Elyons regret, p.24
Elyon's Regret, page 24
part #1 of The Daughters of Elyon Series
Barta studied her momentarily and then looked over her shoulder at her friends. A few shrugged as if to say why not, but the majority simply scowled and shook their heads, not believing anything would change. Barta turned back to Sábria. “And what’s to stop th’ poxy nobles, eh?”
Sábria smiled and shrugged. “You may not like my answer.”
Barta grinned back. “Try me.”
“I’m going to flood the Codpiece with Blades. Three times the number of warriors will be patrolling the Codpiece. I intend to make changes here. Of that, I give you my word.”
“Well then,” Barta straightened to her considerable height and held out her arm. When Sábria clasped the woman’s forearm a second time, Barta said, “I’d be honored to be yer woman, Lady.” She lifted a shoulder and gave an uncharacteristically shy grin. “Always dreamed of being one of yer Blades, didn’t I? May s’prise you to know that even th’ scum have dreams, aye?”
The affectionate look Sábria turned on the woman was genuine. “And it may surprise you to know that I don’t consider you,” with one look, she included the woman and all of her followers in the sentiment, “to be scum. You’ve lived hard lives, all of you. I may judge you for your actions, but I’ll never judge you for the lot you’ve been given in life. Where can I find you if I need to speak to you again?”
“Ya ken Master Danber, th’ stone mason?” At Sábria’s nod, Barta continued, “He took me on when I were a wee lass.” She fingered the hammer at her belt. “I were starvin’, like most of the skellis. I were a quick little thing and good at th’ cutpurse. I weren’t quick enough fer him, though, cuz he snatched me up when I tried fer his purse. Said it were either th’ quarries for me or working fer him breakin’ down th’ bigger lots in his shop.”
Shirin nodded. “That explains why you don’t speak gutter cant.”
“Aye.”
Turning to Sábria, Shirin indicated Ailith and Terro, who were waiting for them down the street in front of the frack. “We need to get going, My Lady.”
Barta turned to see what Shirin was talking about. “Oh, th’ youngster and th’ Hammer.”
Sábria was puzzled at that. “The Hammer? You call Senior Guardian Terrowyn the Hammer?”
Barta forgot herself and playfully pulled out her hammer and held it up as though to strike. “Oh, aye.”
Shirin immediately seized it while Isobel grabbed a fistful of Barta’s hair and, in an instant, had the point of her belt knife biting into the woman’s throat.
Sábria shouted, “No, Isobel. She didn’t mean any harm. I’m sure she was being playful and not really threatening me.”
Isobel pulled the knife back but kept hold of the woman’s hair. Her anger was barely kept in check when she snarled through gritted teeth. “That kind of mistake around the Arch Priestess of the Daughters of Elyon will get you killed. Do I make myself clear?” When Barta nodded, well, when she tried to nod, given that her hair was being pulled tight against her scalp, Isobel let go. As quickly as it appeared, the knife was back in its sheath.
Barta’s face had gone white, and she blinked down at Sábria’s feet. “Me ‘pologies, Lady.”
Sábria took hold of Barta’s upper arm. “I think that with our conversation as friendly as it was, you became a little too comfortable in my presence, Barta. I understand, and while I enjoy talking to everyone in the Empire, including those of you who live in the Codpiece, my Blades and my friends are very protective of my safety. Perhaps a little less familiarity is warranted.”
Barta nodded but kept her gaze locked on Sábria’s boots.
“Barta, look at me.” It took a moment, but Barta finally looked into Sábria’s eyes. “After speaking with you, I consider you a friend. And you can tell that little skelli who dreamed of being a Blade that I now consider you one of my people, too.” The loud gasp, combined with eyes gone wide as saucers, told Sábria just how much her words had meant to this formidable woman who’d survived life in the Codpiece. “We need to go now, but I won’t forget that you and your people kept an eye on my shiv while she brought food to the skellis and nints.”
Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t give someone coins after a casual conversation. This time, however, Sábria wanted these people to know she valued their support for her Blades, and perhaps by recognizing that support, they might prove invaluable in implementing the changes she intended to make.
