Poison 11 & 12

[maderr]

Part Two

To each of her children the Faerie Queen gave the ability to shift into the Form of an animal. This she did that her children might be closer to the land created for them, and experience life to its fullest.

~ From the History of Verde

Chapter Eleven


Gael smiled faintly as he listened to his Beasts converse, enjoying the friendly banter the six were for once managing, hoping it would last for some time. Nine days until the Ceremony and they were the most well-behaved they had ever been…perhaps a calm was overtaking all of them.

He sipped his tea and idly read over the festival reports he had carried with him to breakfast, finding it relaxing to read over such positive future plans. The tea was dark and sweet, hints of orange and currant, a touch of hazelnut. Etain truly did blend the finest teas; her skill at such things was unsurpassed.

Truly, a calm must be falling over them all. Gael wondered if he was unconsciously sending out a calming compulsion. No, he had better control than that. Hopefully there would be no need to send out a compulsion in the coming days, though he was fully prepared to do so. He would not let his people be hurt in their own panic over the Ceremony.

A commotion from the doorway broke into his thoughts, and around the table the conversation stuttered to a surprised halt as a Beast from the West strode into room.

Gael frowned, curious. “You are the Marquis le Blanc,” he said. “What brings you here at such an early hour?”

“Ailill, please, your Grace. I need to speak with you on a matter of extreme urgency.”

“Of course,” Gael said, beginning to feel nervous. If this was a matter of Freddie’s, she would have sent Noire… “What about?”

In reply, Ailill tossed something to him. Gael caught it easily, then opened his hand – and felt himself going pale as he saw the silver, teardrop shaped cravat pin lying on his palm. The world went too still around him, but Gael barely noticed, able to hear only the pounding of his own heart as cold fear filled him. “Where is he?” he asked, standing up so quickly his chair tumbled back, crashing to the wooden floor. He slammed his hand down on the table. “Where is he!”

Around him the silence was deep, shocked, as seven Beasts saw the Grand Duke crumble immediately into a state of near-panic.

“Get out,” he said, and when his Beasts did not move he threw a compulsion behind it. “I said get out!”

He braced his hands on the table once all but Ailill and the dark, ominous looking man behind him were the only remaining people in the room. “Who are you?” he asked wearily of the unknown figure.

“His name is Ivan,” Ailill replied. “He is my lover, and partner in all things.”

“Where is Noire?” Gael asked. “What has happened to him?”

Ailill crossed the room and handed him two small scraps of paper.

Heart heavy, Gael opened the first.

If you want no harm to come to your lover, thereby guaranteeing tragedy at the Ceremony, then come to the address below before dawn.

Come alone.

“That idiot,” Gael whispered, crushing the note in his fist. “There was no proof they even knew…why would he go alone? He should have come to me.”

Ailill held something out. “We found this in his room, I do not know if it means anything…but it did not seem to fit…” He held out a pale blue ribbon.

Gael swallowed and reached up to touch the one in his own hair – much paler, far finer in quality, with an almost silvery sheen. Nothing like the plain thing in Ailill’s hand.

I thought…well…you said you liked my eyes…it’s probably silly…

“I love it.”

“It’s not much.”

“It’s perfect, Kitten.”

He knew what had happened. “They put it with the note; that’s how he knew they knew.” A cry threatened to tear from his throat and Gael fought it back, fingers fumbling to open the second note.

A,

You always know more than you let on and I hope you do in my case. I think I said too much that day in the tower, anyway. Tell him I said I’m sorry. I should have been more careful. I don’t know what will happen, but I can’t allow anything to happen to him or the Ceremony.

I don’t know who’s behind it, but they managed to get in and out of my room without leaving a trace, even the scent was mostly faded when I woke.

Tell him I said ‘I love you.’

N

Gael screamed, the pain behind it reverberating through the house, hitting his unseen Beasts hard as they absorbed the force of it and kept it from emanating down to the other occupants of the Golden Palace.

“What happened?” he asked hoarsely.

Ailill shook his head. “We were too late, when we got to the inn. Noire charged a footman with seeing I was given something – a necklace case. These,” he motioned to the notes and pin, “were beneath the velvet bedding. He obviously was trying still to keep you a secret as long as possible.”

“How did you know?” Gael asked softly. “We have tried our hardest to keep it a secret…” his knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the table. “I just wanted to keep him safe.”

“Any other day it would have been a funny story,” Ailill said sadly. “We were in the Silver Palace. The White Wolf and White Ram started taunting us. At one point the Ram said something that angered Noire unreasonably, and Noire threw him in the fountain before running off. I found him in one of the old towers…” Quietly Ailill related all that Noire had said, and not said, that had allowed him to puzzle it out.

Gael tiredly righted his seat and fell into it. “I never wanted to keep our affair a secret. Yet from the very first, I have felt nothing but cold fear for him. I knew instinctively that if anyone found out I loved him, it would cost his life. I just do not know why!” He closed his eyes against the pain that washed over him. Noire…what would he do without him? Where was he? Was he hurt? He dared not think it could be worse…no, he would know the very moment someone took his heart and soul from him.

