At last it was over. She lay panting, her eyes hot and dry. Her body throbbed and her skin felt like it had been flayed. But she no longer was bound tightly. Her hands fell loosely to the floor and her legs were free.
“Good little rat,” Saradapul said, patting her shoulder. “What’s this?” He hooked a finger around her necklace and pulled it up. “Atreya, our little rat is a Rampling.”
The older Jutras came to stand over Margaret. She felt like a freshly roasted side of pig.
“Very good. She will do well.”
“Do we tell the Eved-cala?” He smirked as he said it, confirming Margaret’s suspicions that the Jutras had no intention of giving Truehelm any power once they overran Crosspointe. “He might be interested to know he has Rampling rats in his house.”
“He might wish to take her. We will put her to better use than he will,” was Atreya’s dismissive response. “Let us go.”
Saradapul dropped the necklace and hoisted Margaret to her feet. Every movement felt like hot needles were prodding through her skin. She gasped and he smiled in a kindly way. “Little rat, your pain tastes sweet to the gods. We must milk it from you as we would milk a goat, and when you can give no more, we will offer your blood and your flesh and Uniat and Cresset will feast. Come now.”
Margaret was hardly aware of anything that happened after that. The pain was constant. Nothing didn’t hurt. Inside and out, she was seared and shredded. Her feet felt bloody and raw and every rub of her clothing against her skin was torture. It was everything she could do not to fall down. But the spell encasing her was like a vine trellis—it held her firmly. There was no escaping.
She wasn’t sure how they left Molford Manor. They went on foot through another storm, lightning flashing and the wind driving the rain sideways. Margaret allowed herself to weep, the storm washing away her tears. It would be hours before Keros and Nicholas suspected anything was the matter. She thought of Nicholas’s words to her: I’ll come for you. I promise you that. Don’t do anything stupid. I will come. It was a nice sentiment, but nobody was going to find her and no one was going to keep the two Jutras men from sacrificing her to their gods. All she had was herself.
Stubborn, fierce determination hardened in her stomach. She was not helpless. They would not kill her easily—and if it took everything she had, she’d see them dead first.
Chapter 14
Nicholas paced. It had been nineteen turns of the glass since Margaret had departed and he was chewing nails. He couldn’t understand himself. His worry for her was nothing he’d expected or wanted. But he couldn’t help himself. Tied to it was his concern for Carston. He hardly dared think of his son. Every time he did, his entire body seized and he felt paralyzed. It made him useless. Helpless. He wanted nothing more than to tear Geoffrey Truehelm limb from limb with his bare hands. Once he got Carston back, he would take thorough, bloody revenge. And not just for his son. He’d promised Margaret he would make an end to the slavery and he intended to do that. He’d ignored the regent’s antics for far too long. He’d been lazy and negligent, or perhaps it had simply been arrogance. He’d thought he held Truehelm’s leash and he’d been wrong. Terribly wrong.
It was a crime. And he was paying for it. But he was going to rectify it and soon.
He clenched his hands, starting when Keros emerged from the bedchamber. “Well?” he asked.
“She’s coming around.”
Keros went to the table and poured a cup of tea. The pot was nearly empty and tepid. Nicholas didn’t have to be asked to ring for more. When Cora came, he ordered a full meal. She was subdued and a fresh bruise blossomed on the corner of her mouth. Nicholas’s jaw hardened. Another soul on his conscience. Unforgivable.
Keros took the tea back to the bedchamber and Nicholas followed, watching from the doorway. Ellyn reclined against a pile of pillows, her white eyes half shut. Her face was slack and her body quivered. Keros sat beside her, holding the cup to her mouth. She sipped obediently then pulled weakly away, her mouth twisting in repugnance.
Nicholas fetched a glass of water. This time Ellyn swallowed, reaching up to grip the glass in both hands and drinking it down loudly. Nicholas went to get another. Ellyn drank it as well. Her countenance became more animated and she sat up without help, pushing her legs over the side.
“How are you?” Keros asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. She frowned at him. “I see—”
“I know. I see the lights too.”
She blinked her uncanny eyes, her gaze shifting to Nicholas and then past. “What happened?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I was . . . My majick went wild and . . . You tried to heal me. I . . . I don’t know what happened to us,” Keros repeated lamely.
“Where is Margaret?”
“She went to the manor,” Nicholas said, still leaning in the doorway.
Ellyn stiffened, twisting her head and frowning at him. “Alone?”
“We were distinctly not invited.”
“And you agreed to that? Did she also cut your balls off?”
Nicholas winced. It felt like it. He ought to have gone with her, no matter what she said. His mouth tightened and he gave a little nod, then backed out of the doorway. The others soon followed.
“So what happens now?” Ellyn asked as she tottered out of the bedchamber. Every step lent her strength and steadiness as her vitality returned.
“She’ll return late, escaping once the manor settles down for the night.”
“No, she won’t,” Keros said suddenly. He was staring down at his illidre. It was pulsing with a soft orange light.
“What do you mean? What’s that?” Nicholas demanded.
Keros scowled. “She’s leaving the manor. Going . . . northeast. And she’s left the bracelet I made to track Carston in the manor.”
“How do you know?”
“I put a tracking spell on her when I created the spell for Carston. I was afraid she might get caught and we might not find her.”
“Good thinking,” Nicholas said, keeping his voice steady with effort. “But where is she going?”
“The question isn’t where is she going, but where is the regent taking her?” was Ellyn’s tart response.
“You think she’s been taken.” It wasn’t quite a question.
“Don’t you?”
He did. He couldn’t imagine another reason for her to leave without a word at least to Keros. And there was nothing he could do to help her. Not now, not yet. He had to get Carston out first.
A knock sounded at the door and he went to open it. Keros tucked his illidre out of sight. Cora wheeled in a cart. She set the food out on the table and Nicholas tucked a couple of coins into her apron pocket. She curtseyed and turned to go, then hesitated. She glanced at the door and then at Nicholas, and then at the floor.
“Some of the regent’s men came asking about you,” she whispered. “They wanted to know about the horses and who owns them. They left guards. They said the regent himself is coming to pay you a visit.”
Nicholas looked at Keros. They had to leave and now. “Thank you, Cora,” he said and slid another coin into her pocket. She gave a little bob of her head and scurried away.
“Eat,” Nicholas ordered. “Be quick. We have to go.” He paused, glancing at both of them. “Will you still help me rescue Carston? Or are you going after Margaret?”
Keros folded his arms, looking down at the floor. Nicholas waited, his stomach twisting. He’d need to find more help if these two quit on him. He couldn’t do it alone. Ellyn had gone to the table and was eating. She watched the two men from beneath her brows, as if her decision was dependent on what Keros decided. She looked almost demonic with those eyes.
“Margaret asked me to do this. I’ll finish it,” he said at last. He smiled, a thin, malevolent expression. “Then I’ll burn the Meris-damned place down.”
“Please do,” Nicholas said, relief making him sag. He pulled himself together. “Thank you.”
“Whatever you want.” Nicholas meant it. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t give for Carston’s safe return. Even put the Ramplings back on the throne. The majicar’s brows rose, but he said nothing. Nicholas looked at Ellyn. “And you?”
She shrugged. “It is good for Azaire if I help you. The Gerent would enjoy having you owe him.”
“Afterward we’ll get Margaret,” Keros declared firmly.
“We’ll need the horses,” Nicholas said. “We’ll overtake her much faster that way.” He’d promised her he would come for her. She hadn’t believed him; she wouldn’t expect him. But he would keep his promise.
“She may not need rescuing,” Ellyn said. “I have seen what she can do to an entire squad of Crown Shields. She will not be easy to hold.”
“I hope you are right, but we will not depend on it,” Nicholas said.
“What is your plan?” Keros asked.
“Can the two of you do majick?”
They looked at each other, expressions tight as if they feared learning the answer to that question.
