Skin lifted his grey hands. “Close proximity, Finder. Very close. There is no immediate danger. Unless, of course, these other sorcerers take her and put her in the tomb.”
“They’d do that?”
“I simply do not know. They might only be after the artifacts. Or they might have fallen to the alarkin’s shade already, and are working to effect its release. If that is true, they will come for the banshee, Finder. And that I cannot allow.”
Footsteps sounded, shuffling and faint, behind Skin. Footsteps, and a smell.
Evis didn’t stand, but his arms moved. I assume he was readying a weapon.
“Don’t be alarmed,” said Hisvin with a dead man’s smile. “Meet another of my little family. I believe he was known as Weexil. He betrayed you to our common enemy, Finder. I thought it only fitting that you behold him, to see that justice has been done.”
Another dead man shambled down the cornrow. This one was already bloated, already drawing flies. I was glad Hisvin did not force it to speak.
In the thick stiff fingers of its black right hand, it held a dagger. I held my breath while Weexil’s corpse shuffled to my feet, dropped the dagger, and then turned and walked slowly away.
“You need not mourn him, Finder. Nor does his young lady. Did you know he planned to murder her and hide her body in these very woods, simply to avoid the dual blessings of fatherhood and matrimony?” The Corpsemaster shook his head in mock surprise. “I despair for the Regency’s future, given the youth of today.”
The dagger was small, as daggers go. The blade and the hilt were worked with symbols that danced and moved as I watched.
“And this is?”
“This is for you, Finder. The banshee is both long-lived and deceptively durable. But a single cut from this blade will prove fatal to it. It need not be a mortal wound. If blood is drawn at all, the banshee will perish.”
“With respect, sir. Perhaps it should be I who takes the weapon. I believe Mr. Markhat has developed a certain paternal affection for the banshee.”
Hisvin laughed through a dead man’s throat. The sound was not at all pleasant.
I took the dagger and stuck it down inside Toadsticker’s scabbard.
“I’ll hold on to this. No need to go cutting any throats just yet.”
“There is indeed a need, Finder. And if you were a practical man, you’d kill the creature immediately, and throw its body into the yard, and thus spare the lives of everyone you hold dear. Surely you can see the value of such a strategy.”
“If it were that simple you’d have killed her yourself.”
Hisvin shrugged. “There are reasons I myself cannot slay her. None of these reasons apply to you.”
I realized I was glaring. “I won’t kill any banshees tonight, Corpsemaster. If that’s the easy way, I’m afraid it’s not the path we’ll take.”
“As you wish. The choice is yours.”
“So. What’s next?”
“The dig at the Faery Ring has been abandoned. Even now, they are preparing to lay siege to the House, capture the banshee and use it to determine the actual location of the alarkin’s burial site. By dawn, House Werewilk will be surrounded by approximately five hundred mercenaries, a variety of heavy siege engines, and a much reduced but still considerable number of minor sorcerers in the employ of three persons of my own stature, or greater. I suspect your breakfast plans will be rudely interrupted.”
Evis spoke. “Do you know the actual location of the alarkin’s tomb, sir?”
“Naturally. I built Werewilk upon it. It seemed the best way to keep the site under careful scrutiny.”
I fought back a shiver. I’d been sleeping over the grave of a monster. Buttercup was even now dancing over its tomb.
“Does Buttercup-the banshee know that?”
“I have very little knowledge of the banshee’s abilities. But if it was drawn to the resting place of its master, it seems it would have been drawn here millennia ago, does it not?”
“Makes sense. From what I hear, she only showed up thirty years or so ago.”
Hisvin nodded. “Which coincides with the last attempt to disinter the alarkin. I suspect the banshee was brought to Rannit at that time by a sorcerer who, sadly, fell quite ill soon thereafter.”
“Bad case of a fatal head wound?”
“Indeed. The banshee escaped. I presume it has been living in the forest since then. My own attempts to capture it failed, time after time.”
Evis perked up. “Does it have access to magic of its own, perhaps?”
“It may. I simply cannot say. And I refuse to place myself in close proximity to the creature. If the alarkin is indeed alive, doing so would expose myself to it, and that has proven universally fatal to the persons who have risked it.”
“So. We hold the House. You slay the sorcerers. And when they’re puffs of smoke, we hope the army itself just shrugs and walks away, is that it?”
The dead man sighed. “You damn me with your lack of faith, Finder. While I cannot simply dismiss all our foes with a single wave of my hand, I am who I am. I shall not be vanquished easily, or quickly.”
“Glad to hear it.” There came a sound from the House-Buttercup, winding up for a good long shriek. “Sir, unless there’s anything else, we’d better get back.”
“Sounds like your banshee girlfriend is getting anxious,” said Evis. His grin, even in the dark, was toothy and wide.
Hisvin rose. We did too.
“I doubt we shall speak again until this is done,” he said. “I wish you both luck.”
Evis and I chorused the same to the Corpsemaster, and he turned and walked away.
I wiped sweat from my forehead.
“Bet you wish you’d stayed home.”
“What, and miss all the fun? Victor. Sara. You can join us now.”
Two halfdead, clad in loose black, glided out of the cornstalks on either side of us.
“You heard nothing of that,” said Evis. “Not a single word.”
Two single nods, and not a whisper of sound.
“What’s out there?”
“Five hundred men. Three catapults.”
“Sorcerers.” That from Sara. “We counted six.”
Evis pondered that. “What of escape? Is there any way to move through their lines?”
“None. The estate is encircled. The circle is closing. By dawn, they will be at the House.”
“All right. Return to Rannit. Inform the Elders. Make no mention of Hisvin.”
Silence. Evis frowned.
“Did you hear me?”
“We heard,” said Victor. “But our orders are to remain at your side.”
“Your orders are to return to Avalante this instant.”
Victor shook his head. “Only if you accompany us.”
Evis growled something at Victor in a language I don’t know. Victor replied calmly in the same tongue. The other halfdead, Sara, repeated Victor’s brief reply.
Buttercup wailed again, louder and longer, this time.
“We’re going to have to continue this fascinating debate of House dynamics inside, people,” I said. “Bad things are going to happen if Buttercup slips loose and winds up in the yard.”
Evis snarled and whirled, making for the secret door in a very unvampirish huff. I motioned for Victor and Sara to follow, and they fell behind Evis in silence.
I brought up the rear. A wind rustled the cornstalks. I thought of the two dead men still nearby, and I hurried back to Darla, Toadsticker’s hilt in my hand.
Chapter Seventeen
Mama eyed the dagger Hisvin had given me with a potent Hog scowl.
“I ain’t never seen the likes of that, boy.”
“Me neither,” added Gertriss. “It…it looks back.”
I took the thing and wrapped it in a dishrag and put it in my jacket pocket.
Buttercup smiled up at me. She’d shown no interest in or fear of the dagger. If she understood what had been said about it, she also showed no interest or fear in that.
We were seated in the kitchen. The oven had been moved back, which cut off the damp smell from the tunnels. Biscuits were cooking inside it, which made the scene almost homey, except for the knowledge that a siege and assault by sorcerers was due with the sunrise.