A Lady Of Wealth And Cultivation Chapter 4

I haven't had much time for anything outside my main series lately, but I've had a draft of this chapter ready for a little while. I needed something to get me started today, and decided to edit it. Enjoy!

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I do not know if you’ve heard of Lady Marixa before, with her being so long dead, but in those days she was quite notorious. Being seated across a table from her for a private conversation, I could see why. My initial startlement may have passed, but from the way her gaze had seemed to bore into me, I was beyond certain that lying outright would be not only futile, but foolish in the extreme. I was terribly aware that I was in the presence of a sorceress of sufficient power to be known throughout the city, and that I would have to be economical with any attempt at deception.

“Lady Marixa,” I said, pushing my voice as low as it would comfortably go and ducking my head. The motion was a nervous jerk, and the youthfully masculine tail I had my hair in in lieu of wearing a hat jumped with the force of it. “I doubt Scarlet would have overpromised, but to be clear, I am no survivalist. I spent the entirety of my youth there, riding with the count’s huntsmen and learning to root out and run down wretches. I can guide you across the length and breadth of Varian, through fields, forests, and mountains, to say nothing of the towns and villages, but I am used to riding with an entourage. I can keep myself alive in a level of comfort that I can stomach for a few nights, but for one of your station—”

“Yes, yes.” Marixa silenced my nervous rambling with a dismissive wave. “I’ve taken that into account. Scarlet tells me that her man Silver is quite impressed with your shooting and swordsmanship, and what you tell me of your background suggests that you’re familiar with combat. I will have need of that as much as your guidance. Tell me of the first time you killed a wretch.”

At her unexpected question I imagine a haunted look must have come over me and that she had seen it, as she only waited patiently for me to respond to that terrible demand. Again I was filled with the urge to flee rather than revisit that day. Again I steeled myself, and remained. “I was thirteen,” I said. I could only speak slowly, my voice thick and hoarse with remembered emotion. “It was at the beginning of the troubles, when wretches were only an occasional problem outside of the deep forests and the mountains. We… Father had taken us all riding, to see a friend of his in one of the remoter villages.”

Which was true enough. The baron whom we were visiting was most certainly a good friend of Father’s, and the whole trip was one of pleasure and acquaintance. There had been no hint of trouble in those parts since before Pretty was born.

“We were riding through a small woods, in the middle of the day. I had my sister in front of me; she is much younger than I, and my horse could carry us both easily. Then…” I swallowed. I had known fear before then. I had seen Father and his huntsmen kill wretches. But what came next was the first time I truly believed that I would die, and that Pretty and Mother and Father would die. It’s the kind of thing that stays with you. But I mastered myself and continued. “We were set upon by goblins. They burst out of the bushes, completely undetected and taking us entirely by surprise. We think they must have come through from Otherside in that very wood, that very morning. Nothing else makes sense. Father and our escort rallied in moments, of course, but my horse had already bolted, taking off into the trees opposite. There… there were more of them there. I’m not sure what happened to Sunbeam, but after we broke through she fell, screaming, and it was pure luck I pulled Pr— my sister into a roll, and that neither of us were trapped under my horse or broke anything in the fall.”

“Two children, separated from their guardians by a ravening band of wretches!” Marixa exclaimed, showing every sign of riveted enjoyment. “Go on! What happened? Did you live?”

“Did I—?” I decided to ignore her last, ridiculous question and continued with my account. “I had my sword. I always did, then. Father insisted I get used to carrying it wherever I went. So after getting to my feet I drew it and… I’m sorry, it’s much of a blur after that. I can’t tell you blow by blow how I killed my first goblin, but I know, from what Father told me afterward, that I killed two.”

“And then? How did it end?” she asked.

“We were saved,” I replied anaemically.

“But before then. Between the goblins and the rescue. What happened?” She pressed me, and there was a cruel glint in those shifting mirror eyes that told me that she knew that there was something I did not want to recount. Not what it was, perhaps, but she knew that there was something, and she wanted it. And I felt compelled to give it to her.

I wondered afterward if there had been magic involved — she was a sorceress, after all. Now, so far removed, I am sure that there was not. While she was certainly using some form of truth-sight, there are telltale signs to mental compulsion, and I have revisited that night often enough to know that none were present. No, I think it was a combination simple intimidation, my own paranoid imaginings of what she might be capable of, and a masochistic need to unburden myself.

