The Banshee's Walk (27 page)

Evis broke his silence. “Why would anyone seek to disturb such a thing?”

“Greed,” replied Hisvin. “The alarkin was doubtlessly entombed with certain artifacts. If one were to raise them, and learn their use—well. That is another point of the history I spoke of, because the Regency would certainly fall before the onslaught of such objects.”

I must have raised an eyebrow. Either that, or Hisvin can read minds.

“No, Finder, I myself have no desire to seek such artifacts. I will make no claim that I am somehow immune to greed, but neither am I insensitive to the cost of such an effort. No. I mean to keep these things buried, though it costs me my life.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Let us hope so indeed. Now. As to your roles. The banshee must be protected. I assume you do in fact have it safely inside?”

No point in denying what I suspected he had the means to know. “I do. But I have to tell you, she’s not very, um, banshee-like. More like a kid. She seems harmless. Might I ask why all the interest in her?”

Hisvin made Skin’s dead face frown. “If my studies are to be believed, she was a creation of the alarkin who lies nearby. I believe, as do my rivals, that the banshee holds the power to call the alarkin back. Probably by shrieking in close proximity to the tomb.”

“Buttercup could bring Old Bones back just by howling?” I rose. “Do you believe that?”

Skin lifted his grey hands. “Close proximity, Finder. Very close. There is no immediate danger. Unless, of course, these other sorcerers take her and put her in the tomb.”

“They’d do that?”

“I simply do not know. They might only be after the artifacts. Or they might have fallen to the alarkin’s shade already, and are working to effect its release. If that is true, they will come for the banshee, Finder. And that I cannot allow.”

Footsteps sounded, shuffling and faint, behind Skin. Footsteps, and a smell.

Evis didn’t stand, but his arms moved. I assume he was readying a weapon.

“Don’t be alarmed,” said Hisvin with a dead man’s smile. “Meet another of my little family. I believe he was known as Weexil. He betrayed you to our common enemy, Finder. I thought it only fitting that you behold him, to see that justice has been done.”

Another dead man shambled down the cornrow. This one was already bloated, already drawing flies. I was glad Hisvin did not force it to speak.

In the thick stiff fingers of its black right hand, it held a dagger. I held my breath while Weexil’s corpse shuffled to my feet, dropped the dagger, and then turned and walked slowly away.

“You need not mourn him, Finder. Nor does his young lady. Did you know he planned to murder her and hide her body in these very woods, simply to avoid the dual blessings of fatherhood and matrimony?” The Corpsemaster shook his head in mock surprise. “I despair for the Regency’s future, given the youth of today.”

The dagger was small, as daggers go. The blade and the hilt were worked with symbols that danced and moved as I watched.

“And this is?”

“This is for you, Finder. The banshee is both long-lived and deceptively durable. But a single cut from this blade will prove fatal to it. It need not be a mortal wound. If blood is drawn at all, the banshee will perish.”

“With respect, sir. Perhaps it should be I who takes the weapon. I believe Mr. Markhat has developed a certain paternal affection for the banshee.”

Hisvin laughed through a dead man’s throat. The sound was not at all pleasant.

I took the dagger and stuck it down inside Toadsticker’s scabbard.

“I’ll hold on to this. No need to go cutting any throats just yet.”

“There is indeed a need, Finder. And if you were a practical man, you’d kill the creature immediately, and throw its body into the yard, and thus spare the lives of everyone you hold dear. Surely you can see the value of such a strategy.”

“If it were that simple you’d have killed her yourself.”

Hisvin shrugged. “There are reasons I myself cannot slay her. None of these reasons apply to you.”

I realized I was glaring. “I won’t kill any banshees tonight, Corpsemaster. If that’s the easy way, I’m afraid it’s not the path we’ll take.”

“As you wish. The choice is yours.”

“So. What’s next?”

“The dig at the Faery Ring has been abandoned. Even now, they are preparing to lay siege to the House, capture the banshee and use it to determine the actual location of the alarkin’s burial site. By dawn, House Werewilk will be surrounded by approximately five hundred mercenaries, a variety of heavy siege engines, and a much reduced but still considerable number of minor sorcerers in the employ of three persons of my own stature, or greater. I suspect your breakfast plans will be rudely interrupted.”

