The Dead of Winter- - Thieves World 07 (17 page)

"How much is too much?" he said, letting a hint of his anger show once more.

"Things are changing, Chenaya. Law has broken down all over the city. Hell, all over the Empire. You could have been dead and rotting for all I knew."

"I'm sorry, Father," she said honestly. "It couldn't be helped. You know I'd have come home if I could've." And that was enough of that, her tone conveyed without her needing to say more. She regretted having caused him pain, and she knew he had worried, but she wasn't a child. She wouldn't be treated as one, even by her father. She started to remind him of that, then caught a clearer look at the woman above.

It took her by complete surprise. Then, abruptly, a broad grin spread over her face. Chenaya had become immune to shock long ago. Still, she found considerable amusement in the idea that her father might cuckold his own brother.

"Good evening. Lady Rosanda," she said grandly. "How's Uncle Molin these days?" Rosanda's shy, delicate smile turned to a look of infinite perplexity. Then the older woman blushed hotly and fled from Chenaya's view. Daughter winked at father. "A chunky little tidbit to ease your worried mind, eh?"

Lowan rapped her lightly on the brow with his fingers. "Don't be impudent, child. She and Molin have separated, and your aunt is quite upset. She's staying here a | few days until she gets herself together."

"By the Bright Light!" Chenaya exclaimed, clapping a hand melodramatically to her heart. "She must be giving Dayrne fits about the housekeeping."

"Not at all. Mistress," Dayrne said from the foot of the stair.

"She's actually been quite helpful," Lowan Vigeles insisted. "She's taken a firm hand in the restorations." He laid a hand on his daughter's shoulder and compelled her to meet his gaze. "And you must be kind to her. Whatever you think of Molin, Rosanda is a lady and a guest in our house. Her head may be full of sky, but her heart is full of love." He smiled suddenly and ran a hand over her blonde curls. "And she's inordinately fond of you. She thinks you're the only true Rankan woman left in the city ... beside herself, of course." He reached for her hand. "Now, come sit by the hearth in my room and tell me of your journey." •

Chenaya hesitated. "I'm afraid we're going to have more company than Rosanda." She indicated her companion who had remained patiently near the entrance. "I've brought someone home, too."

Still clutching the unsheathed dagger, her companion pushed back the concealing hood and glared sullenly up at her hosts. A spray of wild, black hair tumbled forward, partially obscuring classic features turned hard and thin. Lowan Vigeles turned pale. Then he bowed his head respectfully to the small, silent woman. "Please, come up!" he urged, holding out his hand. "Come up and get warm." |

But Chenaya intervened. "Not now. Father. She's tired and needs a bath. Dayrne will prepare the room next to mine for her." She glanced down at her companion, and an unspoken message passed between them. "Then, tomorrow she starts a new life."

Dayme touched the woman's elbow to guide her up the staircase and to her quarters. Adder-quick, she slapped his hand away, spun, and spat at him. The dagger flashed.

"Daphne!" Chenaya's harsh shout was enough. The tiny weapon froze in mid-plunge. Chenaya and Dayme exchanged hasty glances. Of course, he'd never been in danger. The giant was one of the best gladiators Ranke had ever produced, more than able to defend himself from such a feeble attack. But it wouldn't do to have Daphne's little wrist broken, either.

"He doesn't touch me!" Daphne screamed. "No man touches me again." Then she drew herself proudly erect. A malicious smirk creased her mouth. "Unless I want him to." She drew the dagger's edge meaningfully along her thumb, then without another look at Dayrne, she marched up the stair, around Lowan Vigeles, and disappeared the way Rosanda had gone. Dayrne followed at a safe distance.

"She's half-mad," Chenaya said softly with a shake of her head. Lowan Vigeles raised an eyebrow. "Which half?" An hour later Lowan greeted his daughter again with another hug and a goblet of hearth-warmed wine. She accepted both gratefully, sipped the drink, and took one of the two massive wooden chairs before the fireplace. She had hastily bathed and changed into a gown of soft blue linen. The traveling leathers she had lived in for months were even now being buried by one of her men.

"I really tried to keep my promise. Father." She set her wine on the chair arm and stretched wearily. "I tried to get back." She gazed into the fire, finding a measure of tranquility in the dancing flames, and she took another drink. The liquor warmed her thoroughly.

