Last Life

Book 5: Chapter 19

AFTER LEAVING THE PALACE, we headed straight to Dormal’s office; then, bringing him along with us, we made our way to the merchants’ district in the Old Capital, where thanks to my solicitor’s diligent efforts, I was gradually acquiring more and more property.

The old, abandoned buildings that comprised much of the neighborhood came into my possession cheap and fast. The task was made simpler by the fact that most of the half-ruined messes were owned by the city itself, and consequently revenue from their sale went straight to the city as compensation for the previous owners’ debts. That, combined with generous bribes to the provost of Herouxville, allowed my solicitor to walk out of city hall holding literal stacks of deeds.

When I asked Mathieu Chabrolle, my private attorney, how things were going and whether there were any problems from the magistrate’s clerks, he told me that everything was going fine — there were no problems to speak of. More than that, the city authorities were only too happy to get rid of this problem real estate, which nobody but me seemed to want at all. They even offered us surprisingly reasonable prices, so as not to scare away the stupid chevalier who was willing to throw his money down the drain.

Apparently, the fact that a formerly-nice area of the Old Capital was poised to become part of the reeking slums didn’t bother anyone at all. That attitude was one that the capital provost shared entirely. As far as I could tell, this official was rarely at his post, focusing instead on attending endless balls and receptions.

Besides the buildings that the magistracy owned outright, there were some others in the area that belonged to local merchants and shopkeepers. When Mathieu Chabrolle started making inquiries, the property owners were very quick to come calling.

It turned out that word of this strange buyer of half-ruined buildings spread quite quickly throughout the neighborhood, and soon my private attorney’s office became something of a place of pilgrimage for these merchants and shopkeepers, who were eager to wash their hands not only of ghostly, dilapidated buildings, but also of perfectly attractive ones in the same neighborhood. To them, my appearance was like a ray of hope shining through, after they had already given up hope entirely. Specifically, it was a chance to make at least a little bit of money on property that nobody seemed to want, and move off to a nicer area.

In this way, I slowly but surely became the owner of no less than a quarter of the buildings in the old merchants’ district. As I did so, I was buying capital-city real estate at Abbeville prices. Some of the warehouses and barns, little more than boarding houses for rats and stray dogs, actually came to me free of charge, mere bonuses on top of my main purchases. Actually, the tavern where we first learned about the receiving house also belonged to me now. Its owner was one of the first to come, and he’d sold me everything — the whole place, together with the furniture, dishware, barrels of beer, ale, and wine, and even the old icehouse, still half-filled with food.

While my private attorney was working on buying up this real estate, Monsieur Dormal and his assistants were negotiating with construction firms to get started on the remodeling (and occasionally, the demolition) of my new houses.

He was also working on finding artifactors. I planned to change certain aspects of this neighborhood, which basically belonged to me by that point.

Besides, Monsieur Dormal met with the captain of the city guard, and as part of a separate arrangement the latter agreed that his men would be making more regular patrols of the merchants’ district (specifically, the areas I now owned) more regularly from then on. And that was in addition to five of Tom Davies’ men, who were already patrolling the same streets.

Lucas hadn’t let me down, either. His new role seemed to have breathed new life into him. Carried away by the project of creating the best hotel-restaurant in Herouxville, he was at the construction site day and night. Gunnar, by the way, also took a shine to the idea, and with my permission he moved into the annex of the receiving house to help Lucas.

I ended up staying in the merchants’ district until evening, when I set off for my meeting with the matagot. This time, we met at the edge of the artisanal quarter, in the basement of one of the old houses. The nisse was with me.

“So you came after all, spellsword,” said Kervan as we stepped down into the basement.

Darkness hadn’t been an obstacle to me for quite a long time, so I could see perfectly well that the matagot hadn’t really changed since our last meeting. A scan showed that just as before, he was on extremely meager energy rations. Apparently, he was trying to be as economical as possible with the scarlet bruts I had given him as part of our agreement.

“I know that we’re not friends, and you had no obligation to come here,” the old man continued as he watched my movements attentively. “So I’m grateful that you came, and happy to see you again.”