Evis spoke. “Do you know the actual location of the alarkin’s tomb, sir?”

“Naturally. I built Werewilk upon it. It seemed the best way to keep the site under careful scrutiny.”

I fought back a shiver. I’d been sleeping over the grave of a monster. Buttercup was even now dancing over its tomb.

“Does Buttercup—the banshee know that?”

“I have very little knowledge of the banshee’s abilities. But if it was drawn to the resting place of its master, it seems it would have been drawn here millennia ago, does it not?”

“Makes sense. From what I hear, she only showed up thirty years or so ago.”

Hisvin nodded. “Which coincides with the last attempt to disinter the alarkin. I suspect the banshee was brought to Rannit at that time by a sorcerer who, sadly, fell quite ill soon thereafter.”

“Bad case of a fatal head wound?”

“Indeed. The banshee escaped. I presume it has been living in the forest since then. My own attempts to capture it failed, time after time.”

Evis perked up. “Does it have access to magic of its own, perhaps?”

“It may. I simply cannot say. And I refuse to place myself in close proximity to the creature. If the alarkin is indeed alive, doing so would expose myself to it, and that has proven universally fatal to the persons who have risked it.”

“So. We hold the House. You slay the sorcerers. And when they’re puffs of smoke, we hope the army itself just shrugs and walks away, is that it?”

The dead man sighed. “You damn me with your lack of faith, Finder. While I cannot simply dismiss all our foes with a single wave of my hand, I am who I am. I shall not be vanquished easily, or quickly.”

“Glad to hear it.” There came a sound from the House—Buttercup, winding up for a good long shriek. “Sir, unless there’s anything else, we’d better get back.”

“Sounds like your banshee girlfriend is getting anxious,” said Evis. His grin, even in the dark, was toothy and wide.

Hisvin rose. We did too.

“I doubt we shall speak again until this is done,” he said. “I wish you both luck.”

Evis and I chorused the same to the Corpsemaster, and he turned and walked away.

I wiped sweat from my forehead.

“Bet you wish you’d stayed home.”

“What, and miss all the fun? Victor. Sara. You can join us now.”

Two halfdead, clad in loose black, glided out of the cornstalks on either side of us.

“You heard nothing of that,” said Evis. “Not a single word.”

Two single nods, and not a whisper of sound.

“What’s out there?”

“Five hundred men. Three catapults.”

“Sorcerers.” That from Sara. “We counted six.”

Evis pondered that. “What of escape? Is there any way to move through their lines?”

“None. The estate is encircled. The circle is closing. By dawn, they will be at the House.”

“All right. Return to Rannit. Inform the Elders. Make no mention of Hisvin.”

Silence. Evis frowned.

“Did you hear me?”

“We heard,” said Victor. “But our orders are to remain at your side.”

“Your orders are to return to Avalante this instant.”

Victor shook his head. “Only if you accompany us.”

Evis growled something at Victor in a language I don’t know. Victor replied calmly in the same tongue. The other halfdead, Sara, repeated Victor’s brief reply.

Buttercup wailed again, louder and longer, this time.

“We’re going to have to continue this fascinating debate of House dynamics inside, people,” I said. “Bad things are going to happen if Buttercup slips loose and winds up in the yard.”

Evis snarled and whirled, making for the secret door in a very unvampirish huff. I motioned for Victor and Sara to follow, and they fell behind Evis in silence.

I brought up the rear. A wind rustled the cornstalks. I thought of the two dead men still nearby, and I hurried back to Darla, Toadsticker’s hilt in my hand.

Chapter Seventeen

Mama eyed the dagger Hisvin had given me with a potent Hog scowl.

“I ain’t never seen the likes of that, boy.”

“Me neither,” added Gertriss. “It…it looks back.”

I took the thing and wrapped it in a dishrag and put it in my jacket pocket.

Buttercup smiled up at me. She’d shown no interest in or fear of the dagger. If she understood what had been said about it, she also showed no interest or fear in that.

We were seated in the kitchen. The oven had been moved back, which cut off the damp smell from the tunnels. Biscuits were cooking inside it, which made the scene almost homey, except for the knowledge that a siege and assault by sorcerers was due with the sunrise.

