The Blade of Ryl, page 12
part #1 of Corelle Of Dur Series
He pursed his lips. “Does this employment pay well?”
He thought she jested, it seemed. “That it does not. No home to call my own, no companions, vulgar or otherwise, the risk of death at every turn. Fear and hatred in the eyes of all you encounter. It is not for all.”
He lowered his voice. “For some years, a token existed.”
“I have travelled under this token. The token’s threat came from a man called Styrrach.” The master nodded, as though he knew the name. “I killed him.”
He drew in a sharp breath. “We carried another to Vyrrmod six or seven passes ago. Glailish his name, I think.”
She corrected him. “Glailam. He is now dead.”
He stared at her, but his face betrayed no emotion. After some time, he bowed and turned. He walked toward the aft deck but stopped after four paces. He did not turn, but he said, “Become a mariner.” He walked on.
The days passed with little variety, but a fresh agony visited Corelle. The longer the ship ploughed through the waves, the more she craved a goblet of wine. If she slept through the day, she woke in a sweat, whether she had endured a nightmare or not. She could not understand the desire that knotted her stomach, but she regretted she had not brought any wine aboard. When she asked the master, he had a small amount available, and he allowed her a goblet once a day, but no more. She did not wish to push for more, but the goblet failed to satisfy her, and her anguish increased.
As she watched the mariners work around the ship, she saw routine in much of what they did. They checked equipment, raised or lowered sails according to the winds. Nothing about their work looked beyond her. She imagined more must be involved whenever they prepared to leave from or arrive at docks, but once they were under way, little changed from day to day unless some unusual weather occurred, such as the storm they had encountered on the voyage to Vyrrmod.
They saw no more of the blue giants, and after a sevenday, Corelle saw a smudge on the horizon ahead that grew until it became the unmistakeable shape of land. One of the mariners confirmed they had almost arrived in Alcmouth. Despite her banishment from Dur, she had returned in fewer than five passes. Although she doubted she could help Wilash track down Klordia’s killers, she would do all she could. News must also be delivered to Raolos that would be sure to devastate him, although Wilash’s letter made it clear the Bailiff would not permit her to meet him.
As the sun sank low in the west, the ship docked in Alcmouth. Pack in hand, she sought out the master. “Respect is due.” She gave a bow.
“Respect is due, Corelle of Dur.” He matched her bow. “Look to your safety.”
Corelle turned to stare at the busy docks. Her safety mattered little to her these days. The master’s words should have been addressed to all who had encountered her. For Arella, Deineike, Klordia, and now Pettra, the caution had come too late.
CHAPTER 16
CORELLE
Corelle left The Merchant’s Mistress behind. Memories of Torric came to her, when she and Deineike had been unable to understand the names on the sterns of the southern ships. These days, she could understand some of the names of Vyrrmod ships. In an ironic twist, she could no longer return to that land for fear she would be hanged. The same restriction applied to Dur, in truth, but she had been allowed to return under specific conditions, and now she stood again on the docks at Alcmouth.
Once she had found accommodation at in inn near the square, she asked for some parch and scribing tools and scribed a letter to Wilash. The letter told him she had arrived and asked him to come to the inn, The Warm Hearth, as soon as he could. She walked through the square to the Bailiff’s Offices, entered through the Ortwood doors, and handed her letter to a woman seated at a desk in the lobby with a request for it to be delivered to Wilash without delay, then left and returned to the inn.
Rather than go to her room, she went straight to the tavernroom and ordered a goblet of wine. As usual, her table commanded a view of the entire tavernroom, and her wait for Wilash began. She had drunk little wine aboard the ship, and she craved it now more than she had aboard the Mistress. Three goblets later, Wilash entered the tavernroom and looked around. His eyes fixed on her as she sat and watched him. He looked unhappy but well. He had lost some weight since she had last seen him in Ort, and it suited him. Grey threatened to overwhelm his dark hair, and he wore far better clothes than the mundane items he wore before he met Klordia and became an important part of the Bailiff’s Offices.
He had two guards with him, dressed in the distinctive yellow tunics of the Bailiff. Wilash made for her table, and as the guards followed him, they glanced around at the other patrons in the tavernroom. Corelle approved of their caution, but she had already determined no threat existed in the room. She stood as he approached, and he swept her into his arms. He began to cry and held her tight.
“I am sorry Wilash. Poor Klordia. It is all my fault.”
“That it is not.” He struggled to form words through his tears. “It is the fault of Styrrach, who unleashed this torment on Dur in the name of his greed.” He pulled back. “My thanks that you came.” He sat on the settle next to her, and the innkeep came over. Wilash ordered a tankard of ale and a goblet of wine for Corelle. His guards hovered nearby, out of earshot of their conversation but close enough to react if things turned awry. “Pettra is not with you?”
Now tears sprang to Corelle’s eyes. “Pettra is dead.” The words caught in her throat and appeared reluctant to be spoken.
Shock reduced his voice to a whisper. “What? Dead? How?”
“She fell from the upper floor of our house. Rather, I think she jumped. She killed herself, I believe.”
“Killed herself? Why?”
The innkeep returned with their drinks and Corelle waited until he had passed out of earshot before she replied. “The why of it is difficult to tell, and much of it might taint her memory. I do not know the full story, in truth. I failed her, as I failed Arella, Deineike and Klordia.”
He laid a hand on her arm. “I cannot tell you the depths of our grief when we heard of Deineike’s death. We all lost a remarkable woman, and her loss devastated us. Her like can never be replaced.”
Corelle wiped tears from her eyes with the back of a hand. “My thanks.” She looked away from him for a time. When she had composed herself, she turned and gave him a weak smile.
Wilash drew in a long, thoughtful breath. “It must be Glailam.” Corelle gave him a confused look. “He must be behind the murder of Klordia. Who else? He and Styrrach worked together, and he will have lost much when you and Raolos tore down their enterprise.”
“Glailam is dead.”
He pursed his lips, and comprehension filled his eyes as water fills a basin. “You killed him?”
“He lay hidden in Vyrrmod, a land to the south.”
“I have heard of it. Much trade comes from Vyrrmod to Dur.”
“He hid, but not well enough. A friend pointed me at him, and I took him.”
He sat in silence for a time. “Still, Klordia may have died by his orders, given before you killed him.”
Corelle conceded he might have the right of it. “That she may. If so, she is avenged. Regardless, others carried out the deed, and they know of my work. Why else would they slit her throat so? It is a message, as you have guessed.”
“We have encountered many sorry turns since you arrived in Zhanghar with Arella. Many whom we loved are lost, and we cannot wake from the nightmare, it seems.” He sighed and took a sip of his ale.
“What motive did they have to kill Klordia?”
“They wish to flush you out and kill you, my guess.”
With a shake of her head, she said, “I would welcome it, in truth. So much bloodshed and pain. I tire of it, Wilash. This life cannot be borne. It is too painful.”
He placed an arm around her and squeezed her, gentle, soothing. “You have strength and can cope with much. You survived the loss of Deineike, which I confess I thought would kill you. They will not find you so easy to throw into the flames.”
“Are there any other clues, or information that might help me?”
“A letter arrived some days after Klordia’s murder. It read ‘You are next. C.’”
“They strive to cast her death as my work. I imagine you are right; they wish to flush me out. They may also wish to kill you, however, and I am pleased you are guarded.”
“Who do you believe is behind my wife’s murder?”
“You married? You had not told me.”
“That we did, in Dur City. I wish you could have been there. You and Deineike, both.”
She laid her head on his shoulder. “As do I, Wilash. As do I.”
“Who then?”
“The Guild, my guess.” Corelle had turned over all the possibilities in her head but found no other explanation. “Who knows my methods and would also know you? Members from Zhanghar, I reason.”