I let the truth spill out.

“There was a troll,” I whispered. “There was a troll with them, the first so far into Varian in decades. And it, being a creature of base urges, chose to go after the two children  rather than the more threatening adults. I remember facing it. Putting myself between it and my sister. Father insists it was no more than six foot, six and a half at the very most, but in my nightmares it’s as tall as the Indomitables and as inevitable as night. It… they killed it only moments after it reached us, but by then it had torn me from collar,” I placed my fingers lightly on the very edge of my left collarbone, “to hip,” I finished, sliding my hand down over where my left breast should have been, then in a curve over my belly to my right hip. “Luck and the stars be praised, the claws barely went muscle-deep, and there was a skilled healer in the village we were riding to. Still, I only woke days later. We lost two of Fathers men,” I added. Marc and Sibellain, I whispered in my mind. I’d promised once never to forget those two. I’d only barely known them, but they’d died so we might live, and they deserved to be remembered.

“And your sister?” Marixa asked with burning curiosity.

I had the impression that she hoped I’d say that something terrible had befallen Pretty, and it was with a fierce welling of pride, and an anger that cut through the fear I held, that I said, “Scratched and bruised from the fall, and much shaken, but not one of the bastards got close enough to touch her!”

“Excellent!” Marixa clapped her hands once, sharply, in utter delight. “There’s some spark! There’s some fire! Yes, I think you will do nicely, Emmes. Now, just one more question, and then we can chat about — I don’t know, really; we’ll think of something — until the others arrive.”

“What?” I asked, feeling cold and prickly all over after my outburst.

“Well, we will be on the road, and off it, for some time. Over a week, perhaps as much as two, and much of that in camps rather than inns. Will you be able to keep up this charade of being a man, or should we introduce you as Emma or something similar? I assure you, none of the men I’ve picked will be stupid enough to try anything.”

I deflated somewhat at that. I didn’t even try to hide it. I felt utterly defeated. Of course she’d seen right through me. The Ascended only knew what else she’d learned from my rambling.

“I should like to keep up the charade, Lady Marixa,” said, relaxing my voice with a sigh. “It would not be the first time. Though I would not ask you to lie on my behalf.”

“As you say!” she replied with a pleasantness that I was certain of as utterly artificial. “Who knows? This might be fun.”

*

I will not linger on the meeting. Three men arrived in short order, and that appeared to be all who’d been invited.

Railand was a slight man, with a serious but not unfriendly mien and a voice with a hoarseness to it that made me wonder if his throat had been severely injured at some point. He introduced himself as “a tracker, and damned good. Can handle myself in a fight, if I have to.”

Next was Woodwise, our survivalist. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had a roguishness to him that I imagined would have had Pretty beside herself with girlish infatuation, but the way he looked at me made my back itch. “Anything you need to keep a group alive in the field, I can do it,” he said. “Excellent archer if I say so myself, and a decent shot with a musket. Solid at tracking, too, but nothing compared to Railand, here.”

He said that last part with a relaxed smile at the smaller man that spoke of long acquaintance.

I introduced myself next as Emmes, a guide and experienced huntsman, and finally there was Brendon, whose bearing and scars told me all I needed to know before he ever spoke. The man was remarkably large, not fat but tall, wide, and muscular with a layer of fat to soften his edges, and when he spoke his voice was clipped and confident, like one of my father’s sergeants. “I wouldn’t be offended if you called me the muscle,” he said with good humor. “I’m a fighter by trade, with military experience and a few years of mercenary work behind me. I can handle a sword, an axe, or any polearm you hand me. I’m a good shot with a musket, too,” he nodded to Woodwise and me in turn, “if I say so myself.”

“And I am Marixa,” the sorceress said. It was her name, her title, and a complete introduction to what she was capable of. Any talents she’d admit to were public knowledge to those who paid attention to such things, and both Scarlet and Silver had briefed me extensively, commenting on which abilities ascribed to her were verified, and which were likely to be fabrications. She could summon and command lightning, that much was known for certain. She had very publicly demonstrated what she could do to a man with but a touch or an extended finger, leaving them either a twitching heap or a smoking husk on the flagstones. However, it was likely not true that she could boil a person’s blood in their veins from a distance; not that she would need to.

