CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

YOU SURVIVED.” PENTREATH REESE’S VOICE WAS a raw whisper, but for the first time since he had been rescued from the oubliette beneath Onyx’s manor, he was conscious and lucid.

“In a manner of speaking,” Pollard replied. “Your suffering was visited on me every moment of the day since your capture. And I endured it without the benefit of being talishte.”

Reese gave a gravelly chuckle, a sound that made Pollard think of a corpse expelling the last breath in its lungs. “Good,” he wheezed. “Very good.”

Pollard shoved down the white-hot anger and kept his face carefully neutral. “You’re gaining strength,” he observed.

“Liar,” Reese shot back. “I am a shadow of myself. It will take time,” he added, and despite the frailty of Reese’s voice, Pollard could hear steel beneath it.

“You wished to see me?” Pollard prompted, having found that efficiency provided an excellent protective screen to reduce the amount of time he spent in the company of his master, and helped him to keep revulsion out of his reaction.

“Yes.” Reese spoke slowly and sibilantly, drawing the word out like a snake’s warning hiss. “I must have richer food if I am to heal. I require you to find it for me.”

Pollard frowned. “We’ve brought you nearly one hundred mortals,” he said. “Almost all sturdy young men and women, very few old or sick.”

“Not good enough,” Reese snapped.

“What do you require?” Pollard replied in the bland voice courtiers used to mask annoyance. I’ll be damned if I’ll add ‘m’lord,’ no matter what he thinks he’s entitled to, Pollard thought.

“Bring me ones full of life,” Reese demanded. “Pregnant women. Women at their moontime. Girl-children just at the cusp of maidenhood. Young men who have not lain with a woman. Bring them to me. Their blood is rich.”

Pollard thought he was long past disgust for his master, only to find that Reese had exceeded his low expectations once again. “Of course,” he said. “But such requirements may take a bit more time.”

“Get them!” Reese’s voice was a harsh rattle, and his emaciated frame shook with the effort of his shout. Even in his current condition, Pollard knew Reese could snap him like a twig.

Pollard inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Shall we continue to bring you less perfect food as well? The patrols have rounded up another twenty captives.”

“I will make do… until you supply me,” Reese growled. “Send them to me. I hunger.”

“As you wish,” Pollard replied, with just enough edge to his voice to let Reese understand that Pollard was more than servant. At least, that’s what I tell myself, Pollard thought. On the other hand, he could count himself lucky that for the moment, both Garin and Thrane were not present. I should be thankful for small favors.

He left Reese’s underground convalescent chambers restraining his urge to run. Nilo was waiting for him outside the front door, and they walked down the front steps in silence, not speaking until they were in the remnants of what had once been Solsiden’s formal gardens. Nilo listened silently as Pollard recounted Reese’s demands. Pollard could see Nilo’s temper rising as he spoke. “He has no idea how difficult that will be,” Nilo fumed.

Pollard made a dismissive gesture. “He doesn’t care.”

“Bad enough to have talk about people disappearing, even though we’ve tried to take travelers and strangers, people who wouldn’t be missed,” Nilo ranted. “But this—it’s likely to bring an uprising.”

Pollard shrugged. “Marat Garin and his ilk would probably welcome an excuse,” he said. “They’ve gotten overconfident.”

Nilo scowled. “They’ve forgotten that if enough mortals rise up, even they are not invulnerable.”

“They’ll care when the peasants head our way with torches and pitchforks,” Nilo muttered. “Or at least, head your way—I’ll be with the army and have to save their sorry undead asses.”

“I would have thought that immortality might make one more careful, more aware of consequences,” Pollard said. “But apparently not. Or maybe, death doesn’t change how people were before they died.” Though the sympathetic wounds he shared with Reese had begun to heal since his master’s release, the price was not only Reese’s constant presence but being overrun with the broods of Garin and the rogue Elders, as well as their toadying mortal servants and sycophantic hangers-on. No different, perhaps, than those who cling to the hem of any petty despot or strongman, Pollard thought, but infuriating, nonetheless.

Thrane, Garin, and the other Elders needed sustenance as well and had decided that drinking the blood of cows or deer was beneath them. They, at least, fed more circumspectly most of the time. Part of the second floor had been given over to their ‘herd’ of donors, captive humans whom Thrane and his fellow talishte fed from as they pleased. This arrangement meant the people of the herd lived somewhat longer, and a favorite might last for several days, perhaps a week or two, but it was always the same in the end.

