Petrodor: A Trial of Blood and Steel, Book 2 (28 page)

Kiel led them into a narrow passage cut in the rock, then a man with a lamp led them up some stairs, past a guardroom and into the depth of Sharptooth. The climb was long—the most elaborate back entrance that Errollyn knew of in Petrodor—and old. Surely it had cost House Maerler a lot of money and time to chisel it from the rock, but then sandstone was not difficult to tunnel, and House Maerler lacked neither money nor time.

After a very long climb, from almost sea-level to near the top of the Petrodor incline, they finally arrived at a trapdoor, which opened to reveal a grand cellar, stocked with barrels. Some stairs led up to the great Maerler
Mansion above, but the guardsman took them instead to another door in the wall and through another corridor. After a short flight of stairs, the guardsman knocked on a door and it was opened from the far side.

They emerged into a square, ornate room with a high ceiling. Grand cabinets full of expensive ornaments lined walls hung with intricate tapestries and paintings. From the centre of the floor sprouted a multi-levelled fountain, above which hung a huge, glittering chandelier, alive with at least fifty candles. The room had no windows, but was designed to impress and awe its visitors with ostentatious wealth. And it was designed to be visited directly from the tunnel, without any chance of observation from nosy house servants, or nosy neighbouring houses.

One guard stayed by the door, while another left to alert the house of the arrivals. Errollyn, Kiel and Aisha spread themselves about the room, leaving Rhillian alone in the centre before the fountain. There was only one other doorway at the far end. Only a fool would assault four
talmaad
through one doorway. Or two doorways, counting the one behind.

They waited, not speaking. Perhaps the patachi was in bed, Errollyn thought. Or perhaps the patachi had other, more pressing business. Finally the door opened and the second-most powerful man in Petrodor walked into the room.

Alron Maerler was young for a patachi, at thirty-nine summers. He was tall and slim, with dark curly hair, a trimmed curly beard and blue eyes. His boots were tall, and his clothes cut to suit his lean figure. He moved with an air of sophistication and elegance that was lacking amongst Family Steiner and their allies on the northern slope. Those were merchants, nearest the trading North Pier, and their manner was that of merchants—brusque and blunt, always ready to haggle, to strike a deal, to shake your hand or cut your throat.

Here on Petrodor's southern slope, Maerler headed the other half of Petrodor's power elite—the half that fancied itself more sophisticated, and more well bred, than their northern cousins. Errollyn did not know from where they took that particular pretension—the oldest money in Petrodor was barely two centuries old. But Maerler claimed lineage to old lords, and even to an old king, back in the ancient days when Torovan had had a king. Rhillian thought Alron Maerler more trustworthy than Marlen Steiner, perhaps for that reason, perhaps for others. Errollyn was as suspect of such a judgement as he was of anything.

“Patachi Maerler,” said Rhillian, with a bow.

Maerler inclined his head. “Lady Rhillian.” Two house guards remained by the door at his back. Otherwise, he was alone and unprotected, save the ornamental sword at his hip. Doubtless he could use it, like most Torovan
nobility. And equally doubtless, as a realist in the game of power, he knew himself severely outmatched by even a serrin woman, to say nothing of four
talmaad
all at once.

Errollyn gazed at the man, eyes faintly narrowed. Patachis were always well-protected, yet Maerler made a statement with this defencelessness. Trust, he said. I trust you. And Errollyn recalled what a
talmaad
veteran had advised him upon his first arrival in Petrodor two years ago: “When they smile at you, and call you brother, and use words like trust, and bond, and family, that's when you look for the knife in the hidden hand.”

“My good lady,” said Maerler then, having surveyed the room. He walked to her and extended his hand. Rhillian gave hers, and the patachi kissed it, like a true gentleman should. “I do look forward to our little visits together. A beauty such as yours is quite a thrill in such proximity.”

