Captive of the Crimson Countess, Chapter 7: My Little Bird

The Countess Battoria reclined on an overstuffed chaise lounge. She held a wine glass of thick opaque red liquid in her hands. She sipped at the liquid as she stared out the window at the predawn blush spreading across the sky. A chill hung in the air, but the immortal countess did not notice. At his desk, Tristan scratched away with a quill pen. The man suppressed a shiver. Then he cursed under his breath at the shaky line of ink he had produced. The countess did not respond to his whispered profanity. Minutes passed in silence. The blush of dawn spread to a bloom of burnt orange, and a spark that set the mountain peaks ablaze.

“I must get to bed soon.” The countess said. 

“Am I to accompany you?” Tristan asked, not looking up from his writing.

The countess shook her head. “No. I need you to keep working.”

Tristan nodded and wiped a hand across the dark circles under his eyes. “What would you like me to do?”

“Why did our little hunter attack the caravan, Tristan?” 

Tristan looked up from his ledger and shook his head.

“I don’t know, your excellency.”

“I don’t like it. My nature is not public knowledge. Agartha does not look kindly upon immortals. How did she know?”

“We don’t know if she did. She may have been hunting slavers. She may have stumbled across the caravan and recognized it for what it was.”

“I don’t like it. How she found me is a dangerous loose end. I want it tied off.”

“Is that necessary? She’s a young and inexperienced monster hunter, well out of her league and in your grasp. She’ll never leave here. What risk is there?”

“Her grandmother is Lady Battle Ax. I have never met Lady Battle Ax, but she took something of great value from me.” 

Tristan looked up, and raised an eyebrow. “Something of great value?”

“It doesn’t concern you. Ignore it. More important is this. If the House of Wander knows what I am, then I am in peril. And even if they don’t, do you think they will let their child disappear? She vanished into the Agarthan highlands. Do you think they won't send anyone to investigate? No. This is dangerous.”

Tristan closed his book. He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Of course, your excellency. Then how would you like to proceed?”

“First, put out the word to our sources. Is anyone searching for our little hunter? Second, send spies to the nearby villages. Somebody must have said something that sent her our way. Somebody must know something.”

Tristan nodded.

“I’ve never fought the great Lady Battle Ax. If I had, one of us would be dead. And she has killed immortals older than myself. I wonder at the skill of her granddaughter. A hungry part of me wants to see how dangerous this little hunter might be. But I do not wish to risk an immortal life on such frivolities. I need more information. Still, the little hunter seemed caught off guard when I left her last. Perhaps she is not as skilled as I am fearing.”

Tristan nodded again. He shivered and looked at the open window.  

The countess took another sip of her drink and continued speaking. “Something brought her here. I feel it. The House of Wander does not act without reason. An Yssian hunter would not cross the Boro Sea and venture into the Agarthan high mountains on a whim or a hunch. Something had to draw her to us. What is she after?”

Tristan nodded. He rose and walked to a coatrack. He took a clawhammer jacket from the rack and pulled the jacket on. The countess rose as well. She tipped her head back and drained the glass in her hands. 

“I’m leaving this in your hands, Tristan. I expect something within the week.”

“It will take longer than that for spies to reach the nearest town.” Tristan said.

“Then be creative,” the countess answered.

“I could have your agent among the girls ask the hunter what brought her here.”

“No. My little bird has not yet earned the hunter’s trust.”

“Then I will have her probe rather than ask.”

“Very well. But warn her of the cost of failure.”

The countess swept from the room. Tristan strode to the window and closed it. Then he pulled the heavy insulating curtains across the windows. He turned back and placed another log in the fireplace. Then, after warming his hands before the fire, he returned to his desk and continued writing.