"It's all right, child," Lowan soothed. "So long as you're safe. I just worry too much." He sipped his own wine and regarded her. "Where did you find Daphne?

Did you leam of anyone else?"

Chenaya shook her head slowly. Memories of her journey flooded her head, overpowering her emotions. "No one else," she said at last. "Either the rest of the Royal Family is dead, or they're hidden too damn well in fear of Theron." She looked up at him. "In fact, I was on my way home when I happened through Azehur. That's just the other side of the Gray Wastes." She told him of the tavern she had stopped at. There had been a high-stakes game of dice. She wasn't playing for once, just watching with interest, especially when one of the players pulled a ring from a pouch on his belt.

"It was a Royal Sigil," she said, holding up one hand to show the ring she wore,

"just like you and I and Molin and Kadakithis and all the Royal Family own. It wasn't a fake. It was real."

She had waited until the player lost even that, then she had followed him from the tavern. There was no need to bore her father with the details of how she had lured the man into an alley or how she had convinced him to talk. Lowan wouldn't have approved.

Chenaya tossed back the last of her wine and held out the cup for more. Lowan rose, fetched the bottle from the mantel above the fire, and poured for her.

"The son of a bitch was a part-time sell-sword. Nearly a year before, he'd helped attack and destroy a caravan leaving Sanctuary for Ranke as it crossed the Wastes."

"Daphne and the Prince's concubines," Lowan interrupted as he filled his own vessel, "fleeing the Beysib invasion."

Chenaya nodded. "They were supposed to kill the women. Instead, they saw a chance to make a little more profit and sold them outside the Empire." Lowan turned sharply, splashing his sleeve with the red liquor. "Sold ... ?" She fully approved of the anger she read in his expression. She shared it in fullest measure. Daphne had always been a whiner and a constant complainer. Chenaya hadn't liked her much. Still, she hadn't deserved such a fate. "Those men were hired," Chenaya continued, "by someone right here in Sanctuary." Lowan leaned on the mantel and chewed his lip. He turned the goblet absently in his hands. "Did your man tell you who?"

"I don't think he knew," she answered with a frown. "Or if he did, he preferred to expire with his secret." She drank again and licked the corners of her mouth.

"But he did tell me where the women were sold. That's why I was late coming home, Father. I made a side-trip to Scavengers' Island." Lowan squeezed his eyes shut and muttered a quick oath.

"I can take care of myself!" she snapped before he could say anything. She didn't need his lecture on what a hell-hole Scavengers' Island was reputed to be. She'd seen for herself, had walked among the scum of humanity that dwelled there. "I hired a boat to take Reyk and me across. For anyone who asked I claimed to be a fugitive from one of Theron's purges. That wasn't hard. After a couple of fights most of the rowdies left us alone." She winked. You know how mean that falcon looks.

"It took days to find her," she continued after another swallow. "Turned out she was a special attraction at a particularly nasty brothel that catered to, shall we say, deviated tastes." She paused and smiled a malicious little smile, remembering. "Tempus Thales would've loved it." She shook her head and let the smile fade, wondering vaguely what had happened to that butcher. She looked up at her father and handed him her empty cup to set on the mantel. "You've known men, I'm sure, who could only get excited by violent rape. Well, the proprietor sent those to Daphne." Chenaya wrapped her arms about herself. Despite the fire's warmth, lingering memories of Scavengers' Island sent a chill through her. "They kept her locked in a room. Father, she was a mass of bruises and scratches. She still is. Every time she fought tooth and nail. All it got her was a reputation on the island and a lot more customers with ideas of taming her." She shuddered.

Lowan Vigeles refilled her vessel a third time and urged it upon her. Then he asked quite calmly, "Did you kill the proprietor?"

"I didn't get the chance." She took one more drink, then set the wine aside. She hadn't come here to get drunk with her father, and there were things she had to do come daylight. She didn't need a fuzzy head. "There was plenty of blood letting, though, when I broke her out. Some customers tried to get in the way. But as soon as Daphne spied her keeper she grabbed one of my daggers and leaped at him with a screech that, I swear, made my flesh crawl! The man didn't even get a chance to fling up his arms. I tell you, she carved him like a mince pie. I had to drag her off and hustle her down to the quays before the entire island came after us. Good thing I had a boat waiting."

