The Justice of Kings, page 22
“Come then,” the woman said. I did not recognise her, but she was likely a member of Lord Sauter’s household. She had that motherly, matronly quality that all older female servants seemed to possess. I felt myself responding to it immediately. She exuded calmness and unflappability at a horrifying and tumultuous time.
She took me downstairs where a steaming, lavender-scented bath awaited. Without a word passing between us she stripped me of my clothes and helped me in. In my state I was as docile as a lamb. The water was slightly too hot for comfort, but I was in no mood to turn down a good bath. There was even scented soap, which the woman proceeded to work into a lather with a sponge and vigorously scrub my back.
“Have you spoken to the Justice this morning?” I asked.
“I have,” the woman said. She applied the sponge quite roughly and I winced.
“Was he all right?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” the woman asked. The house seemed very quiet. Normally in the morning the street outside bustled with people. Instead, the whole town seemed still.
“Did he seem… Did anything seem the matter?”
“You mean, after his trespass?”
I frowned at the strange answer, but my attention was drawn by the water. I realised I couldn’t see anything from my navel down; the water was so murky it was almost black. I lifted my hands up through the water and brought up twigs and roots and old bones with them.
I looked sharply up at the woman. It was Lady Karol Frost. Her skin was black and charred. Under her arm was a two-headed wolf pup. She was strangling it.
“The mark of the Trickster is upon you now, girl,” she said through heat-split teeth, and she laughed as I screamed.
XVII
A Dangerous Undertaking
“’Tis a better fate to die in the service of the law than serve a regime which does not uphold it.”
SIR RUDOLF BLIX
“Now you see why I do not like to do it.”
I pressed myself up in bed, heaving in deep lungfuls of air. Sweat sheened my brow and soaked my robe. I was trembling badly; my teeth rattled in my skull like dice in a cup.
The nightmare faded away, like a stone dropped into a murky lake.
Vonvalt was sitting at the end of the bed, smoking his pipe. His cheeks were wine-blushed in the candlelight. Outside it was still dark. Snow tumbled through the air, pattering gently against the window lattice.
“How long has it been?” I asked. “Since…”
“About an hour,” Vonvalt said. “Here: take some wine.”
He poured me some and I accepted it. I took the whole cupful down in one long draught.
“Am I awake now?” I asked shakily. “Please tell me this is real.”
“This is real,” Vonvalt obliged.
“What happened? How did Graves come to be stabbed?”
“Bressinger chased him down on the east road. His flight was short and unimaginative, much like the man himself. Instead of surrendering himself, he came at Dubine – and paid for it with his life, as men tend to when they come at Dubine.” He smoked for a few moments. “Describe your nightmare to me, now, while it is fresh.”
I didn’t want to, but I told him anyway. He didn’t move as I recounted exactly what I had seen.
“What does it mean?” I asked.
Vonvalt was silent for a moment. He smoked for a little while, then said, “I do not know. I have some ideas which are too ill-formed to share.”
“What was that place? The marshland?”
“That is the afterlife, Helena, or at least some part of it. There are men within the Order who know all of the old lore, but their knowledge is not widely shared. That is in part what Claver and his church are after.”
“There is an afterlife?” I stammered.
Vonvalt shrugged. “There is something,” he said. He sounded tired and drained. “I do not understand the precise nature of it. But afterlife seems an apt word.”
“And you travel there to question the dead? Like a lawman at a trial?”
He nodded once. “In a sense.”
“Did something go wrong? What did he keep saying about the Trickster? I thought you said the Imperial gods were all nonsense?”
“It is not as simple as that,” Vonvalt said. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly in a great sigh. “There are entities which exist in that realm. Spirits, demons, old souls… many have conjectured what they might be. Some are harmless. Some are malevolent. Sometimes when questioning the deceased, one of those beings interrupts the process and makes mischief. It is frightening, but there is never any danger. They cannot hurt us – in a physical sense, at least. The Trickster is the Imperial name for an old Draedist demon called Aegraxes. He is known to play games with those who dabble in necromancy. It is not the first time our paths have crossed.”
“You speak as if all of this is real!” I said tearfully, desperate for comfort.
“It is real, Helena. Perhaps not in the sense of you and I, and the affairs of the Empire. But it is there, playing out on another stage, another dimension where earthly laws do not apply.”
I shivered uncontrollably. “And that’s what happened with Graves?” I asked, my voice hoarse with wretchedness. “This entity hooked on to him like a parasite?”
“Aye. That is a good way of putting it.”
“A lot of what he said didn’t make sense.”
“No. But it was never going to, not with the amount of fear and hatred he took with him.”
I sat, thinking for a moment, recounting the séance in my mind. “He said he could see me in the room. It seemed to unsettle you.”
“Hm,” Vonvalt said.
“What did it mean? Was it bad?”
Vonvalt smoked for a little while longer. “I do not know. He should not have been able to. The summoning only works one way, and I did not mis-incant. I travel to their land; they do not travel here.”
“Why did he ask for my name?”
“There is power in a name.” He extinguished his pipe. Outside, the first of dawn’s weak grey light began to suffuse the sky, and I realised that Vonvalt had deliberately stayed with me until daylight.