“I do not see how anyone could have known,” Ailill said slowly. “I did only because I know him so well, but if not for that incident with the Ram I would have remained oblivious.” He shook his head and smiled ruefully. “Noire had all of us fooled, even Freddie. We thought him only a messenger with a mischievous streak…and so much insecurity because stupid people hold his mixed blood and peasant origins against him.” He slid Gael a thoughtful look. “No one, I think, would ever imagine Noire has captured the notoriously reserved Grand Duke himself.”

“It has been hard on him, keeping our secret,” Gael said. “I did not like it, but it was worse for him. A thousand times I have wanted to just end the secrecy…yet despite it still I have failed to protect him.” He stared at the crumpled notes on the table, the glittering silver pin. Reaching out, he snatched up the cravat pin and held it tightly in one hand, ignoring the sting as the sharp point of the teardrop dug into his palm. “Have we no idea where he could be?”

Ailill shook his head. “We have kept it quiet, your Grace, until we could speak with you. Noire…did all of this to keep it a secret still. I did not want to take steps on the search until I knew doing so would not cause further harm.”

A hesitant rap on the door broke into the conversation. “What!” Gael bellowed, furious that someone would disturb him now.

The door opened to admit Matti, the White Fox. She looked at him, the hurt in her eyes apparent. “Your Grace,” she said as she stepped into the room. “This was just found on the front table.” She held out a piece of thick, white paper, folded closed and sealed with plain black wax.

“Thank you,” Gael said, trepidation growing.

Matti frowned. “Your Grace…what is going on? Why would you act like that and then dismiss us so?”

“Not now, Matti.”

“So you do not trust your own Beasts?” Matti demanded. “You look as though you are on the verge of crumbling. I have never seen you so white, so miserable. It is obvious you need us, and yet you turn us away to speak with a Beast of her Grace?”

Gael shook his head slowly back and forth. “I cannot explain right now, Matti. Suffice to say I have been betrayed, and the betrayal could not run deeper than it has. Please, just go.”

Looking as though she’d been slapped, Matti nevertheless curtsied low before walking slowly from the room.

Having to hurt one of his Beasts so just made everything worse; it was more than he could take, but he had to endure or he’d never find Noire. That was all that mattered now. He didn’t care about the Ceremony. Nothing mattered but finding Noire.

Picking up a knife, Gael sliced open the wax seal and unfolded the paper. He hissed in shock, outrage.

If you wish for your lover to live, make certain that this time the Ceremony goes as it should. Choose correctly. Should you fail to do so, he will die.

Destroy the journal. Do not search for him.

Gael let his head fall to thump hard against the back of his high chair, eyes falling shut as he fought despair. How could anyone know about the journal? Even Noire did not know of it, though a thousand times he had wanted to share it. That journal was to hopefully prevent the tragedy from occurring next time, if they could not prevent it this time.

Though it would seem he had no choice but to make certain all went as it should. If he didn’t…

The note was taken gently from his fingers, and Gael said nothing as Ailill and Ivan read it. Slowly he forced his eyes back open. “You are a Firelander.”

Ivan nodded. “Yes.”

“They say the Firebird has returned to your land, and something in me knows it’s true. Were you happy to learn of his return?”

Ivan shared an enigmatic look with Ailill, then turned back to him. “Yes and no. It is true that something…changed when the Sacred Firebird returned. All of Pozhar feels…better, I guess, for his presence. However…to bring the Sacred Firebird back to life required killing a thousand people, over the course of as many years. Two of those people were my friends, and while one is still alive, he is not quite as he used to be.” Ivan smiled faintly. “For Raz is now Zhar Ptitka, and that makes it hard to simply be a thief.”

Gael dredged up a faint smile. “So you know the newly ascended Firebird. How interesting. A thief, you say? Now a god…” He shook his head and stared at the cravat pin in his palm, the end stained with blood where it had pierced his skin. “Pozhar was always unique amongst the four countries, in that it tried to defy its god. The rest of us live quite close to our gods, or what is left of them. The rulers of Kundou even now rule by right of the power bestowed by the Storm Dragons. All of Piedre loved and feared the Basilisk Princes, and even now slowly begin again to worship a god the rest of the world fears…here in Verde, from the moment our Forms were discovered, and Etain her wings, we have been regarded as would-be gods, meant someday to ascend to power and immortality to forever guard the children of Verde.”

Slowly he shook his head back and forth, then stared again at the pin in his hand. “Yet what is the point of doing such a thing, of becoming a god, if you do it only because you are forced? I have been told since I was child that I would either become a god or die at the hand of one of my closest friends…and now I am being told that if I do not become a god, my heart and soul will die.