“The patachi is too kind,” said Rhillian with a flashing smile. Oh, she was so good at this. Errollyn had known many women in Saalshen who would have simply stared in puzzlement at such odd human customs. But Rhillian knew just what to do. “I would have come alone, but the streets of Petrodor are so dangerous these days.”

Maerler smiled, genuinely amused at the outrageous flirt. Or at least, his amusement seemed genuine. Errollyn had yet to figure the young patachi out. Either he was simply a very good actor, or he truly did enjoy these fun and games. Neither possibility made him at all trustworthy.

“But not at all,” he insisted, glancing about at the other serrin. His gaze settled on Aisha. “In fact, I do not believe I have been introduced to all of your party.” Rhillian gestured to Aisha. Aisha came, and bowed somewhat lower than Rhillian had. Human customs gave her no difficulty either.

“This is Aisha,” said Rhillian.

“Another serrin beauty,” the patachi sighed. “I swear there must be something in the water in Saalshen. Please, you
both
must come and sit with me. It shall be my evening's entertainment. Guards, another chair, if you please.”

“My dear Patachi,” said Rhillian woundedly, following him to the chairs. “I fear you shall make me jealous.”

“A-ha!” Maerler turned in midstride, levelling a playful finger at Rhillian. “I have been informed that serrin do not suffer jealousy as humans do. Do you deny it?”

Rhillian gave a sultry smile. “I do not.”

“Oh the possibilities!” Maerler exclaimed, looking first at Rhillian, then at Aisha. The women gave each other a sultry smirk. Errollyn nearly laughed.

They sat, Rhillian and Aisha to one side, the patachi to the other. “And to what do I owe this pleasure?” the patachi asked.

“I have news from Riverside,” said Rhillian, crossing her legs. “And I have spoken with Duke Rochel.”

“My dear lady, everyone has news from Riverside,” said the patachi, lazily. “Your Nasi-Keth friends causing trouble again. You should really keep them on a shorter leash.”

“The patachi knows very well that there is no leash. And I greatly doubt that you have heard
this
news from Riverside.”

Maerler looked at her, cautious for the first time, but hardly worried. “And what do you offer, with this gesture of information?”

“Cooperation. On matters of common interest.”

The patachi looked thoughtful. “There is a priest missing from the Porsada Temple,” he said then. “The cousin of Gregan Halmady. He has not been seen for a day at least, my sources tell me.”

Rhillian smiled faintly. “The patachi is most perceptive. My sources tell me that Symon Steiner had a priest murdered on the Riverside dock last night. A coincidence, do you think?”

“Sources?” There was no doubting the sudden light in Maerler's eyes.

“A witness,” Rhillian assured him. “You know how we see in the dark.”

A slow smile spread across Maerler's face. “Well, well,” he mused. “So the great allies of Steiner and Halmady are in conflict. Your little ruse worked.”

Rhillian inclined her head. “Randel Ragini was not a ruse, I had intended him for an ally. But discord within the Steiner ranks serves just as well.”

“M'Lady has the makings of a great patachi.”

Errollyn hid his expression with difficulty. Randel Ragini, killed in the Endurance. Rhillian
had
been cultivating him as an ally. Errollyn had been witness to several of those meetings. Surely Rhillian had not had him…? No, he dismissed the thought. Rhillian had been with him and Sasha when it happened, and had been genuinely surprised. But not dismayed. Nor had she let on to Sasha or Kessligh her relationship with young Randel. Errollyn had actually liked Randel. But Rhillian saw him only as part of a game for power.

It chilled him. The Rhillian he'd known was a kind person, if a determined one. Now she was changing. Family Ragini had close ties to Family Halmady by marriage. Steiner had come to suspect Ragini, and now evidently Halmady, too. Rhillian and Patachi Maerler were conspiring to bring down the Steiner alliance from within, by setting their most powerful families at each other's throats.

“It seems the conflict has moved to include the priesthood,” Rhillian observed. “A curious development for a body that does not take sides.”

Alron Maerler smiled. “The priesthood are on the gods’ side, M'Lady. Symon Steiner had better hope they don't find out.”

