The Destroyer Book 4 (8 page)

“I am quite tired and irritated by this rude reception. Instead of: ‘Hello, Iolarathe, how was your journey?’ or even, “Welcome, daughter, might I get you some refreshment? You must be tired from defending your life against a tribe of assassins!’ The first words out of your mouth are questioning and criticizing my need to drag their decomposing corpses through your estate. If you are going to question my motives, at least do so over food and drink. Is that not the appropriate custom? Or are you so far removed from civilization out here in the countryside that you have forgotten all basic etiquette?”

My words visibly jarred him, as if I had actually struck him across the face. My father was known as a mighty warrior and was well-respected here, but it was apparent he approached all problems head first and had no concept of finesse or strategy.

“Yes. I suppose you should rest and then we can speak more over dinner.” He nodded and I could smell the air and grass that blew across the estate grounds.

“Good decision. Where should I keep my horse?”

“I have a private stable and blacksmith five hundred yards down that trail at the bottom of the hill.” He pointed behind me to the east. “I will have a servant take your mount so you can get accustomed to your room. We have every modern convenience ‘out here in the countryside,’ and you will be able to enjoy a warm bath and change into a new gown before we dine.”

“That sounds pleasant; it’s almost as if you were grateful to have me here.”

“We are pleased that you decided to spend the next decade with us. I have a few potential mates selected for you to meet in the upcoming months. Of course, I will be rescinding Ubarwa’s suitor invitation.” He nodded to himself and the honey smell of his pride returned.

“No. Let them come. I will enjoy watching them squirm for my affection. I’ll take my own horse to the stable and then return. Please have your servants ready for me.” I turned my horse toward the stable and didn’t wait for his reply. Children were supposed to obey their parents, but I was the Singleborn and would have to walk the line between obedience and independence.

My stallion had not rested any during the last few days and I felt his agony in every step. I had little patience for his complaints though. He was lucky that I had found him again on the grasslands after leading away my pursuers. If left to his own fortune, the stupid creature would have been attacked and eaten by a carrion beast, drake, or bearstalker.

The stables and blacksmith were as unimaginatively crafted as I anticipated and consisted of a simple wood structure with a thatched roof and a crisscross of stout, roughly-hewn support beams. It did smell better than I expected. Every stable I had entered had the same familiar reek of horse shit, rot and stale water. My father’s servants must have meticulously cared for this building and its horses.

“Here is my steed.” I dismounted and handed the reins to a human boy. “Rub him down carefully and give him a sponge bath. He needs three quarters green grass and the rest dried hay. Do not feed him oats!” The boy had bright emerald green eyes, opened wide in familiar awe, soon to be fear, I thought before continuing, “If you give him one single oat, I will tie a noose around your neck, hang you from that rafter, and let him kick you as you suffocate.” He nodded furiously and I inhaled the satisfying scent of his fear.

“Are you the only one here?” There were more than a dozen stalls, but I sensed no other humans. I could not imagine this one idiotic creature was capable of maintaining the stables on his own.

“Na na na no, Mistress,” he stuttered and pointed over his shoulder to the other open door of the stable. “My younger brother is shoveling the manure.”

“Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow morning. No oats!” He nodded again and crouched low in a painful-looking bow.

I missed the scent of wood, hay, and horses as soon as I left the stables, though it was pleasant to walk after being in the saddle for so long. A bath, a large meal, and a fermented beverage would be the perfect way to relax after the long journey and unexpected attack.

The manor house was larger than I expected, but crafted in the country style of rough log timbers and river rock just as I had envisioned. I supposed it had a rugged beauty, but I preferred the clean, sweeping desert towers and vibrantly painted adobe dwellings of my mother’s land that managed to blend artistry with stylized, efficient functionality. The massive structure before me lacked grace and it looked as if the builders had haphazardly stacked a pile of logs and stones simply to keep out the elements, with absolutely zero regard for aesthetics.

“Welcome, Mistress. We have prepared a bath for you.” The woman was dressed in the clothes of a servant, but her jewelry indicated a higher rank, I guessed she was the house manager or perhaps my father’s mistress. Perhaps both. Her eyes shone as deep as blue sapphires, her otherwise black hair reflected the same jewel tones as it caught the light. Behind her stood four humans, normally the scent of their race repulsed me, particularly in such close quarters, but I could smell nothing but the smooth sweetness of vanilla spiked with cinnamon. I followed the group up a stout staircase and back into the west wing of the home.

“Your father had this space prepared for your stay with us. This is the foyer.” She gestured to the wide entryway, it held a long couch, a bar, and a table with seating for six. The furniture was crafted in some sort of dark wood. I could not discern the type of tree under the scent of the lemon oil and beeswax with which it was polished. The walls were decorated with uninspired but adequately done paintings of horses in various stages of movement.

“I doubt my father personally prepared this room.” I traced my fingertips across the table.

“He delegated the task to me actually, Mistress.” She laughed slightly. “I am glad that you like it.”

“I didn’t say I liked it.” I set my eyes on her and waited for the woman to squirm.

“But you do of course. You are a woman of taste and this represents your interests and style. I know much about you already.” Her scent betrayed very little fear beneath her boldness.

“We’ll see,” I said without emotion. I walked through the door into the next room and tried to stifle a gasp, lest this haughty servant know that she had impressed me.

My eyes fixated on the bed. It was massive. It could have held my horse had I been inclined toward such deviant sexual activities. The sheets and covers were beautifully crafted in satin so smooth and fine it looked like silvery liquid pooled on the bed. Four dark wood posts ascended from each corner to support a mesh canopy, which I assumed, rather bitterly, was not there for decoration, but necessary for keeping away the bugs that must swarm this miserable wilderness in the summer. Each post was decorated with finely carved horses mounted by female archers. The artwork here was far superior to the paintings in the foyer and my fingers ran over each delicate and perfectly carved form on the nearest post. The artist had captured the beauty of the horse in movement, accurately depicting each curve of muscle and turn of bone while simultaneously wrapping the image artfully around the natural shape and curve of the wooden post.