I’m running out of room to bury the bodies, Pollard thought. And there are too many to burn. Thrane and Reese are going to bring the mob down on our heads with their arrogance. As if I needed something else to worry about.

“I don’t get the impression that Reese was ever the cautious sort,” Nilo observed. “So… any ideas on how to do this and keep from leaving a trail back here?”

Pollard sighed. “Go a day’s journey or so away from here. Spread the word that one of Esthrane’s priestesses will be blessing children and youths and women with child. Set up a tent down the road and out of sight of the village. Grab them as they come in.”

Nilo raised an eyebrow. “You’re a cold son of a bitch,” he said.

“Always have been,” Pollard replied with a shrug. “I’ve found that it works.” He paused. “Oh, and one more thing. Send a whore to Eljas Hennoch. Make it clear to her that if he doesn’t sleep with her, we’ll kill her. That should inspire her. Post watchers at the peepholes in his room—shouldn’t be difficult given the subject. Make sure it happens.”

“You’re removing his eligibility?” Nilo asked with a sly smile.

“Larska Hennoch is useful to me,” Pollard replied. “And to Reese and Thrane, regardless of whether or not they consider most mortals to be interchangeable. He will be most helpful if his son remains alive.”

“What from Thrane?” Nilo asked. “Now that Reese is free, what’s his plan? Sooner or later Penhallow and the other Elders will retaliate. We need to be ready.”

“Thrane has been gone since the night after Reese was freed,” Pollard replied acidly. “I suspect he’s gone back to talk to his Meroven puppet.”

“Nagok?”

Pollard nodded. “Thrane’s quite taken with Nagok. He’s bound him with the kruvgaldur. And it was Thrane who helped Nagok rise to power, after the Devastation in Meroven,” he replied. “He worries me.”

“You sense a threat?”

Pollard shrugged ill-temperedly. “There is always threat when there’s a new favorite,” he said. “Nagok is quite probably insane. And he is powerful. We need to remain visible—and valuable.”

Nilo nodded, and Pollard knew he understood what was not said. Just like at court, where nobles constantly maneuvered to gain and keep the favor of the king, Thrane kept his vassals off balance and insecure, so that each would continually look for ways to outdo his competition. At court, a noble who fell from favor might miss invitations to hunt with the king or attend a ball. Those who fell from favor with Reese and Thrane stood a much higher risk of becoming food. I have played this game too long and at too high a price to finish without the crown of Donderath, Pollard thought. It’s all for naught if Thrane grows too fond of Nagok. Let him rule Meroven. Donderath is rightly mine.

“You have a plan?” Nilo asked.

“Forming one,” Pollard said. “And we require the full cooperation of Hennoch to make it work. Nagok will see us as rivals or as expendable. We must give Thrane a reason to value us, so that we don’t lose his favor.”

“And?”

“We have two opportunities,” Pollard continued as they walked. The grounds were no longer carefully planted and the shrubbery maze had not been groomed since the Great Fire. Here and there, portions had burned down to the roots, and the wild storms and winds had uprooted other sections. Instead of manicured forms, the bushes grew shaggy and wild. Yet the ruined maze was one of Pollard’s favorite places, one of the few areas he could go and feel some distance between himself and his masters.

“Theilsson’s portion of McFadden’s army has ventured north,” he said. “They’re far from reinforcements, and our scouts say his encounters with Nagok have not gone well. It will be a while before McFadden can reach him with more troops. If we could break Theilsson while he’s vulnerable, it might even deliver McFadden into our hands, if McFadden were to show up and find the other half of his army has been destroyed.”

“That would certainly be to our credit,” Nilo chuckled. “It would eliminate the only other real competition for control of Donderath—or its throne. And the other chance?”

“Voss’s men have gone south to Castle Reach,” Pollard replied. “To fight the Cross-Sea threat. From things Thrane has said, I suspect he had a hand in that, too. Their assault leaves fewer men to guard Westbain or Rodestead House. While McFadden would be the prize, attacking Penhallow’s territories would strike a blow at Thrane’s enemies, for which he would note our value.”

“I’ll take my army to fight Theilsson,” Nilo said. “Hennoch’s troops are better suited to strike-and-flee attacks at Castle Reach from inland.”

