Amitabh gestured, and Fletcher slowly rose off the floor. His arms and legs remained as still as if they were bound. Daphne looked around wildly, hoping to identify the Mover who had Fletcher in his power, but none of the men in the room seemed to be paying attention to the conversation. Fletcher still did not seem ruffled by this turn of events.
“Angry again, girl?” Amitabh said. “You dislike seeing your captain treated this way. If he tells me what I want to know, I will release him.”
“What do you want to know?” Daphne asked.
Amitabh gestured again. Fletcher flew across the room to impact with the wall above a soldier’s head with a sickening thump. Daphne cried out and struggled against her captor, and got perhaps a fraction of an inch away before his hands settled on her shoulders firmly. “No!” she shouted. “This will not get you what you want!” They had not hurt him before, Fletcher had said; this show was for her benefit, to convince her to give in so Fletcher would not be tortured. But she had no idea what Amitabh wanted.
The unseen Mover brought Fletcher back to stand in the same place. His head wobbled as if he could not quite hold it up. Daphne wiped a tear from her cheek and said, “If you simply delight in causing others pain, I refuse to have any sympathy for you.”
“As if you had sympathy before,” Amitabh said.
“I did. Vaachaspati told such a story… it was so sad, and I could understand why you would be angry at being denied your inheritance—how can you not care for your people, and start riots that get them killed? I do not understand you at all. Did your Shaper kill Vaachaspati? We thought he did.”
“Vaachaspati knew the truth about my plans. He would have told you far too much about me. I could not permit that.”
Daphne glared at the Shaper. “It was a cruel, horrid deed to kill a holy man. I wish I had caught you so you could hang for his murder.”
Amitabh laughed. “The Company cares not for the murder of Indians. They would simply consider it one less stupid Hindoo to trouble the world.”
“That is not true. And I would not have permitted that.”
“And again we come up against the question of who you are, girl.” Amitabh’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Your confidence comes from… what? Your talent? Your rank?”
“She is the daughter of a marquess, and his heir,” the Shaper said. “I tell you, she would be ideal.”
“Ideal for what?” Daphne asked.
“Leave Lady Daphne out of this, Amitabh,” Fletcher said. “She will not do as you ask.”
“Even to save your life?”
“Even then.”
“What are you talking about?” Daphne demanded.
Amitabh walked toward her. “My men are poised to attack the Company in Madhyapatnam. They need only a… distraction. Something to disrupt the Company’s presence here. An assassination.”
“Assassination? Sir Rodney?”
“No.” Amitabh smiled. “The Governor-General.”
Daphne was struck breathless. “You cannot assassinate the Governor-General,” she said when she regained the power of speech. “You would never be able to reach him. He is too well surrounded by loyal men.”
“I would not, true. But one of his own loyal men could. Or… women.”
Daphne drew in a deep breath. “I will not do such a monstrous thing.”
“Not even to spare the life of the man you love?”
Daphne glanced at Fletcher, swiftly, then once more glared at Amitabh. “He would never forgive me if I did.”
“I can make him suffer. It would be on your head.”
“It would be on your head, you… I do not know a word awful enough for what you would be if you would do such a thing, but do not believe I am so foolish as to be swayed by that threat.”
“Just imagine, girl… you might Bound there from here, shoot the Governor-General through the heart, or the throat, and Bound back, and I would allow the two of you to go free!”
“Stop it,” Fletcher said. “She will never agree to it. I am the one you need, Amitabh.”
Amitabh stopped, inches from Daphne’s face. “You slipped,” he whispered. “I felt it. You slipped.”
Fletcher’s face shone with sweat. “I did not.”
“Yes, you did. I felt it. Fear, and…” He walked toward Fletcher and gripped his chin as he had Daphne’s, holding his head in place. “It is gone now.”
“You are imagining things,” Fletcher said coldly. “Lady Daphne and I will never agree to participate in your plot.”
Amitabh tilted his head. His lips curved in a smile. “Say her name,” he said. Fletcher said nothing. “Say it, or I cut you.”
