Ghost in the Yew Read online

  “Where am I?” he asked with a deep, gravelly bass.

  “Beneath the palace.”

  He said nothing for a long time after that. I did not mind the quiet.

  “From the 1st?” he asked eventually.

  “Thirty-three years served. Detached to Prince Yarik’s personal guard. You?”

  “Barok. Fourteen years his night guard. Opti Pass before that.”

  I knew the place. We all did, but we did not speak of it. Not even to stave off a walk to the gallows would I talk of that time. He said nothing more. We had both been there. That was enough.

  “You leaving anyone behind?” he asked and then winced as he tried to ease himself onto his side.

  I shook my head and wished I had not. When the throbbing calmed, I replied, “There is a girl, but she will not remember me.”

  “What is her name?”

  “Darmia. You got anyone?”

  “I hope my prince remembers me.”

  I figured his chances were about as good as mine but said instead, “Fourteen years keeping him alive while he slept ought to count for something.”

  “He’s not of age. Too young to remember what it was like before. None of them do. He has only ever known peace and a soft bed. He is one of the good ones, though.”

  “They all seem it, one-on-one. From where I stand, Barok is the worst.”

  “No. Yarik is the worst.”

  I laughed in spite of my pains. “Who are we kidding. They’re all rotten.”

  “Not Barok. His mother made him kind before they took him from her. His heart is good.”

  I thought to call him a fool but kept quiet. No point arguing it then.

  The iron door opened. The first man in had good hold of a heavy spear and leveled it at my companion.

  “Up, you.”

  He looked across at me instead. “I miss the mountains. Do you?”

  “Yes, brother. I miss them dearly.”

  Then more Hemari piled in, and I rolled away to avoid being trampled. When it was over, the door slammed shut again and I was left to wait my turn.

  5

  Prince Barok Yentif

  The morning began imperfectly—my sleep disturbed by a chill. My foot had somehow poked its way free of the jumbled layers of blue linen upon my bed. A rebellion most unwelcome. I left my eyes closed and pulled the offender in toward the delicious warmth.

  Vivid dreams took me, but not the kind I liked. All was not well.

  I bolted upright. Geart was not in his corner. A sharp pain drew my hand to a large lump in the hair above my temple. I pulled my cold foot underneath me, and the previous night came back in a gray wash.

  Towb had brought me the identity of the girl Yarik had married in secret, and it seemed I would have my revenge, even as the insult of his party continued beneath my window. I sent Towb and Geart to fetch the girl and offered her a fist full of gold. I had him. She would write a confession of their crime, and my father would hang him from the city’s gates.

  But then ... had Geart struck me? A Hemari attack his prince? Never. He had knocked me aside. Towb had betrayed me.

  I scrambled out of bed while struggling to remember the rest and got a look in the gilded mirror upon the wall. My thick hair hid the large lump. I had not bled. I blinked at my reflection and remembered the rest.

  I’d struck a barrel and hit the ground. Geart was down next to me, a cruel, needle-like dirk stabbed through the back of his overcoat and mail. Towb drew a second dagger and tried to get around him, but my guardsman struggled onto one knee and blocked him, more wall than man. Then Towb turned, and before the girl knew to protest, he slashed her throat and made a break for the stairs. Geart spat an oath, reached out a monstrous hand, and pulled Towb down. I got to my feet as Geart folded Towb’s shoulders back against his thighs. I ran, hid in my bed, and pretended to be sleeping.

  The girl was dead, and with her went my chance to prove my brother’s crime. He had escaped my revenge, and the men I wanted to call on were likely lying lifeless next to her.

  “God damn you Yarik, straight into the ice.”

  All my life I had been competing with him and the rest of the younger princes, but nothing set us apart. Yarik and I took the Urmand exam early, a year before we came of age, in a vain attempt to earn early admission by way of a perfect score. In the full history of Zoviya’s premier military academy, only our father had managed it. I should have been the second, but instead, it was Yarik—he who had never once managed highest marks on anything.

  “Rot.”

  I looked for something to smash. I had hold of the mirror when I smelled my breakfast and heard the low noise of its preparation on the other side of the servants’ door. It would open at dawn and the curtains had already started to glow.

  If the servants were preparing for a normal day, perhaps the bodies had not been found. All three must be down there, unnoticed behind the many things I had collected over the years.

  I retreated back under the covers. I would feign ignorance. Towb and Geart would be blamed.

  When the door swung open, I kept my eyes closed and my body still. The attendant crossed and began a diffident little speech meant to wake me. His meek tone was far too common amongst the newer servants. I found it infuriating and flung my pillow at him. He had his forehead pressed into the floor by the time the pillow came to rest.

  Another man entered and bowed low. “My apologies, Lord Prince. If this man has displeased you, I will see that he is replaced. He does only as your father bids, however, as you are required to be tutored every morning.”

  This newest wretch was my alsman, a senior man of the Chancellery who was responsible for my affairs and the one man I could not dismiss. I wanted to gut him. How dare he speak to me that way? Wretched rule. Even a perfect score on the exam would not have freed me from his insidious handling. He had been of so little help over the past two years that I still did not know his name. The only thing he was good at was keeping his position.

