But with the excitement and press of people through the entrance, Rand’s grip was broken. I wasn’t concerned until I found myself surrounded by four immense men. Two of the men wore blacksmith’s uniforms, while the other two wore farmer’s work uniforms. Excusing myself, I tried to slip past them, but they only pressed closer, trapping me.
13
TERROR WELLED IN MY THROAT; I was in trouble. I screamed for help. A gloved hand clamped over my mouth. Biting into the leather, I tasted ashes, but couldn’t reach skin. The blacksmiths grabbed my arms and pushed me forward, while the farmers walked in front, blocking me from sight. In all the commotion around the dance tent, nobody noticed my abduction.
I struggled, dragged my feet and kicked. Their pace never slowed. I was lugged farther away from the lights and safety of the festival. Craning my neck, I looked for a way to escape. The blacksmith next to me moved closer to block my meager view. His thick beard was filled with soot and half of it had been singed off.
We stopped behind a dark tent. The farmers stepped aside and I saw a shadow pull away from the fabric.
“Did anyone notice? Did anyone follow you?” the shadow asked with a woman’s voice.
“It went perfect. Everyone was focused on the dancers,” the blacksmith with the leather gloves replied.
“Good. Kill her now,” the woman ordered.
A knife flashed in Leather Gloves’s hand. I renewed my struggle, managing to break free for an instant. But the farmers pinned my arms while Singed Beard grabbed my legs. They held me suspended above the ground. Leather Gloves raised his weapon.
“No knives, you idiot! Think of the bloody mess. Use this.” She handed Leather Gloves a long thin strap. In a blink the knife disappeared. He wrapped the garrote around my neck.
“Nooo…” I screamed, but my protest was cut off along with my air supply as he tightened the strap. Intense pressure squeezed my neck. I jerked my limbs in vain. White dots swirled before my eyes. A faint buzzing sound dribbled from my lips. Too faint; the survival instinct that had saved me from Brazell’s guards and Reyad’s torture was too weak this time.
Over the roar of blood in my ears, I heard the woman say, “Hurry up! She’s starting to project.”
Ready to step off the edge of consciousness, a drunken voice said, “Excuse me, sirs, do you know where I can get a refill?”
The pressure on my neck lessened as Leather Gloves drew his knife. I let my body go limp and was rewarded by being dumped on the ground. The other three men stepped over me to face the intruder. Suppressing the urge to gasp for breath, I sucked in air with desperation. I muffled my efforts, unwilling to let anyone know I could still breathe.
From my new position, I saw Leather Gloves lunge toward the drunk. The clang of metal rang through the air as the knife stabbed into the man’s pewter beer mug instead of his chest. With a hard jerk of his wrist, the mug blurred into motion. The knife flew through the air, imbedding into the fabric of the tent. Then the drunk struck Leather Gloves on the head with the mug. Leather Gloves crumpled to the ground.
The others, mere steps away when their companion went down, rushed the intruder. The farmers grabbed his upper arms and shoulders while Singed Beard punched him twice in the face. Using the farmers to support his weight, the drunk lifted both legs off the ground and wrapped them around Singed Beard’s neck. With a loud snap, Singed Beard fell.
Still clutching his mug, the drunk swung it to the right into one farmer’s groin. As the farmer doubled over, the drunk brought the mug up, smashing it into the farmer’s face.
Then the intruder swept his beer mug to the left and slammed it into the other farmer’s nose. Blood gushing, the farmer yelped in pain and released his grip on the drunk. The drunk launched a second blow to the farmer’s temple. The farmer collapsed to the ground without a sound.
The fight had lasted seconds. The woman hadn’t moved at all, her intent gaze had been focused on the skirmish. Recognizing her as the dark-skinned woman I had spotted twice before at the festival, I wondered what she would do now that her goons were beaten.
Regaining some strength, I contemplated my odds of reaching the knife in the tent before she did. The drunk wiped blood off his face. Bodies were littered around his feet.