“I have never truly minded the burdens laid upon me…perhaps it is proof I am a true Guardian Prospective… The duty of protecting and caring for Verde fell upon my shoulders too young, I think, but I was always willing to bear the weight.” He smiled faintly. “Even on those days when no one dares come close to me for fear of a tongue-lashing.” Except Noire, who had dared right from the very first moment, sneaking into the Unicorn Spring simply to get a closer look. “I have always been more than willing to take up the last and greatest burden…but I do not want to do so because I have no choice whatsoever. That is not the reason anyone should become a god.”

Paper crinkled as Ailill held up the note. “It says not to search for him, but…kidnapping him was actually rather foolish – Freddie will notice shortly, if she hasn’t already, that her messenger is missing. She loves him dearly, like a little brother. She will notice his sword is gone, and the footmen will be made to tell her what they saw and heard. I, of course, will have to confess to what I know.”

“Keep our affair out of it,” Gael said. “I do not know who is responsible, but I do not think matters will be helped by spilling the secret to the entire country, which is what will happen. I do not care what other measures you take. Should you need, you have free access to everyone and everything residing in the East, by order of the Grand Duke of Levant, Guardian Prospective and Protectorate of the East. Do whatever is necessary to find Noire.”

Ailill nodded. “As you command, your Grace.” Bowing low, the two men turned and departed.

Leaving Gael far too alone with his thoughts.

Who would do this? It had to be a Beast, surely. No one else would be close enough to him to learn all the things they must have to learn such secret things like the ribbon and the journal. His sisters?

Surely not. Freddie would not care, and Etain…Etain loved them both, and kept them close. It was true he did not want to tell his sisters he loved someone else, but he did not believe for a second that either one would be this cruel. Neither had ever shied away from a confrontation.

No, someone else was responsible for this. Someone who cared very much about the Ceremony. Everything came back to the Ceremony. Why? What could his relationship with Noire possibly have to do with the Ceremony?

Nothing. Which just made everything more frustrating. Gael wrapped his hand around the cravat pin again, then brought the fist to his lips, closing his eyes as he fought despair, struggled to cling to reason. He was always reserved. Remote. The stern Unicorn. He would not lose that cool now.

Outside in the hallway, Gael could feel the hurt, angry presence of his Beasts. Sighing softly, he compelled them to enter. “Beasts.”

“You do not trust us,” Rodrigue, the White Lion, said stiffly. From the set of his broad shoulders, it was clear he was sliding into what the others called one of his ‘snits’ – once fully immersed in it, he would not speak to anyone for days unless it was absolutely necessary. “You’ll trust the Panther, but not us.”

Gael wondered if it was possible to feel any more weary than he did at this precise moment. “I trust the White Panther because I have little choice. He is the only one at present who can help.” He held up a hand to forestay the comments he could see the Beasts wanting to make. “I will say this much, as the guilty party could very well be standing in front of me,” the words cut like a knife, and it twisted at the expressions on their faces. Was one of them lying? Please, please let him pay someday for being unwilling to trust them rather than being proven right. “Someone has betrayed me, and stolen something important. It could only have been done by someone who was close to me, who knew me well, someone who had access to places precious few can go.” He shook his head sadly and looked at each of them in turn. “I am sorry.”

Matilda returned the sad expression. “So are we, your Grace. That you cannot trust us, that you may have good reason not to trust us. We thought, for all our bickering and sniping, that we were a team…a family. Now it would seem that perhaps we are not.”

“I hope I am wrong,” Gael said softly. “If I am, I will beg your forgiveness for a thousand lifetimes.”

“No,” Seraphin said. “In your position, we could do naught but the same. As you said, your Grace – let us hope that you are wrong.”

Gael nodded, and quietly the Beasts left.

The remains of the pleasant breakfast they’d been having seemed to mock him. How stupid of him to think there could be a calm, a period of genuine, simple happiness. The very moment he’d let his guard down, the very second he’d been stupid enough to relax – his world fell to pieces at his feet.

Nine days.

All he had to do was make it through nine days…and a Ceremony that for a thousand years had only ever ended in tragedy. The weight of it was oppressive, threatening to drown him in his own thoughts and worries.

He had no one to turn to except a Beast he barely knew and the dark Pozharian who was with him. Nothing to do except throw his journal into the fireplace and wait in agony until the day when he would either succeed or fail.

The worst of it was that he couldn’t truly trust anyone. It was like a poison he could not purify, dark and bitter, killing him slowly, second by hideous second. Who would be this cruel? Not only to take Noire, but to poison his Palace, his world, with distrust. Such a thing took a lifetime to build, and only a moment to destroy.

When he found the bastard responsible, Gael would make them pay. There was nothing more to it than that. No one was permitted to so harm the children of Verde.

Except so much of the fault must lie with him…if only he’d maintained a distance that first night… If he’d behaved as a Grand Duke should, and not as Gael wanted, Noire would not have lived the past few years in danger. Hiding.

Could he have, though? Gael closed his eyes and remembered – his first seeing the panther, then the beautiful man behind the panther…that first beautiful, breath-taking smile. Nothing had ever been sweeter than the first taste of him, nothing more satisfying than knowing Noire was his and would never be anyone else’s.

