The Vampire & Her Witch

Chapter 1571: Leverage (Part Three)

Every head at the High Table turned. Lady Ragna was known for her tenacity, and she’d won a certain amount of grudging respect from the Lothian Court for the way she held Fayle barony together after the death of her husband during the War of Inches. To see that she possessed the courage to stand up and speak against the Inquisition was impressive, but not completely out of character.

Serle Otker was another matter entirely. The man had been Ian Hanrahan’s partner in managing logistics for the War of Inches, but the closest he’d ever come to the front lines in three years of war was a visit to Lothian City and the Village of Maeril to supervise the unloading of his ships before supplies snaked their way overland to Hanrahan and from there, under Ian Hanrahan’s guidance, on to the front lines.

No one doubted his contributions. Even if his methods were unscrupulous, the goods that moved through Otker Canyon all reached their destination without damage and without any ’unexplained’ losses during travel. But while he ’contributed’ to the last war, no one would ever call him brave for what he did, nor would they admire him the way they admired heroic lords like Tybal Aleese or Valeri Leufroy.

"Last year," Serle said as he nervously wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his richly embroidered doublet. "Last year, one of my bookkeepers went missing. Him and his whole family," he explained. "Sulwyn was a good man, a reliable man, and he did good work for me for many years."

"I always paid him well, very well," Serle said, as if people would doubt that he was a good employer, but a few people who knew the baron well perked up their ears when they heard him making a point about it. Serle might be wealthy, but he was hardly charitable. If he paid a man well, he was paying him to keep his mouth shut.

"He, he turned up in the spring," Serle continued, taking out a handkerchief to mop at the sweat on his brow as he tried to ignore the dark gaze from Abbot Recared. "Well, what was left of him washed up on the riverbank in the spring floods. Him and his missus, my constable thinks. It was hard to tell from what little was left."

"I didn’t know who had done it until I received a letter from the abbot," he said, meeting the other man’s gaze at last. "He, he knew things that Sulwyn would know, and few others. Accounts, records... He put it all together in a way that made it look like I was doing something wrong," he said with a nervous glance at Owain.

"I would never short my tithes, Your Grace," Serle said quickly. "Nor renege on any debt. But the abbot, he, he made it seem like, like I..." he stammered, unable to put words to whatever crime the Inquisition had attempted to pin on him.

In his own mind, Serle was running as fast as he could from the truth. The letter hadn’t mentioned his bookkeeping at all. It had mentioned his role in helping Ian Hanrahan relocate certain young women to places outside the march after the former Baron was "finished" with them. The arrangements had been lucrative and discreet, and Serle had convinced himself over the years that what Ian had done with the girls wasn’t his concern. The letter from the Abbot had made it very clear that it could become everyone’s concern.

He couldn’t say that. Not here. Not ever. But the bookkeeping was bad enough to be plausible, and Sunwyn really had been a bookkeeper; it was just that the books he kept involved some of Serle Otker’s most questionable dealings. But, while he couldn’t explain the whole truth, if he got ahead of the Abbot’s leverage before someone else dragged the full truth into the light, he might just come out of this nightmare cleanly.

"Abbot Recared threatened to have an Inquisitor come ’discuss’ things with me," Serle continued. "With me, or Melsinde... Or Charlotte."

Beside him, Melsinde’s face went pale as she looked from her husband to her daughter and back again. Serle had never mentioned this to her, not once... How close had they come to suffering the same torment Lady Jocelynn had? And what had Serle done to draw that sort of attention from the Inquisition?

"How did you avoid that ’discussion’?" Diarmuid asked. "What was it that Abbot Recared wanted from you?"

"Free passage through the canyon," Serle said without hesitation. "For any Holy Warriors coming from across the sea, so long as they’re traveling with an Inquisitor. And not just free passage, but active help. Porter service, guides, lodging..."

"He said that such a display of ’pious devotion’ to the Holy Cause would prove that I hadn’t been tainted by the dark influences that ’plagued my barony,’" Serle said. "He said it was my sacred duty."

"I see," Diarmuid said. Beside him, Abbot Recared looked like he wanted to speak, but one warning look from Diarmuid forced him to reconsider his words. The Inquisitor from the Holy City had allowed him to plead his case and offer up his reasoning. In Diarmuid’s eyes, that was already exceptionally generous given what the Abbot had done. Now, however, it was time for others to speak.

"Is there anyone else?" Diarmuid asked, sweeping his gaze over the lords and ladies of the Lothian Court before turning to address the knights and noble families sitting at the lower tables. "Anyone at all?"

"I have received requests from the Abbot for support," Valeri Leufroy said slowly as he stood up from his chair. "I’m certain we all have," he added quickly. "The Church relies on all of us for support, and when they need help in their struggle against the wicked and the demonic, they make their needs known. But they’ve never threatened me."

"That’s because he never had to threaten you, Father," Adala said, standing up at the Leufroy table and glaring at her father from across the Great Hall. "Whenever the Abbot visited, you brought out the best wine from Fayle and talked all night about the last war and the next one," she said.

"Adala!" Baron Leofroy snapped. "Now is not the time..."

"Yes, it is!" Adala responded hotly. "If you won’t tell them, I will!"

"Young lady, you will sit down and -URK-"

-THUMP-

Baron Leufroy’s voice cut off suddenly as he was grabbed from behind by the collar of his doublet. His knees buckled before he knew what was happening, and the world tilted at a crazy angle before he fell flat on the well-worn stones of the dais to find Lady Ashlynn standing over him with a look in her eyes that said she wanted to do far more than just throw him down.

"This is your only warning, Baron Leufroy," Ashlynn said coldly. "Try to silence someone again, and you can share Recared’s fate. Or worse."

"L-lady Ashlynn," Valeri gasped. "Your Grace, I, I..."

"You’ll sit in your seat, and you’ll let witnesses speak," Ashlynn said firmly. "And when the time comes to say your final words on the matter, you’ll have your chance. But I won’t stand for lords who intimidate witnesses, and I certainly won’t stand for fathers who bully their daughters," she said before turning away from him to return to her seat.

The entire Great Hall stared in open-mouthed shock as she sat back down on the delicate throne of the Lothian Marchioness as though she hadn’t just assaulted one of the lords of the realm. Everyone had been so focused on Adala and her father that no one had really noticed her moving until she was right behind Valeri, but when she moved, it was with a strength and speed that took everyone off guard.

Sitting next to her, Owain was the only one who really noticed how quickly she’d moved to silence Valeri. She hadn’t just been quick. Anyone could get from her seat to Baron Leufroy’s in the blink of an eye; they were only a few paces apart.

But people in a hurry made mistakes when they moved. They hesitated, stumbled, or knocked over their own chair in their haste to reach someone else. Ashlynn did none of those things. Instead, from the instant she moved, crossing behind Owain’s throne to arrive behind Baron Leufroy, she had the clean, economical movement of someone who already knew what they intended to do before they took their first step.

Which meant that Ashlynn had either been looking for an opportunity to make an example of someone to assert her own authority...

Or something else had changed about her that he didn’t yet understand. But for a moment, when he felt her pass behind his throne, she felt almost... dangerous.