I tried to stand on shaky legs. The woman’s head snapped toward me as if she had forgotten I was there. Then she started to sing. Her sweet, melodious tune wound its way through my mind. Relax, it said, lie down, be still. Yes, I thought as I sank back down. My body mellowed. I felt as if she were tucking me into bed, drawing the blanket up to my chin. But then the blanket was yanked over my head, pushing against my mouth and nose, suffocating me.
I thrashed, wildly clawing my face to remove the imaginary blanket. Out of nowhere, Valek appeared before me, yelling in my ear, shaking my shoulders. Stupidly, belatedly, I realized he was the drunk. Who else but Valek could win a fight against four large men when armed only with a beer mug?
“Recite poisons in your mind!” Valek shouted.
I ignored him. Lassitude overcame me. I ceased fighting. All I wanted to do was sink into the darkness and follow the music to its depths.
“Recite! Now! That’s an order!”
Habit saved me. Without thought, I obeyed Valek. Names of poisons marched through my mind. The music stopped. The pressure on my face eased, and I could breathe again. I gasped noisily.
“Keep reciting,” he said.
The woman and the knife had disappeared. Valek pulled me to my feet. I swayed, but he steadied me with an arm on my shoulder. I clutched his hand for a second, suppressing the urge to throw myself sobbing into his arms. He had saved my life. When I regained my balance, Valek went back to the men. I knew Singed Beard was dead, but I was unsure of the others.
Valek turned one prone form over and cursed. “Southerners,” he said with disgust. He moved around the others, feeling for pulses. “Two alive. I’ll have them taken to the castle for questioning.”
“What about the woman?” I croaked. Talking was painful.
“Gone.”
“Will you search for her?”
Valek gave me a strange look. “Yelena, she’s a southern magician. I took my eyes off her, so there’s no way I can find her now.”
He grabbed my arm and steered me toward the festival.
My muscles trembled as the shock of the attack worked through my body. It took a while for his words to sink in.
“Magician?” I asked. “I thought they were banished from Ixia.” Killed on sight was more like it, but I couldn’t bring myself to say those words aloud.
“Although very unwelcome, some visit Ixia anyway.”
“But, I thought…”
“Not now. I’ll explain later. Right now I want you to catch up with Rand and his friends. Pretend nothing has happened. I doubt she’ll try again tonight.”
The bright firelight stabbed my eyes. Valek and I stayed in the shadows until we spotted Rand near the acrobatics tent. He was searching for me and calling my name. Valek motioned for me to join my friend.
I had taken only two steps when Valek said, “Yelena, wait.”
I turned. Valek waved me closer. When I reached him, his hand reached toward my neck. I stepped back, but recovered and stood still. His hand brushed my skin as he pulled the garrote off my throat. He handed it to me as if it was a poisonous snake. Shivering in disgust, I flung it to the ground.
Rand’s relief, when he saw me emerge from the crowd, rolled off him like a breaking wave. I hesitated. Why would he be so concerned? For all he knew, I had only been lost. I caught a sweet whiff of wine as Rand approached.
“Yelena, where have you been?” His words slurred.
I hadn’t realized he had drunk that much wine, which would explain why he had been so desperate to find me. Alcohol poisoned the mind, exaggerated the emotions.
“The tent was too crowded. I needed some air.” My voice caught on the word air as the horror of being strangled swept through me. I glance
d back at the shadows. Was Valek still watching or had he gone to arrest those men? And where was the dark-skinned woman? Earlier, I had been so happy to get out of the castle, but now I wanted nothing more than to have strong stone walls around me, and to be safely back in Valek’s suite. Now, that was an odd combination, the words Valek and safe in the same thought.
“I thought I’d catch up with you later,” I lied to Rand as I scanned the festival crowd. I didn’t enjoy deceiving him. After all, he was my friend. Maybe even a good friend who had been concerned enough to search for me when I had been separated from him, and who probably would have been the only person to be upset by my murder. Despite his fight on my behalf, I was certain that Valek would have only been annoyed at having to train a new food taster.