  “You pandering toad. I know why you are here. Why do you repeat it every morning?”

  He flung the curtains open and the bright sun blinded me. “I remind you when you delay.”

  Fortunately for him, the heavy door opposite the curtains opened and my trio of day guards marched through. They were useless to me, and I ignored them other than to take note of Geart’s absence. “Where is my night guard? I did not excuse him.”

  “We do not know, Lord Prince, though the captain of the watch has sealed off your cellar.”

  “What? Why was I not told?”

  “I only just found out myself. I was going to discuss it with you after you chose what you wanted to learn today.”

  “Tell me now.”

  “Very well, Lord Prince. I was roused early by the watch, as were all of your servants. They questioned us at length about Yarik’s party.”

  “What happened in the cellar?”

  “They did not say, and it was not for me to question the watch. I had to request access to one of your younger brother’s cellars so that your morning meal could be prepared.”

  “Why did no one wake me?”

  “The matter did not seem urgent. They did not request you. Your preference is always to sleep in. Conformingly, I did not wake you until the usual hour. As soon as I know what has transpired, you will.”

  “An incident between servants. Fine. Make sure a suitable replacement is assigned to me in the event Geart does not return. As for my morning, inform the swordmasters I wish to practice the rapier.”

  “And for your afternoon?”

  “Time with one of the senior scribes.”

  “More bookkeeping? It’s unseemly to be so familiar with such a base endeavor.”

  “Your opinion is of no consequence. Be gone.”

  He retreated, and two women with towels crossed to start my bath. A welcome sight indeed. I bid my guards to move out into my antechamber and listened for the bath to fill before I moved to join the girl
s. The bath was a square of white marble with thick caribou skins upon the floor and a fresh fire in the corner. The women waited on either side of the wide redwood tub at its center, and I sat down in its warm, belly-deep water. They began bathing me with soft sponges while a trio entered and presented clothes suitable for my morning. I selected the first, and they scurried away, leaving me alone with the women.

  The press of soft sponges always soothed me and the pleasant scent of one of the women caught my attention. I could not recall seeing her before. She was young for a washerwoman, though a few years older than me, very skilled, and painfully beautiful. She wore her long black hair loose and flung over one shoulder, a fashion I was developing a taste for. In the blue silk of a court gown, she would have been the picture of elegance. In the easy-to-remove white of servant’s wool, she was exactly what I needed.

  I waved my hand at the other.

  She closed the door behind her while the new one continued, her expression unchanged. She dipped the sponge back into the warm water and set it along my arms and torso with long, deep strokes.

  “What is your name?”

  “Dia, my lord. Do you not recognize me?” she replied with a wry smile and paused to look up at me.

  Dia? Towb’s daughter? What was she doing back in Bessradi?

  She continued to speak without my leave. “The carriage you sent was marvelous—as was the meal waiting for me. I’d never had fresh steeped mate before. But, oh, I was so worried when I stepped out of the carriage. Yarik’s alsman was there, and for the longest time it seemed I was to be signed to him. I was so nervous. I owe you so much. Are you not pleased to see me?”

  The girl’s bright green eyes were captivating. “You do know what a washerwoman does?”

  She laughed as though I had made a joke. “They would not have let me leave if that was all I was good for. I can read to you if you like, or take dictation if you require. I can dance for you or act the parts in the latest plays, though I know you have little interest in either. I can dress you in any garment and can set service fit for any Yentif. These, amongst other things, of course.”

  This was most unexpected. I’d not seen her since I was thirteen when my alsman at the time had brought me the idea of hiring on her father and taking on his debt in exchange for becoming the extraordinary girl’s patron. The miserable man had wanted the girl for himself, of course, so I paid the extraordinary fee necessary to keep her out of his reach. He had been furious, and the words he’d had for me that day were enough to get him dismissed. Her father had continued on as my most loyal servant and I’d forgotten all about her.

  “I am very glad to see you, Dia. The morning has been a trying one. Please continue.”

  The sponge moved, and I let out another great, growling yawn.

  “Stand up, my lord,” she whispered, and I complied. She continued from her knees to wash my legs and the front of my hips. Her training had been very thorough, I discovered, as her endeavor to satisfy continued with very great directness.

  I could not remember the last time a girl had been talented enough to satisfy me while I was standing in my bath water, and I decided I did not want to end it there. I stepped out of the tub and led her to my bed. She snatched a towel and dried me off, kissing my arms and shoulders as she worked. She ran her thumb across the scar upon my right shoulder and kissed the finger-length line. The touch of her soft lips sent a hot chill through me.

  “An old gift from Prince Yarik. He has more of them than I do, though.”

  She pressed her palm against the old wound and scowled. I had never seen a washerwoman do that before either.