There were a few green wool couches gathered around a low meeting table crafted in the same style as the bed. In the back of the room, large wrought iron doors framed stained glass window panes. The afternoon light slanted through at the perfect angle, throwing a beautiful floral pattern of blue, green, and yellow across the floor of the room.

“Your private balcony waits through those doors. Would you care to take a look?” I didn’t bother to reply since I was already opening the beautiful doors and stepping out onto the veranda.

“That is quite a view,” I accidently said under my breath. The house was built on the apex of a hill which allowed me to see for miles. Carefully planted orchards of fruit trees, rows of vegetables, and patches of herbs spread down across the landscape. I spotted a few creeks that dipped between the hills and seemed to meet up with a more powerful river that cut across the land like an artist’s thick brushstroke. Space that wasn’t devoted to food production was set aside for timber forests and grazing for livestock.

I had always found the desert enchanting, but it was a fascination with death. The desert was harsh and unforgiving, mercilessly killing any that came into her folds unprepared or unaware. Her beauty was harsh and forlorn. This land was lush and motherly, of life and creation.

“Your father and the elders wish to dine with you tonight, but if you would prefer your breakfast out here tomorrow morning, that can be arranged.” The woman gestured to the side and I saw the furniture on the balcony. The wind picked up and brought the scent of rosemary, basil, and ripe figs from beneath us.

“I will bathe before dinner.” I turned to her and concealed my approval.

“Yes, of course. Your private bathroom is off of your bedroom.” The four human slaves moved out of our way gracefully and followed us into the bathroom.

This room was also much more splendid than I would have guessed. The floor was silky smooth white marble which matched the sink, toilet and a huge, deep bathtub. The room was perhaps twenty by forty feet, and the tub consumed almost a quarter of that space. Six people could comfortably bathe in its waters. One could almost swim.

“Water is delivered via pipes from a boiler in the basement. It takes about an hour to fill the tub and requires a significant quantity of wood to adequately heat the water. It is best to inform a slave of your intention to bathe so that they can alert the humans that feed fire to the boiler.”

I ran my hands through the steaming waters. It was the perfect temperature. On a shelf nearby various bottles of oils and herbs would allow me to scent the water to my liking.

“I will keep that in mind.” I examined the toilet and noticed that it also had a tank above the seat and pipes leading down to the floor. The plumbing looked relatively new and I wondered if they had updated the home in anticipation of my arrival. My mother’s estate was plumbed fully, but it was a technology that was not yet common.

“We can undress you if you would prefer,” the woman said with a gentle smile, and I detected a slight scent of eagerness. The humans moved toward me.

“I will handle that myself.” I waved them off and smirked at the girls’ obvious looks of disappointment. I did find it barbaric to have humans attending to the needs of the house. They should have been kept outside where their foul odor would be less offensive.

“I will be speaking to my father tonight about personal Elven attendants.” I found a stool carved in pine and decorated with a delicate floral pattern and sat on it to remove my boots.

“You are dismissed,” the blue-haired woman said to the humans and they bowed to both of us before leaving.

“You smell fine, but I would prefer that the humans do not touch me or my garments.” I removed one boot and looked at the woman again. Perhaps I would not mind her removing my clothes. She was beautiful.

“Very well. Do you require an attendant for your bath?” she asked and I wondered if she caught my appraising look. Her scent had no trace of musk to it.

“Not today. You may lay out my dinner attire.” I finished taking off my boots and removed my silk socks. Then I began to unbutton my leather tunic.

“I’ve chosen a silver gown to match your eyes. Our warriors are riding out to the location you gave your father. They should be able to retrieve more of your clothes and personal possessions. It is amazing you survived that attack. Did you really kill twelve Ubarwa warriors?”

“Fourteen.” I finished taking off my clothes and got into the bath. The water felt fantastic and I reached for the scented oils.

“Amazing. Legends speak of Singleborn power, but I never thought I would meet one. Were you afraid?”

“No. I’ve killed plenty of Elvens and far too many humans and horses to count.” One of the oils smelled of lavender and another of pine needles. I poured a small amount of each into the tub and watched them swirl around in the hot water. They were powerful and the bath immediately began to smell soothing.

“Your fierce reputation has evoked some fear in the tribe. Of course, we are thankful that you are here with us safely.” She bowed with a slight smile.

“I would hope so.” I turned my attention back to the woman. “What is your name?”

“Relyara, Mistress. Thank you for asking.” She bowed again.

“Are you fucking my father?”

“What? No! Of course not.” She looked shocked that I asked the question, but I smelled her fear. It was unclear if the scent came because she feared I would not believe her lie or because she feared I would not believe the truth. I would need a few days to accustom myself to her scent and its normal variations before I could decide. The strong aroma of the bath oil was further confusing my conclusions.

“The Ubarwa knew I was coming. They knew the route and how many guards I had. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you, Relyara?” I found a small brick of creamy soap and washed the tender parts of my feet.

“I am sorry, Mistress. I am just a servant in your father’s house. You need not question my loyalty to your family. And in any case, I am not privy to such information to begin with. It is unfortunate that you were attacked, but I am happy that you are alive now.” The scent of fear was still there, mixed slightly with the peppery hot scent of anger and indignation. The words sounded rehearsed, but that could have been my own paranoia. If Relyara was fucking my father, then she would have reason to want me dead. My father had many offspring, but I was his eldest and the Singleborn. I had rights to his land and title. Relyara would be wise to fear for her place, or any children she might conceive with him.