Last Life

Book 5: Chapter 8

“WHAT’S YOUR NAME?” I asked calmly.

The short, golden-haired woman who was lying tied-up on the floor of my office stopped squirming and fixed her bright blue eyes on me. She looked resigned, maybe even defeated.

Biting her thick lower lip and wrinkling her tiny, lightly-freckled nose ever so slightly, she stared silently into my face as if waiting for some sort of hint of what was to come. I wasn’t in a hurry to interrupt this process. I was curious to see how she would behave.

An instant later, she transformed. It was like watching a skilled mimic switch to a new personality.

“Everyone calls me Collette,” she finally began in a slightly hoarse voice; then, blinking her long eyelashes in a way that was somehow cute, she added: “Collette Bazot... Monsieur, I don’t understand why your people kidnapped me... You could simply have paid, and I’d have come to you myself...”

After saying this, the woman forced herself to smile, and licked her lips, displaying her even, white teeth.

Hm... Not a bad attempt. I had to give her her due — she sure got oriented and regained her composure quickly.

“So, Collette,” I repeated pensively. “What a pretty name. And you’re pretty, too. I think you’re absolutely right. It seems my people misunderstood my order.”

Sigurd’s rune-scarred face spread into a wry smile. He and Aelira were standing behind my prisoner, so she couldn’t see their reaction to the whole spectacle.

“Indeed, kind Sir,” she nodded hurriedly; with renewed motivation, she started wriggling around on the floor, trying to crawl closer to my leg. Scanning, prying, almost begging, she examined me from where she was lying.

Not bad. A real talent, actually. She was playing the role of a tavern prostitute, keeping her cards close to her chest and waiting for an opportune moment to act. I was sure that Prince Louis would have appreciated her talents as an actress. Actually, I thought, that’s not a bad idea. I’ll have to think about that later, when I have time.

For now, though, I wonder what she’s going to try next.

“You’re absolutely right, my dear Collette,” I smiled. I laid my palm gently against my chest, then added: “Chevalier Renard is a kind man. And speaking of...”

I glanced at my bodyguards.

“I suppose we can untie my guest and offer her a chair.”

While Sigurd untied the ropes, Aelira silently pulled over a chair. A few seconds later, Sigurd stood up, picked up our prisoner (without any particular physical effort at all), and set her down on the chair

“This is much better, isn’t it?” I asked the young woman, who was frowning as she rubbed her wrists. As she did so, I caught her glancing furtively around at her new surroundings.

“I thank you, Your Worship,” she said hoarsely.

“Wine?” I asked.

“No thank you, Your Worship,” came her hurried reply. “But I thank you kindly...”

“Shame,” I shrugged. “My wine collection is one of the finest in Herouxville. Or perhaps you’re worried that I’ll poison you, or slip some kind of potion into your wine?”

Judging by her face, she was worried about the latter.

“Forgive me, Your Worship,” she said, folding her arms across her chest and almost managing to look genuine. Tears even welled up at the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that the memories of my poor friend are still fresh... She drank some wine in just such a situation as this, when it was offered to her by a stranger. And then poor Bernadette was found gutted like a fish in one of the portside alleys... Please forgive me...”

Tears were rolling down her cheeks. Wow... This was some true acting talent.

“Oh, my dear Collette!” I threw up my hands. “This is such a horrible story! Where is the city constabulary when one needs them?! Do you really imagine me capable of such villainy?”

I shook my head reproachfully, at which she lowered her head.

“Mind you, I won’t force you,” I said. “If you don’t want any wine, don’t have any. By the way — is there really no safer place for your... um, business... than that dirty tavern?”

She shrugged.

“The “Yellow Bream” is still more or less... Well, there are worse places... Besides, the owner doesn’t rip us off.”

“I understand,” I nodded. “Have you never thought of trying a new profession?”

