The Strength of Baffin Page 19

  Tethran’s throat worked despite his best intentions. He’d always prided himself on being a efficient assassin but he’d never thought himself too highly to escape death when it truly came. He was sure, however, that the alderman wouldn’t be the one to have the satisfaction of seeing him draw his last breath. Clenching his jaws, he surged on, “Are you familiar with a Suth McCall? I hear he is one of the alderman’s junior captains.”

  “Couldn’t you have asked all these questions while we were in the carriage?”

  “Would you have answered them even then?”

  Madame Rafira sighed. “I do not know much. But I know he is not here.”

  Tethran eyed her sharply. Not here? Then-- “Tell me.”

  “I believe he was sent to retrieve information on some traitor a few days ago. One of my…girls overhead him say it. I know nothing else.”

  Tethran supposed McCall’s absence would make his task a bit easier. But there was one more thing he needed to know. “Not even where, in this grand castle, he happens to lay his head?”

  Her eyes narrowed again. “I do not take pleasure in the attentions of younger men,” she drawled, her gaze raking over him flintily but with just a hint of appreciation. “So I certainly do not know where his quarters are.”

  Though his impatience had started to wear, Tethran found himself grinning. Madame Rafira was awfully touchy tonight. “But you have some idea, do you not?”

  She cocked her head. “I might. Is the girl so important?”

  “Yes. She is. She is the sister of my…my…best friend.” God, he’d never actually thought of Sinclair as his bestfriend until now.

  Madame Rafira held his gaze but something akin to sympathy did flare in her eyes. “I’ve never been fond of those barbaric laws that allowed these privileged men to purchase women as their bed slaves. It makes my stomach sick!”

  Interesting. “Then you must tell me what you know. Before the guards return.”

  She nodded and stepped closer, gaze flicking fleetingly to the closed doors. “The south wing is where he resides, I believe, with the other captains. Luckily for you, his chambers are the first once you enter.”

  Tethran could feel the adrenaline pumping into his blood, ready to take off. But he could not leave the room until the alderman had come to fetch the madame. “Many thanks.”

  “Do not thank me. There is no need.” Then she squeezed his arm, craning her neck to peer up into his face. “I am a whore by choice. No woman should be forced into such a lifestyle. It is not a comfortable or happy existence if you are not truly satisfied with it. Experience has taught me that.”

  Yes, there was something odd indeed. But then it dawned on him. “You--”

  “Yes. Me.” She answered before he could finish his sentence, her face now void of all emotion as if she had experted the art a long time ago. “I am a whore by choice now. But not always.” Her eyes twinkled first with sadness but then quickly took on a mischievous glint. Leaning in, she lowered her voice even further. “I was used like a dog and beaten badly whenever my body had failed to keep up. So I did what had needed to be done. I poisoned the bastard and watched him waste away for weeks.” She chuckled wickedly. “The physician had declared his death as a rare case of consumption.”

  Tethran’s eyebrows shot up off his forehead. That, he had not expected, but he supposed a woman could be quite lethal when caught in a desperate situation. And Madame Rafira had been desperate indeed. But her confession only made his heart hammer even harder in his chest. Had Sinclair’s sister been beaten badly? The reality of the situation could not be mistaken. But he could change it. And he would. Starting with Josephine.

  The double doors came swinging in with a slight groan and Tethran turned on his heels immediately. The alderman strode inside, chin raised haughtily, and the fabric of his black cloak sweeping out behind him. The man made Tethran uneasy. No, far more than that. Viktor de Gesch stirred within him a storm of raging displeasure and ire. Gritting his teeth, he bent at the waist in a stiff bow while Madame Rafira lowered herself in a graceful curtsey.

  “Ah! It is the scarred lad from my birthday celebration,” the alderman said in a mocking, condescending tone. “Have you yet decided on my offer or shall I resort to making use of my power and force you instead?”

  Tethran forced a tight smile. “I beg you for some additional time to consider your kind offer, my lord. Not more than a week more, I assure you. By then I shall be free from all other obligations.”

  The alderman angled his head, glanced at the madame and then back at him. The man’s gaze was frigidly calculating. “And by obligations, you mean your protective services to Madame Rafira.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Tethran did not like the look in the man’s eyes at all.

  “Mmm. And how does that lovely sister of yours fair since I last saw her? She’s quite a beauty, isn’t she?”

  Tethran felt his stomach twist. If this man had any ounce of designs on his Jolin, then he had better look somewhere else. Not even the influence of the alderman could separate her from him. He would kill any man who even dared touch her.

  “Caught a terrible cold, milord,” Madame Rafira offered. “Hasn’t yet recovered, I’m afraid. It seems she’s a bit more frail than the others.”

  The alderman stared at Tethran for another few seconds before nodding.

  “Patience has never been my strong suit,” he said to Tethran, expressing every drop of authority in the steely tone of his voice. “I’ll grant you three days instead of your seven. You will attend my study then and we’ll discuss what rank you’ll be more suited for.”

