“I can’t count on it,” Strangward said. “These storms were created by a powerful stormlord. I’ve never tried to counter that kind of magic.”
“Any idea how many bloodsworn she has stationed there?” Talbot said.
Strangward shook his head.
“Well,” Julianna said, “we could fill a briefing book with everything we don’t know.”
“Maybe it’s better that we don’t know,” DeVilliers said, rolling her eyes. “We’d stay home.”
“I recommend that we make a stop in Tarvos,” Strangward said. “If there’s any ship that can get through to Celesgarde, it’s Sun Spirit. Plus, we could add to our numbers with my Stormborn crew.”
“I’ll match my Sea Wolf and my crew against any of yours,” Hadley said, lifting her chin and glaring at him.
“We’re not on-boarding anyone’s crew,” Ash said. The last thing he wanted was to set sail outnumbered by a crew blood-bound to Evan Strangward. “We’re going to have to get along with what we have.”
Now Strangward and DeVilliers were new-made allies. They both looked around the room, shaking their heads, as if unimpressed.
“No offense, but Strangward and I are the only sailors among us,” DeVilliers said. “We can’t sail with a crew of two, unless you intend to cross the Indio in a jolly boat.”
“Isn’t it likely that Celestine’s crew will recognize Sun Spirit and Sea Wolf both?” Julianna said. “You’ve each been sailing these waters for years. As soon as you’re spotted, she’ll know she’s under attack.”
“That can’t happen,” Ash said. “If it comes to a fight, it’s over.”
“I have another ship that might serve,” Evan said. “It was my first ship, in fact, a small ketch. I’ve sailed it in coastal waters with a crew of two, though five would be a better number for blue-water sailing. It is not well known on either coast. I used it early in my . . . career, before I acquired larger, faster ships. I don’t believe Celestine would recognize it, especially if we modified the rigging.”
“I’m guessing that ship is in Tarvos,” DeVilliers said.
Strangward nodded. “Again, I suggest we sail Sea Wolf from here to Tarvos with a mixed crew—yours and mine. Then a small number of us will take the ketch to Celesgarde. We’ll need to come up with a story.”
“It still ends with us in Tarvos,” Ash said. “Your stronghold. With all due respect, that doesn’t sit well with me.”
“The crossing will give us a chance to get to know each other better,” Evan said. “Possibly you’ll change your mind when—” He stopped, listening. “Someone’s coming.”
Now Ash heard the thud of boots on cobblestones, and the door to the temple was flung open. It was the queen’s guard Ruby Greenholt, all out of breath, cheeks flushed. “Prince Adrian! It’s the queen. She’s fallen ill. Please hurry.”
43
TWO-STEP LILY
They’d laid her out next to the hearth in her sitting room. Amon Byrne knelt beside the queen, his face taut and pale, Magret Gray on her other side.
A ring of bluejackets kept the area around them clear. Behind the blue line stood Aunt Mellony, Micah Bayar, and an array of other faces.
Ash didn’t remember how he made his way to his mother’s side. All at once, he was there, pressing his fingers into her cold skin, feeling her life draining away under his hands.
His mother’s eyelids were blue, and her lips were tinged with it as well.
“Tell me what happened,” he said to Byrne, as he continued his physical examination. “Tell me everything.”
“We came here after dinner,” Byrne said. “That’s not unusual. We were all drinking wine, talking, when she collapsed.”
Ash flinched. He’d found the poison; he could trace its icy passage through her body. The sensation was oddly familiar.
“Bring the cup,” he snapped. Ash slid his arms under the queen, lifting her from the rug and carrying her into her bedchamber, where he laid her on the bed.
Moments later, Talbot set the cup on the bedside table. It was a jeweled cordial cup, one of the few heirlooms his mother used on a regular basis. It had belonged to her mother, his grandmother, whom he’d never met.
Ash was afraid to lift his hands, afraid his mother would slip away in the interval. “Have a look, and tell me what’s in there,” he said, tipping his head toward it.
“There’s no more wine,” Talbot said, tilting the cup to catch the light.