“Why would I?” The woman shrugged again and looked around, trying to look casual as she clocked every exit in the room. “Of course I’ve tried. But I can’t make enough money. Plus, my mom is sick, and I’ve got six younger brothers and sisters at home. My dad died in the war...”

She sniffled, and as she did so she cast an appraising glance at the nearest window.

“Poor thing,” I shook my head; then I slapped my palms down loudly on my knees, causing the girl to flinch and turn back to look at me. “Ah... It seems my people have indeed made a mistake. They’ve brought me the wrong person. You wouldn’t believe it, my dear Collette, but your resemblance to the person I’ve been looking for is uncanny. Isn’t that amazing?!”

My “guest” pretended to be surprised, and at the same time she tensed up markedly. The whole time, I was observing her energy system, which sort of reminded me of Lucas’ system except that it was more developed. Unlike Jacques’ old army buddy, my prisoner’s gift was well developed. And from what I could see, my “guest’s” was descended from forest creatures of some sort.

“People often tell me that I remind them of someone,” she said with a disarming smile. “And one of my clients always asks me to dress up as various ancient goddesses.”

“And?” I asked. “How does that turn out?”

“He’s never complained,” she replied with a devilish grin, before licking her lips again.

“Alas...” I sighed. “The woman I’m looking for, who looks so much like you, is certainly no goddess...”

“Who is she?”

“She?” I repeated, with an expression as though I were deep in thought. “Actually, she’s also quite a good mimic... Hm... Perhaps just not a mimic of goddesses. For example, several days ago, after hiring two lowlifes from the street, she introduced herself to my butler as an agent of the secret chancery and scared him half to death. I spent quite a while calming the poor man down after the whole affair. You’ve heard, no doubt, about how Lambert de Vergy and his people operate?”

The woman winced, then nodded feverishly. And she shot another quick, tense glance at the window.

“Basically,” I continued as though I hadn’t noticed anything. “I had to spend some time checking the letters my butler was sending to this woman, who bears such a resemblance to yourself. Imagine — she wanted to know what was happening in my castle! Why would she want to know that? How very boring it is! But my butler is a responsible man, and therefore he described everything in scrupulous detail; after all, he had already been paid for the service.”

A light redness appeared on the woman’s cheeks. She squeezed the armrests of her chair; she was clearly trying as hard as she could to carry on playing her role.

“While my butler was busy with his diligent correspondence, however, I myself was far from idle.” Standing up from the chair, I walked over to the window and opened the bolt, letting a cool wave of fresh night air into the office. “I grew curious about why specifically the secret chancery would be interested in my humble person. What do you think?”

I turned, folded my arms across my chest, and sat down on the windowsill. As I did so, I caught a rueful flash in my “guest’s” eye as she looked toward the open window.

“It turned out that the woman wasn’t from the secret chancery at all. My people followed her and discovered that she periodically visits a building belonging to the Royal Accounts Chamber. It’s got such a strange name... the Department of Carts and Wagons. And they also discovered that her name is Susanna Marino, and that she lives in a small apartment on Weavers’ Street, which she rents from a cantankerous old widow. What’s her name... Madame Poranne, if memory serves...”

My “guest” went pale. I could see power surge through her energy system; she was about to act. My people sensed it too.

Purposefully, I opened the window even wider and continued speaking as I moved toward my table:

“And also, at one point while this Susanna was away, my people popped in for a visit. It turned out that this young woman lives very modestly indeed. Minimal clothing, minimal possessions. It almost seems like she’s preparing to move. As if she’s been preparing for several years now...”

Actually, the nisse checked out Susanna’s apartment for me. And she found something very interesting...

As I stepped over to the table, the moment I was waiting for finally occurred. My guest suddenly jumped up out of her seat and raced toward the open window. Sigurd and Aelira didn’t move. We had discussed everything beforehand. Especially since the poor woman wouldn’t be able to avoid Aelira anyway. She wasn’t quite up to the task of taking on a shapeshifter at that level.

