Blighted Empire (The Black Plague Trilogy Book 2) by C L Werner

Author:C L Werner [Werner, C L]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2013-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter XII

Altdorf

Brauzeit, 1114

Under cover of night, Kreyssig’s Kaiserjaeger removed the Baroness von den Linden and her paraphernalia to the abandoned residence of Lady Mirella von Wittmar. Mistress of the traitor Prince Sigdan, the noblewoman had fled Altdorf in the aftermath of the disastrous coup against Emperor Boris. Her townhouse had stood vacant and desolate since then, not even the most desperate peasant willing to seek shelter beneath such an ill-regarded roof.

The witch was far from her usual composure. Her appearance betrayed no sign of her recent ordeal. To the eye she was as ravishing and seductive as when Kreyssig had first met her. He wasn’t sure if it was cosmetics or magic that covered her bruises, but whatever the cause, the baroness’s vanity was intact.

No, it was a more subtle air of tension and unease that clung to the woman as she stalked through the dusty chambers of her refuge. She snapped curt commands to the men carrying her effects, alternately urging them to greater care or greater haste.

When the last of her things had been brought in, she drew near Kreyssig, gripping his arm in a clutch that was almost as cold as ice. ‘Get rid of them,’ she whispered into his ear.

Kreyssig bristled at the assumed authority in her tone, but his defiance wilted as he met her intense gaze. Clapping his hands together, he dismissed his troops, ordering them out into the street. When the last of them marched away, he motioned for Fuerst to close the great oaken doors and seal off the entry hall.

The baroness stared at the portly servant, causing a flush to creep into his face. Fuerst couldn’t hold her gaze, turning his eyes to the floor and shuffling his feet anxiously.

‘Fuerst is dependable,’ Kreyssig reassured the witch. ‘You can trust to his discretion.’

‘It is not I who must fear his tongue,’ the baroness retorted.

Fuerst bowed in his master’s direction. ‘I can wait outside…’ he started to offer.

‘Stand where you are,’ Kreyssig snapped. It was a small, even petty thing, but he wasn’t inclined to submit to the baroness’s demand. He had to prove, even if only to himself, that he could defy the witch.

Her jaw clenched, the baroness spun around and stalked upstairs. Kreyssig smiled and followed her.

The witch led him into what had been the master bedchamber. Now it was littered with boxes of books – the hastily removed contents of her library. She glanced at the boxes for a moment, then descended upon one of them like a hawk swooping down on a dove. Without hesitation, she removed the topmost volumes and retrieved a heavy tome banded in black leather. Watching the proceeding, Kreyssig felt his hair stand on end, discomfited by the uncanny way the witch was drawn straight to the book she wanted.

A piebald cat came creeping out from some corner as the baroness settled onto the musty bed sheets. The brute sat beside her feet, becoming as still as a statue. ‘He will warn us,’ the witch said, ‘if there are rats in the walls.

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