Brian McCLELLAN - Promise of Blood

Tamas rubbed his eyes. “I should have had her watched.”

“She’s free to do what she wants,” Taniel said. It came out as a snarl.

“The wedding?”

“I nailed her ring to the bastard bedding her. They’ll have had to cut him off his own sword.”

Sabon reentered the room. He was followed by a pair of disreputable-looking characters wearing the clothes of people who slept in the saddle, or on a barroom bench. One was a man, tall and lanky with a hairline that touched the back of his head, though he couldn’t have been older than thirty. He wore a belt that covered his entire stomach, carried four swords and three pistols of different sizes and shapes, and he wore the gloves of a Privileged – though instead of white with colored runes, the gloves were navy blue with gold runes. The man was a magebreaker: a Privileged who’d given up his natural-born sorcery to nullify magic at will.

The other was a woman. She looked to be in her late thirties and wore riding pants and a jacket. She would have been beautiful but for the old scar that lifted the corner of her lip and traveled all the way to her temple. She, too, wore the gloves of a Privileged, which allowed her to touch the Else. Hers were white with blood-red runes. Taniel wondered why she wasn’t in a cabal. He could sense she was strong enough even without opening his third eye.

Mercenaries, Tamas had said. These two had a look. A Privileged and a magebreaker together were a dangerous combination. They were used to hunt Knacked, Marked, and Privileged. Taniel wondered which his father had in mind.

“A Privileged escaped our cull at Skyline,” Tamas said. “Not one of the royal cabal, but powerful nonetheless. I want you three” – a glance at Ka-poel – “four to track her down and kill her.”

Tamas settled into the role of a man used to briefing his soldiers, and Taniel realized his homecoming amounted to little more than a briefing and an assignment. Off hunting another Privileged. He glanced at the two mercenaries. They had a competent look to them. Taniel had had less to work with in Fatrasta. This Privileged they meant to hunt had killed five seasoned powder mages in half a breath. She’d be dangerous, and Taniel had never hunted in a city before. He decided the challenge would keep his mind off… things.

Taniel lifted his snuffbox once more and tapped out a line on the back of his hand, ignoring his father’s disapproving look.

Nila paused for a moment to watch the fire burn beneath the big iron pot suspended in the fireplace. She rubbed her chapped hands together and warmed them over the flames. The water would boil soon, and she’d finish washing the laundry for everyone in the townhouse. There was a small pile of dirty laundry stacked by the pantry, but most of the family’s clothes, as well as the servants’ livery, had been soaking in the large vats of warm water and lye soap since last evening. They would need to be boiled, rinsed, and then hung out to dry, but first she needed to iron the duke’s dress uniform. He had a meeting with the king at ten. That was still hours away, but all of it, the washing, rinsing, and ironing, had to be done before the cooks got up to make breakfast.

The door to the washroom opened and a boy of five came into the kitchen rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Can’t sleep, young master?” Nila asked.

“No,” he said. The only child of Duke Eldaminse, Jakob was very sickly. He had blond hair and a pale face with narrow cheeks. He was small for his age, but bright, and friendlier to the help than a duke’s son ought to be. Nila had been thirteen and an apprentice laundress for the Eldaminse when he was born. From the time he could walk he’d taken a liking to her, much to the chagrin of his mother and governess.

“Have a seat here,” Nila said, rearranging a clean, dry blanket near the fire for Jakob. “Only for a couple of minutes, then you need to go back to bed before Ganny awakes.”

He settled onto the blanket and watched her heat the irons on the stove and lay out his father’s clothes. His eyes soon began to droop and he settled onto his side.

Nila dragged a large washbasin over beside the iron pot. She was just about to pour in the water when the door opened again.

“Nila!” Ganny stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. She was twenty-six, and severe beyond her age; well suited to be the governess of a ducal heir. She wore her cocoa-colored hair up in a tight bun behind her head. Even in her nightclothes, Ganny seemed more proper than Nila with her plain dress and unruly auburn curls.

Nila put a finger to her lips.

“You know he’s not supposed to be in here,” Ganny said, lowering her voice.

“What should I do? Say no?”

“Of course!”

“Leave him be, he’s finally asleep.”

“He’ll catch a cold down here.”

“He’s right next to the fire,” Nila said.

“If the duchess finds him here, she’ll be furious!” Ganny shook her finger at Nila. “I won’t stick up for you when she turns you out on the street.”

“And when have you ever stuck up for me?”

Ganny’s lips took on a hard line. “I’ll recommend your dismissal to the duchess tonight. You’re nothing but a bad influence on Jakob.”

“I will…” Nila took one look at the sleeping boy and closed her mouth. She had no family, no connections. The duchess already disliked her. Duke Eldaminse had a habit of bedding the help, and he’d been looking at her more often lately. Nila didn’t need any trouble with Ganny, even if she was a bully. “I’m sorry, Ganny,” Nila said. “I’ll get him back to bed now. Do you have any clothes I can get the stains out of for you?”

“That’s a better attitude,” Ganny said. “Now…”

She was interrupted by a hammering on the front door, loud enough to be heard all the way at the back of the townhouse.

“Who is that at this early hour?” Ganny pulled her nightclothes tightly around her and headed into the hallway. “They’ll wake up the lord and lady!”

Nila put her hands on her hips and looked at Jakob. “You’ll get me in trouble, young master.”

His eyes fluttered open. “Sorry,” he said.

She knelt down beside him. “It’s all right, go back to sleep. Let me carry you to bed.”

She’d just lifted him up when she heard the scream from the front of the house. Shouts followed and then the hammering footsteps running up the stairs in the main hallway. She heard angry male voices that didn’t belong to any of the house staff.

“What is that?” Jakob asked.

She set him on his feet so that he couldn’t feel her hands shaking. “Quickly,” she said. “In the washtub.”

Jakob’s bottom lip trembled. “Why, what’s happening?”

“Hide!”

He climbed into the washtub. She dumped the dirty laundry on top of him and stacked it high and then hurried into the hallway.

She ran right into a soldier. The man shoved her back into the kitchen. He was soon joined by two other men, then another holding Ganny by the back of the neck. He shoved Ganny to the floor. The governess’s eyes were full of fear mingled with indignation.

“These two will do,” one of the soldiers said. He wore the dark blue of the Adran army, with two golden service stripes on his chest and a silver medal that indicated he’d served the crown overseas. He began to loosen his belt and stepped toward Nila.

Nila grabbed the hot iron from the stove and hit him hard across the face. He went down, to the shouts of his comrades.

Someone grabbed her arms, another her legs.

“Feisty,” one said.

“That will leave a mark,” said another.

“What is the meaning of this!” Ganny had finally gotten to her feet. “Do you know whose house this is?”