When would be?
If the pendant somehow hid him from discovery, could it hide others too? What of the mysterious priest? What had become of Petran’s pendant? Did it lie in his grave, or had the undertakers claimed the jewelry for their own?
Petran. For a moment, the old pain flared anew. If only Martin had known that their last kiss would be Petran’s last ever. No good came from brooding over the past. Petran had been no pirate yet had paid the price for his father’s choices.
Like Martin paid the price for his own heritage.
A few people called out to him in passing; some scuttled away to avoid his notice, while others paid him no mind. Lowly guards were beneath upper-city dwellers.
He rode the mare past the temple. A familiar carriage sat out front, a familiar driver helping a familiar lady down the steps. Wait! No, not the same lady. This one appeared much older. The original woman’s mother?
As before, the driver clucked his tongue, shaking his head when the lady made her way into the temple. She stumbled on the stairs, prompting a novice to catch her by the elbow.
“Good day, friend,” Martin told the driver, reining in his curiosity.
“Good day, sir,” the man replied, reclining against the carriage. Martin’s mount exchanged nickered greetings with the two horses pulling the carriage.
”Is your lady unwell?” he asked.
The driver gave a jolt, narrowing his eyes at Martin. “You can see?”
“See what?”
“How they’re sucking the vitality out of the lass.”
How they… Martin glanced toward the door where the woman had disappeared.
“Her family cannot see it, but every time she comes here, she leaves just a little… less.”
After she worshipped with a Chosen, a killer of mages.
Martin hesitated before asking, “Tell me, sir, has she any mage blood in her family?”
The man’s face purpled. “What an outrage! How dare you accuse the countess of such.” Regaining his composure, he added, “You do not strike me as a native-born; thus, I give you a warning. Do not speak of mages in this city. Any mention of magical blood among the nobility would bring ruin to their family.”
“I see no lawbreaking. This is no concern for the city guard.” Given the force of the reply, Martin took the denial as a yes.
Mage blood. Perhaps the woman had some degree of power. Not enough to put her to death for, but enough to drain from her bit by bit. Then again, maybe the Chosen dared not take the high born outright, lest the nobility rise against them.
The man gave Martin a grateful smile. Martin rode on. He peered into the gardens but saw no sign of his friend Cere. Maybe for the best, for Martin might feel compelled to voice questions best not asked.
His rounds ran long enough for Commander Enys to be safely ensconced at home with his many sisters and nieces. The sun had retired when Martin secured the horse in the stables and returned home by foot.
His lodgings lay in the in-between, close enough to his work and the high city to offer protection but close enough to the lower city for the occasional working man or woman to wander by.
He’d taken pleasure there, but not tonight, mind full of what he’d learned about the woman at the temple.
Screams ripped the quiet. Martin froze. An argument from a nearby house? Another heart-wrenching, terrified scream put his feet into motion before his mind made the decision.
He darted down an alley, chasing the sound. This far from the main road, the gaslights barely reached. A woman turned this way and that, screaming and stepping right into the claws of some hideous creature.
“Ma’am, this way!” Martin shouted.
Still, she twisted and turned, blood soaking her dress. The scent assaulted Martin’s nostrils, along with the bitter tang of fear. He thrust her behind him.
“What have we here?” her attacker asked, red staining its claws.
What, by all the gods and goddesses who’d ever lived, was that? “Leave her alone.”