“What did you say to Dubine, at the end? Before we were pulled out?” I asked, hungry for information, desperate for anything to rationalise what I had seen. “What was his role? You did not need him when you spoke to Sir Otmar.”
“No, I did not. You remember what I explained to Lord Sauter. Sir Otmar was… a friend, of sorts. He had sent me a message in his dying moments. There was less risk in seeking him out. He was yearning for help, for justice. Graves was hostile. At the time of his death his mind was in disarray, a miasma of negative emotions. Such a mind is vulnerable to the eldritch forces within the afterlife. Dubine’s role was to provide something like a beacon that I could follow if something went wrong – not that there was any chance of that.”
I got the strong sense that he was lying, but given how desperately I wanted to believe it, I latched on to the idea like a limpet on a rock.
“I am going to try and sleep,” Vonvalt said. “I will be next door. You should rest, too, doubly so because of your injury. I assure you there is no danger at all. You will be frightened, that is natural – but know that there is nothing that can harm you.”
I doubted I would ever be able to sleep again, but the fact that it was no longer night-time did seem to alleviate much of the more immediate fear.
“I will try,” I said with an insincere smile. He nodded, and I watched him leave the room.
Despite my fear I collapsed back into the bed. My skin was rough with gooseflesh, but the wine was starting to take hold and dim my fear as much as the receding night.
Eventually I did fall asleep. Mercifully, that time, I dreamt of nothing.
I was roused at noon by a member of Lord Sauter’s household staff. I could hear the temple bell chiming in the distance. Cold rain drummed against the window.
Tired, in pain and still frightened, I dressed myself and went downstairs to see Vonvalt taking lunch in the dining hall. There was no one else around.
“I am sorry to have woken you,” Vonvalt said. “Unfortunately, we have no time to spare. I hope you are at least somewhat restored.”
I sat down in a sour mood and began to load a plate with some of the greasy meat and bread laid out in front of me.
“What’s going on?” I asked, frightened that this could be yet another nightmare. “It’s very quiet.”
“Sir Radomir and Dubine are attending to the executions,” Vonvalt said. Then, when he caught my bemused expression, he added: “I have been interrogating every member of the town’s watch. We turfed out two more who were loyal to the kloster – or at least, to its coin. I have only just come back from questioning them. Their executions will be kept as quiet as possible. We do not want the town to lose faith in its watch.”
“Did they reveal anything?” I asked.
Vonvalt shook his head. “The conspirators have been careful with their information. These men had only one point of contact: Fenland Graves. The two I have just spoken to told me that Graves paid them to report on Sir Radomir’s investigation into the Bauer murder – and, as you of course are aware, to murder us in turn. In a perverse sort of way, it is a good sign; it means we are cutting to the bone of the issue. Desperate men are forced to desperate deeds.”
I shook my head. “I can scarcely believe it.”
“No,” Vonvalt said. “Nor can I. But with Graves’s corpse thrown on a convict’s pyre and his fellows in the kloster no doubt tipped off, we can ill afford to dwell on it. There will be time enough for unravelling all of that at the end of this sorry business.” He sighed. “A part of me is still tempted to take a host of armed constables into that kloster and just smoke out the wrongdoers. But those old fortresses… who knows what manner of secret tunnels and exits there are running into the mountains? I am worried that a heavy-handed approach will net us perhaps a few junior conspirators and see the rest scurry off and bed in somewhere else like ticks. One does not take a hammer to a wasps’ nest, after all.”
I had long guessed what his alternative was.
“You propose for me to enter the kloster,” I said. “As some wounded fawn.”
Vonvalt nodded. “You have the kernel of it, aye,” he said. “Helena, you know I would never willingly put you in harm’s way. But you are an official of the Crown, and, if I have my way, you will be a Justice in your own right one day. It is time for you to grapple with the sharp end of my work.”
After the séance, I was feeling somewhat numb and reckless, and I gave my assent to this dangerous course far too readily. “I will do it,” I said, though it had never really been a choice. If I wanted to continue on in Vonvalt’s service – at least until the end of the Bauer matter, and the conclusion of our bargain – I would have to get used to this sort of clandestine work.
“Bressinger will remain in Galen’s Vale,” Vonvalt continued, “incognito. I will have to leave. There will be a ruse. I’m thinking a pretend falling-out.” He nodded to the wounded, shorn side of my head. “Your injury makes a convincing pretext. The séance, too, might be considered a final straw. You would tell the gateman that you have had your fill of Imperial service and demand sanctuary. They are obliged to give you a month’s worth under the canon law, and to be honest they would probably like the opportunity to thumb their noses at the Order.”
“If there is a man within the kloster who is running a conspiracy with Vogt and Bauer, then he may suspect this for what it is,” I said.
Vonvalt nodded slowly without breaking his gaze with me. “They may. It is a risk I am afraid that we are going to have to take, for there is no one else I will bring into my confidence on this.”
“You wish me to go tonight?”
“Yes,” Vonvalt said. “We must strike while the iron is hot. I have already begun to hint at an imminent departure. Lord Sauter will be a victim of the ruse; Sir Radomir, however, will be informed, for your safety.”
