“Extend my apologies to my intended sister-in-union.”
“Enough!” He held up a vial, the item he’d been fiddling with. It held a murky pink liquid which Lisen didn’t recognize. Not surprising. There was a great deal in Avaret she didn’t recognize.
“What’s that?” she asked, the manacles at her wrists and ankles chafing.
“It’s anaca. It will make you more receptive to my watcher’s intrusion into your thoughts.”
Lisen nodded. His watcher, was it? What a little piss ant. Lisen had met this watcher in her mind many times now and suspected she just might survive another invasion. “Then what?”
“She’ll alter your body’s functions by altering your thoughts. She’s done it before.”
“So there’ll be no way to trace my death back to you.”
“That’s the idea,” her brother replied with a satisfied smile.
“Well, good luck with that.”
He glared at her. He had wanted to incite fear, but all he’d gotten was sarcasm. “You are disrespectful.”
“And you, Brother, are despicable.”
“Let’s get on with this.” He worked the stopper on the vial until he had it off, then placed his thumb over the top of it. He then reached out with his other hand, pushed her head back into the wall and pinched her nose closed. She tried to fight him off, wiggling to free herself, but it was pointless. Not only was he strong, but the damn manacles inhibited all movement. The longer and harder she fought, the sooner she’d end up having to breathe, and she knew that as soon as she opened her mouth to do so, he’d force the drug in.
She tried to hold her breath as long as she could, but it was hopeless. He grinned at her as she felt her lungs demand their due. If only Eloise had never interfered. If only they’d never been separated. If only….
She gasped and he was on her, holding her mouth open and turning the vial so the liquid dripped in. She coughed the first bit out, then spit more of it into his face, and he shook his head and poured a little more in, this time forcing her mouth closed again before she could be rid of the stuff.
“Swallow and I’ll let you go,” he uttered between clenched teeth. She narrowed her eyes and finally gave in, praying that Captain Palla would know what was happening and see to her rescue in time. She swallowed the sticky sweet stuff, and Ariel backed away, wiping her spittle from his face as he did so.
“Why?” she asked, gasping for breath.
“Because you’ll destroy me if I let you live.”
“No. Not that. I get that. Why are you so unhappy?”
“You weren’t there. You didn’t have to live with her constant ridicule and disdain. She loved no one, but you wouldn’t understand.” And with that, he turned and left her there.
“Damn!” She did the only thing she could do. She banged her back into the wall in frustration, waited as long as she thought it would take her brother to be quit of his dungeon and then finally yelled out, “Palla!” She could only hope he was somewhere nearby and would hear her.
When Bala finally returned from the Keep, she brought with her what she had gleaned from her conversations with several Council members. Nalin listened with relief as she described the nobles’ reactions to the necropath’s disruption at dinner and their thoughts on the possibility that her claim might be true.
Most of them had reservations about this young hermit, but they remained open to giving her the opportunity to put forth her case before making any final decision. Further, they acknowledged that if either one or both of her claims proved to be credible, this would provide them with the opportunity to consider how best to deal with Ariel before his throning rather than having to take more serious measures after.
Nalin sighed at that news, and then they all lapsed into a prolonged, impatient silence. They sat for some time quiet with their own thoughts, Rosarel sitting in the corner sharpening his knife, Elsba snoring in his chair behind the desk and Bala sitting beside Nalin on the couch. Eventually, Nalin’s frustration propelled him to get up and move, and he began to pace. This awakened Elsba and distracted Rosarel’s concentration on his edgy ministrations.
“Nalin?” Elsba said.
“I can’t sit still,” Nalin admitted.
“It’s late,” Elsba replied. “Perhaps we should adjourn for the night. We haven’t heard anything yet. It’s likely—”
Pounding at the door startled him, startled all of them. Nalin and Rosarel both rushed to the door, but the captain got there first.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“Sergeant Tamsa,” a woman’s voice responded. “Captain Palla sent me.”
Rosarel opened the door only a fraction and spoke softly. “What is it?”
“This.” And as Nalin watched from behind the captain, the woman handed Rosarel a scrap of paper.
“Thank you,” Rosarel said and quickly closed the door again. His back to the room, he opened the note but said nothing, and Nalin waited until they’d heard the guard’s footsteps fade away into the distance before he spoke.
“What is it? What does it say?” he asked as he tried to see the note over Rosarel’s shoulder.
“One word,” Rosarel replied, turning. “Just one word. ‘Now.’”
Bala jumped up. “Then let’s go.”
“I’m sorry, my lord,” Rosarel said to her, “but this will take only two of us.”
“You and Nalin, I suppose,” Bala said, pouting.
“Bala, stop it,” Elsba cautioned. “You’re getting to be as bad as your sister.” Bala’s eyes opened wide at this remark, but she said nothing. “And the captain is right.”
“I suppose,” Bala conceded, a smile tickling at the corners of her mouth.
“My lord?” Rosarel said, focusing his one eye now on Nalin.
“Do we have a plan?” Nalin asked.
“Get in via the secret passageway and meet Palla in the dungeon.”
“Then we’d best get to it,” Nalin replied.