Fletcher’s face was still and impassive. Amitabh smiled more widely. “Say it, or I cut her,” he said.
“… Lady Daphne,” Fletcher ground out.
“Again.”
“Lady Daphne.”
“Again!”
“Lady… Daphne.”
Amitabh released him with a crow of exultation. “I felt it!” he shouted. “It is in the way your voice caresses your beloved’s name, even as you struggle to hide from me. She is in my power, and now… oh, now, brave captain, I believe you will do as I tell you.”
The impassive look vanished, and Fletcher’s head sagged. Daphne’s eyes burned with unshed tears. So she was to be a pawn, a hostage against Fletcher’s good behavior, and what would he not do to prevent harm from coming to her? Amitabh looked her way, his smile triumphant, and she knew he could feel the despair and anger rolling off her in waves. If only she had not tried to be a hero!
Amitabh laid his palm against Fletcher’s cheek, a gentle parody of a lover’s touch. “Can you feel that, captain?” he said. “Feel that pleasure? Your despair is like sweet wine. You will do as I tell you, or she will suffer. You know I do not lie to you.”
“I know,” Fletcher said, his quiet voice echoing with the despair Daphne felt. “I will do whatever you ask. But you must release her.”
“Not yet. She will ensure your compliance. Kill the Governor-General, and she goes free in that hour.”
“That is not enough. You must swear that no one will touch her. No harm will come to her. Or I will bring the army of Fort William down upon you and disembowel you myself.”
“You believe you are in a position to make demands?”
The soldier holding Daphne was paying close attention to this exchange. She realized his grip was loosening. Carefully she maintained her feelings of despair, nurturing them, never giving conscious space to her awareness of her growing freedom. Just a few moments longer… but it would require careful timing, and all her strength.
“This is a negotiation,” Fletcher was saying. “You want something from me. I have conditions under which I will do that thing. She is my condition. Hurt her in any way, and I swear I will hunt you down and make you suffer. Tell me I am lying.”
“You are not lying, but we both know a Discerner can be defeated by one who genuinely believes an untruth. Even so…” Amitabh lowered his hand and took a few steps back. “Very well. I believe you. How will you do it?”
“You must cause your men to withdraw. The unrest in Madhyapatnam is what keeps me here. I cannot leave until it is settled.” He was back to impassivity again. “I will return to Calcutta and make my report to the Governor-General, and while reporting, I will kill him. You will learn of it, I judge, within a day. And Lady Daphne will go free.”
She wanted to scream at him to stop, to refuse to go along with Amitabh’s evil plan, but she could not risk them remembering she was in the room. True despair filled her, and she let herself indulge in it, not allowing herself to think of anything else.
“Your plan does not include your escape,” the Shaper said. “Have you no care for your own life?”
“None, so long as hers is in jeopardy,” Fletcher said.
The hard hands gripping her were barely touching her anymore. Daphne watched, and waited for her moment. Step back again, Amitabh, just a fo
ot more…
“Will not your people wonder where she has gone?” Amitabh said. He had halted a few feet from Fletcher, still too close, close enough that he might lunge forward and grab her if she Skipped to Fletcher’s side. Daphne wanted to scream with frustration, but she dared do nothing that would draw attention to herself. She waited, barely breathing, waited for her opening…
“I will return with a story that will convince them,” Fletcher said. “I will tell them her last Bound killed her. There is another Bounder there who will confirm that is plausible.”
It sounded reasonable, so reasonable that Daphne for a moment forgot it was all a lie. Surely Fletcher would not commit murder simply to save her? Amitabh appeared to have forgotten all about her. He turned, stepped toward the dais. Two steps. Three.
Daphne wrenched free of her captor and Skipped to Fletcher’s side, startling exclamations of surprise from the watching soldiers. She flung her arms around his waist and Bounded.