She counted the number of people who had come to speak with her, pulled out her coin purse, and extracted twelve copper riels and one silver. “I value those who respect my people, Barta.” She handed her the silver, then, to Shirin’s consternation, strode up to each person standing behind the woman and gave a copper to each, along with a kind word or gesture.
It eased Shirin’s worries somewhat that a scowling Isobel had accompanied Sábria to meet the ragged bunch of miscreants standing in the street, scuffing their boots along the cobbles. Not wanting to return the hammer just yet, Shirin had remained with Barta. She’d seen the damage a thrown Warhammer could do, and while this one wasn’t meant for battle, it still had the heft to cause devastating injuries if wielded or thrown by someone familiar with its shape and size.
After the last copper exchanged hands, Sábria nodded to Barta, and then motioned to her honor guard and continued on her way to meet Terro and Ailith.
Shirin handed Barta her hammer and waited until it was safely tucked into her belt before hurrying to catch up.
Feeling as though she’d run the gauntlet to get to the frack, Sábria was relieved when she was finally going to meet with Terro to see how the experiment was progressing.
Ailith, who was kneeling next to a cloth tarp that peasants routinely used to transport goods from one place to another, was busy slicing apples and pulling loaves of bread into pieces. She hadn’t noticed their arrival, and when she looked up and saw Sábria striding towards them, a grin wide enough to produce two dimples lit up her face. As usual, her enthusiasm, while welcome, wasn’t keeping with the military protocol followed by the Blades. She jumped up, intending to hurry forward, but just as she took her first step, Terro grabbed the back of her tunic and hauled her back to her side.
The grin was replaced by a look of resignation and rolled eyes.
Sábria suppressed a grin of her own when she heard Terro’s scolding. “None ‘a that ya skut-nosed shiv. Ye’ll show th’ Arch Priestess th’ proper respect, or ye’ll be wishin’ ya had when I’m done with ya.”
“Yes, Senior Guardian.” The tone wasn’t surly. Other than when Ailith had been pushed into her imbalance, Sábria had never heard her be surly. It was more placating, drawn out in an almost sing-song response that couldn’t exactly be interpreted as disrespectful, but close to it.
Isobel shook her head. “That tone used to earn her the back of my hand across her ear. It only took one or two times before it stopped. It seems to have crept back into her repertoire of—”
The resigned look on the shiv’s face turned into pain as, unseen by Sábria or Isobel, Terro’s hand had moved from pinching the tunic to pinching and twisting the skin between Ailith’s shoulder blades.
Isobel’s brows rose, and she nodded her approval. “I take that back.”
Ailith’s grimace eased just as the two women stopped in front of her. She pulled herself to attention and brought her fist to her chest, eyeing Terro out of the corner of her eyes with a wary set to her mouth.
Terro’s hand dropped, and she, too, brought a fist to her chest. “My Lady.” She turned to Isobel and bowed slightly. “My Lady Isobel.”
Isobel’s grey eyes showed no emotion as she gave Terro an almost imperceptible nod.
When Isobel turned her attention to Ailith, bright laughter lit the shiv’s eyes.
Isobel’s cool, grey eyes narrowed, clearly communicating the Lady Knight’s displeasure at Ailith’s lack of discipline. Her regal raised brow further emphasized her irritation when Ailith mockingly pulled her expression into that of a dour, obedient servant, nothing Isobel could call her out on but noteworthy all the same.
This exchange happened within the first few moments of their arrival, and Sábria watched their silent communication with quiet amusement. She turned her back on Terro and Ailith so that she faced Isobel, keeping her voice low enough that only Isobel and Shirin would hear. “I need to take notes on silent communication. You’re a master, although I don’t think Ailith is quite as rattled as most people would be when you’re at your haughtiest.”
Somehow, Isobel conveyed amusement to Sábria without letting up on Ailith. She also hid her mouth behind a raised hand and spoke barely above a whisper. “I perfected the one brow raise while she was with me. She knows exactly what it means, and she also knows that when it appears, she needs to stop whatever it is she’s doing to get on my last nerve.”
Sábria glanced over her shoulder at Ailith, who was still looking like a pompous butler with her nose in the air and a mock dignified expression on her face. The laughter in Ailith’s eyes gave her away, though. Sábria turned back to Isobel with a twinkle in her eye. “I can tell she’s cowed.”