No, then. He could not have simply turned and walked away, acting as though everything was normal, fighting off his instinctive need for Noire. Life would have been a thousand times worse if they’d both spent all these years fighting it.

Besides, a part of him whispered, cutting deeper than Gael thought he could bear. If the Ceremony fails, the past years are all you will ever have.


Chapter Twelve


When they finally reached his manor, Ailill was anything but surprised to find six men ready and waiting – and looking as they had when he’d first met them.

Since leaving Pozhar, they’d relaxed. Oh, there were still fights and threats and all since they’d been helping Ailill find jewels with which no one wanted to part. It was still a far cry, however, from the days when they’d stolen, kidnapped, threatened and otherwise earned their mercenary pay.

It was easy to forget, even for him occasionally, that these men were mercenaries. They made their living doing the dirty work no one else wanted to do, the seedy jobs that the wealthy were more than happy to pay to have done.

Ivan and his men were not the usual breed of mercenary, but they were still mercs, a fact which was now impossible to ignore. Gone were the nice clothes Ailill’s servants had been slowly forcing them to get used to. Gone was the jovial, laid-back manner they preferred.

In place of the gentlemen they’d laughingly been pretending to be were the mercenaries they truly were; simple, effective clothing, all of it covered by light leather armor – not the kind so many spoiled sons wore when fencing or hunting. No, this was the real thing, fit to the man, stitched and repaired often, treated to survive inclement weather.

The weapons were especially dizzying. All they’d worn of late was a sword or knife, and those only because for these men to be completely weaponless was akin to being naked. Now, though…there were blades everywhere. Isidor and Ferapont had their bows out as well. Maksim looked ready to crush skulls, and quick Gleb no one would see until the knife was in their stomach or slashing their throat.

Silently Luka stepped forward and handed Ivan his things – a heavy sword belt to be wrapped twice around his hips, all manner of knives vanishing from sight, pouches for his belt that held various supplies.

Ailill quietly accepted his own sword when Karp held it out to him and strapped it into place. He looked out over Ivan’s men, nodding quietly in thanks, then all seven of them turned to Ivan.

“The best place to start, for now, is the inn where he was taken. Didn’t see much when we went, and the innkeeper wasn’t very forthcoming. We didn’t have time to change his mind last night – today we will.” His steel blue eyes flashed, and the statement was met with grunts and exchanged glances amongst his men. “The place we’re going is called ‘The Dancing Vine’.”

As one, Maksim, Gleb, and Ferapont snorted.

Ivan looked at them.

“Boss, that place is scary even for us.” Ferapont shook his head. “Serious. We rooted out a nasty little sneak-thief there a couple of weeks ago. I swear, looking at that place I felt like the world’s most law-abiding citizen.”

Ailill grimaced in agreement. “I do not know the inn, it took me precious minutes to find it last night, but I know the area. As hard as we Beasts work to keep out such elements…there is no such thing as a perfect city. We are grateful to have confined it to certain parts.”

“So we need to keep especially alert,” Ivan said. “Let’s also not forget this is a kidnapping…time is of the essence.” Around him the men looked especially grim.

“Is there something about this that I’m missing?” Ailill said. “I’m not naïve enough to think Noire will be left unharmed, but if the Ceremony goes accordingly…”

Ivan shook his head. “We’ve done kidnappings. We don’t like them, but they pay well because no one likes such tricky work. The reason they’re tricky….well, the victim is usually held for a few days at least. That means plenty of time to learn the identities of the kidnappers. In most cases, the easiest and most effective course of action is to kill the victim after the money is obtained. No witnesses to mark the kidnappers. No way to trace them. No way to find out who was behind it.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised…I just don’t like to think of Noire…he’d never hurt anyone if he didn’t absolutely have to.” Ailill shook his head. “So we have to find him before the Ceremony takes place.”

“Yes,” Ivan said. “As I was saying, time is of the essence. That means we’re not playing nice. I want information and I want it now. We start with the Dancing Vine, see where that leads us. If that dead ends, we start knocking noble heads.” He looked at Ailill. “I apologize now, lover, if what we do causes you problems.”

Ailill shrugged. “I do not care what my peers think. All that matters right now is Noire. Let’s get to the Dancing Vine.”

Ivan nodded and turned to lead the way from the manor. As they reached the street, Ivan’s men abruptly took different directions, breaking up into twos and darting away down alleyways and side streets. An action that had surprised Ailill the first time they’d done it, until he’d stupidly realized that of course a group of eight men, all rather threatening-looking, would be a tad conspicuous.

“They know where to find the inn?”

“Ferapont, Gleb, and Maksim do – each one went with one who doesn’t,” Ivan explained.

“Of course,” Ailill replied. “I had not realized my return home would contain such excitement.” He made a face. “I wish it did not.”

