Soulkeeper Page 26

  “This isn’t the city you remember, Devin,” he muttered to himself. This wasn’t like with the black water. Things weren’t rotted or breaking down. No, it felt like there was just more to the city. More buildings, more walls, more homes where there used to be gaps or little corners of grass. It felt like pieces of Londheim had also been hidden beneath a stone, and now he saw what had always been.

  When he reached the Ellington mansion he was mildly surprised to see an armed guard standing beside the front door. The guard, a bald, copper-skinned man with a dark patch of hair below his lip, calmly approached. His sword swung loosely from the scabbard belted to his waist. More surprising was the long rifle hanging across his back by a leather strap. Firearms were not cheap, nor the flamestones required to operate them.

  “What do you want?” the guard asked. All business, no charm. Devin pulled the moon-and-triangle necklace from underneath his shirt and showed it to him.

  “I am Soulkeeper Devin Eveson, come to speak with your employer.”

  “Anyone can fake a charm.”

  Devin suppressed an impulse to roll his eyes and instead drew his pistol.

  “And this?” he asked, the symbol of the Sisters flashing in the sun.

  The guard stared at it a moment and then suddenly relaxed. He unlocked the gate and flung it open.

  “Come in. I will inform Master Ellington that you are here.”

  He used the same key to unlock the front door, then gestured for Devin to follow. They passed through the garish rooms, the guard leading him to the same cramped parlor where he’d first met Gerag four days prior.

  “You will wait here until he arrives,” the guard said. He stood by the door, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared ahead as if Devin were no longer there. Devin took a seat in an overly padded chair and examined the guard. Something about his outfit seemed vaguely familiar. He wore long white trousers and a loose white shirt with a plunging neckline and short sleeves to showcase the girth of his arms. Most peculiar were his vibrant red shoes, almost like a calling mark…

  “You’re a member of the Faultless Eye,” Devin said, making the connection. For the first time the man seemed interested by his arrival. He dipped his head in respect and offered a faint smile.

  “You are correct, Soulkeeper,” he said. The Faultless Eye was a highly esteemed mercenary band known for their skill with firearms. Devin had never met one before, but he’d grown up listening to stories of their incredible deeds. One of his favorites had been of a pistol duel between a Soulkeeper and an Eye, the outcome of which always seemed to change depending on the storyteller. Sometimes the Soulkeeper won, sometimes the Eye, but most often their bullets connected in midair, with both accepting it as a sign from Anwyn their deaths were not yet nigh.

  “Might I have your name?” Devin asked.

  The man sized him up with his faint brown eyes.

  “Tye the White,” he said. Faultless Eyes forfeited their last names upon entering the group, with their new title recognizing their shooting accuracy when in combat. If he remembered correctly, white meant an accuracy somewhere in the high eighties. Green was the lowest at seventy-five percent. Any lower and you were removed from the mercenaries in disgrace. Their leader Anloch claimed the title “the Red” for having never once missed in battle.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Tye,” Devin said. “I didn’t know the Eyes made their way this far west.”

  “We go where the gold and silver demands,” the man said.

  “And I take it demand is high here in Londheim?”

  Tye grinned at him. There was something unwholesome about that smile, and it turned Devin’s stomach.

  “The demand is high everywhere, Soulkeeper. Many believe the world is dying, and they will pay a great price to stave off their perceived doom.”

  Devin drummed his fingers across the arm of his chair.

  “Do you believe the world is dying?”

  “Perhaps it is, perhaps it isn’t,” Tye said. “When the pyre consumes my flesh, is that not the end of all things so far as my own soul is considered? What does it matter then if the world continues or not?”

  “So all that really matters is the coin?”

  “And the things it buys, yes.”

  “If the world ends, your coin means nothing. Perhaps you should care a little bit, just in case?”

  Tye spread his hands in a gesture of concession.

  “That, or perhaps I should ensure that I die at the same time the world does.”