Isobel turned her glare on Sábria. “If you make me smile, it’ll spoil her.”
“Sorry.” Sábria repressed a smile of her own and turned back to the two Blades waiting for her to begin the conversation. “Ailith, you can go back to cutting the apples and bread. I’m going to go into the frack with you.”
Once word had spread that the Arch Priestess was making a second visit to the Codpiece, a small crowd of bored drunks, lollies, nobs, and pidges began to gather. These people might never see Sábria during their lifetime, making her the equivalent of a carnival attraction. They could also enjoy that entertainment without having to pay a single copper riel.
Having people gawp at her like she was a freak in a sideshow unnerved Sábria in the best of times, but today, the attention was especially unwanted. Prime Osstendler had assigned several on-duty Blades working the Codpiece to patrol close to the fracks in case they were needed. The Prime, herself, was standing at the opening to one of the alleys, and when Sábria signed she’d like to speak to her, Osstendler motioned to a group of three Blades to come take her place.
That was interesting enough that Sábria asked about it when the Prime presented herself. “Judging by your reaction when I called you over, you weren’t simply standing in the mouth of that alley for your health.”
Osstendler’s deep-set eyes added an air of mystery and intensity to her overall presence. Sábria had always thought of those dark eyes as piercing, observant, and keenly aware of their surroundings, and yet they belied an easygoing personality that encouraged confidence in her people. She possessed a sharp mind, a strategic approach to life, and a sturdy, athletic build, making her a formidable Prime, both mentally and physically.
“No, My Lady. There’s a Rukilla Dust den in the back corner of that alley, and several nobs are lying in the dirt outside the den’s door. There’s one particularly nasty piece of work. He’s a man who used to be a blacksmith who managed to retain all the muscle he built up prior to his addiction. Normally, I wouldn’t be too concerned about dusters, but I happen to know that he can be dead to the world one moment and then wake up without notice and become extremely violent. I took away his knives,” she shrugged, “since he’s in a coma, he didn’t care. But from past experience, I know it’ll take several of us to put him down and get him under control if you’re still here when he explodes into one of his typical post-dust rages.”
The crowd was steadily growing as more and more people came out of alleys or side streets to see what all the fuss was about. Sábria indicated them with a lifted chin. “Have some of your Blades clear them out. Any other day, and they wouldn’t bother me, but today, I don’t want to have to deal with them.”
Osstendler glanced across the street where most of the nobs and pidges were gathering. “You want them moved down the street or dispersed altogether?”
“I want you to disperse them completely. I don’t want everyone who lives in the Codpiece thinking that Terro and Ailith coming to the fracks is something they need to pay attention to. As far as I’m concerned, the less attention we draw to the food they’re bringing down here, the better. I mean, look at the people in that group. There’s not a single one that doesn’t have sunken cheeks or trews held up by ropes that are tied so tightly the rope practically disappears beneath their protruding ribs.”
It occurred to Sábria that perhaps her coming here hadn’t been the brightest idea. All she’d known was that she’d begun feeling guilty about dropping a major endeavor like this into Shirin’s lap. She’d thought her coming would show her support for the project, not just with Shirin but with the Blades now assigned to work in the filthiest part of Sarlogne. Instead, her presence brought curious onlookers where before there’d been none. Sighing, she realized that perhaps she wasn’t yet as steady as she needed to be to return to her duties as Arch Priestess. She shook her head and watched her Prime salute and turn away to carry out her orders.
Once she’d given the order, Sábria returned to Terro and Ailith. She’d learned long ago that watching to ensure her orders were obeyed did nothing but make people self-conscious, especially the newer Blades like Prita who was nodding at Osstendler’s instructions. Inattention could prove fatal, particularly down here.
She pulled in a breath, hoping to settle nerves that felt strained and overwrought. Maybe it had been too soon for her to leave the townhouse. Having Ty suddenly reappear in her life on top of learning Farry had sent one of her shivs alone into the Codpiece had shaken her. She’d known that, but she’d thought she’d been working through her feelings. Putting those thoughts to the back of her mind, she focused on the matter at hand. “Ailith, how many skellis and nints do you think are down there today?”
