How dare he give me orders! Even though I didn't protest openly and kept my mouth shut, I nonetheless expressed my discontentment by roughly pulling out of his grip.
Seemingly unaffected by my rude behavior, Khuan said, "Come. Let's approach this creature together."
We crossed the distance separating us from the hissing ghoul. As we got close to it, a powerful stench of decomposed flesh engulfed us. The smell was so vile I had to draw air through my mouth for fear that if I breathed normally I would retch uncontrollably.
"Who is behind those deaths?" asked Khuan.
The ghoul didn't answer, it just growled at us.
"Speak, or we will hurt you," Khuan threatened.
For a moment the ghoul looked as if torn by conflict. Finally, its mouth twisted. "They'll hurt me worse if I do," the ghoul said in a gravelly voice.
Confused, I looked at Milo and Lilloh. Did the ghoul mean these two?—somehow I doubted it. "Who will hurt you? Who are they?"
The ghoul spat in my direction. A fat glob of bloody spit landed on my boot. My dislike for this creature was growing by leaps and bounds. I thrust my torch at the ghoul. I had no intension of actually burning the repulsive creature, but I thought I could make a good bluff of it. The move brought me a disapproving glare from Khuan. The ghoul, for his part, shrieked loudly and leapt back in fear.
"Who are they?" I demanded.
"The disciples," the ghoul snarled. "They'll hurt me if I talk. The disciples will hurt me. The old one is wicked—WICKED."
"The old one," I repeated. "Who's the old one? What's his name? And who are these disciples?"
"Can't—too afraid," the ghoul blurted out.
We tried extorting more information out of the ghoul, but failed to get anything coherent from the terrified creature. We all came to the conclusion that there was no use staying here any longer.
As we were about to leave the cellar, a thought crossed my mind. Perhaps there are other questions the ghoul could answer, questions that will not frighten it as much. I turned around. "Ghoul, is there someone else besides you who can answer our questions? Someone who is not afraid of the old one?"
"All that serve the old one, fears the old one."
"Name someone who isn't serving the old one then."
The ghoul became as still as a statue. While it remained in that pose, with its head slightly cocked to the side, it looked too human for my taste. Then its small red eyes rose toward me and the traces of humanity I had thought I saw in that creature moments ago vanished. What was left in front of me was nothing but a demon.
"The witch," hissed the ghoul. "The witch knows." The creature then produced a hideous grimace, which I supposed was his idea of a smile.
I tried more questions but got nothing else out of the ghoul. Short of options, we decided to leave the cellar. Once I was outside in the cold night air, I filled my lungs with much delight. Lord, I was happy to be rid of the horrid stench of the ghoul. Milo stepped beside me and bent down. I watched him rub a handful of snow over his ashen face.
"You bluffed," Khuan snapped. "When you made as if you were going to burn the ghoul with your torch, you were bluffing." Khuan's sharp reproof took me by surprise; he was usually so composed.
"It worked. The ghoul believed me."
"Doesn't matter. Never bluff with evil. If you do something, you better mean it. Otherwise if it sees through your bluff, it will never believe you again, no matter what you try."
"Enough, Khuan!" said Lilloh. "He did well. He got answers."
The tension stiffening Khuan's shoulders eased and soon he was looking calm and collected again. "The witch that the ghoul mentioned, can it be the girl in the dungeon?"
I had come to that conclusion too. Isabo was probably who the ghoul meant. I nodded. "I believe so."
"Then we learned nothing," said Khuan. "Because seeing her is impossible."
"That's not true. We learned about the disciples and the old one. I think I know who they are." I told Khuan and Lilloh about the baron and the black robed group. "It makes sense. The black-robe followers are the disciples and the baron is the old one. It fits."
Khuan rubbed his smooth chin. "Or his god could be the old one. If that's the case, we're doomed. We cannot win a fight against a god."
In a sudden outburst of frustration, Lilloh elbowed her way between me and Khuan and exclaimed, "Men! Blind men! See, Isabo was with bear. Why with bear, if not to do bad things. I think she enchanted bear. She disciple. Teacher of potion is old one."