“Can you see anything in the bottom, on the sides, any residue?”
She held it up to the lamp on the mantel. “No, nothing I can see.”
“Let me sniff it.”
She held the cup under his nose and he took a cautious breath. The scent struck a chord of memory in him. When had he smelled that before?
Something his mother had said came back to him. Scent is the seat of memory. It is how wolves recognize family, friends, and enemies.
“Where did the wine come from?”
Byrne thrust a carafe in front of his face. “There’s still some left. We were all drinking from it, and nobody else seems to be affected.” He peered into the carafe. “There’s something sludgy, here, in the bottom.”
He started to shake it out onto his palm, but Ash said, “No! Don’t touch it. It may be toxic through skin.” Even as he said it, he thought, that doesn’t make sense. They all drank from the carafe. My mother is the only one down.
Still, Byrne dumped the residue onto a plate and held it out for Ash’s inspection. It appeared to be plant material, leaves, maybe. Ash sniffed at it cautiously. Also familiar, but different from what he’d scented in the cup.
“Talbot,” he said. “Go to Strangward’s quarters and bring back some of those leaves they use to brew tea.”
She took off at a run.
“We’ve called for Lord Vega,” Captain Byrne said. “But—is there anything I can get for you, anything you need?” He swallowed hard. “Anything at all?” he whispered, as if hoping the gods were listening.
Ash shook his head, wishing there was something he could ask for, an antidote he knew would help.
Unbidden, Taliesin’s words came back to him, like a curse she’d laid on him long ago. The time will come when you will wish that you were a better healer.
He turned back to his mother, pressed his hands into her shoulders, sent up a prayer that he could last long enough to do some good, and called the poison to him.
It was like a body blow that brought tears to his eyes and formed a bitter film on his tongue. His head swam, and his skin prickled and crawled.
Again. Oddly familiar.
Taking a deep breath, he called the poison again. Black spots swam before his eyes, and it took everything he had to keep from fainting.
Scent is the seat of memory. He was drowning in memories—of that morning in the market, of his father saying, No. Wait for help. You’re not strong enough. Of the scent of death. His amulet buzzed against his chest, as if trying to get his attention.
He was startled when somebody touched his arm. Talbot was back with a cloth bag filled with the herb the pirates called tay. “Put a bit on the plate, next to the other, and wet it down,” Ash said.
Talbot complied. They looked virtually identical. Ash sniffed at them again. They both had the same fragrant, toasty scent.
“We’re still searching the quarters the Carthians occupied,” Byrne said. “We’ll bring you anything else we find.” He leaned closer. “Is it the same?”
Ash hesitated, then nodded. “It’s the same,” he said. “But it’s not what poisoned the queen.”
Byrne gazed at him, understanding kindling in his eyes. “Somebody’s trying to blame them, then. To distract us from the real poison.”
Ash nodded. Despair bubbled up inside him. Who knew there were so many poisons in the world—poisons that he’d never seen, never studied, didn’t know how to treat?
“Call Speaker Jemson,” he said, hoping the speaker could call on a higher power
.
And then, like a miracle, his childhood friend, the healer Titus Gryphon, was there, looking across the bed at him. “How can I help?” he said simply.
After that, it was the two of them, trading off, supporting the queen’s breathing, her heartbeat, keeping her blood flowing, sharing the burden of the poison but not making much headway otherwise. Magret Gray helped, too, fetching and carrying, cooling her mistress’s brow, nursing the Gray Wolf queen as she had since Raisa was little.
Adrian couldn’t help worrying that he was just pushing the poison into every part of her body. Sweat rolled down his face and dripped onto the coverlet. He blotted at his forehead with his sleeve. His amulet grew warmer and warmer as the battle for his mother’s life continued.
Captain Byrne stood by, his hand on his Lady sword, his face pale and haggard. Standing guard as always. Micah Bayar lurked in the corner of the room, like a mourner waiting for a funeral to begin.
Others packed the doorway—Aunt Mellony, chewing her lower lip, fingering her pearls. Julianna beside her, face pinched with worry.
