The Staff and the Blade: Irin Chronicles Book Four (46 page)

Katalin held her ax out to the side, halting in the center of the courtyard, her chin lifted as her dark eyes rose to Damien’s. She wore no finery to greet him, nor would he have expected her to. She was clothed in leather breeches, tall riding boots, and a blood-red shirt the same color as the dragon in Damien’s standard. A braided gold torque encircled her neck.

“Warriors of Mikael’s line,” she called in the Old Language. “What do we claim?”

As one, the scribes and singers spoke, and Damien couldn’t keep from joining their chorus.

“Meros ni she-ar.

Meros ni gharem.

Meros ni silaam achokab!”

Ours is the blood.

Ours is the bone.

Ours is the vengeance of heaven.

As one, the scribes and singers surrounding Katalin turned toward Damien, fell to one knee, and shouted, “
Ave, praetor!
”

Sari slowly turned to Damien and said, “I think we need to talk.”

CHAPTER THREE

T
HEY
were shown into Katalin’s receiving room after the greeting in the courtyard, solemn servants nodding and serving wine and refreshments before they took their leave.

“So you’re the
praetor
,” Sari said without preamble. She grabbed a handful of grapes and a glass of wine before she sat on one of the low chaises near the fireplace. It was summer, but the stone walls of the castle still attracted a chill. “How long?”

“For around one hundred twenty years or so.” Damien did not sit. He wandered around the large room lined with bookcases, chests, and wardrobes.

From the informality of the setting, Sari knew that this was the Katalin’s office, for lack of a better word. This was not a cozy family room or a formal sitting room with art on the walls. Swords and axes hung on one wall, polished but well used. Boots were lined up on a rack near the door. A coat was thrown over the back of a chair piled with stacks of papers and books. It smelled faintly of lavender, wax, and oil.

The only decoration was a large oil portrait of a hawk-faced man whose profile told her it must have been Damien’s father or grandfather.

“You’ve been
praetor
of Mikael’s guard since your father died,” she said.

He ran a hand through hair still tousled from their hard ride to the castle. “There is always a
praetor
and
praetora
. Once my father died, the title came to me, whether I wanted it or not.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’ve been neglecting your duties?”

He gave her a withering look. “Do you really think Katalin needs my help?”

Sari shrugged. “She called you here. You tell me.”

“She never approved of my taking a watcher’s position with the council. She thought I’d serve for a while before coming home.” He ran a finger along a line of books. “Put in a hundred years or so to cement political connections in Vienna as my father did, then return here.”

“And mate with a nice girl she’d chosen for you?”

“I don’t think niceness would be a deciding factor,” he muttered.

“But you didn’t.”

He huffed out a breath and finally turned toward her. “My father and mother were both still living. I wasn’t needed here.”

“But your father is gone.”

“And I’m still not needed.”

Sari munched on the grapes, feeling intimidated by the surroundings and forcing herself to ignore the twisting in her stomach.

“She called you here,” she said. “Had the warriors greet you in formal fashion, displaying their prowess, and then call you their
praetor
. I think you need to be prepared for anything, my love.”

“Can you really imagine the two of us living here with Katalin?”

No
. She cleared her throat. “You are a scribe well acquainted with duty and tradition, while I am a Northern ruffian from a land that has never acknowledged any Irin nobility. I honestly don’t know what to think or how we’d get along here.”

“You and Katalin would butt heads at every turn,” he said.

The door swung open and Katalin strode in. “Don’t assume, my son. It was your father’s failing; don’t let it be yours. It’s what got him killed, you know.”

Damien refused to look at his mother. “I am not willing to live my life caught between my mother and my mate,” he continued as if Katalin had never arrived.

Sari said, “Hello, Katalin.”

“Sari, please don’t get up.” Katalin sat at her desk.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“I trust you’ve been taken care of.”

“The warden said our bags would be brought to the castle immediately.”

Damien crossed his arms over his chest. “Katalin, why have you called us?”

“Welcome home,
praetor
. I trust the guard meets your approval.” She kicked her booted feet up on the end of the desk and leaned back. “How do you find your castle?”

“
Your
castle is in excellent condition,
praetora
. The village also appears to be flourishing.”

“The harvest last fall was an excellent one, and the brewery is now shipping all over the country,” Katalin said, glancing at Sari. “Your mate would be well met. There are several skilled earth singers working in the village.”

“My mate would be better suited to—”

“Your mate is quite capable of speaking for herself,” Sari said. Turning to Katalin, she continued. “Thank you. I might tour the land. It would be refreshing to be among singers of my blood. The warriors’ greeting was impressive.”

“Yes.” Katalin’s eyes flicked to Damien. “Has my son never told you of
Sabet e Kareb
?”

The staff and the blade? Yes, that fit the martial dance they’d been greeted with. It was a jaw-dropping display of power and skill that Sari knew was designed to intimidate an opponent. She imagined ancient armies greeted on the field of battle by the whirling staffs and striking blades of the dancers. They probably pissed themselves.

No need to let Katalin know she’d been completely taken aback. “Damien failed to mention how impressive it was in person.”

While Sari knew that Europe, Asia, and Africa had once been controlled by ancient Irin families, she’d had no idea how formal it all was. It reminded her of human nobility. In the northern lands where she’d been born, no such dominance occurred. Power and responsibilities were shared by all the families. Wealth was dispersed and singers of every line were in positions of authority.