  The door opened and Gerag Ellington walked in with a huff. Devin noticed that his black hair wasn’t carefully slicked back like before, and his shirt was only half-tucked into his trousers.

  “Devin, Devin, good to have you back,” Gerag said, sounding slightly out of breath. He glanced to Tye. “There’s been an accident downstairs. Go clean it up for me.”

  “Of course.”

  Devin fought to keep his face passive as Tye left. An accident? Of what kind? Gerag plopped down in a chair near the fireplace and wiped his brow.

  “Downstairs?” Devin asked casually, hoping maybe to pry a morsel of information.

  “You saw what land I have to work with,” Gerag said while waving his hand dismissively. “I built down as well as up. It’s only prudent. But we’re not here to discuss construction. What did you discover at Oakenwall?”

  “Mr. Ellington, I must regretfully say that Broder was correct. None of your men survived Janus’s attack.”

  Gerag brushed it off like a bad business transaction.

  “Did you, uh, did you find anything interesting or of note inside the camp?”

  An image of Nathan Evart’s cabin burning to the ground flashed through Devin’s mind.

  “No,” he said. “The camp was quite empty.”

  Gerag wiped at his unkempt hair, and he looked much relieved.

  “Well then, I guess that’s tragic but expected. Everyone’s suffering lately, are they not? Say… where is Jacaranda? Why is she not with you?”

  Devin hesitated. This was it. An unsuitable answer might leave him wondering. He hated lying, and did not consider himself good at it. There was, however, a way to dance around the edges, keeping unwanted information back. That skill he’d developed for years as a Soulkeeper. You didn’t tell a dying person they were dying. You told them they needed to focus on resting and getting better. When you found the body of a missing child, you didn’t tell the parents to what extent the child suffered. You speak of the heavens, and the everlasting nature of her soul.

  “Jacaranda touched a plant I have not encountered before,” he said. “Its pollen was poisonous, tremendously so. There was nothing I could do to help her.”

  Of course Tesmarie could help her, but no need to tell Gerag about that. The merchant slumped in his chair. His face reddened, conflicted between anger and sadness.

  “So she’s dead?”

  “I’m sorry, Gerag. Your soulless ceased to be in Oakenwall.”

  Slightly strange wording, but he could not bring himself to completely lie. If only he could hide behind the mask his sister wore. Perhaps then he might more easily focus on the good the lie would bring.

  Gerag’s calm face crumbled with a sudden surge of rage. He bared his teeth like an animal. His eyes glistened with uncontrolled emotion. When he lurched to his feet he paced the floor as if unable to contain his energy.

  “No. No no no. She was under your care, Soulkeeper. This is your fault. Yours, you hear me? This… this travesty is a debt you will never repay.”

  “I never requested her to accompany me,” Devin said. There was no hiding his anger, nor his bitterness. “But don’t worry. I’m sure you can buy another soulless at the sanctioned auctions in Nelme.”

  “Jacaranda was not replaceable!” Gerag shouted. “I don’t want some other soulless I have to train from scratch. I want my damn girl back, you hear me?”

  Dozens of his workers dead, the entire camp destroyed, and yet all he cared about was J
acaranda? His stomach twisted. His girl? What exactly was Jacaranda’s role in this house? Her role with Gerag? Perhaps it was best he did not know. Knowing might result in him acting, and gutting the largest benefactor to the church would have him charged with murder no matter how he explained it.

  “I’m sorry,” Devin said. “But I cannot help you.”

  A frightening change swept over Gerag. The anger vanished beneath a calm, smiling façade. His hands ceased shaking, and he stood and met Devin’s eyes with a firm gaze. Back in control. Back in charge.

  “So be it,” he said. “Rest assured the church will know of my displeasure in regard to your conduct. When I send a message, I send it loud and clear, and I send it with gold. The church will receive no pay for your services, nor will they receive my generous monthly donation until I feel I have been adequately compensated.”

  Devin’s hot rage suddenly turned cold. He glared at the disheveled man, a look he normally reserved for rapists and murderers.