The fire dance had just ended and people poured from the tent. The rest of the kitchen group waited outside. Dilana had joined them. Rand dropped my arm like a lump of dough and went over to her. She smiled at him, teasing him about chasing after the food taster when he had promised to meet her.
Drunkenly, he begged for her forgiveness, explaining that he couldn’t afford to lose me since I had helped him win the baking contest. She laughed. Throwing one of her heartwarming smiles my way, Dilana hugged Rand, and arm in arm they headed back to the castle.
The rest of us followed. I found myself once again last in the procession, but this time I had Liza as a companion.
She scowled at me. “I don’t know what Rand sees in you,” she said.
Not a friendly way to start a conversation. “Excuse me,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.
“He missed the fire dance looking for you. And ever since you came around, the kitchen routine has been destroyed. The staff’s flustered.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Before you showed up, Rand’s mood swings were predictable. Cheerful and content when Dilana was happy and the gambling was profitable, moody and sullen when they weren’t. Then…” Liza stressed the word. Her plain cornmeal face creased into an ugly expression, which she aimed at me. “You befriend him. He starts snarling at the kitchen staff for no reason. Even winning a big payoff, Rand’s still depressed. It’s frustrating. We’ve come to the conclusion that you must be trying to steal him away from Dilana. We want you to stop, leave him alone and stay out of the kitchen.”
Liza had picked the worst time to accost me. Having just escaped a brush with death had put matters into perspective. I wasn’t in the best frame of mind. Pure rage flared; I grabbed her arm and spun her around to face me. We stood nose to nose.
“You have concluded? The combined brainpower of the kitchen staff probably couldn’t light a candle. Our friendship is none of your business. So I suggest you rethink your hypothesis. If there’s a problem in the kitchen, then deal with it. You’re wasting your time whining about it to me.” I pushed her away. I could tell by her shocked expression that she hadn’t expected such a fierce response.
Too bad for her, I thought as I hurried to catch up with the others, leaving her to walk alone. What did she want me to do? Had she assumed that I would meekly agree to stop talking to Rand just to smooth things in the kitchen? I wasn’t going to let her unload her problems on me; I was already overloaded with my own. Like why would a magician from Sitia want to kill me?
At the castle, I said good-night to Rand and Dilana and rushed to Valek’s suite. As much as I wanted to be inside, I cajoled one of the outer-door guards to check Valek’s rooms for intruders before I went in. Murder attempts combined with an overactive imagination made me jumpy, fearing ambushes. Even sitting on the couch in the middle of the living room with every lantern blazing, I didn’t feel safe until Valek arrived near dawn.
“Haven’t you slept?” he asked. A fist-size, dark purple bruise on his jaw contrasted against his pale skin.
“No. But neither have you,” I said peevishly.
“I can sleep all day. You need to taste the Commander’s breakfast in an hour.”
“What I need are answers.”
“To what questions?” Valek began to extinguish the lanterns.
“Why is a southern magician trying to kill me?”
“A good question. The very same one I was going to ask you.”
“How should I know?” I shrugged in frustration. “Brazell’s guards I could understand. But magicians! It’s not like I’ve been going around making southern magicians angry.”
“Ahhh…that’s a shame. Since you have a real talent for angering people.” Valek sat at his desk and rested his head in his hands. “A southern magician, Yelena, a master-level southern magician. Do you know that there are only four master magicians in Sitia? Four. And since the takeover, they’ve stayed in Sitia. On occasion they send a minion or two with minor magical abilities into the Territory to see what we’re up to. So far each spy has been intercepted and dealt with. Commander Ambrose will not tolerate magic in Ixia.”
The magicians of the King’s era had been considered the elite. Treated like royalty, they had been quite influential with the King. According to the history of the takeover, Valek had assassinated every one of them. I wondered how, especially since he couldn’t capture that woman tonight.
Valek stood up. He grabbed a gray rock off his desk. Tossing the stone from hand to hand, he paced around the living room.