Ivan shrugged. “This is what we do, so it is not as big a problem as it would have otherwise been, right?”

Ailill smiled and stopped them just long enough to steal a quick kiss. “That is very true. Everyone says you ominous types should be avoided at all costs. I am glad everyone else avoided you.”

“So am I,” Ivan said, the hardness in his eyes easing slightly as he looked fondly at Ailill. “You were most certainly worth waiting for, my fine Marquis.”

“Even if I am a Marquis?” Ailill asked, but the question was a light one. His worries were fading, not least of all because Ivan and his men had insinuated themselves so quickly and easily into his life in Verde.

Ivan grinned. “Even when you wear all that white. I will confess that as good as you look, I like you better this way.”

“Me too,” Ailill said. “When we find Noire, I will have to thank him for giving me a good excuse to wear colors other than white.” Since the very last thing Ivan’s men would need was for everyone to know the White Panther traveled with them. His quiet compulsions would even come in handy, though he hated he had to use them in such a foul manner. The ability to compel, to will the citizens of Verde to do or not do certain things, was the most powerful magic granted to the Beasts by their Queen.

Meant to force calm when panic ensued, obedience when lives depended upon it…these were the reasons for which the power to compel was bestowed. Far too easy to abuse…yet Ailill had never heard of a Beast who so abused his powers. Even the most obnoxious of the Beasts would kill in an instant anyone who threatened the people under his protection. It was…instinctive. Part of what made them Beasts. Ailill loathed and despised the frippery that came along with his position, but he would do anything to protect the people of Verde.

That he would have to compel people to force their secrets from them left a foul taste in his mouth, but it was a darker aspect of what his powers were meant to do.

Still, he would see if Ivan’s methods worked first. Those were usually more amusing, in a grim sort of way. Especially since Ivan had told his men to do whatever it took…yes, that would be interesting. More than a few arguments in Kundou and Piedre had been settled by the gift Raz had bestowed upon the mercenaries. Luka especially had a talent for it.

They traveled in silence the rest of the way, and Ailill felt what little good mood he’d dredged up vanish as the Dancing Vine came into view. As they reached it, four of Ivan’s men were already there and the last two appeared on either side of them as they stopped.

“The only one who saw Noire was the innkeeper,” Ivan said, eyes flicking to the window. “That’s him now.”

Ferapont took a glance of his own. “He transforms – shifts – into a raccoon. I saw him do it once to hide from a couple of thugs that I’d want to hide from.”

Ivan grunted. “Make him talk.”

Without a word Ivan’s men went inside, moving almost as one, meshing together perfectly rather than stumbling and knocking into each other as so many groups would. Inside, they spread out around the lobby, blocking escape routes and giving each other room to move around in the confined quarters. Ivan hovered by the main door, and Ailill stayed close but not so close he would get in the way if Ivan needed to draw his sword.

The innkeeper looked at them.

“We need to have another discussion about last night,” Ivan said. “I want to know every last little detail you can recall.”

“I told you that I have nothing to say.”

In a flash of movement, Luka reached over the counter and yanked the slightly-larger man over it. The man landed awkwardly, so that his back rested on the floor but his legs were up in the air against the counter. “Wrong answer,” Luka replied. “Let’s try again. A man came in here last night. Dark hair, dark clothes—”

“They all look like that,” the innkeeper interrupted with a sneer.

Luka grabbed his hair and yanked hard, then slammed his head against the floor. “Don’t speak until you’ve got something useful to say. Fire and ash you smell. What do you do, bathe in rum?”

The man spat at him and started struggling.

Luka rolled his eyes and wiped his face. “Scorching idiots. They’re all the same. Maksim.” He let the man go and backed away.

Immediately the man shifted.

“None of that,” Luka said and held out one hand. His eyes flashed dark orange for a single instant – and suddenly the fleeing raccoon was on fire, a scream filling the inn as he panicked.

A split-second later the innkeeper lay on the floor, scrambling in panic to put out flames that were no longer there, Luka’s hand balled into a fist as he put out the summoned flames. “Try it again,” he said, “and I’ll just let you burn. Understand? Now – Maksim.”

Maksim moved forward, seeming to fill half the room all on his own, and lifted the innkeeper up by his feet. The man dangled with his arms a good three inches from the floor.

“Shall we try this again?” Luka asked, every inch Ivan’s implacable, efficient right hand. “Boss wants to know what happened last night. Tell us.”

“Boss?” the innkeeper snorted. “All I see is a dirty little shadow who lets everyone else do all the work.”

“Scorching idiot you. Fire and ash, I do not know how such stupid people live so long.” Luka stepped forward and swung his fist hard into the man’s stomach. “A good boss observes and makes suggestions. Trusts his men, yeah? Now talk, because I’m getting tired of you being stupid.”

The innkeeper tried to glare, but with his face red from being held upside down, and in obvious pain from being punched in the stomach, he finally gave up. “I was paid well to keep my mouth shut.”

“Maksim.”