Pain lanced through her body, not the pain of trying to meld with another person, but an agony as if she were being torn in half. It felt as though part of her had Bounded successfully and the rest of her had remained behind. The Mover. She had forgotten the Mover who had Fletcher in his grasp. He still held Fletcher tightly with his talent, anchoring him to the ground.
She stopped trying to Bound and found herself back in Amitabh’s throne room. Fletcher was stiff as a plank in her arms, unable to give her even the slightest assistance by putting his arms around her shoulders. Amitabh was screaming for his men to advance. Some of them were very close, and in another couple of seconds they would be upon her. Drawing in a deep breath, Daphne changed her grip from Fletcher’s waist to below his knees. With a scream of defiance, she heaved upward, felt something tear, and Bounded away.
The stinking lights of the throne room gave way to the cool dimness of the Residence hall. Daphne dropped Fletcher, who landed hard on the tiles and groaned. She fell to her hands and knees and then lowered herself to the ground, unable to support herself on shaking arms and legs. Her chest and stomach burned as if they had been shredded, and she could not seem to catch her breath. Shuddering, she lay still, willing the pain to go away, but it was growing worse, and the dim lights of the hallway were dimming further.
Fletcher coughed, and she felt rather than heard him roll onto his side and push himself up. “Daphne,” he said in a voice that sounded raw, as if he had been screaming, “are you well?”
She tried to answer him, but breathing was so difficult. She could barely manage to draw a thin stream of air through her nostrils, and when it reached her lungs, it hurt so badly she wished she had not bothered. Her stomach convulsed, and she rolled back onto her hands in time to vomit all over the tiles. Even in the dimness, the bright red of blood was obvious. She waited for her vision to cloud over, staring at all the blood—surely there should not be so much of it?—but it remained clear, though the stench of blood and bile made her want to vomit again.
I am going to die, she thought, but at least I am cured of my weakness. She could hear Fletcher from very far away, a strange effect since she could see him crouched next to her, but could not understand his words. Then he lifted her, cradling her like an infant, and she let her head loll back to look at him, his face once more impassive. Surely that was unnecessary now they were free of Amitabh’s presence? His lips moved soundlessly, not that she could hear anything over the sound of the blood rushing in her ears. Just as the rushing sound stopped, she felt herself transferred to someone else’s arms. She wanted to protest that she did not want anyone to hold her but Fletcher, but at that point she ran out of air, and fell into a painless unconsciousness.
In which Daphne learns the limits of her talent and suffers accordingly
aphne woke to the sound of distant murmuring and the crackle of a fire burning nearby. She tried to open her eyes, but they felt heavy, weighted down by a gentle but inexorable pressure. After trying a few times to get them to obey, she gave up. She lay in a soft bed, not the one at the Residence nor her bed in Lindsey House back in Calcutta, yet so very familiar… she breathed in the scent of violets, and realized she was in her own bedroom at Marvell Hall. She was warm, but not over-hot as she had become accustomed to in nearly a month living in India, and the smell of burning wood comforted her.
She had… what had happened? She tried to piece memory together, like a puzzle with half the pieces missing and the other half blank white. She remembered going to the bazaar and speaking with those Hindoo women, learning about Amitabh—
Amitabh. The palace. Hard hands, holding her in place.
Fletcher.
She tried to rise, but her body did not obey her any more than her eyelids had. “Is someone there?” she croaked, a horrible raspy sound that did not resemble her voice at all. She cleared her throat and tried again, this time producing only a reedy whistle. Tears came to her eyes that she could not wipe away because her arms were too heavy to lift.
A door opened, and the distant murmuring grew louder, distinguishable as human speech, though still too quiet or far away for Daphne to make out words. “She’s awake,” a woman said. After a moment’s thought, Daphne recognized it as her mother’s voice. Someone took her hand and laid a cool hand on her brow. “Daphne, can you hear me?”
“I need water,” Daphne croaked.
The hands were removed, and shortly someone helped her sit and held a glass to her lips. Daphne swallowed gratefully and immediately felt better. “Thank you,” she said, in a voice more like her own.
