As she’d wandered, Enari overheard more than one group of servants excitedly discussing the murders of the three powerful individuals. They’d been discovered torn to pieces in a locked reading room just after daybreak. Adipem Porcus, Hera Wastrel, and Hrivaldi Le’Quar were identified only by their crests, left hanging on a peg in the wall beside the door. The room was locked from within and the single window still bolted shut. Most unsettling of all, the words ‘Conspirators’ and ‘Traitors’ had been scrawled on the wall in what was presumably blood and a weird design marred the floorboards.
Theirs was not the first violent death to occur in the palace of late. Nearly a week before a young boy had been found in a cellar storage room, and people were still reeling.
From the details she’d been able to gather by eavesdropping in the shadows, it seemed both a tragic and mysterious event, if almost certainly unrelated to the murders of the councilors. The High Mage and even the Duque of Darmiad had been summoned to the scene, though no one else had been allowed to enter the room rumored to contain that body. The boy’s mother was said to be inconsolable and Cook had given her a whole week to go to her family in the city so she could grieve. Now that such an elaborate funeral was in the works for the dead council members at dawn the next day, with a mourning feast to follow, the kitchen staff was shorthanded.
But of everything she heard, the description of the wounds seen on the body of the black-haired, green-eyed little servant boy were unnervingly familiar. Scratches and bite marks, just like Jex, and from the state of the body when it was discovered, the poor thing had been dead for days. That put his murder quite close to when Jex began to get sick. There were too many similarities for there to be no relation between the two, especially since it was also being whispered that the boy had been a blood sacrifice for some dark ritual.
“I know not what troubles you, my child, but may an old man offer some advice?” He’d been watching her expression darken as she thought and it was clear that more than home sickness was bothering her. He took her silence as assent.
“Trust your gut, girl. If you think something is wrong or unnatural, then it probably is.” Tapping a finger against her temple, he continued. “And trust your mind as well. You’ve been trained by one of the most brilliant healers I’ve ever known. Let her lessons serve you in your task, but don’t be afraid to follow your own intuition. That may make the difference between life and death.”
His words were cryptic, and she chalked them up to the musings of a pious man who spent his days amongst the whisper of books. Little did she know that they would one day be words that saved her life.
* * *
“I didn’t think it would go that badly,” Brinon told his wife later that night as they lay side-by-side in bed. “She’s so angry, Aelani. Did we make a mistake, go wrong with her somewhere along the way? Our other girls are so sweet…”
She turned onto her side, her back against his chest. “I don’t know, Brinon. She’s not the happy, loving child I used to hold in my lap and I wish I knew what happened. You aren’t actually considering breaking the engagement, are you?”
“No,” he sighed, “Even if I were, you know the Council would never stand for it. They’d riot en masse and we have trouble enough as it is.”
“Is Undabe still making a fuss over Ibiran?” That wasn’t the trouble he meant and she knew it, but she had no desire to bring the unpleasantness of the past days into their sanctuary.
“When isn’t the man making a fuss? I’m convinced he couldn’t continue breathing otherwise, but I’m still more concerned about Sarene. You’re her mother. Where did I go wrong in this and what can I say to make it right? She seemed contented to the idea, excited even, not so long ago and yet today she told me that I didn’t love her.” The hurt in his voice broke her heart.
“She didn’t mean it, my love. I think she’s just at that fickle age. Every other day, a new young man catches her fancy, but she’ll grow out of it. As for what to say to her, I’m not sure. I don’t feel like I know her anymore and I worry. She’s so headstrong and wants everything her own way. I pray to the Goddess that marriage and motherhood will make her see things in a different light.”
“Perhaps she inherited more from her grandmother than just looks,” he grunted, putting an arm around her. He stroked a hand across her belly, feeling the strong movements of the baby beneath his palm. The little one seemed particularly active tonight.
Aelani reached down and playfully swatted his thigh, “My mother was certainly headstrong, but never to the detriment of her kingdom, and she loved you almost more than I do, so I don’t know where you’d get such an opinion of her.”
“Riane was a fine woman and an even better tora, but I’m still glad you got your father’s temperament.” Brinon pressed his lips to the place where her neck and shoulder met. “I love you, Aelani. Have I told you that today?”
He heard her smile in the dark. “Only a dozen times since dawn.”
“Then I shall have to tell you two dozen times tomorrow.”
“Hush and go to sleep.”
* * *
“Sarene, why are you crying?”
She sat up swiftly, wiping her eyes on her sleeve and glowering darkly at her younger sister.
Kylan stood in the bedroom doorway, dressed in her nightgown and holding a raggedy bear by one arm. With her hair unbraided and brushed out, she looked like a miniature of their mother and Sarene felt a stir of anger and loneliness.
“Go away.”
Instead of leaving, Kylan came into the room and climbed up on the bed. She reached out and wiped a tear from Sarene’s cheek. The older torina’s expression softened.
“I wish you didn’t hate me,” Kylan said, finally breaking eye contact. “I love you, you know, and it makes me sad when you cry.”
With a sigh, Sarene put her arms around the girl and rested her chin atop her soft, baby-fine hair.
“I don’t hate you.”