Things didn’t seem to be going too well for the matagot. To be honest, I didn’t really know what he was going to have to say during this meeting. The nisse, by the way, had no idea either. And she wasn’t lying when she said that. This question had come as a total surprise to her as well.

“You’re right, matagot — we’re not friends. But we’re not enemies either,” I replied. “Besides, we made good allies in the struggle against our common enemy. So I’m happy to see you again too, and I’m prepared to listen patiently to what you have to say.”

“I would’ve expected nothing less,” Kervan sighed with relief; he pointed to a small chest on the ground. “Would you like a seat? We might be here a while.”

“We’ll decide how long this conversation will be,” said the nisse as she climbed up onto a little barrel and got seated. “So start talking, and keep it short and sweet, old man. Remember who you’re talking to here. If there’s anything we don’t like, we’ll get up and walk out of here. And nobody will stop us. You said it yourself — we don’t have any kind of friendship pact with you. We chased the wolves out together, sure, but that’s in the past. Life goes on. For us, and for you.”

One thing I noticed in these conversations with the true gifted was that it was always best to make sure each party knew their place. Otherwise, as the nisse said, “they’ll climb up onto your neck and ride you around like a hobby horse.” And indeed, Itta’s words didn’t seem to bother Kervan in the slightest. He didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow. He seemed to consider it all totally normal.

“What if we did have a friendship pact?” The old man’s eyes narrowed.

“What would be in it for us?” Itta replied immediately, her arms folded across her chest in a businesslike manner. “For you, it’s obvious. A powerful spellsword coming to your aid whenever you need it. Obviously we’ll have to share energy with you. What do we get in return? Look at you — you can barely move around on your own two legs. They look like they’re gonna collapse under you at any minute. Is it really that hard for you to move around? Why would we need a friend like that?”

The matagot just sighed heavily and lowered his face.

“Yes, you helped us with the wolves,” the nisse continued; I didn’t interrupt. She knew better than I how to interact with beings like this. “But we still did the lion’s share of the work. So this wouldn’t be friendship, would it? Just another mouth for us to feed. And believe me, we’ve got no shortage of those as it is. We have to spend money like water to keep them all fed.”

With that, Itta launched into her goold-old routine about “massive expenses” and “gluttonous servants.” If she wasn’t stopped in time, she’d keep going until your brain started to melt and drip out your ears.

“So what’s going on, Kervan?” I addressed the matagot, who was totally cowed by the nisse’s pressure.

“Brima put a curse on my house,” said the old man sadly. “Apparently she realized who helped you and managed to curse me before she died. The shop’s empty. The masters have all gone, and there won’t be any new ones coming. People are afraid. And those priests keep coming by almost daily. They can obviously sense something... Back in the day, I could’ve handled it myself... But now... Long story short, I’m not going to be able to live there anymore...”

I glanced at the nisse. She was sitting on her barrel, looking like some kind of gloomy bird. Her expression was as dark as I’d ever seen it. And he wasn’t hounding the old man anymore. The look in her eyes said that she knew all too well how it felt to be left without power.

“Do you regret helping us?” I asked.

“No!” The matagot shook his head, and a fire of anger burned up in his eyes. “Old Brima got what she deserved! The old beast should’ve been worm food a long time ago. Same with her whole disgusting family. They brought so much pain, and not just to people and the gifted, but also us — the first-born.”

The nisse, by the way, also considered herself one of the first-born. She even told me a pretty legend about the creation of the world, in which humans were the very last to make an appearance.

“So why are we here?” The nisse asked impatiently. “Why did you call us here?”

“Rumors about you are flying through all the first-born communities in the city, spellsword,” said the matagot. “They’re asking for a meeting with you.”

“Who are “they?”“ I suddenly felt tense, because I could feel that the nisse had suddenly tensed up.

“The elders of the first-born,” she answered for Kervan. She jumped off her barrel and moved toward the matagot. “What’s going on, old man? What do the elders want with us? Since when do the first-born go looking for meetings with simple spellswords?”

