“Except you've seen us. You know about us.”
“But Marduk d-doesn't know that.
Bruin shook his head. “I do not like this.” He looked to Tanner.
Tanner sighed. “The rebel army is still a ways off. Though I admire Asher, I don't know if we can succeed without Emmerich. This may be our only way.”
The two men looked at Jarrett, who drew himself to his full height. Clara gazed at him, not saying anything, only waiting for him to speak.
Finally, he said, “I don't like it, either, and it's a desperate move. But these are desperate times. I will make sure what soldiers are in line with us are ready, Lady Clara. Only, do not let your dagger–or your courage–fail you when the time comes.”
“No,” she said, “it will not.” And the anger and hate throbbed in her heart like an open wound, as if in agreement.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Warm sunlight fell across Emmerich's face. For a moment, he was a little boy waking up after a long fever to find the sun shining and his grandmother humming a lullaby while she sat next to him. He could almost hear the clacking of her knitting needles as she made a scarf.
When he did open his eyes, though, he didn't recognize the pale green walls around him, and no grandmother sat next to him. To his left, a large window admitted the sunlight. He slowly sat up, grimacing at the pain in his side, and looked out the window. A garden full of late summer flowers and vegetables rippled in the wind. Several women in white dresses and veils tended the beds.
Emmerich looked around the room. It was small and simple. A small wardrobe stood to one side and beside it was a stand containing a pitcher and basin. The walls were bare. Rugs of cream and green lay scattered on the floor. The bed was small. Looking down, he realized he wore only trousers. Fresh bandages were bound tightly to his side.
It came flooding back to him: his conversation with Marduk, the dark-robed wizards, the bitter drink. For a moment, his mind wanted to catch hold of a memory, of a rough voice speaking from far away. But the memory slid away as soon as his mind touched it, leaving him feeling as if he had forgotten something terribly important.
Growling in frustration, Emmerich threw off the quilt covering him and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His side protested the movement but he ignored it. He took a deep breath and stood slowly.
Muscles too long unused pulled and pained him. The wound in his side burned. He gritted his teeth and slowly walked to the wardrobe.
Opening it revealed a collection of trousers and simple Southern-style tunics (sleeved and not requiring an undershirt as in the North). He grabbed one of the tunics and carefully pulled it on. It didn't fit quite right: it was too tight along the shoulders and gaped around his waist. He saw no belts, so decided to live with the deficiency.
By the wardrobe sat a pair of slippers. Emmerich frowned but knew if he tried to yank on boots, he'd pass out from pain. He shoved his feet into the slippers and slowly walked to the door.
It opened when he tried it and he felt a little uneasy at finding it unlocked. The hall was bright, a green and white runner tracing a straight line down the hardwood floor between white, unadorned walls. He heard the sound of women talking and laughing softly.
Emmerich carefully walked down the hall, trying to not jar his side. He wrapped the arm of the opposite side around his waist, pressing his hand against the wound.
Two large, spacious rooms opened off the hall. To his right was what appeared to be a sitting room, decorated in more green and white, with touches of fawn and palest blue. To his left was a simple kitchen. In front of him was a set of stairs, no doubt leading to the quarters of the women he saw in the garden.
The back door sat open and it was through that the voices drifted.
For a wild moment, Emmerich thought about walking out, stealing a horse, and, well, that was where his imagination failed him. But it seemed, for a moment, a better plan than finding the women. A hot lance of pain shot through his middle and he realized he wouldn't stay upright on a horse, much less gallop on one.
Grimacing, he shuffled through the kitchen and out the back door into the garden. Six women worked among the flowers and vegetables. One of them looked up and, seeing him, burst into a wide smile. She put down her basket and rushed over to him.
“I am so glad you're awake,” she said on reaching him, “but you should not be out of bed.”
“Where am I?” he asked.
“You are at a House of Healing of the White Order, on the far outskirts of Bertrand.” She gestured behind her and Emmerich could see the distant Palace on its hill, its four towers catching the morning sun. “But many people simply call us the Sisters.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Only two days. My name is Sister Rose.”
Emmerich looked at the woman, trying to remember what little he knew of the White Order. They had been organized not long after Marduk's arrival to Bertrand, and though there had been no overt, obvious connection, Emmerich never could shake the feeling that there was. But the White Sisters never did anything other than provide assistance to the poorest of Bertrand's poor, hence the location of the Healing Houses: they all sat outside the Old Wall that separated the high from the low.
“His Majesty,” said Sister Rose, “sent you here so that you may rest and recuperate. Come. Let’s get you back to bed.”
Emmerich thought about protesting but, despite the coolness of the day, sweat beaded his forehead. His knees shook and the pain was slowly becoming overwhelming. He let the sister lead him back to his room. By the time they reached his bed, he leaned heavily against her and gasped for breath.
He sank into the bed with a sigh of relief.
“I'll get you a tonic for the pain,” Rose said, turning away.
“Wait.” He caught her hand.