Obeying the silent command, Maksim let go of the innkeeper, who hit the ground hard and fumbled for a minute before he managed to get himself standing upright.

“Gleb, get the man a chair.”

“Sure,” Gleb said cheerfully, but his smile was full of teeth as he kicked a chair toward the center of the room.

Luka shoved the innkeeper into it. “Tell us anyway and maybe we won’t see you locked up for the rest of your life.”

“For what!” The innkeeper bellowed, storming to his feet – oofing hard as Karp kicked at his knees and sent him crashing back down so hard he nearly fell from the chair to the floor.

Luka yanked his head up. “We are the ones asking the questions, not you. I’m running out of patience. Tell us where he is or you will have to learn what I do when I get impatient.”

“You have your money,” Isidor said from where he leaned with deceptive casualness against the wall next to the stairs. “I doubt loyalty has ever been a trait of yours. So talk.”

The man’s expression shifted. “Money talks.”

Suddenly his throat was yanked back, a cool blade pressed to it. “Living, I bet, talks a lot louder,” Gleb said.

“Fine,” the man said hoarsely.

Ailill wondered absently just what he put up with every day that he’d resisted so long. He’d seen Luka alone convince three men talking would be a very good thing for them to do.

“I don’t know who either of them were. The first was all wrapped up, couldn’t make out nothing. Just that faint voice, more money than I’ve ever seen anyone flash around here. He said he wanted a room and not to be disturbed no matter what I might see or hear.” He shook his head. “Didn’t like them words none, but I liked the gold.”

Gold. Few people were able to just hand over gold with the stipulation ‘leave me alone’.

“He told me he’d have a friend coming, that he’d mention it, and that I should give him a key.” He shrugged. “I said fine. A few hours later, just as I was thinking I’d like to go find my bed finally, a gent showed up. Handsome fella, sorta had a gloomy air about him. Said he was meeting someone, I gave him a key. ‘Bought a half-hour later, the first one came out and strode past without a word. Never saw the second fella again. When I checked the room this morning, it was empty. Nothing had been touched. It looked like it hadn’t been used at all, ‘cept for the lamp was burnt down.”

“See?” Luka said. “That wasn’t so hard. Now, let’s have some details. The first one. Describe everything you can remember.”

“I told you, I couldn’t see-”

“Now, now,” Luka cut in. “Just tell us every little thing you can recall. The dumbest detail. Smell like anything? Remind you of anything? Good fabric to that cloak? How did he move?”

The innkeeper looked at him like he was crazy. “What are you talking about? I told you, I didn’t notice a thing!”

Luka smiled in a way that made the innkeeper blanch. “Oh, I think you might remember more than you realize. Ferapont?”

Ferapont moved forward from where he’d blocked the hallway to the dining room, Maksim immediately moving to fill the empty space. Steel glinted in a stray beam of sunlight as he drew his knife.



“So not much has been learned,” Isidor said glumly.

Ivan shook his head. “More than I had anticipated. What do we surmise?”

“I…” Luka frowned in though. “The innkeeper was not terribly reliable, I would say. I would be astonished to learn he spends any part of his day sober. Still…confident. Arrogant.”

“Stupid,” Ferapont said, spinning his long, thin knife in his fingers before it seemed to vanish from sight. “If you’re going to kidnap someone, you keep it low key. The thing to do would have been to snatch him from his room – simple knockout powder and off you go. Even a cat would have trouble with that.”

“Scare tactics,” Isidor said, stretching. “It’s a lot more intimidating to realize you’ve been had in such a dramatic fashion. Drives it home, yeah? Remember when we snitched that dumb kid right from his birthday ball?”

Nods and murmurs, a few chuckles, answered his question.

Isidor nodded. “Parents scorched the money right over – it upset them more we did it so blatantly than if we’d snuck off with him in the middle of the night. Same thing here. He wants to drive it home.”

“She,” Maksim said. “I will bet you a year’s pay the kidnapper is a woman.”

The men laughed. “No way!” Gleb said. “Noire could probably take most of us in a fight – there’s no way a woman would scorch him.”

Luka snorted. “Remind me to share that opinion with Shio the next time I see her.”

Gleb grimaced. “They are entirely different and you know it. How many women have you met – and I’ve been slugged by enough of them, thank you – who could get the jump on Noire? Especially under the circumstances. Fire and ash, think about it. I don’t think many men would have been able to take him.”

Ferapont snorted. “Ha! Clearly the right you took from that Piedren woman wiped the incident from your mind. She could take the bear with her eyes closed. I still wonder if she could have taken the boss.”

Ivan laughed. “Hopefully, I will never have to find out. So what makes you think it was a woman, Maksim?”

Maksim shrugged. “We know the figure was slight. Voice was indistinct – could have been any age or station. Cloaked. Basically there was nothing distinguishable about the figure. Now, if I were scorching around that area at those hours, I would—”

“Have no trouble at all,” Karp cut in dryly, causing another wave of laughter. “Your point stands. Any one of us walked around there, we wouldn’t be looking that indistinct. Less likely to be bothered looking as we are.”