“We’ll be waiting,” Elsba said as the two younger men stepped out into the hall.
Nalin turned back and nodded to the holder. “We’ll send word.” And Nalin shut the door and trotted down the hall to catch up with the captain. As Rosarel grabbed a torch from the wall, Nalin noted that the man carried a second sword—Flandari’s sword, he realized as he got a good look at the grip. Of course.
When they reached the main door at the front of the old palace, the guard there simply nodded as they passed, and with long strides, they made their way to the fountain and the statue of Balthazar. Nalin had only used the passageways once, when Flandari had taken him on the tour, and she had never actually shown him this part of the tunnels. But she had instructed him well, and when he applied pressure to the statue’s left foot, the small hidden door in its base slid open immediately for him.
He looked around in the dark, trying to determine if the sound of stone scraping stone had aroused any suspicion, but before he could satisfy himself that they remained unobserved, Rosarel pushed him inside from behind. The captain then forced the door shut behind them, his torch lighting the way before them.
“What happens once we get there?” Nalin asked.
“The Heir has a plan. I don’t know what it is, but she claims she has one.”
“Good,” Nalin said, then added, “I think.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
PUSHING IS EASY
How long would this anaca take? And what would happen once it took effect? Lisen had been such a good girl back on Earth, avoiding the druggy crowd, hanging instead mostly with the Sci-Fi geeks. She had no experience with trying to maintain while under the influence. How the hell was she supposed to handle it now? She knew she had to manage it somehow, not to mention figuring how to welcome the watcher without surrendering once she was out of it.
And where the Destroyer was Palla? Shouldn’t he be here by now? What was delaying him? Great plan in the abstract, Leese, she thought, but it was not playing out as smoothly
as she had imagined here in the real world. Damn. She was completely….
Oh. That’s odd. Her mouth had gone dry, and strange thoughts compelled her, thoughts not her own. She couldn’t even hang on to them long enough to name them, they were so foreign. Well, that answered her first question. This was how long the anaca took. She worked her tongue around her mouth trying to conjure up spit, but all she succeeded in doing was making odd sounds as her tongue scraped across her parched gums and teeth. She lost herself in that activity for a while, unaware of time passing until she realized she had let her arms and legs relax and had nearly collapsed, save for the manacles. Which hurt like sin where they’d dug into her ankles and wrists. Damn. Well, that answers my second question. I have to fight this.
She breathed deeply several times, in through her nose, out through her mouth, in, out…clearing her head, slightly. Only slightly. The watcher was coming. Or so her brother—my brother…really?—had threatened. Soon. Well, let her come. Lisen knew this woman, had hosted her several times that she knew of, probably more times that she didn’t. Yes, let her come. Time to show her….
The door flew open, and Lisen had to struggle to focus on the person who entered. A guard? She felt her muscles relax again, and with that, the agony that was her wrists and her ankles returned as the manacles dug into her flesh.
“Damn.”
“My Liege,” the guard said as he came to her.
Once he got close enough, she recognized him. Captain Palla, finally. He leaned down and unlocked the manacles at her ankles; then he straightened up and freed her wrists. She realized too late that she couldn’t stand on her own, not anymore, and she slid down the wall. Palla dropped down beside her.
“What did he do to you?” he asked.
“Eloise,” she rasped. “Get Eloise.” It took all she had to utter just those few words, and once she had, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. So much for maintaining, her head sang to her. She sensed what she interpreted to be Palla leaving, and she felt herself surrendering to the drug and to whatever else loomed in the darkness beyond it.
“I won’t harm you.”
What?
“Your strength is an asset. I mean to help you.”
She was delirious, that seemed certain. And just as certainly, she was doomed.
“Lisen?”
She felt her head move, sensed another attempting to reach into her mind.
“Lisen, what did he give you?” The voice spoke urgently.
“What?” Damn, her tongue was thick, and she wondered if even that one word had made it past her lips.
“Listen to me. It’s Eloise. You must tell me what he gave you. Do you know?”
She opened her eyes and could discern the outline of a face within inches of her own. “Eloise?” Again, she had no idea if she had managed to make her mouth work properly.
“Yes. Now concentrate. What did he give you?”
Lisen took a deep breath and forced what little was left of self-discipline to center her on the question. What…? He gave me…he gave me…. “Anaca. Called it ‘anaca.’”
“Good.”
She felt herself slipping away again, but now she knew help was near. She heard talking but couldn’t understand the words. She thought she sensed a great deal of bustling and discussing all around her, but she had no will to fight the soft, smooth cloud in which she floated.
“You’re not alone.”
No.
“Follow your instincts. You know what to do.”
Too well.
“I’ll be waiting.”
I know you will.
And then the inner presence—the watcher—receded from her awareness. She felt fingers opening jaw, and something bitter, something pungent being forced into her mouth, being spread around it. Reflexively, she tried to spit, but a voice ordered, “Don’t you dare fight me.”