But I noticed her determination to fight to the end, and I couldn’t help admiring it to some extent.

When she was only about two steps from the window, I threw a big leather bag onto the table. It landed with a telltale jingle of metal.

“I forgot to mention,” I said, raising my voice a little bit. “We also found this Susanna’s secret stash.”

She suddenly appeared to hit an invisible wall. She was frozen, as if rooted to the spot where she stood.

“I must say, I was impressed. She’s managed to pile up quite a nice sum for herself. Enough for a small house and at least a couple years of the good life. I was especially impressed by the two huge bruts filled with mana.”

She turned around. Suddenly, the tavern prostitute was nowhere to be seen.

“Bravo!” I burst into applause. “Mademoiselle Marino, are you sure you don’t want to try a new profession? I’m certain that you could be one of the greatest actresses in history.”

“I’ve already tried it,” came her cold reply. Her voice was still trembling slightly from the tension.

“And?” I asked.

“Didn’t like it,” she shrugged, still staring firmly into my eyes. “Every rich nobleman in the theater always tries to get in an actress’ pants after the show.”

“So I gather you’re happier with your current profession, then?” I asked. “You know — the one that has you living with those packed suitcases?”

“That’s the job,” she shrugged again.

“I understand,” I said, rubbing my chin. “What line of work are you in? And, forgive my curiosity — who exactly do you work for?”

“Are you gonna kill me if I don’t tell you?” Susanna’s full lips curled up into a mocking smile. “Or are you gonna torture me first? Oh, right! You mentioned potions, didn’t you?! You’ll dump some truth serum down my throat, and I’ll tell you everything myself!”

“Hm... As for the potions, that’s not a bad idea,” I admitted. “But killing you... Why would I want to do that?”

Susanna cocked her head to the side slightly; her eyes narrowed.

“So let’s say I tell you — what happens after that?”

“I let you go.”

“Just like that?” Her right eyebrow shot upward.

“Just like that,” I repeated; noticing that her gaze was fixed on the bag lying on the table, I added: “And I’ll give you back your savings. I don’t want to steal from anyone. After all, you must have denied yourself quite a bit in life in order to save up a sum like this.”

Susanna glanced in disbelief at my bodyguards’ faces and took a step backward, toward the window.

“Screw the money,” she said as she nodded at the castle yard darkening outside the window: “I’m one step from freedom. Why would I tell you anything?”

“It’s your choice, Mademoiselle Marino,” I shrugged. “You can jump out that window right now, and nobody will stop you. Although you probably wouldn’t be able to make it through my yard if I didn’t want you to. You’re quite skilled with your gift, don’t get me wrong, but even so, you’re not going to be able to hide from a descendant of the Great Snow Leopard. And you know that already anyway... But I’ll repeat myself. You can go. Nobody will stop you.”

Susanna froze at the window, seemingly not in any hurry to take advantage of my offer.

“I presume this isn’t going to end here?” She asked coldly.

“You’re quite perceptive,” I nodded as I slowly took a seat back down on my chair. “I’m a busy man, and I value every second of my life highly. You and your hijinks have distracted me from important business and caused me to lose invaluable time.”

I threw her the bag with a lazy, indifferent flick of the wrist.

“Believe me, this pitiful pile of silver and two little bruts won’t make up for my losses. But none of that matters. What matters is something else. I perceive your actions as a threat to me and my loved ones. I don’t think you need to be reminded that a threat to me is a threat to my entire line. Today at noon, the chancellor of Vestonia, Lambert de Vergy, will be receiving a letter from my aunt the Duchess du Bellay. This letter will contain a detailed description of the behavior of a certain Susanna Marino, who serves in the Department of Carts and Wagons, which has been carrying out the actions described on behalf of the secret chancery.”

All the color left Susanna’s face.