“Exactly,” Maksim said. “The only one who would be better off looking that way is a woman.”

“So why not an animal?” Gleb asked. “A Form.”

Ailill answered that one. “People remember forms. Nothing would have marked him – or her – faster than a form. Even the most drunk person will often remember any Forms he saw, because to see the wrong Form in the wrong area…feuds have started, and more deaths than Verde likes to admit have resulted. ”

“So a woman, looking to remain anonymous, leaves a note for Noire – though that could have been done by a paid goon – then goes all the way to the inn to kidnap him?” Ferapont shook his head. “She should have just taken him from his room.”

“Taken the Grand Duchess’s messenger right from his room?” Ivan frowned. “I would have. So far as scare tactics go, and striking at arrogance…that would have been the way to do it. However, if I wanted to make certain that nothing went awry…I would have made certain he was well away from the palace before I took him.”

Karp rubbed his chin. “Perhaps the point was Noire. Obviously all her tactics got to him. If he’s holed up somewhere…I’d bet he’s pretty shaken. ”

Ailill shrugged. “All this hardly matters. Whatever her reasons, she has accomplished it. After she left the inn, we have no idea where either of them went. There was no fight, not even any noise. Where did he go? If there had been two people beneath one cloak…”

“Even that scorching drunk would have noticed such a thing,” Luka said. “Though I could always go back and ask.” He flashed a toothy grin.

Ivan chuckled and shook his head. “I do not think they will permit any of us near that part of town for some time. Especially you, Luka.”

Luka shrugged. “You said no time to waste.”

“It was not a reprimand.”

“Thanks, boss. So where to next?”

Ivan stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “I think we will have to start knocking noble heads. We have permission from both east and west, so let us start with the Silver Palace. Is there anyone that hated Noire enough to help with such a thing? To hand over information? Consciously or stupidly?”

Ailill shook his head. “There are plenty that resent a peasant taking such an important position, but that is nothing personal. They were content to snub him.” He smiled briefly. “The White Ram, obviously. Perhaps the Wolf. Though they both probably hate you more, Vanya.”

“That idiot Ram should learn how to watch his mouth, if he is not willing to be hit for it,” Ivan said with a contemptuous snort. “Or he should learn how to take a hit.”

His men rippled with laughter. “Boss,” Luka said. “I know people in Pozhar that are still recovering from your punches. You do just fine with your sword, but it is that fist everyone fears from you.” He rubbed his jaw ruefully. “As, unfortunately, we know too well.”

“You did not get it twice,” Gleb said.

“It is not our fault you are stupid, Gleb,” Isidor countered. “I always surmised you like the pain.”

Gleb laughed. “No, no. I was just stupid.”

The group slowed as they reached a crossroads, oblivious to the looks they received from the people making a wide berth around them. In the middle of the colorful gowns and jackets, their black and brown leathers, the glint of their weapons, were stark and threatening. No one dared to point out they did not belong.

“So where do you want to start, boss?” Luka asked.

Ivan tilted his head in thought. “Let’s go speak with that scorching Ram. I don’t think he did it, too much mouth and not enough muscle on that scorching idiot. It’s the mouth I want, though.”

“Should I be jealous?” Ailill asked, smirking. “Is my mouth not good enough anymore?”

Around them the men howled, and Ivan looked briefly embarrassed before he recovered, narrowing his eyes at Ailill. “Your mouth is getting you in trouble and distracting me. Perhaps I haven’t been putting it to enough use.”

Ailill’s jaw dropped at the comment, and Ivan’s men laughed harder and louder than ever, drawing more stares than ever before. He grinned and stepped closer. “Perhaps you haven’t.”

“Later, lover,” Ivan murmured, but didn’t protest the quick kiss Ailill stole. “Stop distracting me.” He turned to his men, glaring them until the laughter quieted. “Let’s go visit the White Ram. We will terrorize him, and he will spread word to everyone else of what we are doing and how. Hopefully it will scare someone out of hiding. That is why I want his mouth.”

Comments

[emthornhill.livejournal.com]

Awesome! Excellent way to start Monday's!

delicious

[(Anonymous)]

I wonder if Freddie broke up with her girl for the same ominous feelings. Thanks for the hard work, I can't wait for more ^^

[chris-king-2005.livejournal.com]

*fangirling madly*

Damn, you're good!

*sighs happily*

What a lovely cap to my evening! I'm just loving this tale.

[unusualmusic.livejournal.com]

For some reason, this chapter got this song stuck in my head: "Bad boys, bad boys, what you gonna do, what you gonna do when they come for you?" I suppose you would chnage the "boy" part to "queen" in this case.

[(Anonymous)]

The Queen may die before the Ceremony if this continues...Excellent!