“Yes?”
“Did Marduk say why he brought me here?”
Rose looked at him like he was daft. “So that you may be healed, of course. He said you must be in fine form for the ball in a fortnight.”
“Ball?”
“Yes. The ball to welcome the Lady Clara, the new Court Seer.”
A bitter feeling rose up in Emmerich. He let go of Rose and turned his head away as she left.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Jarrett hunched his shoulders against the bitter wind as he crossed the street to the tavern. Pushing open the door, he entered the smoky, loud room. Men crowded around tables and at the bar, drinking and talking. Two bartenders and several barmaids were busy taking drinks and food to customers. They barely noticed him as he came in, working his way through the crowd to the stairs in the back.
The stairs led up to the second floor, where rooms were rented for the night, or the candle mark, whichever was required. Jarrett went down the hallway to the middle door on the right and, after a repetition of raps, opened it.
Tanner, Wizard Bruin, and three other people stood around the room. They turned to look at him as entered.
“You're late,” said a sour-faced woman.
“My apologies, Lady Dinar, but I was held up by the king.” He closed the door behind him.
Bruin raised his hands, which glowed softly for a moment before he lowered them. “We may speak freely now,” he said.
Jarrett nodded his thanks. “I have called a special meeting to discuss our current situation.” He related to the three people about Clara's plan.
When he finished, another of the leaders, a young man with white-blond hair, shook his head. “Madness,” he said. “She can't hope to succeed.”
“Thirst for revenge will drive a person to achieve great things. But, yes, there's a strong possibility she will fail.”
Lady Dinar said, “You should have tried harder to dissuade her.”
Bruin shook his head. “She would not be moved. We could have all argued with her until the sun rose, but it would not have changed her mind. Emmerich's death, it seems, has enraged her past all reason.”
&n
bsp; “So, then, what shall we do? There's no way she can hide you three's identity from Marduk. And if Marduk finds you, he finds the rest of us.”
“Our intelligence suggests that Captain Asher will make a hard push toward Bertrand, if he hasn't started already. There's a good possibility they will be here in little over two or three se'ennights.”
“That will do us little good if we're dead.”
No one could think of a way to argue that. Jarrett adjusted his cloak as he mulled over his next words.
“We know nothing of this girl,” said the sixth person, an old man sitting in the corner. “We only know that Marduk is captivated with her, that Emmerich had used her, and that she is deeply affected by Emmerich's death. But, other than that, we know nothing of her. She could be a spy for all we know. I think this is great folly, and I wish we had been consulted before you took her into your confidence.”
Jarrett bowed slightly in the direction of the old man. “My apologies, Lord Rodanthe, but speed was of the essence, before Marduk had a chance to pervert her.”
Rodanthe frowned but made no reply.
Lady Dinar said, “This isn't the first time you've acted without our consent, Jarrett. We value you because of your role in the Palace but you go too far, this time.”
“If you had met her,” he said, “you would see there is no cause for concern.”
“Your faith in her is quite touching, but there is no room for such when dealing with someone as powerful as Marduk.” She looked at Bruin. “What do you think of the girl?”
Bruin said, “She was not a spy when I first encountered her, but what she is now, I do not know. She seemed frightened and confused, making her very malleable. Your faith is commendable, Jarrett, but I agree with the others. This is folly.”
“If you believe so,” retorted the captain, “then why didn't you bend her to your will the other night? You have the ability.”
“Because I am not Marduk. I will not resort to his methods.”
Jarrett spread his hands before him. “Friends, what is done is done. There is no going back.”
“Then what do you suggest we do?”
“Aid Clara in every way we can.”
“And how do you propose we do that?”
“Ready the Guard.”
The leaders all exchanged concerned glances. The man with white-blond hair said, “That has always been a last resort.”
“I know, Jasper, but I think we've reached it.”
“If we come out to the Guard, there is no going back.”
“I realize that.”
“If all fails–”
“Yes, I know. We will die. But I'd much rather die for my freedom than to live as a slave of fear, wondering what could have happened 'if'.”
Silence filled the room as they considered his words. Jarrett waited patiently, trying to not twitch or tap his foot in frustration. He remembered the fire in Clara's eyes and the strength in her stance. The idea of Marduk's death was no longer a mere idea. He had not liked Clara's idea but now that he had thought of it, the idea that the reign of fear would end excited him. He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart, watching the others exchange nods.
Finally, Lord Rodanthe said, “Very well. Spread word among the Guard in whatever way suits best. Do you have a plan?”
“I do.”
“Then may the Mother and Child go with you.”
Gavin sat in the corner of the cell, staring into the dark. He had grown so used to the screams and cries of the tortured, he hardly noticed them. And it was evening. The screams would stop, soon, and there would be silence. But, sometimes, the silence was worse because there was nothing to distract a person from his own thoughts.
Unbidden, Clara's face filled his mind. He had meant to drop some hint to her that he had been lying, that he hadn't been telling the whole of the truth. But Marduk had pulled him aside before they entered the library.
