Valentine

The driver scrambled down from his seat as I stomped over to the carriage. I didn't bother waiting for him and hauled the door open myself, where I sat down heavily on one of the benches and pulled the door closed with a thump.

I rested my head back against the cushioned bench and stared up at the ceiling of the borrowed carriage.

"Ahhrrgg!" I shouted at the ceiling.

If I had something to throw, I would, but I didn't, so I sat there impotently clenching my fists and gritting my teeth.

There was a light tapping at the door, "Ah, Lady Valentine?" came the driver's muffled voice.

"WHAT?"

"Um, can I help you with anything?"

"Are you eight feet tall and possessed of certain equine qualities?"

There was a pause.

"No," the driver replied in a wavering voice.

"Then stop bothering me and drive to the next bloody estate."

No reply was forthcoming, and I let out an irritated sigh when I felt the carriage move. I felt my knuckles aching and realized I still had my hands balled into fists. I unclenched them and flexed my fingers lightly, hands still throbbing from how tight my grip had been.

Beyond the delicate latticework of wood and lace that made up the carriage's windows, I could see the evening sky turning orange and red.

A whole bloody day spent going from one estate to another, a whole bloody day spent in frustration. Yes, the useless slave-driving buggers had listened. Hell, some had already left the city. But that wasn't the point.

I took out the communications book and checked Wally's page, only to be further disappointed.

V to W: Will you be making it back to Vivian's manor tonight?

W to V: No, I'll find someplace with the sprites. Probably wouldn't do for me to be seen palling around with fey at the moment anyway.

He made me wait how long for a reply? And this is what I get? Damn him.

I tossed the book onto the seat next to me and crossed my arms, leaning against the window.

His lordship's men were already waiting when the carriage arrived at the gate, and we were shown in without delay. While I understood that those I'd already spoken to had kept quiet about the content of our conversations, anyone paying so much as a modicum of attention would have noticed the trail of chaos that followed my visits.

Disembarking the carriage, I found four young elves standing by a sedan chair, with a single female sprite I took to be the manor's governess.

I frowned. The sedan chair, I understood. Even before getting the tattoo from Wally, I was a standout among my kind. Most found even walking difficult, and this little lordling was hardly the only one to reside within a manor that was too broad for him to traverse on foot. But it was the sprites that made it possible, sprites to build, carry, work, and fight.

Emphasis on the carry, in this case. And yet, here were four elves waiting to carry the sedan chair.

I waved them away and turned to the governess, "His Lordship is waiting?" I asked, tilting my head towards the manor.

She glanced at the sedan chair, collected herself, and nodded, "This way, of course."

Two sprites stood guard at the door. One of them reached for it as I approached, and I frowned again when I saw him lift the knocker instead of grasp the handle.

The sprite knocked twice. The door was opened a moment later to reveal another guard, this one an elf.

The governess stopped at the bottom of the steps and held out a hand towards the door, "His Lordship is waiting."

I didn't bother to question the odd reception. Nevertheless, I had my suspicions, suspicions that grew stronger when I stepped within to find more elves and not a single sprite.

The servant who greeted me wasn't a governess- the elves didn't go in for that sort of thing -but a man-servant, who very politely led me down half a mile of corridor to the lord's harem.

The guards drew open the thick wooden doors, and I stepped within.

The room was dimly lit, with thick carpets, piled cushions, and hanging silks that broke up the space, giving the spacious room a smaller and more private feel.

Very private, in fact.

"My my, nothing more disappointing than an empty harem," I mused, "Or is this some gesture intended to convey your wish that I stay? Because if that was your intention, then you should bring back the scantily clad women."

The lord sat upon a chair of finely wrought gold, with a high narrow back and thick red upholstery. It would have been a throne had it been placed anywhere else in the manor. But Pelignos has no royalty, and to claim such a seat would only invite conflict from the other houses. So instead it sat here in the harem, where it was just another pretty toy.