  “Thousands of refugees are barely surviving on the graces of the Keeping Church,” he said softly. “You would have them risk starvation because of your displeasure?”

  “I’m sorry, Soulkeeper,” Gerag said, gesturing to the door. “But I cannot help you.”

  Tye waited for him at the front entrance, his arms crossed over his chest, his back leaning against one of the two doors. Devin noticed that his rifle rested beside him. The mercenary did not move out of the way as Devin approached.

  “I hope your meeting went well,” Tye said.

  “It did not.”

  Tye smirked. He didn’t seem to really care. What he did seem to care about was impeding Devin’s departure. When Devin reached for the other door, Tye slid to the center to block.

  “Your pistol,” he said. “Are you as good with it as people claim?”

  Devin was in no mood to banter.

  “Sometimes better, sometimes worse,” he said. “It depends on the teller. Is there something you want, Tye?”

  “We should have a contest sometime. A friendly one, of course, with no wager but our pride. I’d like to see what you are capable of.”

  “I don’t play games.”

  Tye stepped aside, and his smirk took on a hard edge.

  “A game doesn’t stay a game if the stakes are high enough,” he said. “Have a pleasant night. Never come back here again.”

  Devin shoved the door open and flashed a rude gesture with his fingers above his head as he walked away.

  “Gladly.”

  The day dragged on forever, with Devin waiting over two hours before managing to interrupt his Vikar’s busy schedule for a discussion about what he’d learned of Janus… which sadly wasn’t much. The only conclusive thing they reached was that Janus wanted what Tesmarie had called a “starlight tear,” and that he was considered Viciss’s avatar of change. Anything beyond that was pure conjecture. Even worse, Forrest informed him that a Faithkeeper had been slain during his absence. It sickened Devin knowing he could offer little help in locating the demented bastard, and come the end of the day he wished for nothing more than to collapse into his chair by the fireplace. When he opened the door to his home he saw that fate would not be so kind.

  “Tommy?” he asked. His robed brother-in-law stood in the center of the room, back to him, with his arms lifted up above his head. Jacaranda sat on the floor near the fire, laughing in fits. “What in Anwyn’s name is going on?”

  Tommy spun. His entire body locked in place like a frightened deer upon seeing Devin. The turn exposed what he’d been doing, but it only added more questions. A shape hovered in the air between him and Jacaranda. It shimmered and glistened a rainbow of changing colors, an otherworldly look for a very worldly creation: a limp penis with long, dangling balls.

  Tommy’s senses finally caught up with him, and he banished the image with an erratic flourish of his arms.

  “I, uh, I—I—I learned how to make illusions,” he said, as if that explained everything.

  Devin shut the door behind him on instinct.

  “So you made… that?”

  “I challenged him,” Jacaranda said. “I said, make the one thing you’d never have the guts to make.” She stopped to giggle. “And so he did. You won, Tommy!”

  She took a long gulp from a cup beside her. The red wine he saw within went a long way to explaining the situation.

  “It seems so,” Devin said, wishing he were just hallucinating it all instead. “And how did this happen?”

  “Oh, I accomplished that by imagining an image and then saying the spell’s words. It’s simple stuff, really.”

  “That’s not what I… forget it.” He didn’t need to know what resulted in this little absurdity. The alcohol was likely enough reason. Devin removed his coat and hung it by the door. Both resumed laughing, he presumed at his discomfort. A connection clicked in Devin’s mind, and it was so ridiculous he couldn’t help but turn to his friend and close the distance between them.

  “You can conjure up any image so long as you imagine it?” he asked Tommy.

  “Pretty much, yes.”

  “So… whose nether regions did you imagine?”

  The deathly embarrassed look Tommy gave him was answer enough. Jacaranda broke with laughter. Devin put a hand on horrified Tommy’s shoulder and leaned in.

  “I send Jacaranda here for safety, and upon meeting her, you get her drunk and then magically show her your penis?”