“You’re not fooling anybody, stripey one,” the matagot shook his head. “You know perfectly well that he’s not a simple spellsword. I haven’t seen such a powerful gifted person in centuries. And his power just keeps growing! I mean, look at yourself. You’re changing too! You probably haven’t felt this powerful in your whole life!”

“What do they want?” I asked, stopping the nisse just before she released the huge breath of air she’d just sucked in.

“The old city is dying,” said Kervan with a heavy sigh. “Shapeshifters are killing in broad daylight, right in the center of the city, where they once were afraid to so much as leave their home forests. Witches are using forbidden magic, without even a glance at who’s watching. The shadow gifted are amassing strength and power. They’re uniting into orders. Their priests and combat mages have brought death magic into this world. They say that even the king of these lands has been infected by this filth. The first-born don’t have much left. We’re being forgotten, and no one is honoring us like they used to. Some of our brothers and sisters have left this world forever, while some, like me, are just waiting around like ghosts of the past. Living on scraps...”

“I’m sorry to hear that, of course,” I shrugged. “But what does this have to do with me?”

I glanced at the nisse, but she just turned to look away from me. Hm... I could feel what seemed to be sadness and... Sympathy for her fellows. More than that, she even seemed ashamed for some reason. By the way, the matagot was right: Itta had seriously gained strength over the preceding few weeks. She seemed to be developing in tandem with me. The stronger I became, the stronger she became as well.

“So he still doesn’t know anything about himself?” Kervan turned to the nisse. “And you haven’t told him anything? I know you know who he is. This isn’t just a simple connection. He’s able to Transform.”

“Hm...” I frowned. “So who am I, according to you?”

The nisse raised her head and looked at me.

“According to every sign we’ve seen so far, you’re an auring.”

“The first birth in many centuries...” The matagot added with a nod.

“Not the same kind as the aurings who were able to chase away demons?” I asked, my head tilted slightly to one side.

To be honest, this news made me very tense.

“They were also able to transform magical artifacts and potions, and ancient witching spells, as well,” the nisse added, obviously hinting at the spirit of that Shadow snake which I had turned into a guard for my castle.

“And they can also impart strength to first-born who serve them,” said Kervan in the same tone. There was fire in his eyes.

“Ah, I see,” I said pensively before falling silent for a moment.

Through force of habit, Dodger’s brain was analyzing this new information at high speed. Working out adaptation strategies for the new situation based on new data.

Finally, I stood up to my full height. I looked over at the matagot and addressed him confidently:

“Tell your elders that I’ll meet with them.”

“Many thanks,” nodded Kervan; as I was about to leave the basement, he added: “A suspicious lutine made an appearance on my land a few days ago. Very old, and very powerful. She was sniffing around for something. She asked to talk to me, but I didn’t respond.”

I turned, and with a cold calm in my voice I replied:

“You did well, Kervan. That lutine is my enemy.”

“I’ll remember your words, spellsword,” the matagot nodded; then, turning back into a scruffy street dog, he trotted off into the depths of the basement. Over to where we could see another exit.

When the nisse and I were back in my carriage, and it started rumbling off down the road, I said:

“So — an auring?”

Itta just shrugged silently, then turned into her red-raccoon form; this was a sign that she didn’t feel like talking at the moment.

“No problem,” I said, in a tone that said the conversation was far from over. “We’ll talk at home.”

* * *

Herouxville. New Capital

The de Gramont mansion

“Henri, my brother, you’re making a big mistake,” said the Duchess du Bellay insistently. “You shouldn’t give the boy away to another house. He might come in handy for us.”

“I see you’ve developed an attachment to him, sister,” Heinrich de Gramont snickered in reply. “Believe me — everything I do is for the good of the family and the house. And why are you worried about it, anyway? Our brother’s bastard will become a full-fledged baron. With money, land, and a beautiful young wife. I’m doing him a favor! Ferdinand, may he burn in hell, would hardly have taken such care with the fate of my sons.”