“Then why do you always yell at me and send me away?”
Sarene squeezed her tighter. “You’re just little, and sometimes you irritate me to no end, always turning up in places you shouldn’t and listening in on private conversations. You’re a pest, Kylan, but I love you, too.”
“So why were you crying?”
“It’s not important.”
Kylan pulled back and looked at her solemnly. “You never cry, Sarene. Something really, really bad must have happened. Are you worried about Jex, too? I know you like him.”
“He’s going to be fine,” Sarene said with a shrug, releasing her sister and giving her a little push away. “Assuming The Mute doesn’t kill him, that is. What was mother thinking, entrusting his care to an untried novice from the backend of nowhere?”
“Enari is nice, and she’s taking good care of him. Better than that grouchy Master Illyrian, anyway.”
“Master Illyrian has been formally trained.”
“So has Enari.”
“By the equivalent of a witch-doctor. I don’t like it.”
“He’ll get better, Sarene, you’ll see.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
His eyes opened and the sight that greeted them was a rather pleasant surprise.
On the mattress beside his arm was a puddle of red and gold hair, tousled and tangled above a peacefully slumbering face. Moving his hand took more effort than he’d dreamed possible, but he was able to raise it and touch her cheek.
Clouds and waving grass and heat of the sun. Little flowers, yellow and pink, the flash of white teeth in a sun-browned face. Dark hair ruffled by the wind and green eyes crinkled in laughter. Horse, dust, leather. Steady heartbeat against her back…
He trailed one finger along the petal-soft skin of her jaw. Oh yes, he’d definitely woken up to worse views than this.
Enari started and sat up quickly, blinking in bewilderment for a few seconds before her eyes cleared, darted to the mirror, then back to his face. A dark head popped into view from the
floor beside her chair, and Kylan’s shriek of delight nearly deafened them both.
“Finally!” she exclaimed, and began to cry.
The door opened and Eryk stuck his head in. He, too, looked pleased and relieved.
Jex glanced between the three faces in total confusion. He lay in a bed he’d only slept in once or twice before and he felt like someone had beaten him. Either that, or he was dead and this was what a hangover in Diu felt like. His head pounded dully, his throat burned, his body ached, and he was absolutely starving.
When he tried to sit up, he found that he lacked the strength. Enari’s cool hand touched his bare shoulder fleetingly and he turned his head to look at her. He could manage that much movement, at least. She put a glass to his parched lips, but pulled it back when he tried to take it from her, shaking her head. He gave in with a grumble and drank gratefully when she offered a second time. She allowed only a few sips before returning it to the table and he pouted at her, still thirsty.
“It’s good to see you finally awake,” Eryk said, coming in to sit on the edge of the bedside table. His niece leaned against his knee and he absently petted her hair as she wiped her face on the hem of his shirt. “We were beginning to worry.”
“What—” it came out a barely audible rasp and Jex cleared his throat. It hurt, but when he spoke his voice was stronger, “What are you talking about?”
“How much do you remember?” Eryk asked him, “Or rather, what’s the last thing you remember?”
Jex considered, then shook his head. “Not much. After I started getting sick, things are pretty hazy.”
“You were in bad shape when you got here and you’ve been unconscious or asleep for ten days now.”
Jex closed his eyes as his sense of time clicked sharply back into place. Ten days? He probably should be dead, but seeing as he was alive enough to feel how much everything hurt... And on another note, who had…
“Enari’s been taking care of you,” Kylan offered before he could finish the thought, “She let me help, but only sometimes.” The little girl giggled. “You snore and talk in your sleep, Jex. The words are funny and no one understands them. Not even Uncle Eryk.”
It was then that Jex became acutely aware of his nakedness beneath the single, suddenly flimsy sheet. His eyes met Enari’s and both their faces heated in understanding of the fact. He looked away first, but not before he caught the way her eyes flicked to the vanity mirror and back.
* * *
She wasn’t sure what to do. Whenever Jex fell asleep, which was every few hours now, the crawling black haze grew darker and stronger, like it was feeding on him and could only do so while he was unconscious.
They thought she was mad. Enari could see it in the furtive, worried glances they gave her when they thought she wasn’t looking. None of them could perceive what she saw: not in the mirror and not when they touched him, and she knew of no way to show them.
So she turned to the Imperial library for guidance. It was the largest collection of knowledge in the three kingdoms and housed a copy of many of the books one would find at Turris Arcana and the Cyrilan Temple.
The place was immense, dim, and best of all, nearly deserted. It was one of the few rooms in the palace to take up more than one floor and its center was open, overlooked by a second and then a third level. Every moment her increasingly demanding patient allowed, Enari wandered the stacks, a small and forlorn phantom passing through patches of light and shade. The library was an easy place to lose oneself, and she did so quickly and with a certain feeling of liberation. A few times, she saw other patrons and monks in gray, but none were ever close. Her unhappiness diminished to nothing more than a dull ache as she scanned the titles in row upon row, case upon case, floor upon floor, of books.