Gertriss had managed to trim Buttercup’s fingernails. The banshee even wore a ring now. It was fashioned from a twist of yarn and the jewel was a gumdrop, but Buttercup showed it to me with the gravity of an heiress. Shoes were still a problem, Gertriss reported. Oh, the banshee would parade around in them for a few minutes, giggling and clapping, but she quickly lost interest and stepped out of them as soon as she spotted something shiny.

Lady Werewilk had met us underground. I stalled until we were assembled in the kitchen while I decided what to tell and what to hide and what the Hell we were going to do to prepare for a war that had the likes of Encorla Hisvin questioning his own mortality.

In the end, I’d spilled most of it. I hadn’t used Encorla’s name, didn’t mention that he’d laid the Faery Ring or had a long-time hand in Werewilk’s history. I didn’t mention alarkins or artifacts, although the Lady guessed right away that something old and sorcerous was involved.

And I’d told her about Buttercup. And the dagger.

I hadn’t wanted to tell that. But the Lady was my client. I don’t lie to my clients. Especially when Evis would have revealed all of it anyway, in my presence or outside it.

“So the banshee may be the key to all this?”

The Lady is good at keeping her face blank. I resolved never to play cards with her.

“She may be. I’m not convinced of that. Others are.”

“And that dagger has the power to kill her.”

I just nodded.

The Lady took a sip of coffee. “I will have no murder in this house,” she said. “Certainly not of my guests. Most especially not of poor wild creatures who have seldom known kindness. You need not fear for her, Finder. Like you, I refuse to spill innocent blood in the interest of expediency.”

I felt a knot loosen in my gut.

“I’m very glad to hear it, Lady. But in the interest of safety, I’ll volunteer to take the banshee out of your House myself. I think we could slip away, if we leave now.”

“You would die. It is too late for flight.”

Victor had spoken. His voice was dry and flat. Sara, seated beside him, nodded beneath her black hood.

“You managed to sneak past them.”

“I am a vampire. Even so, we moved ahead of them, not through them. You would die. There is no doubt.”

Darla squeezed my hand, which was already numb from being held and squeezed and clung to.

“Fine. No early morning hikes in the dew, then. I guess we get ready to fight.”

“They are many. They have siege engines. And sorcery.”

“We have some small sorcery of our own.” Lady Werewilk grinned. Marlo made frantic shushing noises.

“The time for secrecy has long since passed. I cannot simply stand by and watch my House be assaulted without employing every means of defense available.”

“You know the law,” began Marlo.

“The law is subject to interpretation,” said Evis, smoothly. “In fact, if Lady Werewilk were to engage in some minor acts of the arcane while in the employ of Avalante, I believe the likelihood of any legal action in the matter is quite low.”

“Practically nonexistent,” I added. “Hell. She might even rate a medal.”

“Indeed.” Evis allowed himself a tight-lipped smile, aware that his audience was human. “You may proceed without fear of prosecution, Lady. I speak for Avalante.”

The Lady rose.

“Oh, Lady Werewilk. One more thing. I quit.”

She laughed. “Now, Finder?”

“You hired me to find out who was surveying your land. I’ve told you as much as I can about them. No need for you to keep me on the payroll.”

“Fair enough. Marlo. Pay the man. I do hope you’ll accept my invitation to remain here, as my guest, until this is over.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Lady.”

She pushed back her chair and sailed from the room, Marlo close on her heels.

Evis sniffed the air. “I believe the biscuits are about to burn.”

“What would you know ’bout biscuits,” muttered Mama Hog.

“Enough not to burn them.”

“Oh hush, both of you.” Darla let go of my hand and rushed to the stove. I opened and closed my fingers a few times to make sure they still worked.

“Throw a couple of those on a plate, will you, Darla, my dear? Then bring them upstairs. I get terribly grumpy if I have to go to war without a nap first.”

“You’re gonna sleep, boy? Now?”

‘For an hour or so, Mama. Unless you can think of something better to do.”

“We can be a sharpenin’ blades and piling furniture against the doors.”

“We could start boiling water to pour down the trap doors, in case they find the tunnels,” added Evis.

Mama cackled. “Good idea, boy. I likes that one.”

Evis smiled. “Then you’ll love what I have in mind to put in jars that can be tossed from upstairs to the lawn,” he said.