Blood of the Fold

"Then it be a house of evil." She stood stooped and stiff as he looked down at the coin. "What would mamma know about such an evil place?"

"Mamma be dead, Tobias, leave her be," she whispered.

He shot her a withering scowl. "We will talk about this later." He straightened his sash of rank and ordered his silver-embroidered gray coat before picking up his crimson cape. "The old woman must have meant that there be a wizard in Aydindril who was trained at this house of evil." He redirected his attention to Galtero. "Fortunately, Ettore is holding her for further questioning. That old woman has a lot more to tell us; I can feel it in my bones."

Galtero nodded. "We better be off for the Confessors' Palace, Lord General."

Brogan flung his cape over his shoulders. "We will stop to see Ettore on our way out."

A fire had been well stoked and was roaring when the three of them entered the small room to check on Ettore and his two charges. Ettore was stripped to the waist, his lean muscles coated with a sheen of sweat. Several razors gleamed from their place atop the mantle, along with an assortment of sharpened spikes. The ends of iron rods were fanned out across the hearth. Their other ends glowed orange in the flames.

The old woman cowered in the far corner, and put a protective arm around the girl, who hid her face in the brown blanket.

"Has she given you any trouble?" Brogan asked.

Ettore flashed his familiar grin. "Her arrogant attitude vanished as soon as she found out we don't suffer insolence. That be the way with banelings; they give way when faced with the Creator's might."

"The three of us have to go out for a while. The rest of the fist will remain here at the palace, in case you need assistance." Brogan glanced to the iron rods glowing in the fire. "When I get back I want her confession. I don't care about the girl, but the old woman had better still be alive and anxious to give it."

Ettore touched his fingers to his forehead as he bowed. "By the Creator, it shall be as you command, Lord General. She will confess all the crimes she has performed for the Keeper."

"Good. I have more questions, and I will have the answers."

"I'll answer no more of your questions," the old woman said.

Ettore curled his lip as he scowled over his shoulder. The old woman shrank back farther into the dark comer. "You'll break that oath before this night be over, you old hag. You'll be begging to answer questions when you see what I do to your little evil one. You get to watch her go first, so you can think about what be coming when it be your turn."

The little girl squealed and burrowed deeper into the old woman's blanket.

Lunetta stared at the pair in the corner as she slowly scratched her arm. "Do you wish me to stay and attend Ettore, Lord General? I think it be best if I did."

"No. I want you to come with me tonight," He glanced up at Galtero. "You did well, bringing me this one."

Galtero shook his head. "I never would have noticed her, had she not tried to sell me honey cakes. Something about her made me suspicious."

Brogan shrugged. "That be the way with banelings; they be drawn to the Blood of the Fold like moths to a flame. They be bold because they have faith in their evil master." He glanced again to the woman cringing in the corner. "But they all lose their spines when facing justice from the Blood of the Fold. This one will be a small trophy, but the Creator will be served by it."

CHAPTER 12

Stop it," Tobias growled. "People will think you have fleas."

On a wide street lined with majestic maple trees to each side, their bare thicket of branches laced together overhead, dignitaries and officials from different lands stepped from fancy coaches to meander the remaining distance to the Confessors' Palace. D'Haran troops stood like banks at the edge of the trickling river of arriving guests.

"I cannot help it, Lord General," Lunetta complained as she scratched. "Ever since we arrived in Aydindril my arms be itching. I have never felt it like this before."

People joining the flow stared openly at Lunetta. Her tattered rags made her stand out like a leper at a coronation. She seemed oblivious of the mocking stares. More likely, she thought them looks of admiration. She had, on any number of occasions, begged off donning any of the fine dresses Tobias offered her, saying that none were the match of her pretties. Since they seemed to keep her mind occupied, and off the Keeper's taint, he never went so far as to insist she wear something else, and besides, he thought it blasphemy to make one touched by evil look appealing.