  Jacaranda clutched her arms to her abdomen as she rolled, laughing so hard she looked like she might die. Tommy blubbered an incoherent defense that died out in seconds. He spared a glance at Jacaranda, and then gestured for Devin to follow him to the other side of the room, acting like he needed to share an important secret. Once sure Jacaranda would not overhear him he lowered his voice to a whisper.

  “She’s very pretty,” he said.

  “I’m aware of that, yes,” Devin said.

  “She’s also weirdly dressed.”

  “Don’t be rude, Tommy.”

  “I’m just saying, she’s going to stand out in a crowd.”

  That much might be true, but all three Goddesses would walk the world before he admitted as much to his tipsy friend.

  “Let’s make a deal,” he said. “How about we let Jacaranda worry about how she dresses, and you worry about whether you’re casting spells for ridiculously improper purposes?”

  Tommy gave him an off-kilter salute.

  “Your wish is my command,” he said.

  “Good, now go get dressed. You’re still in your robe from this morning.”

  He looked down.

  “Oh, I am, aren’t I?” Instead of leaving he squinted at Devin’s forehead. “Hey, did you get a new tattoo or something?”

  Devin touched the runic spirals Tesmarie had carved into his skin. Explaining would be a long story, one he wasn’t yet ready to get into.

  “Tommy. Dressed. Now.”

  “Right!”

  And with that he trudged into Devin’s room, where a second dresser contained Tommy’s new clothes that they’d bought after his arrival at Londheim. The door shut. Devin removed his pistol and sword, hung them from several large hooks near the front door, and then sat with Jacaranda by the fire. She eyed him mischievously.

  “I see you’ve made yourself at home,” he said. “Did everything go well at the gates?”

  “Mostly,” she said. Now that her laughing fits had ceased, she appeared a bit more together. “No one saw my mark, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  That was all they could hope for. Devin nodded, feeling suddenly awkward and unsure. He hadn’t thought too far ahead when it came to Jacaranda’s immediate future. He couldn’t keep her cooped up forever, but every single trip outside would put her at risk. If only there were a way to remove the damn tattoo on her throat.

  “Have you tasted wine before?” he asked, deciding to switch the topic to something more lighthearted. He’d had enough serious discussions for th
e day. Jacaranda tilted her cup and stared into the tiny puddle of liquid at the bottom.

  “No one gives alcohol to soulless,” she said. Bitterness crept into her voice. “No point to it.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He wasn’t sure for what, but it felt appropriate to say. Her stare never left her cup. She was agitated about something. Devin kept quiet, letting her decide whether to broach the subject.

  “How did your talk go?” she asked. Her eyes lifted momentarily. “You know. With him.”

  “Worse than I’d prefer, but he didn’t seem to doubt me when I told him you were deceased, so at least there’s that.”

  That didn’t seem to make her feel any better.

  “He’ll replace me. He won’t want to, but he’ll replace me. He always needs… he needs…”

  She clenched her jaw tightly shut. Her emotions had been high when he entered his home, and they easily transitioned into sadness with the aid of the wine. Tears trickled down her face, and she wiped them away. Devin wished to hold her hand, or put his arm around her shoulders. He wisely did neither.

  “Jacaranda, I want you to know something,” he said. “I will never pressure you to tell me all he’s done. If you’d like to talk, I will listen. If you’d like advice, I will offer it. All I ask is that you give me some time before you take any act against him. Can you do that?”

  She nodded. Her knees pulled up to her chest, and she rested her head atop them.

  “I don’t want to think about him right now,” she said softly. “I was happy. He ruins that.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. “How about instead we start settling you in? While you’re here, my home is your home.”

  “A home of my own,” she said. Her original mischievous look returned, a welcome sight. “That sounds wonderful.”

  Tommy readily offered his couch to Jacaranda, insisting pillows and blankets would be enough for him on the floor. Devin gladly removed his boots from his aching feet and finally sat down in his chair. Tommy hustled about, already declaring where a new dresser and closet would go, and how they could divide the room for Jacaranda to have more privacy.