I sighed. The ghoul had said disciples not disciple. Sadly Lilloh's rudimentary knowledge of Sorvinkian didn't permit her to catch the nuance between plural and singular. But that wasn't the main flaw in her reasoning. "No. You're wrong. The ghoul said that the witch, Isabo, didn't serve the old one."
Lilloh frowned. "No! She guilty."
"I disagree. My gut feeling tells me that she's innocent."
"Gut! Gut know only food."
I moaned and rolled my eyes in despair. "That means something different . . . " I paused; explaining this to her was an exercise in futility. "Never mind, Lilloh, you can't understand."
Lilloh didn't take my remark lightly. She stepped closer to me and raised her chin in defiance. "You not so smart. Explain bear."
"I can't."
"Then I right."
"No, you're not," I argued. "The baron has something to do with this. I'm sure of it."
"Do you smell magic on baron?"
"Smell? Sense magic on him, you mean—no, but—"
"You sense magic on Isabo."
Reluctantly, I said, "Well, yes."
"See, Amir, I right."
"Amir! How dare you use my name this freely! I did not permit you this familiarity. This is highly impolite and rude."
Lilloh's eyes narrowed. "Yes. But I right. You sense fat princess inside bear."
I flinched and stepped back. "I sensed nothing of the sort."
"Liar! You sense. I saw. Isabo with bear. Fat princess in bear. See! I right!" Lilloh stamped her foot down repetitively. "See! See! See!"
"All right, all right. I see your point," I admitted with obvious discontent. Needless to say, I was beginning to dislike Lilloh quite a bit.
"My lord," Milo murmured into my ear. "I'm glad you've agreed with her. Otherwise I fear this she-devil may have stabbed you."
Khuan threw me a sheepish look. "I think Lilloh might be right. Sadly, that brings us back to Isabo and the fact that we can't see her."
Churning the problem in my mind, I came to an obvious solution. "I'll have to ask Eva to help us. I'm quite certain she can convince the guards to let me speak with Isabo."
"If she agree to see you," said a skeptic-looking Lilloh.
"Why wouldn't she? We're trying to help her family, her sisters."
Lilloh pouted. "She won't help you. Trust me, I speak truth. That woman . . . Pf. She brings you only pain. She worthless."
"Watch your tongue!"
Lilloh raised her chin. "No. I say what I think."
Khuan promptly stepped in between Lilloh and me. "I believe we've wasted enough of your time, Prince Amir. A thousand thanks." On these words, he bowed and left, nearly dragging an unwilling Lilloh behind him.
Good, leave! That was just as well, I thought, because I had seen enough of those two for now. As I watched the glow of their torches diminish, one thought haunted me: What if Lilloh was right? What if Eva refused to meet me? How would I save her then?
Chapter Twenty
The next morning I awoke very early because I had something clear and precise in mind. A special plan of action, which to be successful needed to be set in motion at the earliest of hours.
Fearing that Lilloh might be right to assume that Eva would refuse to help me—or just plainly refuse to see me—I had decided to enter her bedroom without her consent or knowledge. First, I made my way to the servants' quarters. Once I arrived there, I was surprised by the frantic activity of the place. Cooks were hard at
work; stewards were busy polishing silverware while valets and maids rushed in and out carrying freshly laundered linen and sparkling porcelain dishes.
"What's the cause of all this excitement?" I asked a maid as she dashed by me.
The maid, a plump woman in her thirties with heavy-hooded eyes, gave me a perplexed look. "But, my lord, we're preparing the banquet hall for tonight's announcement."
"What announcement?"
"Oh, my lord doesn't know!" exclaimed the maid. "The king has decided to remarry. He's announcing his choice tonight!" The maid paused and peeked around briefly before whispering in a tone of secrecy, "It's Countess Ivana. Everybody already knows about it. Tonight it's gonna be made official though. Now I must go back to work, my lord." On these words, the maid curtseyed and fled through one of the passages.
Although this wedding seemed a bit rushed to me, I was glad the king chose Ivana. I believed she'd make a wonderful queen. My thoughts returned to Eva. Soon, she too would begin preparing for this event, and then maids would swarm around her like worker bees tending a queen.