“I’ll take soldiers to attack Rodestead House,” Pollard added. “Westbain, too, if the opportunity presents itself. Voss has soldiers at Rodestead, and Penhallow’s still using Westbain as his base. An attack should distract him, pull off some of his people.” Pollard and Nilo both knew the truth: that Pollard was not yet recovered enough to do more than skirmish. His wounds healed far slower than Reese’s. Though it was possible to heal and strengthen through the kruvgaldur, Reese was more inclined to tap Pollard’s energy to restore his own faltering reserves, just as he was more likely to use the bond to spy on Pollard’s movements than to feed his servant any information.

Nilo nodded. “Sounds good.”

Pollard gave a grunt. “Send mages with both armies,” Pollard said. “As many as you can pry loose. I’ll take some with me, too. You’ll need them. Theilsson travels with battle mages—he’d be a fool not to if he’s going up against Nagok. And it’s reasonable to expect that there are mages in residence at Mirdalur, whether they’re working on artifacts or merely holding the territory for McFadden. Those mages could be diverted to the front lines within a day.”

“Doesn’t sound like it will be a quick win,” Nilo observed.

“Would you rather go up against the Wraith Lord at Lundmyhre?” Pollard asked, raising an eyebrow archly.

“Point taken,” Nilo replied.

Pollard knew that Nilo was aware of Pollard’s near obsession with the Wraith Lord and his mortal servant, Bevin Connor. Connor was the only other person whom Pollard had ever known to be bound by more than a superficial kruvgaldur link to an ancient, powerful talishte. The differences in their situations had not escaped his notice, increasing his bitterness about how Reese chose to use the hold he had over Pollard, and how Thrane exploited that bond for his own purposes.

“What do you make of the Cross-Sea pirates?” Nilo asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Pollard shrugged. “Not much, given that our scouts have said little. If Thrane’s really involved, then they’re more of a threat to McFadden and his allies than to us. All the same, it wouldn’t hurt to get a few more of our men into Folville’s territory, so that we get better information.”

Nilo snorted. “Folville keeps his inner circle small. They’re people he’s known for a long time, and they’re insanely loyal. Newcomers don’t get close to him. That’s been the problem—every time we send men to Castle Reach, they disappear.”

“Send better men.” Pollard was silent for a moment. “Eliminating Folville would be a noteworthy accomplishment,” Pollard mused. “He’s canny and shrewd, but still an easier target than Voss. McFadden depends on him and his street gang to help hold the city. Folville’s whole operation depends on him—kill him, and they’re just a bunch of riffraff. I doubt any of his lieutenants could rally them.”

“Do you really think we could occupy Castle Reach? McFadden’s got a sizable number of soldiers at Quillarth Castle,” Nilo countered.

Pollard shrugged. “Occupying it isn’t the goal. Leaving it burning and in chaos would be a plum. McFadden would have to conquer it all over again from Folville’s rival gangs, with the Cross-Sea raiders chomping on his heels. He’d have to divide his troops, and his focus.” He gave a cold smile. “Light enough fires, and he can’t put all of them out.”

“It’s a good plan,” Nilo said. “But first, you and Hennoch have to survive your meeting with Nagok.”

Pollard nodded. “Thrane, no doubt, wants both sides to properly intimidate each other. And spy on each other, so he can see which one of us provides the more sensational betrayal of the other. It’s his idea of a game.” He and Hennoch had been commanded by Thrane to meet with Nagok. It would require several days’ journey from where Pollard was based at Solsiden to Nagok’s camp farther north, at the Meroven border. In Pollard’s estimation, it was like leaving the viper’s lair to venture into the bear’s den. “I guess it’s time to meet the monster,” Pollard muttered.

Nagok had claimed a corridor of land at the Meroven border for his incursions, an area within the lands defended by Pollard’s troops, which Pollard considered to belong to Donderath. Nagok’s men also streamed through the mountain passes of the western ridges of the Riven Mountains, stretching down into Donderath like the grasping fingers of a reaching hand. And that is exactly what Nagok is, a clutching, grabbing hand with very long fingers indeed, Pollard thought. I’ll be damned if he’ll enlarge Meroven at Donderath’s expense. I haven’t worked this hard to gain the crown of a shrunken kingdom. As far as I’m concerned, that’s my land he’s taking. And I intend to get it back from him, one way or another.

“Are you sure he’s not setting you and Hennoch up to be eliminated?”

The thought had occurred to Pollard. “I’m sure of nothing. But if that’s his plan, I have no intention of cooperating.”