  Then she climbed onto the bed and set herself back on an elbow before untying her blouse and skirt and slowly spreading her legs. The sight of her nakedness filled me with hunger. I climbed on top of her, and her warm thighs and calves reached around me as I found my way deep inside. She made pleasant sounds, nibbled on my chin and ear, and put one hand through my hair and the other onto the small of my back. She caressed and stroked, guiding me into a pleasant rhythm. Her groin grew hot and tightened as the rhythm intensified, her eyes closed, and a tear made its way down her smiling face. Her hands gripped and tugged until she let out a soft moan. The darling little lamb was so pleasant beneath me that I could not contain a great moan of my own.

  I rolled off and smiled at the ceiling. When she did not rise, I turned and was surprised to see her doing the same. Every other girl had begun to clean me as soon as I was done. I was happy for the moment’s peace. I lay there grinning so long that my body cooled, and I shivered. She noticed the shudder and draped her body across mine. Her warmth washed through me. I liked this one, very much. More time passed while she played her fingers across my chest and belly, and I do believe I could have lain there with her all day, days in fact, if ever that were possible. But wetness began to run down my hip, and this new sensation did not please me. I rose from the bed and held out my arms, waiting for her to towel me off. She took me by the hand instead and pulled me back to the bath. Her disobedience was without peer, but when she set me back into the warm water I all but fell asleep, her touch was so soothing. I decided I would dismiss my other girls. This one knew what I wanted more than I did and my mornings were set to improve immeasurably.

  A knock on the servants’ door startled me, and I laughed at how much time had gone by. My alsman must be furious. I jumped out of the bath, and Dia helped me towel off. I gave her a soft squeeze and pushed her toward the door.

  I remembered then, too late, that I had not told her to go see the priests for a dose of the women’s medicine. It was odd that I had forgotten such a fundamental detail. Lovers of any quantity were an entitlement, but wives and children were expressly forbidden. I shrugged. My alsman would take care of it.

  “Clothes,” I ordered and held out my arms again. My clothiers appeared and the loose blue tunica and warrior’s dalmatic I had selected proved comfortable.

  I made my way out into the Deyalu and was disturbed by the light noise of construction coming from the direction of my younger brothers’ residences. My father was adding on again. He was better at making children than bakers make bread.

  I started up the wide, straight hallway and was further annoyed when I noticed more gold leaf on the ceiling and fresh engraving upon the walls. My brothers may not have read the history of our divine rule over Zoviya, but I’d had my fill.

  As was customary in the morning, I ignored my brothers and they ignored me. My day guards fell in behind me as I strode up the Deyalu and out onto the practice field.

  6

  Dia Esar

  Prince Yarik

  Stepping out of my prince’s room, my thoughts were lost in a warm daze. The smell of him was in my nose, and when I closed my eyes, I could see the deep blue of his and the sheen of his thick black hair.

  My distraction caused a collision. The smaller woman almost hit the floor, but before I could apologize she disappeared into my prince’s room with two other clothiers. I dug my nails into my palms, no longer sorry I had walked into her. That was my job.

  I was halfway down the stairs back to the servants’ corridor when I froze.

  Barok had not told me to take the women’s medicine. My moment of greatest dread and worry had come and gone. I’d been spared the priests’ poisons and might someday have children. Our child might already be growing inside me.

  The happy thoughts ended there. It was too early for children. We did not have permission and it would be impossible to hide a child. All the tragic tales rushed through my head. If his brothers didn’t murder us, Lord Vall would have us hanged.

  Some of what Barok had left inside me ran down my leg, and the soreness made me fidget. I pulled on my bottom lip. A childish habit, one of the first Dagoda had broken me of, but in the dark and quiet it returned.

  Alsman Babsi appeared at the bottom of the stairs, and I wiped my eyes and mouth. He smirked. “Yes, he does like to put it there, doesn’t he? Do not w
orry, girl, you will never have to do it for Barok again. Get yourself to the booking room. You belong to Yarik now.”

  Three pairs of porters thundered around him carrying massive black trunks. I was forced flat against the wall and Babsi disappeared back into the traffic of the servants’ corridor. The porters reached the top of the stairs and the clothiers started back down.

  “What has happened?” I asked them.

  The first girl shoved me back into the wall. “Bump into me again, and I’ll take a hammer to those pretty teeth of yours.”

  The second pinched my nipple and the third said, “Bayen’s fire awaits all whores.”

  I wanted to kick the fervent little bitch down the stairs, but couldn’t get myself together in time for it.

  I took a step up the stairs and then started down after the Alsman before coming to a halt. Babsi could not help me. My prince was the only person who could, and I dashed up the stairs to find him. The servants’ space was deserted and in his bedchamber, I found the porters working to load one of the trunks with winter clothes.

  “Where is the prince?”

  The senior man scoffed. “Hush, you. Your snake of a father is dead, and Barok has been banished.”

  My body shook. My voice was lost.

  The men laughed and the yellow-toothed brute stepped close. He stroked my shoulder and arm. “Don’t worry, little thing. I will be your new protector if you can play nice. I know you know how.”

  I closed my eyes, and from each a hapless tear fell to its doom.

  I didn’t understand what had happened. In a moment, I had become like all the lesser girls whose cries filled Dagoda’s dark nights.

  Barok must be warned. I started toward the door that lead out onto the Deyalu but stopped short. Opening that door would be my death. My hands would not stop shaking.