Knowing that I had no time to lose, I entered the passage leading to her room. I tiptoed to the door and paused before opening it. Maybe coming here was a mistake. It was certainly improper. Chances were good that she was going to be angry at me. If so, what would I say? I sighed. There was no way of predicting her reaction, and staying here was a waste of precious time. And really, the consequence of this action couldn't be worse than the torment of not knowing anyway. My mind made up, I gathered my courage and entered Eva's bedroom.
Standing motionless in front of her window in her black mourning dress, Eva resembled one of the many shadows inhabiting the corners of her dimly lit room.
I cleared my throat.
She didn't move; her eyes remained lost in space. "I don't want anything this morning, thank you," she murmured, believing I was a servant.
I was astounded by the dullness of her voice, by her downcast attitude. "Eva, it's me; Amir," I whispered.
She turned and, for a brief instant, surprise illuminated her red puffy eyes. Then this minute spark of light extinguished itself and her eyes took on a somber air of defeat.
"What are you doing here?" she asked in a voice that was devoid of interest yet still managed to be laced with condemnation. "Don't say it is to get news of Lars's health, which hasn't changed by the way, or to congratulate Father on his decision to remarry. I know you care not for my family."
Her biting tone tore through my feelings as easily as fangs would tear through my flesh. As a result I found myself caught in a storm of conflicting emotions. For one, I wanted to hold her, kiss her, and beg for her forgiveness. But, at the same time, I was angry at her. I had done nothing wrong. Why was I treated so harshly? I didn't deserve it. "Why are you so unkind to me, Eva? You know how much I care about you. You know how hard I tried to gain your father's approval. And why are you blaming me for something your cousin engineered. I . . . I don't understand you anymore."
Eva lowered her head. I watched her bring her fists to her forehead. "Please, Amir, enough reprimand, enough of your litany of excuses and blames. I cannot quarrel with you today. I don't have the strength for it. So just tell me why you're here and end this meeting."
I blinked. I believed that if she had slapped me I wouldn't be more hurt. For a moment, I debated if I should leave. I could certainly do that. It would be easy, just turn around and walk away. But instead, I stepped forward. "I need your help."
Eva looked up at me, and for the first time since I entered her room, I saw a hint of interest in her eyes. "For what?"
"Solving the mystery of your sisters' disappearances."
Her beautiful, smooth brow became furrowed. "How?"
"Well, I don't know yet. First, I must speak with Isabo, and for this I need you to accompany me to the dungeon. The guards won't refuse you access to her cell."
"No! Isabo can rot there for all I care."
I could tell Eva wouldn't be convinced without knowing more. So I wasted no time and quickly told her all I had learned so far. I recounted my meeting with the baron and the black robed group, with the ghoul, my visit to the Baba's house. I also told her about Isabo's tonic. I told her everything except the fact that I believed Thalia might have been transformed into a bear—a bear which was now dead. Eva was already too broken up. I couldn't deal her that devastating blow right now; it would've been too cruel. No matter how much she'd hurt me, I didn't have the heart to make her suffer more. "Eva, I'm beginning to think that Isabo might be innocent."
"That witch, innocent—NEVER! What you've told me doesn't prove her innocence, Amir."
"It proves that she didn't poison your mother. At the very least, she's innocent of that."
"Are you sure she has nothing to do with Mother's death?"
"Totally," I said, although I wasn't certain, but I needed to convince her, so she would agree to help me.
Eva hugged herself. "If you're right . . . and she's innocent that means . . . "
"That means you're in grave danger."
Eva's eyes plunged into mine. "I care not for my own safety. I thought you'd understand this by now. I fear for my father, my family, and the future of my country. Whoever is behind this isn't only attacking us; he's also attacking Sorvinka's stability."
Crossing the space separating us, Eva said, "Come, Amir. We must hurry. Isabo is scheduled to be burnt at the stake in the very near future. So if we want to speak with her there is no time to waste."
* * *
The castle's dungeon was cold, humid, and, despite numerous torches burning against the walls, cloaked in semi-permanent darkness. This was probably due to the lack of windows and the dark gray stone used in its construction.
Eva and I stopped in front of the head guard.
"Princess!" he said in a mixture of surprise and reverence. "Why is Your Highness here? This isn't a place for—"
Eva raised a hand and, in a commanding tone, ordered, "Where is the witch? I demand to see her."
"Yes, Your Highness. This way, Your Highness." The head guard led us to the iron gate of a cell. Its bars were pitted by time and encrusted with rust flakes. After a brief battle with the lock, the guard opened the gate and let us in.
Taking the lead, Eva took a hesitant step inside the cell, then stopped abruptly. She stayed fixed in place, as if paralyzed. I tried to see what was ahead, but she was hindering my sight. Breaking free of her static state, Eva leaned slightly forward. "Isabo . . . " she said in a strangled voice.
Nothing. No reply came.
"Isabo—Isabo!" Eva called more firmly this time.
Again, no reply.
I looked at the guard standing just outside the iron gate for an explanation.
"She won't answer, Your Highness. She's been like this ever since we brought her in."
Intrigued, I managed to squeeze past Eva and finally got a look at Isabo.
Seated on the straw-covered floor of the cell with her legs spread wide apart and her mouth hanging loosely, Isabo stared at the ceiling without blinking. Her posture was evocative of that of an automaton I had seen years ago. The mechanical doll had looked very much alive when moving, and very much dead when not. I then saw Isabo's chest rise slightly. She breathes . . . shallowly though. I also observed that her face was bruised and swollen in places, and that she was disheveled and dirty.
Again I turned my attention to the guard. "You said she's been in that . . . trance, (I couldn't find a better word to describe her state.) since she was arrested."
"No," said the guard. "When we arrested her, she screamed, cried, and cursed us. It's only after we threw her in here that she turned that way. She hasn't eaten or drunk anything since."
I stared at the stale loaf of bread and the bright blue bowl of water set in the corner of the cell. The loaf was untouched, the blue bowl, with its cheery raindrop decoration painted on its sides, was still filled to the brim.
The guard shuffled his fee
t. "We tried to make her speak . . . without success. She didn't say a word or make a sound, not even a peep. Nothing worked on her. It's as if she feels nothing."
I eyed Isabo's bruised face, her lips were split, her nose bent and bloody. I shook my head. She certainly had been brutalized enough to at least have yelled in pain. "You mentioned that she was speaking when you arrested her. What did she say then?"
As the guard glanced at Isabo, his attitude became one of disdain. For him she was a criminal like any other. "The usual," he said with a shrug. "You know, I'm innocent; you're making a mistake and such. Then she cursed the queen."
"Interesting! Do you recall the words she used, her exact ones?"
"Hm . . . " The guard scratched his head. "She said that if she was arrested the queen would die. Something like that."
"Did she mention that the queen would die without her care?"
The guard's head bobbed up and down. "Oh yes! That too!" A look of puzzlement wrinkled his face. "Were you there, my lord? I don't remember seeing you."
"No. I just guessed." I turned around.
Kneeling in front of Isabo, Eva was scrutinizing the young woman's bruised face as if hoping she could read something in her features—the truth, I suppose.
I approached them and crouched beside Eva.
"What do you think is the matter with her, Amir?"
One look at Isabo's empty eyes was enough for me to know what possessed her. Still, I leaned forward and touched her hand to make sure. The jolt of energy that rushed through me was so strong that for an instant I thought I had been kicked in the belly by one of the guards. Gasping for air, I rapidly pulled away from Isabo. Once I had regained my breath, I saw that Eva was examining me attentively. A definite expression of concern was imprinted on her lovely features. So she still cares a little about me, I thought, rejoicing.
"What is it, Amir?" Eva asked.
"Isabo—she's bewitched."
Eva's eyes flew to Isabo then back to me. "How . . . and who did it?"
Shaking my head in response, I stared at Isabo. "I think the important question is why."
I crawled closer to her, and peering deeply into her seemingly dead eyes, I whispered, "You knew, didn't you? You figured it out, so you needed to be dealt with, to be disgraced . . . but most of all, you needed to be shut up."
The King's Daughters Page 22