  Tethran was very near to seething but he reigned tight control on his anger. The alderman seemed to be refusing him any choice in the matter. But he intended on being far away from this wretched place as soon as he found Josephine. Hades would sooner sprout icicles for horns before he’d ever agree to serving this domineering asshole.

  Giving another stiff bow, Tethran responded in the most acquiescing tone he could muster, “As you wish, my lord.”

  Grunting with obvious satisfaction, Alderman de Gesch then jerked his chin in Madame Rafira’s direction, snapping his fingers sharply. “Come then, woman. You know exactly for what you are here. Let’s be off to it then.”

  Tethran watched as the two exited the room, his stomach still churning with a great deal of repulsion. His palm--no, his foot--itched greatly to dig that twisted smirk of the alderman’s face.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Shortly after the alderman and Madame Rafira had exited the room, a burly guard had stepped inside, standing motionless before the closed doors. Beyond the opening of the man’s helmet, Tethran could make out narrowed eyes and a pinched mouth. The guard, from what he could see, was sure to put up an inconveniently lengthy fight and Tethran hadn’t the time for that. Maybe at another time, when he’d merely needed a good scuffle to calm his nerves, it would have sufficed. But now, he would have to remove the man as quickly as possible and without drawing any attention to himself while he did so. Which meant it wouldn’t do him him good to fist him in the gullet as he’d thought to do just a minute ago.

  “I need to take a piss,” Tethran said. “Where might I find the privy?”

  The guard widened his stance, the metal of his breastplate shifting with his movement. “Privy,” he spat the word like spoiled cabbage on his tongue. “This is the alderman’s castle, uncivilized fool. It’s called a restroom.”

  Uncivilized? Oh, the irony of it all. But Tethran decided to ignore the slight. “I don’t really give a fuck what it’s called. I’m not all that particular about where I piss. In fact…” He turned to eye a large vase across the room near a window. “That vase looks awfully tempting. I hear piss is stale is good fertilizer for some types of flowers.”

  The guard growled in response and turned to open the door.“Try to keep up.”

  Tethran smirked as the man stepped out into the hall, following as they walked back down the corridor, s
tepped out into the main entrance and then crossed over to another wider corridor. As they traipsed the stone floor, Tethran eyed another hall that opened in the opposite direction. That corridor must be the one that led to the south wing, if he surmised correctly. He would return as soon as he managed to escape this guard’s watchful eyes.

  They arrived at a large door with a glass knob. The guard held up a hand as if to stay him and then entered, scanning the room before retreating again. “Go. And make it quick. I haven’t all night.”

  Tethran gave a mocking bow and then strode inside the so-called restroom. He gazed at the odd contraption he supposed men were meant to relieve themselves in, and frowned. He’d piss in his own boots any day than step an inch closer to that rank containment. Quickly devising a plan, he tapped his chin swiftly and spotted a rectangular looking glass hanging from a wooden panel above a wash basin. He’d need a weapon in case he was waylaid after this point, since the guards had already stripped him of his weapons once he’d stepped through the castle gates. Glancing back at the door, he then moved cautiously towards the glass and tested the firmness of it’s latch on the panel. It was firm but not firm enough that he couldn’t remove it with the right amount of force. But he couldn’t stand there fidgeting with it all night either. It was either create a ruckus with one big drag or rattle it too much and have the guard stumbling inside to catch wind of his plans. Tethran didn’t have time to mull over his options. One big ruckus, it was.

  Sliding his fingers beneath the slightly loosened edge of the glass, he gritted his teeth as pain bit into the joints of his fingers, and eased it upwards. When he’d levered it upwards until the latch that secured it was stiff and taut, he took a deep calming breath and yanked it hard, the glass shattering with a loud crash as it split into three pieces, and thankfully if not miraculously, not splintering further as they hit the ground.

  As expected, the door came crashing in and the guard appeared, a long blade already raised. Tethran gripped a piece of the glass in his hand, though the sharp edge was already slicing into his palm. The man growled menacingly and stormed forward, weapon slicing through the air between them and narrowly missing Tethran’s shoulder. But it was a quick fight. Quicker than even he had expected. Lunging, Tethran managed to tear through the surcoat that covered the guard’s right arm and the man grunted in pain, the blade dropping reluctantly from his hand.

  “Bastard!”

  Tethran kicked him hard in the shin, dropping his own weapon, ripped of the guard’s helmet and used his left fist to pound into the man’s face. “Funny, that. I might not know who the hell my parents are but I doubt I’m any worse that how your face looks at the moment.”

  The guard stumbled to his knees, mouth and nose bloodied. “You’re a fool if you…if you th-think you can walk out of here after this.”

  “I can if no one finds you.”

  A look of dread flashed through the man’s eyes, followed by anger, and he made to rise but Tethran raised his knee high, swung his leg back and slammed it hard against the man’s skull. The guard collapsed like a sack of hay, his injured arm twisted at an awkward angle. Tethran grimaced down at the bloody slice in his right palm and decided that the cut wasn’t deep enough that he could further use it. Ripping out his belt, he used it to secure the man’s ankles, and then tore two pieces of cloth from his shirt hem to bound his wrists and to use as a gag. As soon as he was done with the task, he then hefted the guard’s unconscious body inside an alcove he’d just noticed, and turned for the door.

