Blood Requiem Read online

  “You are certain the City Watch is investigating?” Ghian asked. He once again had removed his araif, and stood tall with squared shoulders as he spoke with the others, his hand on the shoulder of the elder closest to him. Ghian had clearly regained his air of calm despite the recent attack.

  “They are beyond investigating,” the elder said. “They know what happened. They know the humans were killed by tiellans, during a tiellan meeting, and they intend to make us pay for it.”

  Winter felt a stab of guilt. She had killed the men; she had never intended for the Druids to be blamed for what she had done. But the alternative would have been worse. Tiellans would be dead instead of humans. Eranda would be dead.

  The tiellans had needed a weapon, and Winter had stepped into that role.

  “And you trust your contact in the Watch’s leadership?” Ghian asked.

  “I do,” the elder said. “He’s one of the few humans left whose word I trust.”

  Ghian ran a hand through his hair and let out a long breath. He looked around, finally noticing for the first time the silence from the rest of the room as the other tiellans stared in awe at Urstadt. His eyes met Winter’s.

  “Back to work, all of you.” Ghian said it loudly, but with a smile on his face as he looked around at the other tiellans. Immediately, the room returned to the chaotic bustle that had greeted Winter when she first walked in.

  Ghian’s smile broadened, which made it seem all the more fake to her. He reached both arms out, perhaps to place them on her shoulders—or even embrace her—but Winter stopped him.

  “Do not touch me,” she said. She liked that he removed his araif on occasion, and that he spoke like she did, but the fact that he thought he could be so friendly with her was a mark against him.

  Ghian backed off. “I am sorry. I did not mean to offend.” He seemed sincerely apologetic, at least, and that was something. Then again, he’d also witnessed Winter murder a dozen people at once, which might have something to do with his penitence. Come to think of it, she was surprised he’d had the balls to approach her in the first place.

  Ghian held out his hand, this time. “We have not been properly introduced. I am Ghian Fauz.”

  Winter returned his gaze steadily, but did not grip his hand. “Winter.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Winter—”

  “Just Winter.”

  “Of course. Winter. The pleasure is mine.”

  “Hate to interrupt,” the elder who had been conversing with Ghian said, his voice gruff, “but she’s brought humans here. They can’t be allowed to stay.”

  “This is Urstadt, and Galce,” Winter said. “They are my advisors. They are with me.”

  “It’s all right, Elder Pendir.” Ghian’s gaze shifted to Urstadt and Galce before returning to Winter. “Surely they could at least wait outside?”

  Winter did not back down. “They go where I go. If you want me here, you must get used to them as well.”

  A few of the elders and matriarchs whispered quietly to one another, but Ghian apparently did not need to consult them to make a decision. His smile returned, and he spread his arms.

  “We will put our trust in you, Winter.”

  Winter broke eye contact. She did not want their trust, but she couldn’t say as much.

  Now that the commotion from the rest of the tiellans had resumed, the same elder—the one Ghian had called Pendir— spoke again.

  “The City Watch have already been hard on us,” he said. “With human deaths at our feet…” His eyes shifted to Winter, but he looked away quickly. “I fear the worst.”

  “I’ve seen their brutality,” Winter said, “and I’ve only been here a few days.” She described the scene she’d witnessed in the Wolfanger Inn—the way the City Watch, without the slightest provocation, had stepped in and violently separated a mixed family.

  “Such things are not uncommon, lately,” Ghian said, his face grim. “Humans known to be in mixed-race relationships, at the wrong place and wrong time, are severely beaten, usually by the City Watch itself. Some have even been killed.”

  “What of the tiellans?” Winter asked. “And the children?”

  “In the best of circumstances, they show up days later in the tiellan quarter, beaten within an inch of their lives. In the worst, they’ve been raped, too, or some of them don’t show up at all.”

  Winter looked around her in disbelief. “How can you tolerate such abuse?”

  “What could we possibly do to stop it?” Pendir asked in return.

