Налини Сингх – Lord of the Abyss (страница 5)

“Thank you, they look very comfortable.” The leggings fit well enough but the tunic was baggy, so she was grateful for the thin rope Jissa found for her to use as a belt. “Do you have a comb I could—Thank you.” Brushing it through the knotted mat of her hair, she pulled the whole mass severely off her face and tied it using a smaller piece of rope. She didn’t look in the mirror. She had no wish to see the face “that would frighten even a ghoul into returning to its den.”

“Can you truly cook?” Jissa asked as they made their way back to the kitchen.

“Yes. I spent many hours in the kitchens of the castle where I grew up.” In spite of his cadaverous frame, the Blood Sorcerer liked to eat, and so he didn’t brutalize the cook. As a result, the man had been the only one of the castle’s servants unafraid to offer a little kindness to the child who clung to the shadows so as not to attract her father’s attention.

“What raw ingredients do you have?” she asked Jissa, shaking off the memories. That child was long gone, her innocence shattered into innumerable shards. The woman she’d become would let nothing stop her—not even the monster who was the lord of this place.

“Oh, many things.” Moving to the bench where she’d been working, the brownie waved a hand and the mostly empty surface was suddenly overflowing with plump red and orange peppers, carrots, cabbages, ripe fruits of every description, a basket full of dark green leaves that would taste nutty when cooked, and more.

Liliana picked up a pepper with a wondering hand. “Where does this come from?”

“The village,” Jissa said in a matter-of-fact tone that was already familiar.

“There is a village in this realm?” She’d always assumed the Abyss was a baleful place devoid of all life—but that didn’t explain the servants she’d seen.

“Of course.” Jissa gave her a look that suggested Liliana was being very dim. “We are the doorway to the Abyss. The doorway only.”

“Yes, I see.” The Black Castle was still part of the living world. “Is the village close?”

A shake of her head that sent Jissa’s braid swinging.

“You must pass through the gates of the Black Castle, and then you must walk through the forest to the settlement. Dark, whispery forest. Whisper, whisper. But not bad.” An intent look, as if she wanted to make certain Liliana understood.

She continued at Liliana’s nod. “I walk quick and fast with Bard when we need supplies, and buy from the merchants using the lord’s gold. This and that and this, too.” A sudden dipping of her head that hid her expression, but her words were pragmatic enough. “Bard carries everything back for me. Always he carries.”

“He has gold?” The furnishings Liliana had seen were functional, but aside from a few grim tapestries, there was nothing of beauty, nothing to speak of wealth. All was black and hard and cold.

“It is the Law of the Abyss, first law, always law.” Jissa began to stack the vegetables to the side to clear part of the bench. “Do you not know?” She answered her own question without waiting for a response. “Evil gold and evil treasure comes to the Black Castle with the condemned.” A baring of those sharp, pointed teeth. “Only if an innocent, an innocent, you see, would be harmed by the taking, only then it does not.”

Liliana thought of her father’s coffers, knew this law was yet another reason he sought to live forever, though they, too, were part of a race that lived centuries. He had taken her into his vault after bleeding poor Bitty to nothingness. Gold in innumerable piles, jewels twinkling from necklaces still stained with their last wearer’s lifeblood, rings on skeletal fingers, it had been a glimmering nightmare.

“This,” her father had said, his arms spread wide, “this is what you could have if you aren’t weak.” Picking up a necklace of tear-shaped diamonds splattered with flecks of brown, he’d placed it around her neck. “Feel it, feel the blood.”

She had felt it. And it had made her choke on her own vomit. Her father had backhanded her so hard for her “weakness” she’d ended up resting on a mountain of gold coins. When he’d wrenched off the necklace, he’d made her bleed. She carried the scar on her neck to this day—it was a constant reminder of the vow she’d made as a defenseless child. Never would she be like him, no matter what he did to her.

And he had done things he didn’t do even to his enemies.

“Dungeon you’ll go to if you don’t cook.”

Snapping back to the present, Liliana nodded and chose an assortment of fruit vibrant with color and fragrance. “Will you chop these, Jissa?”