“But that’s not all,” I continued calmly as I examined the fingernails of my left hand. “You already know how my trip to Northland turned out, of course? I can see that you do. Anyway, there are a lot of influential noblemen who have suddenly conceived a desire to see me in their homes. For example, in a few days I’ll be heading to a reception organized by the Duke de Gondy at his palace. As it happens, Prince Heinrich will be there as well. I’m sure the duke’s guests will be interested to hear how the secret chancery has begun trailing the hero of the north, and even threatening his butler.”

Susanna was a pitiful sight.

“Need I mention what will happen after that?” I asked. “I’m almost certain that His Grace Lambert de Vergy will be enraged by the attention of high society, and by the end of the week he’ll have taken the Royal Accounts Chamber apart brick by brick. But that wouldn’t matter to you anyway. After all, what do the affairs of the living matter to the dead? The idea that the head of your secretive department would leave you alive after all this... Well, I very much doubt it. So, Mademoiselle Marino — I won’t keep you any longer. Although I should point out that from the moment you leave my mansion, your life won’t be worth the rough end of a pineapple to anyone.”

Susanna let out a heavy sigh and leaned back on the window frame. It was like someone had removed some load-bearing column in her soul. This clearly wasn’t a game. Her energy system started to discolor slightly.

“What do you want from me?” She asked gloomily, looking into my eyes with doomed resignation.

“I want to offer you some work,” I replied, watching as Susanna’s expression changed markedly.

* * *

I arrived at the Duchess du Bellay’s palace at noon sharp. With a quick glance at the pale footman who came to take the reins from my hands, I hopped down onto the ground and looked around. Nothing seemed to have changed during my absence. Although no — there were a few more marble statues in her garden. Not a cheap hobby. And there was one more change: nowhere did I see any of the green banners that were so prominent during my last visit. Instead, there were red ones whipping around in the air.

“I’ll continue on my own from here,” I said to Sigurd as he landed next to me and snatched the Chickadee’s reins from the footman. “Head to the kitchen. They’ll feed you.”

The footman, trying hard to avoid eye contact with my frightening bodyguard, suddenly hurried to show him the way to the west wing of the mansion. Sigurd followed him, leading our horses.

Once in the hall, I left my cloak and tricorner hat to the servants who rushed to greet me, and then followed the butler up to the second floor.

“Chevalier Renard!” The butler announced before admitting me into a small lunch hall. In the center of the room stood a long table, and behind it were the hostess herself, the Duchess du Bellay, her brother the Count de Gramont, and his wife, the Countess de Gramont.

Hm... So this was the promised family meeting. They sure had some angry expressions on their faces. Especially Catherine de Gramont. If looks could kill, of course, I’d have been dead a while ago. The muscles on her cheekbones were still twitching. And her thin lips were pressed angrily into a fine line. Hatred and anticipation burned in her eyes. It was a look normally reserved for someone sentenced to death, and even then only when they were walking up the scaffold.

Heinrich de Gramont, as always, wore a look of arrogant detachment. I could also see a fire of decisiveness burning in his eyes. Apparently, my dead old uncle had finally decided what fate ought to lay in store for his rebellious nephew. And apparently, the purpose of this visit was merely to inform me of the head of the family’s will.

Jeanne du Bellay was looking at me with evident interest. She obviously noticed the change in me. My shoulders were thicker. I was more muscular. So much so, in fact, that I had to get a whole new wardrobe. And that wasn’t all. I also had my snakeskin armor adjusted for my increased size.

Plus, the Duchess was obviously enjoying the moment. She was preparing for a confrontation with my uncle.

“Nephew,” the Duchess began with a reproachful voice. “I see you were in no particular hurry to visit our family. I see you’ve gone positively feral in your northlands.”

I liked that... “your northlands.” They sent me there themselves, and now they were sitting there giving me a hard time about it.

“My dear auntie!” I smiled, ignoring her little attack. “You look fresh and ravishing as always. And red suits you so well! I presume that’s the flavor of the day — the new color of our illustrious house?”