Then the human blockade parted and Harriman Vega swept in, with Finn a pale shadow on his heels. “Make way,” he said. “We are here to attend the queen.” He dropped his kit bag on the floor at the foot of the bed with a thump.
“Thank the Maker,” Mellony whispered, giving Julianna a reassuring squeeze.
Ash and Titus looked at each other across the queen’s bed, sharing a question silently between them. Ash could tell that Ty didn’t want to let go of their patient, either. Behind him, Magret muttered, “We’re doing as well as anyone can. We don’t need him.”
And, yet—he had to give way. Vega had years of experience in the healing halls that Ash couldn’t match. It would be wrong to refuse his help because he was a pompous ass. Ash had too much blood on his hands already. He didn’t want to preside over his mother’s death as well.
He nodded at Titus, took a deep breath, and let go of his mother.
Vega took hold of his amulet, bowed his head, and murmured a charm that sounded more like a prayer. He rested his hand on the queen’s forehead, murmuring another charm. She flinched under his hand, the first she’d moved since she collapsed. Her eyes flew open, staring into the wizard’s face. Then closed again.
Ash’s amulet seethed and burned, all but blistering the skin of his chest beneath.
Vega looked up and shook his head. “She’s gone,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Captain Byrne appeared to fold, bringing his fist to his chest as if to prevent his heart from ripping free. Aunt Mellony began to cry in deep, heaving sobs.
Adrian reflexively wrapped his hands around his amulet and heard his father’s voice, as clear as the day he died. Ash. Take me to her. Take me to Raisa. There’s not much time.
Ash stared down at the amulet his father had put into his hands that day in Ragmarket. Then dropped to his knees beside his mother’s bed. She still lay cold and silent. He set the amulet on her breast and brought her hands up, doing his best to wrap her fingers around it. The amulet brightened under her touch, brightened so that it illuminated the entire room. Then he closed his hands over hers, to keep them in place. He could feel the heat of the flashcraft through her skin.
It was as if his mother was lit from within, her skin like time-darkened parchment with a candle behind it. And gradually, though it might have been a trick of the light, it seemed that the color was returning to her cheeks.
“Prince Adrian.” It was Vega’s voice behind him, a clamor in his ears. “I did everything I could. Please. You must let her go.”
“Go to hell,” Ash said.
The healer leaned in beside him, reaching for the serpent amulet. Flame exploded from under their fingers. Vega pitched himself backward, landing on his ass with a metallic clatter.
Familiar. But he couldn’t focus, with his head still clouded from the poison.
“Ash,” Finn said. “Please. Don’t blame Lord Vega. It’s not his fault. He was too late, is all.”
He’s always too late, Ash thought.
“Leave him be, Finn.” It was Bayar, of all people. He leaned down and whispered something in Finn’s ear, and Finn and Vega withdrew.
Help me, Ash. He could feel his father’s presence, his embrace.
Ash braced himself. Take whatever you need. Take whatever is left.
Power flowed from the amulet, a river of magic that joined the three of them together. The queen took a breath, released it, took another breath. Ash could see her eyes moving under the lids, as if she were dreaming. Her fingers tightened on the amulet, and she smiled. Ash pressed his fingers into her wrist, and her pulse thrummed strongly under the skin.
And, then, his father’s voice again. I sent her back to you. You are spent, and I need to go. Come see me in Aediion. You and your mother and sister have enemies at court. Enemies on the Council. Don’t give your trust easily.
And his father was gone.
Eventually, he felt Ty’s presence beside him. “Can I help?”
“Yes,” Ash said softly, without taking his eyes off his mother. “Get everyone out of the room except for you, Magret, Jemson, Talbot, and Byrne. Now.”
Ty nodded and slipped away. Dimly, Ash heard people protesting, demanding answers as they were ushered from the room.
“But . . . can’t we help?” Julianna said. “Isn’t there anything I can do for Aunt Raisa? If we can figure out what kind of poison was used, perhaps my eyes and ears—”
“At least let me sit vigil with my sister’s body,” Aunt Mellony argued.
