A Loom of Years

Twentyfourth Weaving
@Anne E. Fraser 2006

Blaine, upon getting cleaned up, had gone to see that his people were taken care of and reassure them that his Consort would live. Nicco, meanwhile, tried to make Olivia comfortable, plumping her pillow and offering her some wine. He told her that he knew from her eyes that she loved Blaine, and she smiled to hear such words from a child. No, not a child, not truly a child. But her head hurt, making it hard for her to concentrate, so Nicco told her just to rest. When Blaine returned, Nicco disappeared.

The doctor came in and applied more salve to Olivia's head, somewhat easing her pain, then, obviously disapproving, told her she had another visitor.

"Oh, please, send them in, whoever it is," Olivia begged him. "Having someone with me helps me think of something besides my head."

The doctor scowled, but opened the door with a bow. "Signora," he said, and admitted Genevieve, accompanied by the ubiquitous Nicco, into the room.

Gen gave first Blaine, then Olivia a hug. "Cherie, how frightened I was when I heard you were shot," she said. She stared at the bandaging of Olivia's head. "Is it really that bad?" she asked.

Olivia managed a laugh. "I think the doctor did this for Blaine's benefit," she said.

"Is there any news?" Blaine asked.

"Carmine had Gideon brought here from Maine, as our only possible expert on Martin," Gen replied. "Uberto has gone to try and catch Martin."

"I want to be the one to take his head," said Blaine, flatly.

They sat talking of other things, carefully avoiding the tricky subject of Jean's recent beating by Carmine, until there was a knock on the door.

"Come," Blaine called.

Paula Koban, who was of Genevieve's bloodline but attached to Carmine's court because the foolish wench was in love with the Italian Prince, came into the room. She bowed to the Princes.

"Please, Madame, Sir," she said. "My Prince requests your presence in the war room. Laurent Martin has been caught."

They looked at each other, then at Olivia. "Oh, go," said Olivia, tiredly. "I will be all right alone."

Both Blaine and Gen bent and kissed her, and Nicco took her hand in his. "You should sleep," he said, sounding rather like Carmine's doctor.

"I'm a vampire, Nicco," she replied. "I don't sleep."

"I think you should," said the boy, and she did.

Blaine was astonished. Olivia unconscious was one thing. He could almost understand that, from the impact of the bullet and the silver. But this... this was sleep. Vampires don't sleep.

"Can this be done?" he asked, softly, so as not to waken his wife.

"Julian did the same for me when I was wounded in the war," Gen told him. "We should go. We're summoned to an execution."

"I hope so," Blaine said.

"Owen will take you," Paula said, and indeed the red-haired Nameless boy was hovering in the hallway. "I have to go and get Captain de la Mare."

Owen bowed to the Princes. "Follow me," he said, and set off, obviously impressed with himself and the importance of his task.

"Now there is a lad who needs an application of that hickory stick," Blaine muttered to Gen.

Despite everything, she smiled.

When they arrived at the war room–and Jean and Paula were not far behind them in doing so–it was to find Laurent Martin bound with silver chains, being forced to kneel at Carmine's feet. Jean was the first to speak. He walked up and stared coldly down at the handsome young prisoner.

"Meurtrier des enfants," he said in a voice Blaine had never heard the Frenchman use before. He wondered what the story was behind that. What had been that "mission" Carmine had sent Jean on, after flogging him? Something to do with Martin, beyond a doubt.

Martin, who had been trying to look helpless and pitiful, glared at Jean but made no reply.

"Genevieve," said Carmine, speaking very formally, "would you cede the right to punish Laurent Martin to Blaine of England?" Technically, since he was French, Martin was one of Gen's subjects and hers to discipline.

"Yes, of course," Genevieve replied.

"Blaine of England," Carmine continued, still in Council meeting mode, "Italy as well cedes all rights to punish Laurent Martin. He is yours."

Blaine walked, shed of all his mannerisms, fully Prince now, to where Laurent Martin cowered.

"Mercy, Prince Blaine," the boy begged.

"On what possible grounds?" Blaine demanded, though his voice was shorn of emotion. This innocent-looking boy had very nearly killed Olivia.

"I was the victim of a cruel master," said Martin. "He taught me all I know."

Blaine permitted himself a glance at Gideon Redoak, who was present in the room and regarding Martin with a sort of controlled loathing. Gideon had been the victim of the same cruel master, but he had not used that as an excuse to perpetuate evil. Blaine made a mental note to speak to the Baron later, to find out if he was all right or if this evening had awakened evil memories.

"He taught you well," Blaine said. "Did he teach you how to die?"

"Yes." Martin lunged to his feet and wrapped some of the length of silver chain around Blaine's neck. "I die taking you with me!"

It had happened far too quickly for even vampires to react, but the chains vanished from Blaine's throat and he suddenly found himself holding a sword. He did not bother asking questions. It was magic. Good enough for now.

"A quick clean death is the only mercy I grant you, boy," Blaine said, and the sword took Laurent Martin's head.

Only then did Blaine look around the room. He spotted a familiar small body, curled up on a chair, colouring in a book with crayons as if what the grown-ups were doing was too boring for words.

"Thank you, Nicco," Blaine said. "You saved my life."

Nicco looked up from his book. "You are too kind," he said.

Blaine shook his head and suddenly found Carmine kneeling to him.

"My head is yours, as well, Prince Blaine," said the Prince of Italy, perfectly seriously, "for the injury done to your consort while under my protection."

"I do not accept your offer, Prince Carmine," Blaine replied, equally formal though what he really wanted to do was give Carmine a good kick. "No blame attaches to you. The fault was ours." He offered Carmine a hand up. "I think we could all do with a jolly good drink, what?" he asked.

Paula, who'd remained transfixed at the back of the room, did the honours.