  “One thing is clear,” Ghian said. “A conflict with the City Watch is inevitable. We need to be prepared.”

  “And the best way to do that is to negotiate with them,” Pendir said, “to make an arrangement.”

  “We need to leave,” Matriarch Esra said. “There’s nothing left for us here.”

  “We aren’t ready for that,” Ghian said, “not yet.”

  “The City Watch ain’t gonna wait for us to be ready,” Esra said.

  Pendir waved a hand at the Matriarch Esra. “Where would we go, Esra?”

  Esra had no response for that.

  Galce, apparently, did.

  “What about Adimora?” he asked.

  Everyone in the circle, including Winter, turned to stare at Galce. He and Urstadt had both been standing slightly behind Winter, not even part of the circle, really.

  As Winter looked at Galce, she had the strangest sensation. It felt like the slightest tremor echoing up her spine, but slowly, one vertebra at a time. Winter closed her eyes, and Chaos was there, black as the sea under a moonless sky.

  Chaos wanted them to go to Adimora. Galce had known it somehow, sensed it, and made the decision to propose the idea, even though he was one of the only humans in a completely tiellan group.

  Pendir frowned at Galce. “What do you know of Adimora?”

  “Not much, to be honest,” Galce said, smiling calmly at the tiellans around him. “I have only heard tell of a city on the eastern plains, beyond civilization. A city of tiellans.”

  Adimora. Winter had heard it spoken of, but rarely with any seriousness. It was more legend than anything else; some claimed it was only a tiny settlement, others a massive hidden city, past the Eastmaw Mountains and beyond where any roads led.

  Pendir scoffed. “This human knows nothing. Shouldn’t even be here.”

  “And yet he speaks wisdom,” Esra said. “Adimora might be our salvation.”

  The more the idea persisted in Winter’s mind, the more she agreed with the logic behind it. Tiellans were always in the minority. Whether in cities or in the country, they were too scattered and spread out to stand up to even the slightest human persecution. But on the eastern plains—in Adimora, if it was real—tiellans were the overwhelming majority. They certainly led lives very different from those of the tiellans in the west, but that might not be a bad thing.

  If they could band together, they could become something powerful.

  “Adimora is barely a city,” Pendir said. “Uncivilized. Savage.”

  Esra wagged her finger in Pendir’s face. “You can hardly call the way we live now in Cineste anything different. The idea ain’t my favorite, either, but it is necessary.” She looked to Ghian. “If we truly want to unite all tiellan people, we must treat with the clans eventually. Better sooner rather than later.”

  All eyes turned to Ghian. The man took a moment, staring off into nothing, and the others waited. While Winter had suspected it before, this made it clear that he had the final say for this movement. Normally, if the matriarchs and elders made a decision, the entire population over which they presided accepted it, but the same power dynamic seemed to exist between the elders and Ghian.

  “I had hoped to wait to reveal this,” Ghian said slowly, “but the truth is I have been planning to take us to Adimora eventually for some time, now.”

  The elders and matriarchs looked at one another, eyes wide, exchanging whispers. Ghian silenced them with
a raised hand.

  “Matriarch Esra is correct. If our goal as Druids is truly to unite our people—all our people—then we need to contact the eastern clans.”

  Winter found herself nodding. She cared less about Chaos directing this decision, as Galce would have put it, and far more about it simply being right. If this movement was going to continue, it needed to attract more tiellans. They needed to find a gathering place, where they could unite.

  “But we cannot abandon Cineste yet,” Ghian said.

  Winter shut her eyes, out of frustration more than anything, but she found Chaos waiting for her, black as a moonless night.

  “Why can’t we?” Winter asked. “Matriarch Esra is right. There is nothing for us here. You yourself said it was part of your plan all along.”

  “There are almost ten thousand tiellans in Cineste,” Ghian argued. “Most of the tiellans here can barely scrape enough food together as it is. We cannot possibly lead an exodus of that magnitude out of the city successfully, let alone travel such a distance. Not yet. But, given time, given the right preparation, we could.”