"Where is she right now?" Lowan asked softly.

"Rosanda volunteered to bathe her. It's probably the first bath she's had since her capture. Speaking of Aunt Rosanda, can you keep her busy out here for a few days? Very busy? I don't want her spreading word of Daphne's return. I want that pleasure for myself, and I want it to be very special." Lowan frowned. "Now I see. Daphne's just a tool for you, isn't she? Another thorn to stick in Shupansea's side?"

Sometimes, Lowan Vigeles could be irritating, particularly in the accuracy with which he saw her motives. Chenaya had to admit she intended to relish the moment when Shupansea learned about Daphne, but her own father shouldn't be so snide about it.

"You're partly right," she admitted sheepishly. "That Beysib bitch is going to squirm like a hooked fish." Chenaya hooked her little finger in the corner of her lip and stretched it upward to illustrate her words. "But my motives run a little deeper than that, as you'll leam in time." She changed her mind and took one more sip of wine. "I'm glad I rescued Daphne. No woman should suffer what she did. I've promised to find out who in Sanctuary was responsible for the caravan attack."

Lowan sat back down in his chair and met her gaze over the rim of his winecup. The firelight glimmered on the burnished metal and reflected strangely in his eyes. "Promised who?" he said cautiously.

"Daphne," she answered evenly, "and myself." He closed his eyes. After a while she wondered if he'd fallen asleep. Then she saw him move to speak. "How will you even begin? It's been a year." There had been weeks on the road to ponder that. It would do no good to ask the Hell-Hounds to investigate. Even before she left those bumblers seemed to have locked themselves in the garrison and hidden there. Nor could she rule out that one of their rank might be the guilty one. Certainly, they would have known of the caravan's departure. For that matter, it could have been anyone in the palace. Or, she had to admit, anyone who just kept a watchful eye on the city gates. That meant anybody in Sanctuary. No, she needed help to find her answers, and she had someone special in mind for

that.

Of course, Lowan Vigeles wouldn't have approved, so all she told him was, "I have a plan, Father."

* * *

She awoke at sunrise after only a couple hours' sleep. She could have used more, but there was a lot to do. She had promised Daphne a new life. It began today. But before she could stretch and climb out of bed Rosanda knocked quietly and entered with a breakfast tray. Chenaya pushed herself up against the headboard and gawked in utter surprise as the noblewoman spread a soft white cloth over her lap and set the tray upon it. It contained several slices of cold roast meat, fresh bread, and a rare Enlibar orange. There was a vessel of water to wash it down.

"Aunt Rosanda," Chenaya protested, "this wasn't necessary. The men take care of everything, or we see to our own needs."

Rosanda shushed her. "I don't mind, really. It's been far too long since I lifted my hand in a kitchen. I baked the bread myself early this morning." She blushed and looked away. "I thought I'd forgotten how. It used to be the duty of every Rankan woman to bake bread, you know, but we've all become so spoiled. No wonder there are stories that the Empire is crumbling." Rosanda turned to leave, but Chenaya caught her hand. "Rosanda," she said in confidential tones, "what happened between you and Uncle Molin?" Sadness was reflected in the older woman's features, but then she drew herself erect. "Chenaya, no matter how long I live in this city of thieves and vipers," her eyes narrowed to angry slits, "I am still a Rankan. I can't turn my back on my heritage." Rosanda began to rub at some invisible spot on her palm. "Molin has forsaken it all. Ranke means nothing to him. He schemes with the Beysib fish-folk. He turns away from our gods and our customs." She threw up her hands suddenly in frustration, and there was a moistness in her eye. "I just couldn't stay with him anymore. I still retain my lands and my titles. But I needed to get away from the Palace and all its intrigues for awhile. You and Lowan Vigeles are the only relatives I have in this city, so I came here." She leaned down and placed a gentle hand on Chenaya's hair, smoothing it on the pillows. "You and your father are the best of Rankan society, of all that we hold ideal. I needed a little of what you have to remind me who I am." It was Chenaya's turn to flush. Perhaps she should have taken time long ago to get to know her aunt. The old woman might seem air-headed, but there was a kindness in her that was endearing. "Thank you. Lady," Chenaya said simply. Then, she decided to trust Ro-sanda. "I asked Father to find a way to keep you here a while ..."