She poured over every morsel she could find about magical rites and curses, both theoretical and practical. Everything pointed her in one obscure way or another to a tome called The Seventh Door, but it turned out to be the one book she couldn’t get her hands on. It had gone missing sometime in the past month, but no one knew exactly when. Servants, guards, and library assistants had been questioned at length, but none seemed to know anything of importance. So she was left to follow whatever leads she could turn up, and they weren’t painting a very helpful picture thus far.
As she climbed the stairs to the third floor, mulling over Jex’s most recent outburst of petulance, she thought she heard someone call her name. The summons was faint, almost a whisper, but when it came a second time, she knew it hadn’t been her imagination. Gathering her skirts, she hurried up the last of the marble steps.
The quiet voice drew her on and it was as she was passing a dark corner that she felt a touch on her arm. She whirled, only to find herself alone. The hairs at the nape of her neck stood on end and she had the distinct impression she was being watched, but there was not a soul in sight.
The book had been on the topmost shelf of an ancient-looking glass fronted case and, being the only spine in the row without a soft coating of dust, had immediately caught her eye. Coran did his best to keep all the tomes clean and in good repair, but the library was just too vast for his efforts to be completely effective, with or without an army of assistants.
She’d had to find a stool to stand on in order to retrieve it, and even then, her reaching fingers had been several inches shy of their goal. Looking around furtively and still seeing no one, she’d stepped from the stool onto one of the shelves, praying silently to the Goddess that her weight wouldn’t bring the whole thing down on top of her.
Standing on the cabinet’s middle shelf, she was just able to pull the book toward her with the very tips of her fingers. It was a large volume, bound in brilliant red leather with lettering done in gold leaf. It was nearly as thick as her palm was wide and she needed both hands to carry it.
After safely acquiring her prize, Treatise Maldicta, Enari retreated to a window ledge and begun to read. While it might not have been the tome she was seeking, it shed enough light on the subject to confirm her worst suspicions. She didn’t stop for hours, and the more she read, the colder she felt. By the time she finally glanced up, only a quarter of the way through the Treatise, it was nearing noon and she knew her charge would be waiting for his meal.
* * *
“Kvinna Vasi says you’re good practice,” Kylan declared. She was sitting cross legged on the bed beside him, a half-finished book in her lap. He’d declined her offer of reading aloud for the first time in days.
“Fantastic,” Jex griped, “Is she hoping you’ll kill me so she won’t have to keep coming to look in anymore?”
Enari’s face flushed scarlet and she turned away from them, focusing her attention on something he felt certain was going to make him even more miserable.
Kylan slapped at his leg. “Stop it! She’s been really nice to you. I wish someone was that nice to me when I’m sick!”
“You’re a daughter of the Imperial house. They have to be nice to you,” he retorted, “I’m just a mage with a big mouth. They clearly don’t care what happens to me.” He shifted restlessly and turned over with a groan. “Can I get up yet, Novice Namelum?”
Enari stubbornly ignored him. This was a battle of wills that had been going on since he woke a week ago.
Kylan rolled her eyes and started to get off the bed. “You are the meanest, grouchiest person in the whole palace right now. Sarene is better company than you and she’s having her monthly! I’m going back to Mama’s room.”
“I don’t think your sister would like you sharing that with everyone, Kylan. That’s generally something a woman considers her private business. Also, we have lessons,” he reminded her. Bed ridden or not, it had been determined he was well enough for that duty at least.
“Not when you’re being cantankerous.” She put her back firmly to Jex and addressed Enari instead, “I like that word, ‘cantankerous’. I read it the other day and I think it fits him.” She flounced out, taking the only book with her.<
br />
Jex heaved a noisy sigh of irritation.
Enari came to the bed, a cup in one hand and a kit in the other. He knew that the cup would contain a potion of one degree of nastiness or another, though unlike Vasi or the infrequently-seen Master Illyrian, she made attempts to camouflage the vile taste. The box would hold liniments for a variety of his bits and pieces and leave him smelling like a flower or some kind of fruit. Just as Vasi had threatened, there was even one that smelled like an old lady’s sachet.
Enari had only used that on him the once and she’d done it in retaliation for an admittedly childish prank.``
Out of sheer boredom one afternoon, he’d projected the image of a large spider crawling up her sleeve and she’d spilled an entire basin of water on herself trying to slap it away. When he started to laugh, he lost his concentration and the thing vanished. Upon discovering it wasn’t real, she’d lost her temper for the first time that he’d seen and what came next caused him to immediately regret provoking her.
Eyes blazing in a fury that was rather enticing, she’d dug out the most horrendous smelling poultice she could find and he’d been helpless to stop her from using it. He’d later been informed his indignant shouting was heard in the kitchens three levels down and his choice of language had not been appreciated.
“You know, I can do this myself. I don’t need a nursemaid.”
Enari’s shoulders stiffened in frustration and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her lips moved soundlessly, something he hadn’t seen her do before, and he realized she was counting. It didn’t seem to help.
Setting the cup down on the bedside table hard enough to slosh a little liquid over the rim, she reached for the light dressing on his chest. The rash had subsided, much to his relief, leaving only a few bumps here and there that looked more like insect bites than something dreamt up by a plague demon. When she pulled the bandages away, she did so with less care than usual and they took some hair with them, making him flinch.
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