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

Dear Etain,
You know what you've done, haven't you? You've got yourself a hole. It's not even a nice hole, the kind that would lead to hawt buttsex. It's the bad kind of hole where you fall in and people shovel horse manure over you. Some like to call it a cesspit. Other's like to call a manure pit. I like to call my country. But we're not here to talk about my patriotic issues. we're here to talk about your hole. Yeah, it's not the good kind.

...that is all.

[mechante-fille.livejournal.com]

A great way to start Mondays, indeed! Poor Gael... you wrote his pain and stuff so convincingly. I ache for him. But, hey, having mercs around is coming in handy! I hope they get to the bottom of things soon...

^_^

[aetheraestus.livejournal.com]

"It's not even a nice hole, the kind that would lead to hawt buttsex. It's the bad kind of hole where you fall in and people shovel horse manure over you."



...my life has just been made XD

[twilight-angel.livejournal.com]

<3!

*runs to class, almost on time*

[aetheraestus.livejournal.com]

As always, Gael and Noire are gut-wrenching, angsty, make-my-heart-hurt *love*. T_T Poor Gael, I thought I was going to cry. Wait, wait...I did. I need more. Moooooooooooooore, I tell you!

*whines* Is it next Monday yet???

[chrysan.livejournal.com]

Tension! Tension! Tension! Oooohhh....The SUSPENSE!

And Luka was very cool with his Fira~~XDXDXD

Poor Gael. Poor Noire.

It seems that the White Beasts of Verde aren't very united nor dedicated to their duties...and with an enigmatic queen like that, how can the Ceremony succeed?

[macteague.livejournal.com]

Poor Gael!! :(

But Ailill and Ivan and the rest were very impressive going on the hunt. I hope they find Noire soon!!

(Looking forward to next Monday's installment :) )

[unusualmusic.livejournal.com]

You seem to be on a roll here. First unholy man sex, now snide remarks at the Queen of the Fairies. Seriously, please continue with the blasphemy. It leads a a great deal of smirking.

[didarina.livejournal.com]

Gael is smex when he's angsting over Noire.

And even though there was no Noire in this chapter, love Noire even more.


x

[rotewolken.livejournal.com]

I love those mercs. <3 They are the best friggin mercs ever.

At first I felt really sad and worried because of Gael. Now with Ivan and his men searching, the end of the chapter left me feeling incredibly optimistic and... cocky. Because that's what those boys are, they're a bunch of cocky bastards but they can back up every damn threat they make.

*fangirls* Gah! I love them.

[miikarin.livejournal.com]

the exchanges between Ivan and his men are always a joy to read.

Poor Noire. *snuggles*

[alice_montrose]

I'm really, really glad to see Gael angry for once. The poor thing has been controling his emotions for far too long, but it was a given he'd finally explode if anyone hurt his kitten Noire.

I have the feeling Etain has really messed up with the wrong people. After all, Ailill, Ivan & co. have already dealt with one god and came out of it unscathed... that spells experience when handling perspective god candidates. And I have no doubt Gael will do his best to help. Verenne would probably help. XD

[marasmine.livejournal.com]

I am officially spoiled rotten! What a wonderful weekend this has been! And Poison to finish with! (Er - that doesn't sound quite right but never mind.) Poor Gael, just got his beasts to behave and now it is all ruined. Has anyone told Freddie that her messenger is missing yet? There are so many reasons for the ceremony to go the wrong way, I don't suppose 'because I want it to go right' is a good enough reason to make it work? Thank you for these wonderful chapters.

[sporkess.livejournal.com]

Impressive. Dark and intimidating, and yet rather amusing. I pity poor Gael when he realises who was behind it, and I still want to know that Verenne's okay.

I can't wait for next week. I'd be more verbose with my praise, but I'm already in trouble for being up this late, and probably shouldn't make it any worse.

[charisstoma.livejournal.com]

In pain here. Want to save the Noire but am wondering, if he is safe and known safe and its not known til after the ceremony who did it if they'll all survive. Really want them all to live and the Queen to fry. Wings should go up in flames so very nicely.

[rappleart3.livejournal.com]

omg. my roomate is sleeping and i read ur comment, not a good combination. i nearly blew a lung out trying not to laugh.
on another note tho, love the chapters, i feel so sorry for gael as well as the beasts. they want so much for gael to trust them, but he cant. poor poor beasts of verde.

[unusualmusic.livejournal.com]

Half the fun of reading these stories are the comments. I love the one that advocates frying the Queen. As for the one about experience with perspective god candidates...(dies laughing)

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

For a devoted catholic (well, devoted-ish) I seem to be very good at blasphemy. Maybe, just maybe it's a God given talent.
You know when god handed talents out of his bag of tricks? I got 'smartass-ness'.

[stardance.livejournal.com]

There would have been better times today to think "Gee, doesn't Poison get updated on Mondays?" But I am not complaining XDD Better get back to work, tho. Keep up the awesomeness (I am glad Ivan, his men, and Allil get to solve another mystery)

[wobblygoblin.livejournal.com]

D: D: D:

I think my internet face is stuck like this! D: