Gregory Keyes - The Blood Knight

“Leave us for a moment, Cazio,” Anne said quietly to the man.

The swordsman nodded and vanished back through the doorway.

When he was gone, Anne’s features softened, and she rushed forward, meeting Muriele halfway as she rose.

“Mother,” she managed to choke out, and then she dissolved into tears as they wrapped their arms around each other. Muriele felt strange, almost too stunned to react.

“I’m sorry,” Anne gasped. “Those things I said to you. I was afraid they would be the last.” She broke into deeper sobs, and months of isolation suddenly distilled in Muriele. Endless days of suppressed hope collapsed.

“Anne.” She sighed. “It’s you. It’s you.”

And then she was crying with her daughter, and there was too much to say, and not enough. But there would be time, wouldn’t there?

Against all odds, they had time.

Leoff wiped tears from his eyes and tried to compose himself; it was nearly noon.

So much depended on such little things. Did Robert’s executioner have any mercy in him at all? Probably not, and in that case, his night’s work was in vain. Even if Ambrias murderer took a small pity on him, so many other things had to go right. He had to slip the wax into Mery’s ears unseen and not have her protest or wonder aloud why he had done it. He had to be allowed to stand near Areana so he could cover her ears at the crucial moment.

Even if he managed all of that, he wasn’t sure it would work. Some sound would enter their heads regardless of how well he prepared. It might be too much.

It suddenly occurred to him that if he could find a needle, he might be able to pierce Areanas eardrums in time.

But it was beyond thinking about now, for he heard boots thumping in the hall.

A moment later his door opened, and even the poor plan he had arranged fell into disarray.

For there stood Robert Dare.

The prince smiled and drifted into the room, glancing around it with a sort of mock interest. For a single, beautiful moment, Leoff thought the usurper had countermanded the executioner, but then Mery and Areana were escorted in by the killer, four guards, and Lord Respell.

“Well,” Robert said, shuffling through the papers on Leoff’s desk, “you do seem to have been busy.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Robert looked surprised. “Oh, it’s Majesty now, is it? What brings that on?” He glanced over at Mery and Areana.

“Oh, right,” he said, tapping his head with his index finger.

“Please, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, please yourself, you simpering dog,” Robert snapped. “I am in no mood to grant clemency. Noose is my man. How would he feel if I gave him authority to make decisions and just snatched it away from him, eh? Well, that’s not how you breed loyalty, is it?”

“Let it be just me instead,” Leoff said.

“No,” Robert said. “You’ve work to do for me, remember? Unless you’ve finished.”

“I have done a great deal, but I am not finished yet,” Leoff said. “And I still need helpers.”

“You will have to make do with half the staff,” Robert said. “But here, before you make your little decision, why not perform some small piece of this for me. I’m told the three of you make very pretty music together. Wouldn’t you like to do that one more time?”

Leoff blinked. “Of course, Sire. And perhaps if it pleases you—”

“If it pleases me, then I shall take no further steps in disciplining you,” Robert snapped.

Leoff nodded, trying to make his face into a mask.

“Very well,” he said. “Mery, Areana, come here, please.”

They came. Mery seemed puzzled but not particularly concerned. Areana was white and trembling.

“Leoff,” she whispered.

Leoff pulled up the piece. “Let me add a few quick notes,” he said. “I think Your Majesty will enjoy this best if you’ll just give me a few seconds to confer—”

“Yes, yes, go ahead.” Robert sighed. He walked over to the window and peered out, his brow furrowed.

“They’ll be here soon,” Lord Respell said uneasily.

“Shut up,” Robert said. “Or I shall have Noose remove your tongue.”

Leoff wondered what the exchange was about, but he couldn’t spend any time on it. Instead his mind was racing furiously through the darkling chords.

“Mery,” he whispered. “You must play this with expression. You won’t like it, but you must. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Leoff,” she replied primly.

“Areana, you’ll sing this top line. Use the words from Sa Luth af Erpoel .” He dropped his voice even lower. “Here—this is very important.”

He penciled in new notes on the last three measures. “You must both hum these beneath your breath. Ontro Vobo , yes?”

Areana’s eyes widened, and he saw her swallow hard, but she nodded.

“All right, then,” he said. “Shall we? Mery, if you would begin.”

“Yes, go on,” Robert said. He didn’t turn from the window.

Mery placed her fingers on the keyboard, stretching to complete the awkward chord, and pressed. The notes throbbed in the air, a little menacing but mostly intriguing, illicit, the thrill of doing something a bit wicked made sound.

Mery’s hands grew more sure, and Areana joined, singing words that had absolutely nothing to do with the music but that rang out with a stark sensuality that stirred sudden shameful desire in Leoff, so that as he added his own voice, he found himself helplessly imagining the things he would do to her, the ways he could bring pleasure and pain to her lithe body.

The song was a death spell, but it had to be built. Playing the last chord wouldn’t do anything unless the listener had been drawn to the edge of the precipice.

Until now, the mode had been a modified form of the sixth mode, but now Mery took them with a frantic run of notes into the seventh, and lust subtly became madness. He heard Robert laugh out loud, and a look around the room at open mouths or tight grins told Leoff that they were all insane with him.

Even Areana’s eyes sparkled feverishly, and Mery was gasping for breath as it all quickened into a lumbering whervel and then softened, shifting into the mode for which Leoff had no name, spreading out into broad chords.

The world seemed to sag underfoot, but Areana’s voice was black joy. Fear was gone, and all that remained was the longing for night’s infinite embrace, for the touch of decay, that most patient, inevitable, and thorough lover. He felt his bones straining to slough free of his flesh and then rot like tissue.

The end was coming, but he no longer wanted to sing the extra notes. Why should he? What could be better than this? An end to pain and striving… rest forever…

Distantly, he felt a hand grip his, and Areana leaned close, no longer singing. But she hummed in his ear.

He drew a painful, horrible breath and realized he hadn’t been breathing. Shaking his head, he took up the hastily written counterpoint, though it seemed to cut through his brain like an ax. He doubled over, still humming, trying to cover his ears, but his hands were like stones, falling to the floor, and black spots filled his vision. His heart beat weirdly, stopped for a long moment, then thumped as if it would explode.

He found his face was pressed against the stone. Areana had collapsed beside him, and in a fevered panic he reached for her, fearing her dead. But no, she was breathing.

“Mery.”

The girl was slumped at the hammarharp, eyes open and blank, spittle on her chin. Her fingers were still on the keys, jerking madly but not pressing to produce sound.

Everyone else in the room lay on the floor, unmoving.

Except for Robert, who still stood gazing out the window, stroking his beard.