Chapter 21: The Inquisitor

I was staring at the blood on my hands, armor, how the red blended with the gold and charcoal. It was as if my arms were blanketed in glinting rubies, blending near the elbows, leaving only sparkling dark yellow above. It was going to stain the leather, but I didn’t know how to get it off. And I wondered at how many different blood types mingled on my arms, my chest, none of these mine.

“Here she is, Father-Inquisitor. See what she wears? Her brother’s armor. What demon, what sickness so compels her?” The dowager-regent brought in a man younger than her, but not by much, with a long mustache and too much joy in his eyes.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness.” He smiled.

I turned to face them, hand on my sword. “What do you want?” I held up my hand, palm toward them in royal fashion, “No, don’t tell me, just get out. I want to be left alone.”

She looked at me with a smirk and feigned pity, “I’m afraid it’s not that simple, child. You’ve brought this on yourself with your poisonous behavior and now Father-Inquisitor is here to examine you.”

He stood to her left, hands open, but his eyes were lower than my face, tracing down my body.

“Something has corrupted you and the inquisitor will find out what. And then exorcise it. We need this stink, this taint out of your system. It’s made you rebellious and headstrong.”

“I’m not your monkey. Now that my brother has died, I’m the only member of the royal family left. I’m your ruler.”

“No, child, you are not. I’m the dowager-regent. I am now the ruler of this kingdom, and you will do as I command. The good inquisitor here will examine you . . . thoroughly. He will discover if you are impure.”

I took a step back. The look on the inquisitor’s face confirmed it for me. Too smug. Delighted, even. Witch trials, testing of purity, all these were designed to break women, and she definitely wanted me broken.

I unbuckled my weapons belt, tossing it on the bed behind me. Then began pulling off my chain.

“It seems she’s obeying now, Regent.”

“I will wait outside.”

“This will take some time. Do not disturb me. I’ll let you know what I find immediately after.”

There was no point in fighting. Those weren’t my guards outside and I didn’t know how to use a sword well enough. I dropped the chainmail atop the belt, turned and stared at that man.

He approached, tugging on his gloves finger by finger, stopped at a chair and dropped them atop it. “All of it. Remove the gambeson and the shift underneath.”

I wanted to remain silent, but I couldn’t. “You enjoy this line of work. Fondling naked children.”

“What do you know of it? What indeed. We shall see.”

I felt sick. Turned my back on him, removed the rest of my clothing. I dropped it off to the side, away from the chain. The air held a slight chill and goosebumps spread upon my skin.

His footsteps, warm hand on my shoulder. “Turn around, let me see you.”

I did this thing. It was difficult. A game, a game, I kept telling myself, just a game. But who designs a game with this content? Madness. When I complete it, I’m damn well submitting a complaint!

Removing his hand, his gaze, greedy, once again traced my body, and then he knelt in front of me, eyes lingering. One hand on my left shoulder, his right against my leg. “Hold still, child, this is going to be uncomfortable.”

I slipped my right hand behind, under the blanket, took hold of my dirk. His hand on my naked thigh, his eyes fixated, other hand moving toward me, I slammed that dirk with all my strength into his neck, through his jugular, out the other side, slicing forward when he pushed me away so violently I fell against the bed and onto the floor.

His added force tore the blade halfway through his neck as I held on, frozen to it. Blood poured out of him. He tried stopping the flow, holding his neck together. I stood up. Got out of his reach. Wiped the blade on my bed. He staggered forward, gurgled, coughed and coughed and hacked and fell forward against the bed, slid onto the ground and into bubbling sounds.

I put my slip – what he’d called my shift – back on. Leather on top of that. Socks and boots. The bloody golden chainmail. Attached my weapon belt. Gauntlets. Took the dirk off the bed, walked toward the backside of the tent, stabbed into it, sliced a line to the bottom and exited through my new door.