“I'd thought the Verenthane gods were omnipotent?”

Maerler's smile grew broader. “Like the serrinim, it seems. The priesthood wishes for a war, M'Lady. They'll support anyone who can bring it to them. Who that might be, however, is a matter for conjecture.”

“Even amongst priests?”

“Even amongst the gods, I'm sure.”

“And you, Patachi Maerler?” said Rhillian, fixing him with her most penetrating emerald stare. “Do you too desire this war?”

“No more than the last time you asked me. War is bad for business, M'Lady. It is no secret that the Maerler alliance is on the decline in Petrodor, relative to the enormous wealth of the Steiners. I would do well for my family merely to hold onto what we have, and perhaps reverse our decline in this city. I have no time to worry about foreign empires and old religious relics the archbishop insists should be returned to Enora. I have better things to worry about.”

“Then why have the priesthood not discarded him entirely?” Errollyn pressed as they followed a guard back down the long, dark stairway to the base of Sharptooth. “Clearly he offers himself to them as a potential leader of this army, or they would have abandoned him by now and thrown all their support behind Steiner.”

“It makes no difference,” said Kiel. “Steiner moves against us. They should be punished, as should all who would threaten Saalshen. We should make of them an example, as Maldereld once made an example of King Leyvaan and his army.”

They spoke in the
alderese
dialect, used mostly amongst the serrinim to discuss scholarly matters.

“You fear that I shall allow Patachi Maerler to win a decisive victory,” said Rhillian. “I know it is Kessligh's fear, he's expressed it to me often. But the balance here is fixed. Errollyn, you see the way the houses balance each other. It is
kel'an tai
.” In
alderese
, the term meant a symmetry of numbers. “Maerler may desire to win, yet the obstacles before him are vast. Even he cannot overcome the symmetry.”

“You're thinking like a serrin,” Errollyn retorted in profound frustration. “This…this symmetry, it's not a concept easily applied to human civilisations—”

“All the universe is a symmetry, and such symmetries encompass all,”
said Rhillian with certainty. “Besides, even should Steiner fall to ruin, his lesser allies would survive. Maerler would face continuing opposition from trading families determined to preserve their fortunes. And Patachi Maerler is right in one thing—Maerler is much weaker than Steiner.”

“You think to control him?” Errollyn knew that Sasha sometimes suffered from the urge to strangle someone. His current frustration was not so intense, yet it was profound nonetheless. There had to be an angle of attack through Rhillian's carefully constructed logic, yet he could not find it. “We have neither the power nor the influence to control anyone! You cannot put a great grey bear on a leash and take it for a walk, Rhillian. It walks
us.
Or worse, turns and eats us.”

“There are always risks,” Rhillian said as the stairs turned a corner, and switched back the other way. “But they are less than the risks of doing nothing. We cannot value stability above change, Errollyn. For too long, we have attempted to purchase peace with the stability of tyrants, and achieved neither peace nor stability.”

“Errollyn does not speak for stability,” said Aisha from behind Errollyn. She spoke the dialect with greater delicacy than any of them and there was concern in her voice. “He speaks for change. He merely observes that a serrin perspective is an imperfect platform from which to view human society and thus judge the nature of impending change.”

“He would hand over the direction of the
talmaad
to the humans,” said Kiel, distastefully. “Into the hands of those who wish us dead.”

“You think the Nasi-Keth want us dead?” Errollyn snapped.

“I'm quite sure that Alaine would not care if we all dropped dead tomorrow.”

“Kessligh's friends lost lives in Riverside,” Errollyn said coldly, “fighting to stop the armament of forces preparing to attack the Saalshen Bacosh. You give precious little respect to their sacrifice, Kiel.”

“I did not ask them to make it,” said Kiel, unconcerned. “Saalshen has for too long placed the fate of the serrinim in the hands of humans. That time has passed. Either we show that we act for ourselves, or we admit weakness and invite our enemies to destroy us.”