When she’d been in the Dreyuthan Army, kneeling and continuing to work when addressed by someone of Sábria’s rank or even Prime Osstendler’s would get Ailith a beating. She lay her knife on the ground and stood when she answered. “If I was guessin’, I’d say they’ll be somewhere around twenty, maybe thirty. They finally figured out that if they spread out, some in this frack and some in th’ others, they got more of a chance to get some bread or apple than if they all squeeze in here in th’ main frack.”
Having them spread out among the fracks hadn’t been all good and Ailith scratched her head, unsure if what had happened was something she should report. She eventually decided that since Sábria intended to make changes, the more information she had, the better. “Well, weren’t all good, ya know, them spreadin’ out. Did ya attend to th’ rain we had two nights ago?”
Sábria’s bedroom was on the main floor, and she hadn’t heard the rain falling on her roof. Too tired to give any kind of explanation as to why she would have missed it, she simply shook her head, hoping Ailith would continue.
“Well, it were comin’ down like th’ Goddess fergot she’d left her tub on, and th’ fowkin’ thing overflowed onto Sarlogne.”
“Ailith.” The way Shirin growled her name left no doubt as to her meaning.
“Oh, sorry. I guess ya don’t say fowkin’ when talkin’ ’bout th’ Goddess’ tub, then, aye? Anyway, th’ fracks flooded bad. When we was feedin’ yesterday, after we got done, I couldn’t remember seein’ two of th’ skellis and one of th’ nints I got used to seein’. None of ’em showed up in any of th’ fracks. I figure either th’ poxy nobles got ’em, or they’d been sleepin’ on th’ ledge and got swept up in th’ flood.”
“Don’t tell me you recognize every nint and skelli in the Codpiece.”
“Well,” Ailith looked a little sheepish. “Ya probably don’t want me to remind ya, but I’ve been coming down here for th’ past two sevendays, every day like. I try to look at every face when I toss th’ bread, so I can keep an eye on who’s still around. They’ve been comin’ up missin’ a lot since th’ poxy nobles been coming down into th’ Codpiece fer Festival.”
Before Sábria could ask another question, Shirin stepped forward and grabbed Ailith’s tunic. She brought her close and snarled into her ear. “Do you remember what I said I would do if you continued to curse in front of the Arch Priestess?”
Ailith remembered it all right. “Aye.”
A whispered reprimand would have been less threatening than Shirin’s protracted silence. Ailith swallowed hard. “Sorry, Milady. Commander. Most times in me mind th’ word poxy just naturally goes with th’ word noble because, well, they are.” When Shirin’s hand tightened enough that Ailith could feel the Commander’s knuckles whenever she swallowed, Ailith hastened to add, “Well, not all nobles. Like you’re no poxy, Milady, nor th’ Commander, nor.…” she suddenly realized just how many nobles were surrounding her. “Well, nor Lady Isobel, neither. Okay, I see why puttin’ poxy in front of nobles every time I say it could be a problem. So, well,” she let out a long sigh, “sorry again.”
Shirin released the tunic and stepped back.
Sábria hadn’t paid much attention to Shirin’s rebuke or Ailith’s stuttering apology. The only thing racing through her mind was what Ailith had said about several skellis and nints disappearing. She’d known it was a problem, but for there to be enough that Ailith noticed…she rubbed her forehead and quietly asked, “How many?”
It took a moment for Ailith to remember what they’d been talking about before Shirin had decided to choke her. “How many missin’ since Festival started, ya mean?” She lowered her brows and thought about it. “Well, if I’m guessin’, I’d say maybe twenty…thirty?” She glanced up at Sábria’s startled intake of breath. “I’m not sure though, Milady. There’s a skelli down below. She’d know. She’s one th’ rest look up to. If she don’t know off th’ top of her head, she can ask th’ rest and get a better number fer us if it’s important to ya.”
Sábria’s voice was sharp when she answered. Too sharp. “Of course, it’s important to me! Just what in the name of the Goddess are you implying, Ailith? That I don’t care? Is that what you think? What everyone—” Shirin’s hand, which she softly placed on the small of Sábria’s back, stopped the tirade.