“You have slept for two days,” her father said. “After a Healing that took half a day. You… it was a near thing, Dr. Courtenay said.”
Daphne concentrated, and managed to open her eyes, though it was hard not to let them close again. Her parents were a couple of man-sized blurs in her vision, and she wondered briefly if this was how Bess saw the world. “Did anyone tell you what happened?”
“Major Schofeld has been here three times to inquire after your condition,” Papa said. “The second time, he gave us what I believe is the full story, though he had it second hand. You will have to tell us how correct it is. You Bounded with someone who was being held by a Mover? Daphne, did you not know such a thing is impossible?”
“Not impossible, only very difficult and apparently dangerous, but I could not leave him, Papa, truly I could not, he would not leave me behind even though he could have escaped and left me to recover—and at any rate I did not realize he was being held until I had already Bounded the first time, and I was desperate. Did Major Schofeld tell you I Bounded to his essence, Captain Fletcher’s I mean?”
“No, but is that not impossible as well?”
“It seems it is just a very bad idea. Well, perhaps Major Schofeld does not know what came of that experiment, as he was not there. I have done so many impossible things this week, Mama, Papa, and I feel lucky to be alive.”
“You are lucky,” Papa said darkly. “I wish you were young enough for me to confine you to your bedroom. It would be good not to worry about what mischief you were up to again.”
“Oh, my dear, Daphne is sensible, and I am certain she did all of those things for a good reason.” The sound of Mama’s voice suggested that she wanted to hear the story behind Daphne’s adventures. Daphne smiled, but it was interrupted by an enormous, jaw-cracking yawn. “Daphne, you are not tired already? You must stay awake long enough for Dr. Courtenay to arrive. She wished to examine you when you woke. I am certain she will be here soon.”
“Perhaps if you help me sit, I will be able to stay awake,” Daphne said.
Papa not only helped her up, he picked her up in his arms the way he had when she was a child, and Mama arranged pillows to support her when he set her down. She discovered she was wearing her own nightgown, and that made everything seem real in a way that even the smell of her bedroom had not. Mama gave her another drink of water; it was cool and sweet and tasted nothing like the water of India, and she felt a
n unexpected twinge of homesickness. Surely she would be able to return to India soon. India, and Fletcher—she missed him terribly, and wished he had been there when she woke.
Dr. Courtenay had been Daphne’s physician since she was a tiny, prematurely born infant, and just the sound of her voice, booming and deep for a woman’s, calmed Daphne no matter how much she hurt. The Extraordinary Shaper was a beautiful, perfectly proportioned woman of late middle age, though her unlined face made her seem younger, and she made the black cap look stylish. When she saw Daphne sitting up, her only remark was, “You had better not be pushing yourself into an early grave, young lady. It will look bad on my references.”
“I am too tired to move, Doctor,” Daphne said, trying once more to raise her right arm and failing. “I do not believe I can push myself anywhere.”
“Fortunate for all of us,” Dr. Courtenay said, stripping off her satchel and setting it on a nearby chair before sinking onto the bed beside Daphne. “Did Lord and Lady Claresby tell you what happened?”
“That it took half a day to Heal me, but they did not say why.”
“It is perhaps just as well you do not know the details.” Dr. Courtenay laid two fingers on Daphne’s wrist, feeling for her pulse. “You tore most of your internal organs trying to Bound with someone who was being held by a Mover. It took three of us to repair the damage. Never do that again.”
“I will not. I did not know it was so dangerous, Doctor, but I could not help it—” A horrid thought struck her. “Captain Fletcher is uninjured, yes? If I injured myself—he was the one being held—”
“Calm yourself, Lady Daphne. I don’t know this Captain Fletcher, but if he had been as badly injured as you were, I would have heard about it, whether or not he survived the Healing.”
“Major Schofeld said he was well,” Papa said. “You should not fear for him.” He averted his eyes, casually appearing to look out the window, but she had known him all her life and was familiar with his expressions. Her throat tightened with fear.
Abounding Might (The Extraordinaries Book 3) Page 25