The brownie picked up a knife as Liliana hunted out the flour, butter and milk, and began to roll out a pastry on one corner of the massive bench. “The village,” she said as they worked, “do you live there?” It would make sense if Jissa did—the Black Castle was a gloomy place full of watchful ghosts and shimmering darkness.

“I cannot.” Jissa’s sadness lingered in the air, settled on Liliana’s skin, permeated her very bones. “I tried when I first came, and I … died, was all dead, after two days. The lord brought me back here and I lived again.”

Liliana’s heart caught, for she understood now. No matter her memories, Jissa hadn’t survived the massacre in her village. The Blood Sorcerer had a spell he called Slumber. Such an innocuous name for such an evil thing. He used it on those magical creatures who were pure of blood and yet rare. Rather than murdering them when he might already be swollen with power, he broke their necks but whispered a spell at the moment of death that kept them breathing and slumbering.

Liliana had been locked in a room with her father’s victims once, but it hadn’t horrified her as he’d intended. She’d been grateful, her magic telling her the beings no longer possessed their souls. They had escaped. But not Jissa. Whatever her father had done to her, it had trapped her in this borderland between life and death. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Confusion. “You aren’t the Blood Sorcerer. No, you’re not.”

Knives in Liliana’s chest, the lies of omission choking her up.

Jissa spoke again. “There are meats in the cold box. I can—”

“No. No meat on the table.” Her own blood would be the only blood she would ever spill. Her father had delighted in forcing her to watch as he took his time torturing and mutilating creature after magical creature. It was when she was six that he’d begun to whisper spells that forced her to do the same vile acts even as she screamed and screamed and screamed.

Four more years it had taken until she’d grown strong enough to block his spells with her own. That was when he’d started to hurt the servants who dared to speak with her, to offer her any small kindness—all except the cook. So she had learned to remain silent.

“Oh.” Jissa’s brow furrowed, her sharp little teeth biting into her lower lip. “Meat, he always eats the meat,” she whispered. “Even I, bad cook I, can’t make it taste that terrible.”

“Never fear, Jissa,” Liliana said, kneading the dough with determined hands, her mind on eyes of winter-green, so very beautiful, so very deadly. “He’ll never notice the lack.”

The dinner bell rang loud and sonorous. Seated alone at the head of a massive table of polished wood so dark it was near black, the Guardian of the Abyss raised his cup and took a sip of red wine. “Where is my meal, Bard?” he asked, though he wasn’t looking forward to the food that didn’t deserve the name.

If Jissa weren’t already dead, he was sure he would have executed her long ago for attempting to starve him. Of course today it was his new prisoner who would face his wrath. He wondered if she would look him in the eye when he sentenced her to another night in the dungeon.

“I will see, my lord.” The big man turned to open the door … to reveal the prisoner, Liliana, and Jissa standing there with huge trays in their arms.

“Thank you,” Liliana said with a smile that was much too wide. “We couldn’t open the door.” And then she was walking into the great hall with that halting stride of hers, her face brutally exposed given that she’d pulled her hair back.

Again, he found himself fascinated by his strange prisoner.

Placing her tray on the table and waiting for Jissa to do the same, she whipped off the covers from the dishes and moved to serve him. “This,” she said, placing a small round tart on his plate, “is not my best work, but you didn’t give me much time, my lord. Jissa tells me the dinner bell rings early today.”

He picked up the tidbit, wondering if all her food came in so small a portion. And if her words were meant to warn him that she’d lied about her ability to cook. If she had, he would have to send her back to the dungeon. Lines furrowed his forehead. He was intrigued enough by her that he wanted her around, but he couldn’t spare her—he was the Guardian of the Abyss. Mercy was a weakness he’d never had. Though perhaps he would ask Bard to give her a blanket.

“Well, my lord? Will you not eat it or are you afraid I will poison you?” A question as tart as the miniscule bite he held in hand.

He considered punishing her for her impertinence, decided she was likely feebleminded and didn’t know any better. “The Guardian of the Abyss cannot die.”