“What is my specific goal? To locate Sanja Bauer?”
“Indeed,” Vonvalt said. “That will be the cornerstone of the strategy. Find her and find out what has happened to her. Get her to give you the names of those who have taken her hostage – if that is indeed what has happened. Then get you gone.”
I considered this for a moment. “It will take some time,” I said. “Days, perhaps weeks. I cannot just go in acting like a wounded fawn and then start poking around. Even assuming I am not suspected, there will be protocols. They will have me doing menial jobs with restricted access to much of the kloster. It is a severe lifestyle. All must pay their dues.”
“I know,” Vonvalt said. “While you are there I am going to search for Vogt and Bauer. I will make for the Imperial wayfort at Gresch in the first instance. If I am able to find either of them, then I will use my Voice and compel them to speak. I have more than enough to pry a full confession out of them, whether they are expecting it or not. If I am able to do this, I will pass word to Dubine and he will come and remove you, under armed guard if necessary. But if they have gone for good, then this may represent our very last chance to get to the bottom of this matter before we leave the Vale. And we must leave the Vale soon, Helena. We must return to Sova. You must do your very best. Do not be reckless, but act with all haste. I am counting on you.”
There was another silence. Despite myself I was beginning to feel the first tugs of trepidation.
“I want to speak to Matas before I go in,” I said.
Vonvalt looked slightly disappointed by this, but nodded his assent. “You had better go now, then,” he said. “I want you knocking on that kloster gate tonight.”
I finished my breakfast quickly and left Lord Sauter’s house. Outside the cold, wet streets were bustling with lunchtime crowds seeking shelter from the rain. I made straight for the watch house, and found Matas upstairs in the common room. He was the only one in there; the rest of them had gone out drinking with Sir Radomir, no doubt recovering from the double blow of Vonvalt’s questioning and the unearthing of treachery in their midst.
Had I had more time to calm myself, perhaps rest further and eat more, I might have made better company for Matas that afternoon. But I was in a strange, foul mood. With Vonvalt becoming increasingly reckless, the whisperings of rebellion, and indeed, having had a disturbing glimpse of the afterlife itself, I was beginning to feel like I had in Muldau: lost, anxious and melancholic.
Matas made a great deal of the injury to my head and my shorn hair, and the attempt on my life. He had known and been friendly with the men who had tried to kill Vonvalt and me, which naturally fuelled his sense of guilt and frustration. He paced the room like a caged animal, exercising himself into a fury, the target of his emotion vacillating between the would-be murderers and me myself for having the temerity to be a Justice’s clerk in the first place – as though it had somehow been my fault.
His anger sharply contrasted with my own sense of detachment, and I did not handle him well. Although we had fallen for each other, and fallen hard, we had also not spent that much time in one another’s company. I did not know how to deal with his impotent anger at all; and, if I am honest, I found this outward display of emotion, which came from a place of care and a desire to protect me, deeply irritating. Being back with Matas after having spent the previous days with Vonvalt, Bressinger and Sir Radomir made Matas seem childish and naïve. I had seen considerably more of the world than he had, and I had been exposed to real, mortal danger. Galen’s Vale had not been attacked since the Reichskrieg had subsumed Haunersheim fifty years ago. For all I could see he spent his days traipsing around in expensive armour doing very little. By what right did he presume to lecture me on safety? It felt condescending, and did nothing but breathe fresh life into my fears for our future.
Ultimately, when the time came to inform Matas of Vonvalt’s plan, I did so dispassionately, as though he were a mere acquaintance. I further told him that he was under no circumstances to attempt to contact me. And then I watched him struggle to find the words to express his feelings.
“I feel like you’ve changed,” he said eventually, quietly. “I feel like you do not want to be with me any more.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. I tried to sound understanding, but in truth I found his tone irritating. After Bressinger’s drunken words with me in the inn the day before I felt as though I was beginning to resent Matas for something that hadn’t even come to pass. Being with him now felt instinctively like the wrong choice, despite the love I felt. Could I really give up the path of a Justice after all I had seen in the past few months? Knowing what I knew about the Mlyanars and the Templars and the complex Imperial politics happening behind the scenes? If I wanted constancy in my life, then surely the best thing to do would be to engineer it myself, using the powers at my disposal – not hide away in some provincial town while the civilised world collapsed around me.
Ultimately, Bressinger’s words, drunk and emotional as they had been, had resonated with me. They had struck on my own private fears like a hammer on a red-hot sword. Could I be sure that Matas would not expect me to stay put and while away my days child-rearing?
Our meeting ended up being a crushing disappointment, and it was my fault that it was. I was stand-offish and insufferable.
“The way you are with me. It’s like you don’t enjoy my company any more. Since our night together you seem like a different person.”
I waved him off. “It is a coincidence. I have a great deal on my plate. Working for the Justice takes up all of my time.”
“You said you would leave his service.”
“I know what I said.”
“Do you still mean to?”
“Matas!” I said, exasperated. “I have told you that this very afternoon I am going to enter the kloster as a spy. Why are you burdening me with this now?”