Once the door was closed, it was blessedly quiet.
The queen opened her eyes, looked around wildly, then seemed to relax as she focused in on Ash’s face. “Adrian,” she said, smiling. “I saw him. I spoke to your father. It was—it was miraculous.” Tears leaked from her eyes. “He’s been with us—with all of us—all along. But he couldn’t find a channel, a way to connect.” She looked down at their joined hands, the light from the amulet leaking out between their fingers. “We were together at last. I have missed him, so very much. I wanted to stay.”
“But you didn’t,” Ash said, unsure exactly what she meant.
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “There is work still to do, and there are battles yet to be fought. Han will help us. He says to come to him—that you’ll know how.” Then, looking past Ash, she spoke, a little impatiently, to someone he couldn’t see. “Go, sisters. I will stay awhile longer in this world.” She seemed to listen for a moment, then said, “Just because it’s never been done does not mean it cannot be done. Now. Go and speak with my daughter. She needs to know.”
Captain Byrne fell to his knees beside the bed, his weathered face wet with tears. “Rai,” he said, in a low, husky voice. “I don’t understand. My connection to you—to the Line—is broken. I—I thought— How can I protect you if there’s no longer a bond between us?”
“Shhh,” she said, ruffling his hair, then smoothing it down again. “I will explain. Han gave me a message for you, too. When one door is closed, another opens. We have much to talk about. But right now, I am so very sleepy.” With that, she closed her eyes, still smiling, and slept.
They all stood speechless, until Speaker Jemson knelt next to Byrne. “Let us give thanks to the Maker for this miracle that we’ve all witnessed. Shall we pray?”
And they did.
When the speaker had finished, Ash returned to his examination of the cup. Though it was apparently empty, it still carried that faint, familiar scent, like old stone and rot. When he carried it to the window, in the daylight he could see a pinprick of light passing through to the inside. There seemed to be a tiny hole under one of the jewels on the outside. Using his belt blade, he pried at the stone, an amethyst, finally working it loose.
Underneath, he found a tiny wad of plant material. He scraped it out of the hole and onto a glass plate. This time, the scent surfaced a different memory.
He was back
in Taliesin’s cottage at Oden’s Ford. They’d been going through her little book of poisons, studying each one from a healer’s perspective. Since she grew many of the plant sources in her garden, they were able to move from plant to processing to final product to treatment.
There was one poison that she didn’t grow in her garden. She kept it sealed in a glass jar, buried under a stone in the garden, unearthing it only for teaching purposes.
“Don’t touch it!” she’d snapped when he unstoppered the jar. “Be careful about breathing it in.”
“What is it?” he’d said, startled by the urgency of the warning. When they worked with poisons, the Voyageur usually relied on him not to be stupid.
“It’s called ‘two-step lily,’ because victims rarely manage two steps before they go down.”
Ash eyed it with new respect. “How do I treat it?”
“Pray,” his teacher had said. “I’ve never known anyone to survive it.”
When he’d sniffed at it, it smelled of death and decay. Even then, it was hauntingly familiar, but he couldn’t remember why.
Now he remembered.
Head swimming, stomach churning, he set the cup aside and washed his hands thoroughly.
“I suppose you have a good reason for damaging your grandmother’s cordial cup.” Ash looked up, and met Magret’s eyes.
He nodded. “The poison was embedded in the cup, under one of the jewels,” he said. “When wine was poured into the cup, the poison diffused into the wine. So it wouldn’t help to have a taster. Everyone drank from the same carafe, but she was the only one poisoned. Depending on who examined her after death, the fact that it was poison might have been overlooked. If it was suspected, we would blame the Carthians.”
“Do you know what kind of poison it was?” Talbot asked.
“We’ll take a closer look at it in the dispensary,” Ash said. “It’s too risky to try to analyze it with so many people around. I’m pretty sure it’s two-step lily.”
“Two-step lily?” Titus spoke up from his seat at the queen’s bedside.
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