Seeing the man in the chair made me feel a little better, and not because he was any sort of friend. On the contrary, I had some vague recollection of him from when I was a girl. Likely he'd attended one party or another, perhaps complimented my skill at the piano. Now there was grey at his temples and lines on his forehead. I supposed he was still handsome despite his years, but he was hardly to my taste.

No, it was his dour mood that made me feel better seeing him. He sat forwards on his chair, leaning with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped under his chin. A prominent brow hooded his eyes, and the dim lighting in the seraglio cast them in shadow. He had perhaps forty years, but his foul demeanour made him look decades older.

"You know," he growled.

I raised an eyebrow, "You know, I can't decide which of my girls I like the best? You know, I'm having trouble picking a new colour for the carpets? What?"

"Are you trying to antagonize me?"

"Yes."

Maybe then one of you will grow a damn spine and take a shot at me.

"I'm disappointed, Lady Valentine, to see you trading on someone else's reputation," he glowered, "You flit from manor to manor, secure in the knowledge that no one will dare to raise a hand against you for fear the giant will stomp down their street and blow it to pieces."

I regarded him coolly. He'd verbalized my exact problem. They feared Wally far too much for me to ever get a chance to build my own reputation. Well, I had a reputation, just not the one I wanted.

People knew me as a galavanting harlot, not that I had a problem with that. I only wished they knew me as a galavanting harlot who could rip off their arm and beat them with the wet end.

Not that I was sure I could rip someone's arm off, as circumstances hadn't yet afforded me the chance to try.

"You came here to say something. Why don't you just say it?" He prompted.

"I suspect you already know. How much money have you spent on elven mercenaries, elven servants. Good gods, I bet you even have elven cooks preparing your meals. The change must be a little startling, needing to pay the people who feed, clothe, and protect you."

"Is that why you're here? To gloat?"

"The others had their suspicions, but most had yet to truly understand. And as much as I appreciate the opportunity to gloat, that's not the point."

The point is to find someone willing to give me a proper chance to try out my tattoo.

"The point is to keep the lot of you from getting torn limb from limb by a horde of angry sprites."

"You have no sprites among your people. How did you discover this in the first place?"

I considered for a moment, but ultimately decided there was little he could do with the information.

"Humans are susceptible to the pheromones, just as with the sprites. So it wasn't long after Simon's toys arrived that I noticed what had happened."

"Entertaining guests?"

"Fighting off invaders."

"The humans finally have a falling out, but not before shattering what order remained in the city."

"You imagine this as some strike by Simon against Wallace? And that makes you, what, collateral damage? No," I said, shaking my head, "Don't hang this on our heads. How do you imagine such a thing would even impact us? I certainly find it frustrating, but it's not likely to make us any less of a threat to Simon."

"Then why are you here in the first place?"

"As I suggested, I may not care for you. But all the same, I'd prefer not to see you- or any of the others -dead."

"Oh, if only the rest of us shared your high-minded ideals," the lord mocked, "Simon, for example. I suppose you expect the lot of us to go after him like a pack of rabid wolves? To use the last of our strength to beat our fists to a bloody pulp as we try to cut him out of that pile of masonry he's secreted himself within?"

I stood, smoothing the lines of my flight suit.

"I don't expect you to do anything. I've said what I came to say. You may do as you please with that information. Now," I added, "Since it appears you'll not be bringing back the girls, I think I'll be going."

I had just begun to turn away when the lord raised his voice to demand, "How much?"

I turned back to find him sitting upright with his hands on his knees.

"How much for your pet giant to make all this go away?" he finished.

"Oh, so Wally's the pet now? You must be trying hard to flatter me because that's not the impression the others seemed to give," I raised a hand to stay his reply, "And you can keep your flattery. It won't matter. Wallace had plenty of time to investigate the issue before we arrived. The effect spreads like a disease. Cure yourself- assuming you can manage such a thing in the first place -and it won't be long before you find yourself reinfected. It's a wasted effort."