  “Then we don’t take everyone,” Winter said. “We take the Druids. We take those most at risk. We lead the way for others to follow.”

  Many of the elders and matriarchs around her were beginning to nod their heads. Only Pendir still seemed opposed.

  Ghian kept his calm well enough, but Winter noticed the way his eyes darted from face to face rapidly. He was worried. “We’ll be leaving the rest of our people here, at risk,” he said. “They will pay for our mistakes.”

  “I think it’s clear any tiellan in Cineste is at risk,” Winter said. “And, if we make it public that the Druids are leaving— the tiellan faction causing all the trouble—we might placate, at least to some extent, the City Watch’s grudge.”

  Ghian shook his head. “We simply aren’t ready. We—”

  “Know when to admit defeat, lad,” Pendir said. “You’re our leader. We respect you, we like your stubbornness. But even I can see this woman has a point. If it might help our people here, we should leave.”

  Ghian stared at Winter, a frown creasing his face. Finally, he nodded. “If you all think it is best, I will concede. But we must leave some behind, to direct others to Adimora…”

  As Ghian and the others continued to discuss logistics, Winter closed her eyes, a question forming in her mind and an idea brewing in her head. Chaos responded, its form snowy white.

  She turned, and took Galce aside for a moment.

  “I want you to remain here, in Cineste,” Winter said.

  Galce’s eyes widened. “My garice, I left Roden to accompany you. What would you possibly have me do here that—”

  “The only order is Chaos,” Winter said, knowing it would prompt Galce to consult Chaos himself. If he did, and then agreed with her, there might be something to this Chaos credence after all. If he didn’t, she had good reason to be wary of it.

  Galce closed his eyes, and almost immediately Winter felt the same gradual, trembling sensation roll up her spine.

  When Galce opened his eyes again, he was frowning. “I do as Chaos directs,” he said, “always.”

  “And what does that mean?” Winter asked. She needed him to be clear.

  “I will remain here.”

  Winter mulled that over. She’d half hoped he would refuse, if only to have more of an excuse to doubt this Chaos business.

  “What would you have me do?” Galce asked.

  “Ingratiate yourself among the tiellans as best you can,” Winter said, though her mind was elsewhere. It had taken her father dying for her to finally be free of Canta. What would it take for her to break free of Chaos?

  Winter refocused on Galce. “Monitor the tiellan situation here,” she continued, “and help the tiellans wherever possible. For those interested, send them onward to Adimora. We will send emissaries back as soon as we can with more details about the journey.”

  Galce inclined his head. “As you say, my garice. The only order is Chaos.”

  12

  Odenite camp, outside Kirlan

  ASTRID WAS GENERALLY IMPRESSED with the progress Eward’s Prelates had made. She and Knot had just finished a double round of training with them: one round skirmishing against each other, the next practicing maneuvers against potential threats—Outsiders. The former had gone well; against a typical armed force, Astrid thought the Prelates would be able to hold their own. The latter was a different story.

  Without much knowledge of Outsiders, it was difficult to formulate a specific strategy, so they focused on teamwork and adaptation, mutable plans and formations, and changing combat styles mid-battle.

  “I thought that went well,” Knot said. “Better than the first session we did a few days ago, at least.”

  “Oh yes, nomad, that was great. Now the Prelates will look vaguely organized when an Outsider rips them to shreds.”

  “Give them some credit.” Knot wiped sweat from his brow. “They did well against the first one.” They were walking away together from the fallow section of the field Eward had claimed for the Prelates. The day was cloudy—such days were rare this far south, to Astrid’s chagrin—and behind the clouds, the sun must be nearing the horizon. She could feel the night approaching.

  “Only because we held the front line,” Astrid said. She had glimpsed panic in the Prelates’ eyes when they faced the Outsider. They were good men, but being a good man didn’t mean shit when you faced a daemon on the battlefield.

