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Tobias stepped into the room and came face-to-face with Ettore’s familiar, wide grin.
The eyes, however, were filmed with death.
Tobias froze.
Ettore was hanging by a cord tied to either end of an iron pin driven through his ears. His feet dangled just clear of a dark, coagulated puddle.
There was a neat slice from a razor all the way around the middle of his neck. Below that, every inch of him had been skinned. Pale strips of it lay to the side in an oozing heap.
An incision just below the rib cage gaped open. On the floor in front of his gently swinging body lay his liver.
It had a few bites out of each side. The bites on one side were edged with irregular tears left by larger teeth; on the other side were those of small, orderly teeth.
Brogan spun with a wail of rage and backhanded Lunetta with his fist. She crashed to the wall beside the fireplace and slid to the floor.
“This be your fault, streganicha! This be your fault! You should have stayed here and attended Ettore!”
Brogan stood, fists at his side, glaring at the skinned body of one of his Blood of the Fold. If Ettore wasn’t dead, Brogan would have killed him himself, with his bare hands if need be, for letting that old hag escape justice. To let a baneling escape was inexcusable. A true baneling hunter would kill the evil one before he died, no matter what it took. Ettore’s mocking grin incensed him.
Brogan struck the cold face. “You have failed us, Ettore. You are discharged with dishonor from the Fold. Your name will be expunged from the roster.”
Lunetta cowered against the wall, holding her bloody cheek. “I told you that I should stay and attend him. I told you.”
Brogan glowered down at her. “Don’t give me your filthy excuses, streganicha. If you knew how much trouble the old hag was going to be, then you should have stayed.”
“But I told you I should.” She wiped tears from her eyes. “You made me come with you.”
He ignored her and turned to his colonel. “Get the horses,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
He should kill her. Right now. He should slit her throat and be done with it. He was sick of her vile taint. This night it had cost him valuable information. The old woman, he was now sure, would have been a trove of information. If not for his loathsome sister, he would have had it.
“How many horses, Lord General?” Galtero whispered.
Brogan watched his sister staggering to her feet, regaining her composure as she cleaned blood from her cheek. He should kill her. This very moment.
“Three,” Brogan growled.
Galtero extracted a cudgel from the interrogation tools before he glided through the door, silent as a shadow, and vanished down the hall. The guards obviously hadn’t seen her, although with banelings that didn’t necessarily mean anything, but it was always possible the old woman could still be around. Galtero didn’t need to be told that if she were found she was to be taken alive.
Impetuous vengeance with a sword would gain no benefit. If she were found, she would be taken alive, and questioned. If she were found, she would pay the price of her profanity, but she would tell all she knew, first.
If she were found. He looked to his sister. “Do you sense her anywhere near?”
Lunetta shook her head. She wasn’t scratching her arms. Even if there weren’t a couple thousand D’Haran troops around the palace, with the storm raging as it was it would be impossible to track anyone. Besides, as much as he wanted the old woman, Brogan had a quarry of greater profanity to go after. And then there was the matter of Lord Rahl. If Galtero found the old woman, fine, but if not, they couldn’t spare the time for a difficult, and most likely fruitless, hunt. Banelings were hardly a rarity; there would always be another. The lord general of the Blood of the Fold had more important work to see to: the Creator’s work.
Lunetta hobbled to Brogan’s side and slipped an arm around his waist. She stroked his heaving chest.
“It be late, Tobias,” she cooed intimately. “Come to bed. You have had a hard day doing the Creator’s work. Let Lunetta make you feel better. You will be pleased, I promise.” He said nothing. “Galtero had his pleasure, let Lunetta give you yours. I will do a glamour for you,” she offered. “Please, Tobias?”
He considered it only a moment. “There be no time. We must leave at once. I hope you have learned a lesson this night, Lunetta. I won’t tolerate your misbehaving again.”
Her head bobbed. “Yes, my lord general. I will try to do better. I will do better. You will see.”
He led her up out of the lower levels to the room where he had talked to the witnesses. Guards stood before the door. Inside, from the long table, he picked up his trophy case and strapped it to his belt. He started for the door, but turned back. The silver coin he had left on the table, the one the old woman had given him, was gone. He looked to a guard.
“I don’t suppose anyone came in here tonight, after I left?”
“No, Lord General,” the stiff guard replied. “Not a soul.”
Brogan grunted to himself. She had been here. She had taken back her coin so as to leave him a message. On his way out he didn’t bother to question any of the other guards; they, too, would have seen nothing. The old woman and her little familiar were gone. He put them from his mind and focused on the things that needed doing.
Brogan wound his way through the corridors to the rear of the palace, where it was a short crossing of open ground to the stables. Galtero would know to gather the things they needed for a journey, and would have three of the strongest horses saddled. There were sure to be D’Harans all around the palace, but with the darkness and wind-driven snow, he was sure it would be possible for him and Lunetta to make it to the stables.
Brogan said nothing to the men; if he was to go after the Mother Confessor, it could only be the three of them. With the storm, three might be able to slip away, but the whole fist would not. That many men would surely be seen and confronted, there would be a battle, and they would probably all be killed. The Blood of the Fold were fierce fighters, but they were no match for the D’Harans’ numbers. Worse, from what he had seen the D’Harans were no strangers to battle. Better to simply leave the men here as a diversion. They couldn’t betray what they didn’t know.
Brogan cracked open the thick oak door and peered out into the night. He saw only swirling snow lit by the dim light coming from a few of the second-floor rear windows. He would have extinguished the lamps, but he needed the little light they provided in order to find the unfamiliar stables in the storm.
“Stay close to me. If we’re confronted by soldiers they will try to prevent us from leaving. We can’t allow that. We must be off after the Mother Confessor.”
“But, Lord General—”
“Be quiet,” Brogan snapped. “If they try to stop us, you had better get us through. Understand?”
“If there be many, I can only—”
“Don’t test me, Lunetta. You said you would do better. I’m giving you that chance. Don’t fail me again.”
She pulled her pretties close. “Yes, Lord General.”
Brogan blew out the lamp just inside the hall and then pulled Lunetta through the doorway out into the blizzard, wading with her into the drifts. Galtero would have the horses saddled by now. They had only to make it to the horses. In this snow, the D’Harans wouldn’t have time to see them coming or to stop them once they were on horseback. The dark rise of the stable buildings drew closer.
Out of the snow, shapes began appearing—soldiers. When they saw him they called out to their fellows and at the same time drew steel. Their voices didn’t carry far in the howling wind, but they carried enough to collect a swarm of big men.
They were all around. “Lunetta, do something.”
She cocked an arm with fingers clawed as she began summoning a spell, but the men didn’t hesitate. They ran forward with weapons raised. He flinched as an arrow zip past his cheek. The Creator had provided a gust of wind that
carried the shaft wide, sparing him. Lunetta ducked as arrows ripped past.
Seeing men rushing toward him from all directions, Tobias drew his sword. He thought to make it back to the palace, but that way, too, was blocked. There were too many. Lunetta was so busy trying to ward off the arrows that she couldn’t call a spell to protect them. She squealed in fright.
Just as suddenly as the arrows had started, they stopped. Tobias heard screams carried on the wind. He snatched Lunetta’s arm and sprang through the deep drifts, hoping to make the stables. Galtero would be there.
Several men moved to block him. The one closest cried out as a shadow passed in front of him. The man tumbled face-first into the snow. Tobias watched in confusion as the other men began swinging swords at the gusts of wind.
The wind cut them down without mercy.