Here, she could see the stark delineations. Katalin ruled. Servants bowed. She had no doubt that those servants were singers and scribes who hailed from bloodlines other than Mikael’s. Rěkaves was a palace—a temple—to warriors’ blood.

“Katalin, why did you call us here?” Damien asked again.

Sari could tell by his voice that her mate was losing patience. So, apparently, could Katalin.

“There is a Fallen hunting in Prague,” she said. “I called you here to kill it.”

His eye twitched. “You assume that I can.”

“My son,” she scoffed. “I don’t care what rumors float about. I know you wield a heaven-forged blade, and I know you have it in your possession.”

“Why?”

“Because you are, whether you like it or not, your father’s son.”

Damien said nothing for a few long moments.

“Why don’t you have one of your warriors kill the Fallen?” he asked. “You have the finest warriors of Mikael’s line if what I saw is any indication. And those scribes and singers are only initiates.”

Heaven above.
Sari coughed so she didn’t choke on a grape. Those were the
initiates
?

Katalin raised her chin. “I do have the finest warriors in the world.”

“And Prague is within your domain.”

Her eyes flashed. “It was. Until the petty council demanded my singers retreat from combat.”

“Gabriel’s fist.” Damien rolled his eyes. “Not this again.”

Katalin rose. “They treat Mikael’s daughters as serving girls. They are happy to have any scribe from Mikael’s house, but my singers are shunned? They do not deserve my help! Let their bumbling boys in the scribe house defend the city if they don’t want my help.”

“Still this?” Damien shouted. “That policy died with the Rending. It’s been two hundred years, and you’re still angry.”

Sari bit her tongue. She kind of thought Katalin had a point, but she wasn’t going to say a word.

“I’m unwilling to help them when they try to dictate the terms,” Katalin said. “If they want my help, they can petition me like anyone else. And I will choose who I send, not some blustering bureaucrat in Vienna.”

Sari thought the Irin Council petitioning Katalin was about as likely as Damien learning modern dance. She poured herself another glass of wine.

“So why did you call me here?” he asked. “To hunt this Fallen? If it is within Prague’s territory, then let Prague hunt him.”

“They do not have the skills.”

“Then hunt him yourself,
praetora
, and forget about your petty rivalry. The death of a Fallen is more important than politics.”

Katalin answered only with silence. Something about her expression must have pricked Damien’s interest because he stepped closer.

“Well, that is unexpected,” he said. “I amend my earlier assessment. You do need my help.”

“Veceslav’s blade is still in the armory.”

“But Father was always stingy about sharing the magic needed to wield it, wasn’t he?”

Katalin’s lip curled. “You know I cannot carry it.”

“No singer can,” Sari said, aware of how much that knowledge must have stung the fiercely independent woman in front of her.

Damien said, “Father did not pass that knowledge to any of the guardians here?”

“No. He taught you. Veceslav was traditional. Some magics were only to be shared by those of our house. It was always assumed that if something happened to him, you would return.”

“He never asked me to do that. Neither did you.”

Katalin lifted her chin. “And if I had?” She glanced at Sari. “Your mate left you, yet you remained with your house.”

Sari set down her wineglass and leaned forward, narrowing her eyes.

“What happened between Sari and me is not your business,
praetora
,” Damien said. “We are here. We are together. And we will help you kill this angel. That is all you need to know.”

※

“Grigori can wield heavenly blades with no training at all,” Sari said, thinking aloud from the bath as Damien undressed in the attached bedchamber. “Do you think it’s because they’re first generation? Is the potency of their blood what allows it?”

“They can carry them,” Damien said, leaning in the doorway, clad only in his pants. “But they cannot command them. A Grigori using a heaven-forged blade is as effective as any Irin soldier using it untrained. He will lose it as often as he kills with it. And he might just kill himself. The blades… They have a mind of their own.”

Sari laughed. “They’re not sentient.”

“No, but they have… personality.” He frowned. “I don’t know how to explain it. They’re objects of magical power. They have will that has nothing to do with us.”

She flicked water in his direction. “So you say. I cannot refute it.”

“It’s not a gift, you know.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “To carry one.”

“I know.” She took a deep breath. “But it is power.”

Damien frowned. “Why haven’t the Prague scribes called for help from the council?”

“Maybe they have.”

“Then why hasn’t it been answered?”

“Politics? Simple disorganization? You have to admit that council hierarchy broke down after the Battle of Vienna. I think they’re still scrambling to regroup.”

“Perhaps.” Damien didn’t sound convinced.

“You should ask Bruno,” Sari said. “He and Karen still run that safe house on the outskirts of Prague.”

“I’ll call him in the morning.” He didn’t move from the doorway. “There are too many warriors here. I noticed during the
Sabet e Kareb
.”

“It’s the oldest martial academy in Europe, Damien. I’d expect there to be many warriors here.”

“But there are too many. In times past, a warrior was called from Rěkaves almost as soon as he’d achieved mastery. My father and mother’s students became watchers, Library guards, special hunters. Now I see more lingering in the castle guard than I have ever seen.”

Sari frowned. “Why? Is she out of favor with the council?”

“Yes and no.” He took a deep breath. “Katalin has always had a… tenuous alliance with the Elder Council. They have no power over the
praetores
of Mikael’s house, and that irks them.”

“The village here, was it unaffected by the Rending?”

Damien nodded. “My mother and father’s warriors never left the valley unguarded. In fact, many of the singers from retreats near Prague fled here for protection. It was one of the few stable places during that period.”

“So Katalin protected her people when the council failed,” Sari said.