  Knot sighed. “It’s good you’re bein’ a realist about it. I’m being positive to encourage them, but…”

  Despite Knot’s validation, Astrid suddenly felt guilty for casting aspersions on the Prelates. “We handled one Outsider already,” Astrid said. “We can do it again, and the Prelates will continue to learn.”

  Knot didn’t say anything to that, and they walked in silence for a few moments.

  Astrid cast thoughts of Outsiders and the Prelates aside. It was time for a long-overdue conversation.

  “There’s a reason I don’t remember much past a hundred years ago,” Astrid said.

  “Always figured there was.”

  Astrid glared at Knot. “Doesn’t mean you have to be rude about it,” Astrid muttered. She took a deep breath. What she was about to tell Knot, she had never told anyone else before. Not willingly.

  “The Denomination found me forty-seven years ago,” Astrid said. “I… I thought they would kill me, at first.”

  “How did they capture you? A group of Sons? Goddessguards?”

  “Priestesses,” Astrid said. “That’s all they were, really. But they had nightsbane. And they were psimancers.”

  “Was psimancy even around then?”

  “People had just begun to manifest the abilities, but it was extremely rare, and all very confusing from what I remember. It didn’t take long for the Nazaniin to get a hold on most of them, of course, although the Denomination kept a few to themselves.”

  “And they captured you?”

  “Imprisoned me. Tortured me. But then, they… they began to show me kindness.” Astrid shook her head. “Kindness is not the right word. They became less hostile, that’s all it was. At the time I was practically feral, Knot. Because of what I’d done—”

  “What had you done?”

  “I’m getting to it, if you’d shut your mouth for more than a minute.”

  Knot, graciously, shut his mouth.

  Astrid continued. “I can still remember those first days, when the torture stopped. I remember how confused I was, I remember almost being angry that it had stopped. It was what I deserved. There was a small part of me that wanted it, another part that expected it, and a much larger part that simply could not understand why they would stop. For a while, I thought that leaving me to sit alone with my guilt was just their new form of torture. And I knew, almost immediately, that it would break me. I could not last long. So I begged for it to stop. Or, I guess, I begged them to start again.
To torture me, to kill me, to do anything to get me away from myself.

  “Eventually, they made me an offer. They said they could take away my memories. In return, they wanted me to… to take assignments from them.”

  “Assignments?”

  “They wanted me to kill. Intimidate. Destroy evidence. Silence witnesses. Sometimes even within the Denomination itself. You’d be surprised at the places a little girl can get into and out of unnoticed. It was easy for me.

  “In return, they took my memories.”

  “An acumen did that?” Knot asked.

  Astrid nodded. “She obliterated specific parts of my memories, the ones I hated the most. The things I never wanted to relive again.”

  “And it worked?”

  “For a while.” Astrid stopped. “No, that’s not true. It didn’t work at all. From the beginning, something was wrong. I didn’t remember what had happened, she’d done that part right, but… but the feelings were still there. The guilt, the shame, the fear, the hatred. All of it was still there, only it was worse, now, because I had no memories to associate with them. Nothing to attach those feelings to, so they were just… they were just there, constantly, all the time.

  “That’s when the priestesses began to talk to me about redemption. They told me how taking my memories was only a temporary fix, that if I wanted any real peace, I needed to work toward absolution.”

  “And they told you that was something they would help you get? You, a vampire?”

  Astrid shrugged. “I wanted to believe it. I couldn’t die, not of my own hand, but I couldn’t live anymore, either. So I did what they asked me to do, because they promised me an end to it all.”

  “And doing what they asked, taking these assignments, eventually led you to me.”

  “Yes,” Astrid said quietly. She still had no idea how Knot had done what he did a few days ago, when she first told him. The act of simply attempting to understand meant more to Astrid than anything anyone had ever done for her. She did not need all her memories to be sure of that.