“Only one way to find out,” Keros said. He held out his hand and majick flickered to life on his palm. It spun in a ball, akin to the one he’d used on Nicholas on their journey. He flicked his fingers and the majick flew at Nicholas, who flinched back. The swirling majick caught him, unraveling over his skin until he was cocooned. This time there was no pain. Instead, he felt a heaviness settle over him. It pressed hard against his chest and his movements felt thick and ungainly.
“Looks like it works,” Ellyn said, looking Nicholas over from head to toe.
“What have you done?” he rasped.
“A disguise,” Keros said smugly. “Have a look.” He jerked his chin toward a mirror on the far wall.
Nicholas did as bid, staring at himself in stunned surprise. He looked like Geoffrey Truehelm. He had grown four inches and his face had become sharp, with a hawk nose and thin, unpleasant mouth. He was dressed fashionably, with a frothy cravat fastened with a gaudy brooch. His maroon jacket was heavily embroidered with purple thread and his trousers were tight fitting, revealing scrawny legs. His shoes had three- inch heels with sylveth buckles. Around his neck he wore the newly minted chain of office for the regency, and on his hands he wore a half-dozen rings. His cheeks were brushed with rouge and his eyes were outlined in kohl.
Nicholas’s lip curled at his reflection and he turned to glance at Keros. “What’s this about?”
“We have to go now. The quickest way to successfully obtain your son and retrieve the horses is if the regent says we can.”
A bold plan, and Nicholas liked it for its audacity. “And if the real regent objects?”
“Cora thinks he’s on his way here. He’ll be desperately curious about you and will want to know everything there is to know about who you are and where you came from and where your allegiance lies. When he gets here, you will change places with him, then return to the manor, having invited us for the evening. We will ride our horses, of course, wishing to make our entrance. In the meantime, you will retrieve Carston. We will then escape.”
Keros made it sound so simple. “He will come with guards—he never meets with anyone alone. He may very well have a majicar with him. How will we effect the exchange without them knowing?”
“A stun spell should do it,” Ellyn said around a mouthful of cheese.
“What’s that?”
She swallowed and drank some tea. “It’s a minor spell. Causes someone’s mind to go to sleep for about a minute or two. I’ve used it frequently. It should be enough.” She glanced at Keros. “I can stun the regent, if you can do his guards.”
He nodded. “You’ll have to show me the spell.”
Soon the two were sharing majickal knowledge as they ate. Nicholas forced himself to eat something, though he tasted nothing. His heart pounded. He knew Geoffrey well enough to imitate him, but Alanna would surely see through the ruse. His jaw hardened. He’d not give her the chance.
By the time the regent arrived, Cora had cleared the dishes away and Nicholas had retreated into the bedchamber to wait. Keros and Ellyn had adopted their own disguises.
A knock sounded and Nicholas moved instantly to the bedchamber door, pulling it open a crack so he might see. In his hands he held a gag and bindings for Geoffrey. Once the two majicars stunned their guests, they had to get the regent tied up and out of the room quickly and Keros would have to adjust Nicholas’s illusion to match what the regent was wearing.
Keros answered and stood nervously out of the way as the regent strutted inside followed by four body-guards. They were Blackwatch, wearing tall brown boots that rose over their knees, black breeches, red shirts, and short black coats with a top cape that hung down just below the shoulder. Two were women and two were men.
“By Chayos! My esteemed Regent Truehelm! You honor us, sir. Please come in,” Keros said effusively. He retained enough of the look of Nicholas so that if the regent had a description of Avery Dedlok of Shevring, Keros would match well enough. Likewise Ellyn’s disguise matched Margaret.
“Please sit, sir. I must apologize. We are hardly prepared to receive visitors. Dear sir, you do us such a great honor! I am utterly flabbergasted. Sit, sir, sit!” Keros flapped his hands and stuttered, smiling like an excited imbecile. “Ring for a maid, Sophia. Have the innkeeper send his best wine and cakes and tea and—Send everything! The regent is visiting! We must have the best of everything! Quickly, dearest wife! Quickly!” His voice rose as he went and yanked the bellpull with furious energy so that Nicholas thought he might pull it loose entirely.
