Stone Rose (15 page)

Cortez was silent at first, mulling over that, and then eventually replied, "There is not a person alive who has not felt that clawing despair, highness. If there is such a person, then he has no heart and should not be trusted. But feeling that despair is quite different from whining that you only 'suppose you are glad' that someone did not kill you."

"For all I know, the men you are delivering me to will do far worse than kill me," Culebra snapped. "I am blind not because my eyes don't work, but because if anyone looks into them they will die. I am the latest mortal incarnation of the Basilisk, and you are delivering me to men who are going to a great deal of trouble to obtain me. Given all the things they might do, yes, I could very well be better off dead!"

He was right, and Cortez knew it, and there was no good reply she could give. Especially since, despite everything, she actually liked him. Despite his black moods and his occasional moments of acting like spoiled prince. In his position, would she be any better? No, she suspected she would have been much worse. He was handling the entire situation amazingly well, especially since those corpse-eating Order had stolen him.

Culebra broke the silence saying, "You have made it clear on many occasions that you did not want to kidnap me. That you only did it because you felt the price was worth it—but you've never told me that price."

"Why would that matter to you?" Cortez asked. "Whatever the price, the results are the same for you."

"If it didn't matter to me I wouldn't ask. I'm a spoiled prince incapable of my easy life."

Cortez sighed. "I do not really think you've had an easy life, highness. In your position, I don't know I would handle being kidnapped even half as well. I nearly lost one eye once. It was a very ugly fight, and the idea that I might lose depth perception terrified me. I could not handle being completely blind. I never want to know what it's like to be the reincarnation of a god. Everybody has a hard life.

In her arms, Culebra relaxed. "So why are you kidnapping me?"

"They kidnapped someone who is dear to me. His name is Fidel. He is young and foolish and charming, and apparently was trying to find me when they took him. I am sorry, but I do consider him more important than you."

"You have no reason to be sorry," Culebra said. "If I knew someone I cared about was at risk, I would not hesitate to do whatever was necessary to save him. The-the last time I lost someone, I had to listen as he died. I would never wish that on anyone, not even my worst enemy."

Cortez flinched, recalling his words of listening as his lover was killed and devoured by mermaids. She could not imagine. "I am sorry, highness. Truly. No one should have to endure that."

"No, they shouldn't," Culebra said softly. "How close are we to this town?"

"Very," Cortez said. "No doubt you will be able to hear it soon."

"I can already smell little things. Smoke, mostly, but only barely."

That was impressive, Cortez conceded. "Pull your hood down over your face as much as you can, highness. Keep the gloves on and speak to no one. Your accent will give you away nearly as quickly as your skin. At the very least, such a fancy palace accent will draw too much attention."

"All right," Culebra replied.

"I mean it, highness," Cortez said. "The Order was nothing compared to people who will try something just because you are pretty and royalty—"

"I mean it, too!" Culebra cut in. "I know you think me a hopeless spoiled brat, but I do know how to look after myself when it really comes down to it. Did I not manage when the Order took me? I am well aware what people will do to me if they get their hands on me. Why do you think I am either sent abroad or locked up in the palace? I do what I must, even when I do not want to. I listened to Granito even though I could hear him scream. Even when I felt him die and had to listen to them begin to eat him. I did as he told me and because of it I lived. I didn't want to, but I did."

Cortez flinched. The more he revealed about poor Granito, the more awful it seemed. "My apologies, highness. And I don't actually think you're that spoiled. Certainly I have known men far more spoiled than you. I just fret. Bad enough I have taken you from your home for reasons unknown. The least I can do is see that you come to no harm while under my care. I have seen what happens to nobles when they come afoul of the wrong people. I do not want that to happen to you."

"I understand," Culebra said. "I am sorry for losing my temper. I will do all you tell me, I promise."

"All right," Cortez said. "We are coming up on it."

