She looked like a lady, one who might accompany her lord in the keep.
The room appeared clean but had the thin stench of a spilled chamber pot overlaid with a lingering sweet odor she couldn't name. There were two others present as Lord Massing stepped in behind her. She saw their reflections in the mirror with her own and turned about.
Standing near the bed was the masked and robed eyesore called Ubad. He wore a smile on his thin lips and tucked his hands into the opposing sleeves of his charcoal robe. On the far side of the bed stood Welstiel.
She'd heard him refer to Lord Massing as Father, but Welstiel looked to be the elder of the two. Fine lines surrounded his cold eyes, and his dark hair was white at the temples. Her opinion of him was only slightly better than that of the other two. He was quiet and removed, and he seemed to disapprove of both her presence and captivity.
On a narrow stand beside Ubad was a strange vessel, not unlike a vase that she'd once seen used for cut flowers. Metallic and yellow red, perhaps made of brass, it was covered in etched symbols. A dark liquid filled it nearly to the top, though its color was unclear in the room's low light. It made her anxious when she realized that the thick, sweet scent in the room came from whatever the vessel held. She tried to back away. Lord Massing's hand flattened against her back. Magelia stepped farther into the room, away from his touch.
Welstiel looked her over, and she saw that his face looked different from before. His dark eyes were flat and emotionless like Lord Bryen's. His skin was pale.
"Is she not improved, my son?" Lord Bryen said. "I had the gown purchased in Stravina and sent all the way from its capital, Vudran, just for this night. I've seen you admire women in this color and style."
Fear began to grow in Magelia.
"What do you want from me?" she asked.
All three men ignored her.
"I have no interest in anything you ask, Father. " Welstiel said. "You might as well take her back to her room. Or better yet, release her from this lunacy."
Bryen shoved Magelia toward Welstiel. She caught herself on the nearest post of the bed. A heavy curved sword leaned by the headboard behind Welstiel, and she froze.
"You will do as I say!" Bryen ordered, and a semblance of anger surfaced in his voice. "The careful and costly steps of Master Ubad cannot be wasted. It has taken him a lifetime of preparation for this night."
His voice lowered and softened, but Magelia kept her eyes on Welstiel's face, occasionally glancing to the sword.
"You play a role far greater than you know, my son," Bryen continued. "You will sire our patron's treasured one. A Noble Dead cannot lead its own kind in what is to come, nor can a mere mortal. Something of both is needed. You will hold the esteemed position of father to a being this world has never seen, even in its forgotten days. A herald of what is to come when our patron wakes again."
Magelia's stomach twisted. She didn't understand all she heard, but one thing was clear.
"Do as Master Ubad instructs," Bryen said to his son. "Drink the collected life of the five that has been prepared for you. Then take this girl and make a child of day and night before which all the world will fall. I know this woman appears to be only a peasant, but she is from old blood, very old, and a singular vessel for this creation."
Welstiel's dull eyes widened.
"You want me to drink more blood… and make a child with… with that?" He gestured to Magelia. "No! Even when I would have done anything to please you, I wouldn't have done this. I will not touch blood again or touch this woman."
"Young lord, you do not understand-," Ubad began gently.
"Quiet!" Welstiel shouted. "You are the cause of all this, and I am sick of your poisoned tongue."
He pushed past his father, and to Magelia's surprise, he broke easily away from Bryen's grip on his shoulder.
Welstiel paused when he reached the door. "If you wish to serve that masked abomination," he spat back at Bryen. "You will have to accomplish it without me."
He slapped the door open with one hand and slammed it shut behind him.
Bryen circled around the bed to the door but stopped short, staring at it. Magelia began inching nearer to the sword.
Lord Massing and Master Ubad stood still.
"Can I take his place?" Bryen suddenly asked. "Will it still work?"
Ubad's mask made it difficult to read his reaction, but Magelia knew he was startled. His mouth dropped open briefly, as if Bryen's suggestion horrified him.
Magelia reached the far post of the bed's foot and was about to step toward the sword.
Ubad finally answered in an anxious voice. "There must be a way you can command him. He is your son."
Bryen looked at Magelia, and she froze where she stood. "Desire cannot be commanded," he said. "And we cannot fail now that we've come so far."
Ubad bowed his head until Magelia no longer saw his mask, but there was something akin to sorrow or regret in his voice.
"No, we cannot fail," he whispered. "I have heard our patron, stood before him within his dream. I spent my life at his bidding in this task… Prepare yourself."
Lord Bryen let his tunic slide off to the floor, and he removed his shirt. His chest and arms were tightly muscled but pale and hairless. There was no sign of a wound or scar where Magelia had stabbed him with the knife in her cottage. Ubad lifted the brass vase, and handed it to Bryen.
Magelia tried to make herself small and invisible. She kept one eye on Bryen and inched along the bed's far side.
"When the spirits fade, you must drink immediately," Ubad told Lord Bryen.
He began chanting in a low voice that slowly grew louder. Magelia felt a breeze pass through the room, though there was no open door or window. The bedclothes whipped up from around the mattress, and she shrank away.
Two softly glowing shapes materialized near Ubad. They grew sharper and clearer as his chanting increased. They were transparent, but Magelia saw the color of their hair and clothing. One was a lovely middle-aged woman with light brown hair. She wore a tan wool dress and crown of leaves on her head. The other was a savage-looking woman with matted black hair. She wore black armor like large reptilian scales, and when she opened her mouth to hiss at Ubad, Magelia saw elongated fangs.
Reason told her these were but ghosts, spirits of women already dead, but they looked furious and disoriented. When Ubad's chant grew to a shout, they began to scream.
Their shapes wavered, and suddenly they meshed into each other and vanished.
Ubad's chant hammered in Magelia's ears as Bryen lifted the brass vase and gulped the liquid inside. Some spilled out the corners of his mouth and ran in deep red trails down his neck to his chest.
Bryen's pallor darkened until his skin looked healthy. He drank until he seemed able to take no more, and then he dropped the vase upon the stone floor with a clang. He wavered, clenching his mouth closed as if the draft threatened to rise back up his throat.
Ubad's chant ended, and he slumped into the wall with exhaustion. "Now," he managed to say.
Bryen circled around the bed.
Magelia rushed to grasp the sword. The sheath slid away as she spun around, swinging the blade with both hands.
Bryen's glazed eyes were fixed hungrily upon her. The sword's curved tip nicked his right shoulder and dragged across his chest.
He cried out in pain and shock. Magelia stumbled under the weapon's weight, her swing pulling her toward the wall. As she tried to bring the blade up again, he stepped inside her reach and backhanded her across the face.
Magelia's vision flashed white and then black, and she felt herself falling. Something scraped along her fingers as the sword was jerked from her hand. Her returning vision jumped again as her head struck the mattress. She felt Bryen on top her, pulling apart the silk dress. His skin felt different from when he'd dragged her by the wrist from her own room. It was now warm, nearly hot. Blood from his chest wound smeared across her exposed torso.