Ellyn was looking frozen with fear, her mouth slack and her hands clutching the front of her skirts as she stared at the regent with glassy eyes. She made a gurgling sound and slapped a hand over her mouth. Then she swept a deep curtsy.
“Your highness . . . regency . . . s-sir,” she stammered in a high, wheezing voice. “I must beg your pardon, for we are ill-equipped to meet you. We lost everything, you see, and we are waiting for help to come from Shevring with all my things, and I must be a sight!” she wailed. “Here we are with the regent and I look like a scullery maid!” She put her hand dramatically over her heart and sank onto the chaise, fanning herself with her other hand.
“My dear lady, do not put yourself out of countenance. I assure you, you are lovely and I am delighted to make your acquaintance,” Geoffrey said with oily deference. “May I sit with you?”
“Oh my—Chayos forgive me!” she shrieked. “Avery, you didn’t ask the man to sit down! Where are your manners? Dear regent, please forgive my husband. It was the accident and I’ve been so ill since. I haven’t been able to keep a thought in my head and I haven’t even been to see my horses. They were all we were able to save that terrible night. My poor babies—so alone and without blankets or proper grooms. They must be frightened out of their wits. They won’t eat a bite unless I go sing to them, but Avery hasn’t let me stir a step out of this room. He almost lost me, he says, and he won’t risk me. But I told him I’m feeling very well now and my beauties need to stretch their legs, and it was all just nervous exhaustion. My nerves are quite steady now and, my dear regent! Why are you still standing? Please, you must sit.”
Nicholas bit his lips to keep from laughing out loud at Ellyn’s chatter. Geoffrey looked as dazed as if his ears had been boxed. He sank down into a chair.
“Oh, very good!” Ellyn said, clapping her hands.
Just then there was a knock at the door. She leaped to her feet and swept to answer. “Avery, sit down now. You are making me nervous with all your fussing. You, too, you behemoths,” she said, shooing the Blackwatch away. They fell back as she herded them, her hands brushing the air as if to sweep them before her. She forced them into the dining room and then went to the door. She opened it and stepped outside. Her voice rose and fell, though Nicholas could not hear the words.
She returned, her cheeks spotted red as she wrung her hands together.
“Avery, we must move from here as soon as possible. The staff is impossible and the inn is filthy. The girl had dirt under her fingernails, can you believe it?” She shuddered and then sniffed. “There are bugs everywhere. They don’t even use a decent ward against crawling creatures. And the food—it is mediocre fare, at best. Fine enough for peasants, but not for people of our quality. Surely there must be a better inn in Molford. My dear regent, you must have a recommendation for us. Please, we suffer so much here.”
“Oh, my dear Mistress Dedlok, I am sorry to hear of your travails. Of course you must come stay at Molford Manor. I insist.”
Ellyn gasped. “My dear regent! Such generosity! Such kindness bestowed on two poor bereaved strangers? How can we ever repay you?” She shook her head vigorously. “I’ve said it once if I’ve said a hundred times—Crosspointe surely was blessed when you became regent. You are worth a thousand Ramplings.” She looked at Keros. “Haven’t I said so? Haven’t I told everyone so? My dear, Avery, did you hear? The regent has been sent by Chayos in our time of need. It’s truly a miracle.”
“I am pleased to be of service,” Geoffrey said. “But please, let us not be strangers. Tell me about yourselves. You are from Shevring, I understand.”
Ellyn launched into an animated story of their journey. It wasn’t long before the regent was glazing over, as were his guards. She was just getting to the terrible imaginary mudslide when she nodded to Keros. It was but an instant later that the guards went preternaturally still. They neither blinked nor breathed. Instantly Ellyn cast her spell at the regent. It was quietly done. Her hands had been dancing wildly throughout her tale and even Nicholas could hardly tell when she flicked the spell at him. But suddenly the regent slid stiffly sideways.
Nicholas thrust through the door. He and Keros carried Geoffrey into the bedchamber and set about binding him.
“Hold still a moment,” Keros said, staring down at the prone man. A few grains later he sent a ball of majick at Nicholas.
The Hollow Crown: A Novel of Crosspointe Page 19