Remembering Valek’s near miss with the last rock he’d held, I pulled my feet off the floor and hugged my knees to my chest, hoping to make myself a smaller target.
“For the southerners to risk one of their master magicians, the reason has to be…” Valek shook the stone in his hand, searching for the right word. “Momentous. So why are they after you?” He sighed and sank down on the couch next to me. “Well, let’s try to reason this out. You obviously have some southern blood in your heritage.”
“What?” I had never thought about my heritage. I had been found on the street, homeless, and been taken in by Brazell. Speculation about my parents had only been on whether they were dead or had just abandoned me. I had no memories of my life prior to my arrival at the orphanage. Mostly, I had been thankful that Brazell gave me shelter. For Valek to make such a matter-of-fact statement stunned me.
“Your coloring is a bit darker than the typical northerner. Your features have a southern quality. Green eyes are very rare in the Territory, but are more common in Sitia.” Valek misread my frozen expression. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. When the King was in power, the border to Sitia was open to commerce and trade. People moved freely between the regions, and marriages were inevitable. I would guess you were left behind right after the takeover when people panicked and fled south before we closed the border. It was complete mayhem. I don’t know what they were expecting when the Commander came to power. Mass killings? All we did was give everyone a uniform and a job.”
My mind reeled. Why hadn’t I been more curious about my family? I didn’t even know what town I had been found in. We had been told daily of our good fortune, reminded that we had food, clothes, shelter, teachers and even a small allowance. It had been repeatedly pointed out that many children with parents weren’t as well off as we were. Was it a form of brainwashing?
“Well, anyway, I digress,” Valek said into the silence. He stood and resumed his pacing. “I doubt it was missing family members. They wouldn’t want to kill you. Is there anything else, besides murdering Reyad, that you did in the past? Witnessed a crime? Overheard plans for a rebellion? Anything at all?”
“No. Nothing.”
Valek tapped the rock against his forehead. “Then let’s assume this has to do with Reyad. Perhaps he was in league with some southerners and your killing him ruined their plans. Maybe they’re scheming to retake Ixia. Or they think you know something about this plot. But I’ve heard nothing about Sitia attacking us. And why would they? Sitia knows the Commander is content to stay in the north and vice versa.” Valek rubbed a hand over his face before continuing.
“Perhaps Brazell has gotten creative i
n his old age and hired southerners to kill you; thereby accomplishing his desire to see you dead without implicating himself. No. That doesn’t make sense. Brazell would have hired thugs, no need for a magician. Unless he has connections I’m not aware of, which is highly doubtful.” Valek looked around the room. Only half of the lanterns had been extinguished. Setting the rock down, he finished the job just as the timid predawn light started to brighten the room.
He stopped as if he had a sudden thought and scowled at me.
“What?”
“Magicians will come north to smuggle one of their own kind to safety,” Valek said. He studied me.
Before I could protest, he asked, “Then why kill you? Unless you’re a Soulfinder, they wouldn’t want you dead.” Valek yawned and gently fingered the bruise on his face. “I’m too tired to think straight. I’m going to bed.” He walked to the stairs.
Soulfinder? I had no idea what that was, but more important concerns needed to be addressed.
“Valek.”
He paused with a foot on the first step.
“My antidote.”
“Of course.” He continued up the steps.
While he was upstairs, I wondered how many times in the future I would have to ask for the antidote. The knowledge that it was keeping me alive poisoned my mind as surely as the Butterfly’s Dust poisoned my body.
As the early morning light brightened, I thought of my bed with longing. Valek could sleep, but I had to taste the Commander’s breakfast soon.
Valek came downstairs. Handing me the antidote, he said, “You might want to wear your hair down today.”
“Why?” I ran my fingers through my hair. The ribbons I had braided were torn and knotted.
“To cover the marks on your neck.”
Before going to the Commander’s office, I hurried to the baths. I had just enough time to wash and change into a clean uniform before I had to appear at breakfast. The garrote had left a bright red ring around my neck that I couldn’t cover no matter how I styled my hair.
Poison Study Page 10