fire. “Not unintentionally.”

Ciardis dropped the last rag in the bucket and raised an irritated eyebrow.“Look, you come in here criticizing the way I handle things—”

“And saved your life.”

“And want me to do things your way,” Ciardis continued without pause. “But you won’t tell me what the way is or how you knew about the duke’s man.”

Standing up, Stephanie tossed her an irritated look. “The duke’s man was obvious—the Duke of Cinnis hasn’t been subtle in his loathing of you ever since you revealed that he cheated on his wife.”

“Why does
everyone
focus on that?” Ciardis said, her temper rising, “He was trying to assassinate Sebastian, but does anyone mention that? No! It’s always, ‘Oh, that evil Ciardis, she exposed him in bed with another woman.’”