“I'll be listening and watching,” he said, “though you won't see me. If you try any way of warning her, you're both dead.”
And Gavin believed him, not because Marduk was trustworthy. Of course not that. He believed him because he knew him to be capable of it.
And now it was over and done with. Clara was probably happier now. And if Emmerich came and took over everything, then she could learn the truth then. Maybe she would even forgive Gavin.
But as he sat there, staring in the dark, he knew he would not forgive himself. He had surrendered her to the darkness and there was no undoing that. He had told his greatest lie.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The War Room sat at the end of what the page referred to as the Hall of Justice. The hall extended from the Throne room to the War Room, with doors leading to small chambers in-between. Clara assumed these to be smaller courtrooms.
When the page opened the door to the room and bowed her inside, she felt relief when her maid and five guards did not try to follow. The door to the room closed behind her.
The chamber itself wasn't much to speak of. Small and octagonal, a large round table dominated the space. An array of maps hung on the walls. Glancing at them, she recognized several places where Emmerich had been, conquering and taking castles.
If the round table had been meant to suggest equality between those who sat there, the effect was ruined by the throne on one side. Marduk sat there, reading a parchment.
When she entered, Marduk looked up and, smiling, stood. The other men sitting around the table hastened to do the same.
“Lady Clara,” he said, “it is good you were able to come.”
Clara curtsied.
Marduk gestured around the table. “These are my trusted advisors and my generals. They make up what is known as the Council.” He named names but she hardly listened. The paper in his hands gave her a bad feeling.
“Come, sit,” he said, indicating an empty chair to his left.She did as bidden and a servant stepped forward with a decanter of wine. Seeing it made bile rise in her throat. She shook her head and the servant backed away.
“I'm afraid,” began Marduk, “I have received news of an alarming sort. It had been my hope the now-General Asher would be content with the North, perhaps even send notices of peace. However, my sources report he has marshaled his forces and left Candor City, leaving behind only a meager number of men to maintain it. It is also reported King Precene has sent three companies of men. They are all converging here.” He dropped the missive onto the table.
“We must fortify,” rumbled a broad-chested general. “Or, better, send men to meet them before they reach the city at all. We could route the Tierans, or perhaps seek to purchase their loyalty.”
“I agree,” said another lord. “Do we know where they are now, your Majesty?”
Marduk said, “It is hard to estimate.” He stood and leaned over the table, on which had been painted a large map of Lorst. He picked up a long stick from where it sat leaning against his chair and pointed it at a spot a few leagues south of Candor. “I would say there.”
“That is quick travel,” said the general.
“They're using the river, possibly to them as far as Widow's Bridge. They would have to disembark from the river ships there, as Lyn Tone becomes too shallow and will not deepen again for many leagues.”
Another lord said, “That could put them here as soon as two se'ennights. What of the Tierans, your Majesty?”
“I have no information on them beyond that they are coming, though I have ordered my Farseers to look into the matter. They have wizards and there are rumors of portals large enough to transport entire armies. This also brings me to why I summoned her ladyship. My friends, Lady Clara is our new Court Seer.”
The men turned their attention to her and Clara fought the urge to look down and away. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.
“My lady,” the king continued, “have you gotten any premonitions or visions of late?”
She shook her head, looking down at the map.
“I would ask you to try a technique, if you are willing.”
Clara's better judgment said no, but she knew it would be suspicious if she refused. She nodded.
“Please stand, then.”
She obeyed, smoothing her hands over the bodice of her cream dress.
“Give me your hand.”
She held it out and he took it in his. His hand was warm, dry, and gentle. Unlike Emmerich's there were no callouses. Soft, child-like hands. She thought of the creatures in those cages and swallowed.
He pressed the palm of her hand onto the table and said, “Think of Lorst. Slow your breathing. Let this map dominate your mind. When you have a clear picture of it, stretch out your mind. I will be there to guide you.”
She nodded and did as he bid, constructing in her mind's eye a replica of the map before her. When it was perfect and whole, she closed her eyes and stretched out her mind. At least, that was what she hoped she was doing.
Clara immediately felt a presence. Unobtrusive, it tugged on her, reshaped her focus. She felt as if she were flying over the map, which turned from lines on wood to lush forests and meadows, winding rivers and deep lakes.
Clara, whispered a voice so familiar, it almost jerked her out of the moment.
Instead, she tipped forward and darkness consumed her. She fell for what felt like forever and when she landed, it was on her feet. Before her stood Asher and the other captains.
“Where are the Tierans?” demanded one of the captains. “They were promised to us.”
“It seems they are delayed,” said Asher.
“Without them,” said another captain, “we are doomed.”
Asher gazed down at something in his hands and did not reply.
The vision shimmered and faded. Clara stood again in the War Room. She slowly took her hand from Marduk's and looked up at him. Never before had she controlled a vision before. With a shiver, though, she wondered if she had been in control at all.
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