Besides violence, she had proven that she could sharpen another’s focus and quicken their thoughts, making them more capable. It was also whispered that Marixa knew far too much, and some suspected that she could spy on or even alter thoughts, though this had never, and likely could never be proven. Still, this one a main reason why Scarlet had not wanted me to meet with the sorceress.

I could only assume that everyone at the table had the same information; the anxious expressions on the men’s faces as they turned their faces to listen to this doll of a woman certainly suggested as much.

The doll continued without pause. “I am offering you all the opportunity to be my escort for a simple yet extremely lucrative expedition. I have chosen you because you each have an impeccable reputation, with the exception of Emmes, who comes highly recommended by a man whose judgment I trust.

“You're all aware that I’ve put this together rather hastily. That is because it is imperative that we reach our first destination before any trace of a track vanishes, and that track is already several days old. Old enough that I will be using my talents to… enhance our good tracker, here.” She said this last part with evident relish, and a cruel glint in her eye. As for Railand, he paled slightly but nodded.

“The expedition will take six to eight days, travelling to and through the troubled lands of Varian and into the Indomitables. Railand, empowered by my sorcery, will lead us to the destination. Woodwise will keep us fed and comfortable. ‘Emmes’—” I could hear the quotation marks, “—will lead us around any obstacles, and together we will deal with any threats we cannot circumvent. Your payment is ten percent each, gross, of the monetary value of whatever we recover, non-negotiable.”

“What threats should we expect?” Brendon asked, and Marixa pursed her lips, her nose crinkling with displeasure at the immediate question. She looked to me for an answer.

“The area’s overrun with wretches, and has been for years,” I said. “Borderline abandoned, except for the villages farthest from the mountains, which are defended by what soldiers the count can afford and a frankly insultingly small detachment of royals. Inland, mostly in the forests and mountains, are tribes of goblins which are well established, more than a few of them ruled by ogres. And—”

My mouth felt suddenly, inexplicably dry, and though I knew it couldn’t be the case, I thought my scars were aching. “And the odd wandering troll,” I finished, after attempting to cover the way I’d faltered with a cough.

“Thank you, Emmes,” Marixa said, still staring sourly at Brendon. “Though I did not invite any questions.”

“Will all respect, Lady Sorceress, how can you expect us to accept your offer with almost no information?” Woodwise asked. Marixa turned her eyes on him, and he cringed, barely enough to notice. Then she nodded.

“Fair, I suppose. I shall be blunt: while I trust your reputations, I expect this to be lucrative enough that I cannot risk being preempted. I will offer more information once you are committed and we are on our way. I will tell you this now: I expect this to be dangerous. But I have chosen you all with every expectation of success, and you should know that those ten percent I offer should, by all estimates, be on the order of a thousand livres or more — enough for any of you to retire in significant comfort, or to lay the foundation for a house of note. Think on that.”

In my distress over the evening’s conversation with my parents, it sounded perfect. Despite my misgivings, the kind of wealth she was talking about should, by any estimation, make a real difference to our situation. Stars, I thought, it might even be enough to let us hire mercenaries of sufficient number and quality to actually start pushing the wretches back toward the mountains, instead of merely keeping them contained within our borders!

“I’m in,” I said before I could second-guess myself. I forced myself to ignore the triumph in Marixa’s eyes as she nodded to me.

 “I'm delighted to hear that,” she said. Her face split into a predatory grin that made me wonder if I’d just made a huge mistake.

Brendon followed me quickly. “As am I. On your reputation, Lady Marixa.”

“Well, I can hardly be seen to be less courageous than these two, can I?” Woodwise chuckled, then looked to Railand. “You?”

Railand just nodded. The man looked somewhat stunned.

Marixa clapped her hands together. “Excellent! You have tomorrow to prepare, and then we will meet here the morning after, at one bell past dawn. Let me know if you cannot provide your own horse.

“Oh, and one more thing,” the sorceress added as we were rising, as though an afterthought. She produced four diminutive vials, each perhaps the size of my smallest finger. Then, with a sweet smile and an air of utter inevitability, she said, “I will be collecting a few drops of your blood. Trust and reputation only go so far, after all.”