“You took care of his sons pretty quickly!” The words almost burst out of Jeanne, but she managed to restrain herself.

“Besides, the bastard is doing his duty and removing a problem that my brother left us as part of his inheritance,” Heinrich added smugly.

Involuntarily, Max’s words came back to Jeanne. She suddenly realized that her nephew was right. Heinrich was smart and able when it came to courtly intrigue, but he wasn’t capable of decisive action. Even when swift, decisive action was needed, her brother sat there in his den like a mantis shrimp waiting for its prey. Prey which, of course, might never show up at all.

It suddenly occurred to the Duchess that neither Heinrich nor his sons would ever provide additional strength to their house.

“The bastard performed brilliantly at the frontier and in the north.” Jeanne was trying to speak indifferently. “The family needs warriors like this. He strengthened our family’s position significantly.”

“Why does this bother you so much, sister?” Heinrich asked, his tone absolutely calm. “What made you decide that you have a say in this matter?”

“Don’t I?” The Duchess’ eyebrows twitched slightly.

“Of course not,” said Heinrich; his tone was now excessively harsh. “You became part of a different house on the day of your wedding. Yes, your husband has died, may the Luminous Mother protect his soul, but his younger brother is in charge of the line now, and although he may have given you a relatively generous amount of freedom, that doesn’t mean you have the right to expect to influence my decisions.”

“Ah, so that’s how it is, is it, brother?” The Duchess’ eyes narrowed angrily. “Remind me — who was it who came running to me as soon as he found out about Ferdinand’s part in the plot? Hm...”

The Duchess laid the tip of her index finger against her lips, sarcastically imitating someone deep in thought, and then suddenly lowered the finger toward Heinrich as she continued:

“It was you, Henri! What was it you said to me then? What were you trying to convince me of? “You’ve always been part of the de Gramont line, Jeanne! You must help me! We must save our name from disgrace! Am I remembering that right, brother?”

“That still doesn’t change anything,” said Heinrich with a dismissive wave of his hand. Jeanne realized that her brother regretted what he’d said on that desperate day. More than anything, he regretted having shown his emotions. “The bastard will become the husband of the Viscountess de Marbot, and that’s final. I’ll be announcing their betrothal within the next few days!”

To herself, the Duchess thought: “Maybe you’re afraid?” She was staring straight into her brother’s eyes. “Do you really see him as a threat to you and your sons? Oh, gods! Let’s be honest: if Max wanted to be rid of your sons, he’d simply have wrung their necks like chickens while he was up north! And you wouldn’t have survived much longer yourself!”

Aloud, however, she answered:

“Well... You’re the head of our line, it’s your decision. But I still think you’re making a mistake. The bastard might come in handy.”

“Everything has already been negotiated and prepared,” said Heinrich coldly. “It can’t be changed now, nor would I want to change it if I could. When the bastard marries, he’ll become Émile de Marbot’s problem instead of ours.”

Having said that, Heinrich let out a loaded snicker. It might have been interpreted as nothing more, if it hadn’t been for the look Jeanne could see in his eyes... She knew that look on her brother’s face. It was the exact same one she saw when he was planning to get rid of Ferdinand.

Jeanne shuddered inside. So that was her brother’s plan. To use someone else to get rid of Max. And it seemed like that monster Émile the Toad was in cahoots with Heinrich!

At first, Jeanne was prepared to tell Heinrich about his nephew’s giftedness, to use it as an argument. By this point, however, all she could do was congratulate herself once again for her prudence in not revealing the information too soon.

“A shame...” She sighed.

She knew, of course, that she couldn’t appear to agree with her brother on this. Otherwise he would be sure to smell something fishy.

“The bastard has such prospects...” She sighed again, as if making a final, desperate attempt to convince him. “He might be sent on errands that are too risky for the boys — “

“That doesn’t matter anymore, sister,” Heinrich snapped. “The issue has been decided.”

In her mind, the Duchess du Bellay let out a sigh of relief. Her brother didn’t seem to suspect anything, or to have noticed anything odd in her behavior. All that remained was to warn Max as soon as possible...