Culebra pulled his hood up and down, kept his head ducked, pulled his gloved hands into his cloak, and looked for all the world as if he was asleep. Cortez looped one arm around his waist, holding fast, and muscled her horse through the crowded streets. Finally reaching a respectable, if more expensive than usual, inn she dismounted and led the horse through the archway into the inner courtyard. Leaving the horse and Culebra—as much as she hated to, it would draw less attention—she went inside and arranged for a room, food, and bath.

Taking the key, she quickly found their room and finally got Culebra off the horse. "Here, boy," she said, snagging one of the dozens of young boys running about doing miscellaneous errands. "Take my horse. See he's well taken care of and ready to go at any time. Understand? Replenish my supplies and you'll get a few coppers."

"Yes, Master!" the boy said and took the reins of her horse, already calling imperious orders to a couple of others boys as he led it off to the stables.

"Come on," Cortez said, and she gently took hold of Culebra's arm, guiding him out of the courtyard and up to their room. Thankfully she had managed to get one on the ground floor, close to the exit. If something went wrong, they would, ideally, be able to leave quickly.

Once inside the room, she locked it again and said, "All right, highness. You can relax now."

Culebra sighed softly and pulled back his hood and stripped off his gloves, shoving them into a pocket of his jacket. She had noticed that while he did not seem to mind the hood, he absolutely hated having to cover his hands. "Where are we? It smells like lemons and soap, but also worn, dusty."

"An inn," Cortez said, faintly amused. "A bit nicer than I would normally pick, but more secure. I ordered a bath and food, and once all that is taken care of I'll go see who I need to see. Hopefully we will be on the road again quickly."

The way Culebra brightened at the word 'bath' made her laugh briefly. "I hope your meeting goes well, but I won't lie and say I hope it goes quickly. I would not mind avoiding a horse for a little while and a real bed again ... "

"Spoiled brat," Cortez said, chuckling. She started to say more, but someone knocked on the door. "Lay on the bed, highness, and draw your cloak up." Culebra obeyed, and Cortez opened the door to let servants bustle in with a tub and bucket after bucket of hot water. They dumped most of water into the tub, but left buckets two beside it. Another servant set a tray of food on the table at the foot of the bed.

Cortez gave them each a coin, waited until they had gone, and then locked the door behind them again. "All right, highness. Your bath is ready. Would you like some help with your clothes?"

"You don't have to wait on me," Culebra said. "I'm sure you must be sick of it by now."

"It's fine, highness," Cortez replied, surprised she meant it. She walked across the room to him and began to help him strip off the layers of clothes, piling them up neatly and deciding she would take them to have them cleaned when she left to go find the local temple. In the meantime, she had some spare clothes to set out for him.

He really was beautiful, and if he had been a whore, Cortez would have paid him generously. Eyes, if he'd just been an ordinary travelling companion ...

Except, she realized none of that was true. He was beautiful, and no doubt at least a few people had enjoyed exploring every last bit of that body, but she looked at him and felt ... nothing. Or something that was not lust, anyway. She was not certain what it was and did not care to figure it out.

She gently took his arm and guided him to the bath, listening to the way he carefully counted steps. Eyeing the distance between the bed and the bath, then the bath and the door, she said, "It's about ten paces to the door from where you are now, highness, probably fifteen or so from the door to the bed, and the table is at the end of the bed. I am going to lock the door behind me then slide the key back under the door."

Culebra nodded. "All right."

Going to the bed, Cortez gathered up his dirty clothes. He followed her to the door, stopping a few paces back. Cortez hesitated, suddenly reluctant to let him out of her sight—but he was going to be locked inside, and taking him with her was out of the question. He would be fine. She shouldn't have been worrying anyway because her only real concern was Fidel.

"Do not answer the door for anyone else, Culebra. Not even servants. I will knock three times, then wait and knock three more times. If I do anything else, anything else at all, do not open the door. Do you understand?"

"Yes, quite," Culebra said. "Granito and Dario have used similar tricks before."

Cortez shook her head, not certain what to think of someone who was so used to such a life. It sounded exhausting and lonely. "Obviously you are better at this than me, highness. Enjoy your bath. I'll bring back clean clothes for you. In the meantime, I've left a spare shirt and breeches on the bed."