“Torric also, since I spent time there. Alcmouth too. Styrrach sent me there, and they saw your handiwork on Sky.”
She considered the list of Guilds. “I feel Alcmouth is the less likely. For the most part, they scattered after Styrrach arrived here. Synna told me this before I left. I killed at least three, and the two who were with Styrrach when he attacked us at The Duke’s Seat also died. Few would remain, my guess.”
“I agree.” He sipped at his ale. “Synna tells me he has found no trace of any Alcmouth members in the city since Raolos became Bailiff.”
“Torric or Zhanghar members then, my guess.” Corelle could not understand why the Guild members still pursued them with such fervour. Styrrach and Glailam had enriched themselves, and she could have understood their anger at her. Both had now been killed, however, and while the other Guildmeisters might hold a grudge, it seemed reckless to pursue the issue now all had been exposed and torn down.
“Torric would be my guess. They have no love for me there. I threw their Senior Aide into the dust, and he wished me killed on the spot. Styrrach ordered me shrouded in Alcmouth as payment to them, I am certain.”
Corelle had finished her wine, and she caught the innkeep’s eye and ordered another when he bustled over to them. “It is certain they will watch you. Nobody suspicious has entered the tavernroom since you arrived, but if their plan is either to flush me out or kill you, they will watch for opportunities, we may depend on it.”
“I am to be the bait, then?”
“Is Synna available to aid with this enterprise?”
“That he is, as long as you are both discreet. Raolos cannot be compromised. If he knows you are here, he is obliged to arrest you.”
Corelle nodded. “I understand. Send Synna to me in the morning, and we will hatch some plan to watch for those who observe you. Do not venture out alone, I beg you. Your life is in danger if they do seek to kill you.”
“I am guarded at all times. Do not fret over me.” He gave her a smile of reassurance as she drank her wine.
She reached behind her back, pulled his dagger from her belt, and placed it on the settle between them. “Pettra returned this to me. I now return it to its owner. It killed Glailam if that brings you any joy.”
“You did not kill him with your own dagger?”
“This is its equal and has seen less use. I used this blade to slit his throat.”
He nodded in approval. “It has done great work. I have no need of it though, and it may serve you better than me.”
“You should be armed. You told me that the first time I encountered you in this very city.”
He laughed. “That I did. Very well, I will carry it. My thanks.” He slid the dagger into his belt. “Now, I must away, and you also. You have drunk more wine tonight than I have seen you drink before.”
She forced a blank expression onto her face. “Two goblets only.”
“Three.” Had he counted? “You already had one when I arrived. And that one is empty already.” He touched the empty goblet. “Is all well?” He sounded concerned.
She sighed, a dejected breath of air, empty of all hope. “Can anything be well in my life, Wilash? I feel the weight of my guilt over the deaths of three lovers. Who can bear such a burden?”
“I understand.” He laid a hand on her arm. “No answers lie in the bottom of a goblet, Corelle, I know this from bitter experience. I cannot offer you any words of wisdom to salve all your hurts, but neither can a pitcher of wine.”
Corelle nodded at the truth of his words, even as she desired another goblet. He said he would inform Raolos of Pettra’s death, and of her final request for his forgiveness. She told Wilash the number of her room and urged him to send Synna to her early the next morning. They embraced, and he left with his guards. She sat at the table for a few moments, then summoned the innkeep.
The next morning, a knock at her door awoke her. Her head throbbed, her mouth felt dry, and she still wore yesterday’s clothes. She scrabbled around for her boots, which lay strewn in two separate corners of the room, kicked off the night before in her intoxication. She took her dagger and stood beside the door. “Who is there?”
“Synna.” His familiar voice comforted her. She pulled the door open, and he entered. He looked on her with a curious expression. “This room smells like a tavernroom, and you look awful.”
She snapped straight back at him. “It is good to see you also. I took a little wine last night. Have you never done so?”