"And he won't try? Not even for your sake?"

"You said it yourself. I have no sprites among my people. Even if I did, my high-minded ideals mean I'd not want to use my pheromones to control them. As for Wallace, I still don't see what I'd need them for. He said a cure wasn't likely, and I didn't ask him to waste his time."

He tried to keep his voice level, but I could hear the desperation creeping into his tone, "I've not asked him," he insisted, trying to banish the despair with anger, "None of us have asked him. Damn you, Lady Valentine," he slammed his fist on the arm of his chair, "You know what we can offer him. So what bloody game are you playing? What is it your mad buggering mind wants? Assurances we'll leave you be? Wealth, land, magic? And why in the name of all that is holy, are you here and not Wallace?" he growled.

"He'd tell you the same. Just imagine everything I've said, except a tad more respectful and in a deeper voice. And you should already have realized that bribery isn't likely to get you anywhere. Simon and Wallace, despite their fresh animosity, are of a mind when it comes to slavery."

I gazed thoughtfully around the empty harem and the hollow opulence on display.

"I leave you with plenty to think about. But at least, it seems, you'll have few distractions."

I hardly looked at the driver as I approached the carriage, and he had the sense to stay in his seat this time. I was more than capable of opening my own doors.

I checked the book again, such had become almost a compulsion, and found no new message from Wally. No hastily scrawled note telling me that he'd changed his mind or that things had gone better than expected and he'd have time to make it back tonight. No, instead, there was only empty space.

The Lord's comments about pets had stirred my already over-excited imagination, and I decided that if I was going to be frustrated, Wally could at least be embarrassed.

I bit my lower lip, grinning as I sketched out the basics.

Or maybe he'll like what I have in mind and hurry back.

The distance passed quickly with the distraction, though I felt the flush rising in my face as I finished outlining the sketch and began filling in the details.

The collar I could draw from memory, but I ran into a bit of trouble when I came to the leash. I didn't remember adding one to my little collection of treasures when we were in the human city.

Hmm, maybe just a leather strap.

I giggled to myself as I detailed the faint outline that ran from Wally's lazy grip to my neck. I had just moved to work on the straps that kept me walking around on elbows and knees when I felt the carriage abruptly tilt to the side.

I snapped the book shut and shoved myself away from the bench and towards the window, pressing my face against the lattice. The wheels on the right side had come off the side of the path, and the thin wooden wheels sank into the soft ground.

My heart was pounding, though to be honest, it had been before, and I pounded on the carriage wall where the driver sat.

The wood panels felt oddly hollow, as if nothing rested against the driver's bench.

I heard the horses whinny and felt the carriage slide further to the right as the tilt worsened.

I pushed myself away from the wall, trying to claw my way back up the bench towards the high side of the carriage as I tried to use what little weight I had to balance the carriage back out. I struggled up to the window on the left side and punched the lattice out, using the open window as a handhold to keep myself from slipping back down.

It wasn't to be, and as the carriage continued to slew and tilt to the side, I heard the snapping of heavy wood. The carriage shook as the wood broke, and I felt the vibration through my grip on the window sill. A moment later, I saw the horses run free, still tied together by the splintered carriage shaft.

The carriage finally hit its breaking point and began to roll. I held on as long as I could, but there was little I could do once the carriage flipped onto its side. My grip held, the handprint on my body saw to that, but the lightly built window sill gave way, and I landed in a heap on the far wall.

I don't know what I expected, but the noise was overwhelming as the carriage shattered around me, and I held my arms up to protect my head and face from the flying splinters and the impacts that came with each tumble.

The sudden silence was deafening, and I lifted my head from the floor, shaking splinters from my hair and brushing aside the scattered kindling to find I was actually sprawled on the roof.

I listened carefully, and as my ears adjusted to the sudden silence, picked out not just the creak of the wheels spinning freely above, but the crunch of boots on gravel.