"Thank you," Culebra said quietly.

"Be careful, highness," Cortez said and left.

She dropped the clothes with orders to have them waiting for her to pick up later and then wandered off into the city. Roldan was not a city she visited often. It was too small to have much in the way of work for her and out of the way of most other cities. It was really only useful as a stopping point to or from Belmonte.

Her memory of the temple where the Brotherhood was headquartered was hazy, but proved not as hazy as she feared, as she reached the end of a narrow street and found the rundown little temple tucked back exactly as she recalled. The fence fronting the courtyard was dilapidated at best, bent and broken from neglect. She pushed open the creaky gate and walked down the uneven stone path, ringing the bell at the front in greeting and not surprised when it did not work because the clapper was done. Drawing a dagger, she rapped it against the side of the bell and slipped inside.

Dust, incense, and wine permeated the place. Cortez was amused to see the priest sitting at the altar, using it as a table while he read—and whatever he was reading, it was not a religious text. "Good day to you, Father."

He looked up at her, and Cortez's levity died. She had expected some harmless, lazy priest who used the temple as a cheap and easy way to live. It was hardly the worst reason she had seen someone become a priest.

But the eyes that watched her were hard, sharp. "Well, well, the Black Princesa. Strange rumors have been slithering around about you."

If the rest of the Brotherhood functioned half as well as the rumor mill, likely it would rule the country, possibly the world. "I'm sure they've been exaggerated. I only came to see if Father Yago had left any messages for me." She emphasized his name because, while many of her brothers—former brothers—might have hated her, they would not dare cross Yago.

Standing up, the priest closed the book and moved around the altar, finishing the bottle of wine in his hand before throwing it carelessly aside. Leaning against the altar, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Yago has left no messages for you. Is it true you have the Basilisk Prince?"

Cortez wanted very badly to know who had spread word that she had Culebra and how they knew. Even Yago did not know what she was about—unless, of course, he had picked up some information and put the pieces together. But if that were true, he would have sent her a message or sought her out. So it had to have been someone else.

Well, if Yago had figured it out, then it was likely someone close to him had as well and not been capable of keeping his stupid mouth shut. Cortez stifled a sigh. She looked over the scruffy, ill-kempt man in front of her. Killing him did not feel right, but her skin still prickled, her instincts screaming that there was somebody whose death did fit.

Unfolding his arms, the man reached into the pocket of his threadbare, stained, and torn robes and extracted a small bell. He rang it and a few minutes later another three men appeared from the back.

Two of them she recognized, and not in a good way:  she had gotten into fights with them before and won every time.

Cortez drew her sword. "I did not come here to cause trouble. I only wanted to know if Father Yago had left me any messages."

"Give us the Basilisk Prince," the head priest ordered, pushing away from the table and drawing daggers from his robes.

"How do you hide so much in those robes?" Cortez asked. It was obvious they were headed for violence; there was nothing for it, but to gain the upper hand. She would not kill the head priest, but his men would not be so lucky. "I suppose there is plenty of room with such a small dick."

The man just laughed. "Where is his highness? Tell us and maybe we'll let you live."

"Why is this necessary?" Cortez asked and tensed as the other three came at her with swords

"You killed Goyo and still Yago fawns over you. A whore like you should have stayed on her back."

Cortez almost rolled her eyes. Instead, she threw the dagger she still held in her left hand, catching one of the men in the stomach, where he had not bothered to wear leather. That threw off the other two enough that she was able to run at them and take them by surprise. She drove her sword into the gut of one and then went after the last one.

He proved to be a bit more of a fight, especially in the tight confines of the narrow, crumbling, sad excuse for a temple. She blocked his sword, reeled back as he shoved forward, and barely got her sword up again in time for a second block.

Back and back he drove her, big enough that his strength simply outstripped hers, but she'd dealt with bigger. When her back hit the wall and he paused a moment to revel in his looming victory, she dropped her sword, braced herself against the wall, and slammed her foot into his groin as hard as she possibly could.