  Hopefully, he’ll find Josephine before any of the other guards discovered this mess.

  * * *

  Tethran had managed to avoid five different guards before he’d slipped inside the first set of chambers within the south wing. But what he hadn’t counted on, was to find it empty. Perhaps, he’d been too optimistic to think that Josephine would just be there waiting to be rescued. But it was night-time, possibly just a couple hours before midnight and he had expected her to at least be in bed. His eyes wandered over the lavish interior of the brightly lit chamber. Said bed had the appearance as if it hadn’t yet been slept in for the evening, but there was a lingering fragrance that spoke to the truth that a woman had been there. Most recently too.

  Inching towards a closed door that he surmised might lead to a dressing room, Tethran turned the knob slowly. The door opened with ease, its hinges barely making a sound. The sweet fragrance was stronger at this point and he angled his head to peer inside. A large tub sat in the middle of the room, water dripping over the sides and soaking the floor. Narrowing his eyes, he picked up a trail of small wet footprints and then glanced at the tub again. The bathwater was still disturbed. Which meant--

  A flash of movement caught his eye and he turned just in time to dodge a block of wood from bludgeoning his head. Tethran cursed, dragged the wood from pale slender hands and glared down into terrified hazel eyes. Hazel. Much like Sinclair’s. Tethran could not believe it. And the same devil’s hair too. Grinning now, he dropped the block of wood and stared at the woman who was now peering up at him dubiously. “You are Josephine?”

  “Are you the one he sent for me?” she asked, colour slowly returning to her creamy skin.

  Tethran shook his head. “He? Who’s ‘he?’?

  She frowned, tightening the tie that secured the flaps of a blue robe. “I don’t know his name but I saw him about a sennight past and he said he’d return or send someone. And that…that I have a brother. I don’t remember much but I’ve hoping…”

  Tethran swallowed. “My name’s Tethran. I’m a friend of your brother. He’s been looking for you. But we must move fast.”

  “Yes.” Her eyes lit up and she grabbed his hand fiercely, fear transforming the look in her eyes. “You must get me out of here. Please. Now!”

  “Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and moved into the bedchamber, slowly opening the door and surveying the dark hallway. Then he turned to her. “If anything happens, I want you to run and don’t look back. Go to the Smythe’s tavern and ask for Jolin. Understand?”

  She nodded, though her pupils shook with fright. Tethran led her stealthily down the corridor, eyeing the opening entrance cautiously. Until they exited the hall, Josephine would have nowhere to run if they were to stumble upon any guards. A couple tense minutes later, they emerged from the corridor. He felt her tug on his good sleeve, gesturing to another much smaller corridor.

  “I-It leads to the gardens. It’s much more isolated and easier to move through without…without being spotted,” she explained.

  Tethran supposed she might be right, deciding to take his chances. But as they inched around a winding strip and approached a thick but immaculately trimmed rose brush, he could feel a bad feeling inkling down his neck. Something was off, he just could not see what it was yet. But heard it, he did, because only a few seconds later, he could make out the unmistakable clanking of metallic armour and the harsh sound of gravel grinding beneath booted feet.

  “There!” yelled a gruff voice. “Don’t let him get away!”

  Tethran pushed Josephine behind a column, her eyes wide with fear. “Go. Run!”

  She did, not looking back, and he turned to face the four guards storming towards him.

  Fuck! He was screwed. And the last coherent thought he’d had, after successfully deflecting one blow, was that Jolin would not be pleased.

  * * *

  Pain flew up his spine and spread through his already hammering temples, his head snapping upwards as he regained consciousness. Vision through his right eye was blurry but he supposed his left eye had been slugged shut since he could barely make out a damn thing. His face and midsection felt as if it was aflame, his mouth sore and flooded with the taste of his own blood. Groaning, he tried to move his arms but they did not budge. He tried again. Twice. But only ended up bellowing out his frustration, which only seemed to drain his strength even more.

  “There is no use trying,” came a deep voice. A sickening, fami
liar voice. “You are properly and inescapably bound, my friend. Now, welcome to my Holding Room.”

  Tethran mustered all his strength to look up, his hair damp across his forehead. Through his good eye, he could make out the fuzzy figure through the dim light. “You bastard.”

  The bastard tsk-ed. “That’s certainly no way to address your alderman, lad.”

  “I am going to slit your bloody throat and watch you die, you fucking vermin!”

  A solid fist contacted instantly with his jaw and Tethran groaned, spitting blood.

  “Another one, milord?” came an eager voice.

  “That’ll do for now. Find me Carlisle.”

  Tethran gasped in a breath and spat again, his head whirling with pain. A second later, his head was yanked up severely by the roots of his hair and he found himself face to face with Viktor de Gesch.