He brought a soft smile to his face. “It is good to see you, even in such circumstances. I thought I would never see you again.”
“Our time together has been fraught with danger, it seems. More awaits, from all Wilash told me last night.”
“Klordia’s murder shocked us, and Wilash took it hard. Raolos also. She excelled in her role as Senior Tally Master. She opened many eyes and many doors for other women.”
“You have heard the news concerning Pettra?”
“That I have. Wilash told me this morning. More terrible news. She took her own life? That is a terrible thing.”
“I take the blame. It proved a mistake for me to take her south with me. She needed somebody other than me. I did attempt to convince Raolos of this.”
He nodded, glum. “That you did. What drove her to such desperate lengths, however, is a mystery to me.”
“Raolos must never know this, but the violence she longed for played a part. She sought it with another, and that other served her rough treatment. I had left to kill Glailam when she had need of my help to recover from injuries he had inflicted, and she received the letter from Wilash before I returned. I cannot guess what passed through her mind in those days. I abandoned her, which may have distressed her beyond her capacity to endure.”
“A man?” His expression turned curious. “I thought….” He left the sentence unfinished.
“As did I.”
“Raolos is devastated. He must tell Raopul, and I do not envy him that task.”
She wiped at her eyes. “I can only imagine Raolos’s pain. I avenged her, curse me. I ended the life of the one who hurt her so much. None of this must come to Raolos’s ears.” Synna nodded, and she continued. “We must formulate a plan to flush out whoever is behind Klordia’s murder and arrange for them to swing from a tree as soon as we can.”
“Have you given the matter some thought?”
“That I have. They must watch the Bailiff’s Offices, since that is where Wilash spends much of his day. They must have taken a room over a building in the square, my guess. We need to locate that room.”
He nodded in agreement. “How can this be done?”
“Are we authorised to act on Raolos’s behalf?”
“I work for him, which gives me the right. I also have letters that confirm anybody who acts on my request also works for the Bailiff’s interests. The letters do not name anybody but me and must in any event be destroyed at the conclusion of our business.”
“I will find a vantage point above a business on the square. The letters should enable me to persuade a business owner to grant me access to a higher floor. Today I will watch for any suspicious activity. With luck, we may at the least learn where they are hidden, since they must change the watcher at whiles.”
“It is a weak plan, but your plans have always been thus.” He smiled.
“Mine may be weak, but yours are non-existent.” Corelle laughed, comfortable with the bond that had been re-established between them. “Now tell me, did Raolos apprehend any of the Portreeves and Guildmeisters involved in Styrrach’s scheme?”
“That he did. New Portreeves serve here as well as in Zhanghar, Torric, Ryl, Vjort and Ort. Ibie is the Portreeve in Ort.” Corelle smiled, happy at the news. “Raolos hanged the Portreeves in Zhanghar and Ryl, but the others were not caught. Those in Vjort and Ort could not be hanged in truth since no evidence could be found that linked them to the Guild. We apprehended no Guildmeisters, nor any Guild members. The citizens are outraged by the murder of Klordia, a high ranked member of the Bailiff’s organisation. They call for justice, and Raolos is determined to deliver it. For Wilash, as much as any other reason, I believe.”
It disappointed Corelle to learn so few had been taken. “I had hoped he would deliver more justice, but I have also delivered some, at the least.”
“I hear this news. It is my belief Klordia would have become a Portreeve in time. Raolos took her murder hard. In so short a time, he came to depend on her financial skills.”
“Very well. What is scribed, must be. Hand me the letters and let me be about my shaky plan.”
He passed her a parch and she read it. It authorised any who carried it access to any reasonable request in the name of the Bailiff and carried both his signature and his seal.
As Corelle readied to leave, he held her back. “Tell me how Glailam died.”
She paused before her grim reply. “With my face in his eyes and my name in his ears.”
“That is as it should be. You did Dur a service.”