Not Palla, she thought to herself. Not Eloise either. Who? And as she pondered this, she began to surface from the suffocating effects of the anaca and at last opened her eyes. She shook her head and blinked. Focus and concentration, or at least what claimed to be those gifts, began returning, and she realized that the number of those here with her had doubled from two to four though she could not yet identify them. She still sat upon the floor, her back to the wall, and squatting down in front of her, his face with its one eye and an eye patch within inches of her own, was Korin. Good Korin. My Captain Cutie. His brow furrowed, and she couldn’t help but smile.
“You made it,” she said, and this time, although her mouth was still quite parched, her tongue was once again her own, and she knew she would survive. For now.
“Come on,” he said. “We have to get you out of here.” He stood up and held out a hand.
Above her, just behind him, she could now make out Eloise, Palla and Nalin. She smiled up at them, and they smiled back with relief. She reached up to take Korin’s hand and was amazed when she not only managed to stand but was able to do so steadily.
“What did you give me?” she asked Korin.
“Malla. It’s a desert thing.”
“It can counteract many potions,” Eloise added.
“And you carry this with you all the time?” Lisen asked him.
Korin shrugged. “Like I said, it’s a desert thing.”
“Let’s go,” Nalin interrupted and offered her his hand.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Upstairs, to the Empir’s office,” Nalin replied. “I’ll send word to Elsba to gather the Council. It’s time they knew the truth about their Empir.”
“No. Not tonight. You go up, you and Eloise. Wait for word.” Her mind moved quickly now, amazing given how recently it had threatened to shut down completely on her. “And Palla.” She turned to him. “Make sure your commander is aware of what’s happened here.”
“Aye, my Liege,” Palla replied with a salute, then turned and left. Nalin and Eloise remained.
“Go, go.” And as the two started to leave, Lisen crooked her index finger over her lips, contemplating. “No, wait,” she said, stopping them, her index finger now straightened up, a sign her mind had come to its point. The hermit and the holder turned back to her. “I need to know. Does the secret passageway lead to the Empir’s bedchamber?”
Nalin studied her.
“Korin and I have business there,” she explained, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Korin raise an eyebrow.
“Yes, it does.” Nalin turned to Korin. “You just keep going up.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Now, go. Go and let Elsba know I’m all right. Oh. Eloise, one more thing.”
“My Liege?”
“The watcher’s near, and I will need you,” Lisen said, her confidence growing stronger by the moment. “I trust you’ll know what to do?”
“At your command.” With that, the holder and the sooth departed, leaving Lisen and Korin alone.
Standing there in the cell with her, staring at her, stunned at her resilience though he knew he shouldn’t be, Korin thought back. When he’d first met this Lisen of Solsta, she had assured him she was more woman than hermit, more normal than necropath. He’d lived with her, traveled with her, acquired unthinkable feelings for her, even mated with her apparently. When in all that time had everything warm about her frozen over?
“So, what are you going to do?” he asked.
“What I have to do to survive. Let’s go.”
And there they were. His own words—spoken right before the debacle in Halorin— had doomed her, doomed them both. “And what is that?”
“Surprise my brother.”
“Don’t do this.” He tried to reason with her. When had he gone soft? Of course she must survive, but the thought of the cost brought on an ache in his pouch that had nothing to do with the baby growing there. “Let the Council decide.”
“And what if the Council decides I’m a fraud? They could, you know.”
“At least give them
the chance.”
“And if they choose my brother over me, then what? Challenge him to a duel?”
“If necessary.” But for the first time in his life—or what seemed like the first time—he was unsure of his stand in an argument.
“And what if the Council rules in my favor? Do you think he’s any more likely than I to stand by and let that be the end of it?”
“You’re letting the drugs dictate what to do,” he tried.
She shook her head fiercely. “No. I’ve been planning this for days, and my mind has never been clearer about anything.”
He didn’t know how to respond. Was there sense in what she said? Perhaps. But where that sense-making appeared to lead might destroy her soul.
“What are you going to do?” He restated the question he’d posed only a moment ago, this time slowly, distinctly.
“It’s better you not know.” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm.
“No.”
She pulled away from him. “Either come with me, or go, but I’m doing this regardless. Now, give me my sword.”
His stomach burned, and he knew he had to see this through with her. He had sworn to serve her and had tried to convince her that what he feared she planned to do was folly, but in the wake of failing that, he would continue with her to the end of this journey. With a sigh, he unbuckled her sword’s belt, pulled it off and offered it to her. “Here,” he said.
“Thank you,” she replied, strapping the belt to her waist, positioning it as he’d taught her, so the sword and her knife each hung in its proper place.
“But let me lead,” he added, and grabbing the torch he’d brought, he stepped out into the hall.
“You know the tunnels?” she asked as he brought her to the commander’s office.
He said nothing. Instead, he stepped inside and, placing the torch in a sconce, he exchanged it for a candle he found on the commander’s desk. Then he led her to the door to the passageway which remained open from when he and the holder had arrived. Once within the passage, he closed the door behind them. When he turned to her, he saw her eyes glowing in the candlelight. A fire burned inside her, a flame which singed deeper to his own core the longer he remained in her vicinity.
Tainted (Lisen of Solsta Book 2) Page 29