“He is my son’s tutor in all things Chiranian.”
She sneered at Striver. “A tutor who hasn’t learned not to speak in the midst of his betters?”
Striver’s jaw dropped.
Struggling for words, Broden put his hand on his tutor’s arm. Then, “I’ve given him the freedom to speak openly in my presence,” he said, “so that he can inform me as to matters of which I should be aware—in the moment when the information may be of primary use to me.”
Tanith put her fork down. “I see. Well, perhaps he should have taught you at the outset, how inappropriate it would be for him to directly address one of his superiors.”
Broden turned Striver’s way. “Make note of that,” he said before turning back to Zarek’s guest. “So, Mortal Tanith, what brings you here, to Fallique?” He used the title Mortal as a sly reminder to her, and perchance to Zarek as well, that she was of no greater significance than any other free Chiranian.
With her eyes narrowed, she once again tasted her wine. “Well, it so happens that I ran into Brother Pestifere some time ago. He suggested I take a look at the prison here. Now that I’m in charge of the one at Camp Cark, in Darth, I thought it would be prudent to follow his advice. So, here I am. I must say, Master Zarek,” she added, glancing his way, “that I particularly appreciate your use of the grut here. Would that I had some in Darth.”
“Perhaps we can arrange for that,” he said.
Broden pushed the food around on his plate. Looking back up, he addressed Zarek. “Shall I conduct a tour for Mortal Tanith, then?”
Once again, her eyes narrowed at him, but she said nothing.
The emperor turned to his guest. “Broden has much to learn about Chiran, that is true. Still, I need someone in charge of the prison, and he convinced me that I should give him the opportunity to prove himself. So far, I’ve had no reason to regret my decision. He’s managed to prepare numerous shipments of slaves. Why, just a short while ago, he even found room on one of the wagons to send more weapons your way.”
“I see.” Then turning to Broden, the corners of Tanith’s mouth turned up into what might be deemed a smile, had the gesture reached her eyes. “I would like that then. A tour of the prison, I mean.”
Chapter Sixteen
Rounding the corner, he used his free hand to pull his wool cape closer so as to hold out the cold. He’d always hated winter. He much preferred hot, dry days. They matched the deep burning heat of Daeva’s presence within him. But some things couldn’t be helped, and as it was time to render the service required of him, he’d have to bear the discomfort. After all, he’d soon need the full strength of youth.
Having spent time around the healers’ quarters of late, he’d become familiar with a number of them—and it was a good thing too. It allowed for him to choose the perfect candidate—a small man who, it also happened, was an acquaintance of his from days of old.
When his cane unexpectedly slipped on a patch of ice, he stumbled, then quickly righted himself—but not before wrenching his back. Grimacing, he set out once again, his handicap now appearing even more pronounced than before.
He picked up his pace; he didn’t want to be late.
He turned the next corner and seconds later approached The Swindler’s Cup, a seedy pub. It hadn’t been easy to convince his target to meet him here, as the establishment’s reputation was well known. Still, he couldn’t risk arranging an appointment at a place where the two of them might be seen together.
Inside, the regular patrons, most of whom were addicted to more than merely the spirits of alcohol, lounged in various states of delirium. An acrid smoke hovered in the air in layers around them.
He glanced about. “Ahhh, Salus, there you are,” he said as he neared the corner table where he sat. “I feared I might be late.”
Salus sat up straighter. “This place is—”
“Abysmal, yes, I know.”
“Tell me again why we had to meet here.”
“I wanted you to see this. I have discovered that it can be helpful for a healer to know the circumstances of his patient’s life and . . . Well, I understand she spent considerable time here.”
“She’s an addict you said.”
“Sola? Yes.”
“And no doubt she prostituted herself to feed her habit.”
Salus nodded at the establishment’s keeper who approached with two ales that he slapped down on the table, after which he returned to the bar.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, “I took the liberty of ordering.”
“Not at all.”
Salus picked up his mug. Noticing something old and dried stuck to the rim of it, he grimaced, coughed, and then put it back down. “Never mind.” He sighed. “What’s she addicted to then?”
“Bibulous nut, I believe.”
“Her teeth are red?”
“With what I can tell from those few she still has left, yes.”
Salus shuddered. “As you well know, there’s not much a healer can do with an addiction. He can’t take the desire away—that’s something the individual must, with Ehyeh’s aid, conquer for himself. Or herself, as the case may be.”
The man sighed deeply. “Yes, I know. Still, the physical effects can be devastating and I understand you have been particularly successful in cases like this. Not every Oathtaker-healer is.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Surely then, there is something you could do to help.”
“Possibly.”
“I would not ask this, but she is—”
“Your sister. Yes, I understand.”
The man hung his head. “Shortly after I left home as a young man, to train, I lost contact with Sola. She got caught up with the wrong crowd and . . . disappeared.” He looked back up. “Then out of the blue the other day, right here in the city, I ran into her. She begged me to help her and . . . Well, I just cannot bring myself to stand by and watch her suffer this way.”
“What have you done so far?”
“Not much. I sought to ease what discomfort I could, and then I moved her to a little cottage very near here. She is there now—at least I hope she still is. I told her I would bring help.”
Salus stood. “No time like the present then.” He pulled some coins from his pocket, selected enough to pay for the untouched ales, and then dropped them on the flyspecked table. One of them landed on its side, spun in place, gradually slowed, and then fell flat with a clink.
Together the men made their way out the door and down the street.
Minutes later, they arrived before a cottage set back from the street. Various shrubs planted around it had grown wild and now nearly hid the building from view. Smoke sputtered up from its chimney.
The man stepped to the front door, which sported flaking paint. A squeaky sound, along with the smell of woodsmoke and mildew, filled the air when he opened it.
He motioned for Salus to enter. “After you,” he said.
After stepping inside, Salus stood with his hands on his hips. “Where to?” he asked.
Pointing at the fireplace, the man said, “Please, have a seat—just there. I will get her.”
He stepped away, then turned back. “Oh, here, let me get your cape for you.”
If I do this just right, I can disarm him before he even knows what happened.
With that, he reached for the Oathtaker’s blade, grasped it firmly, and then drew it.
Surprised, Salus tried to spin around, but not before the man planted his cane between his feet, causing him to lose his balance. As he struggled to remain upright, the man pushed him against the wall with his left hand, and then plunged the blade into his back with his right.
Salus threw his head back. His eyes went wide as his next breath caught in his throat. As magic provided, the Oathtaker’s own blade used against him, brought his immediate death.
Slowly, his body slipped to the floor. It landed with a thump.
The man grabbed the front of Salus’s tu
nic and pulled. It took a minute for him to make his way across the room to a back door that led to an enclosed garden. Then, leaving the body just inside, he stepped out.
He approached the space he’d selected earlier for burying Salus, then dropped to his knees. Grinning maliciously, and holding the dead man’s blade, he stabbed it into the nearly frozen earth.
Chapter Seventeen
Pulling her head down and closing her cloak more tightly, so as to keep out the gusting wind and sleet, Lucy made her way inside. She stomped her feet on the rug, then marched to the end of the hall. Stepping into the meeting room, she found Dax sitting at the opposite end of the long oak conference table that graced the center of the floor.
“Hello, Dax,” she greeted him. “Dixon and the twins are with Professor Hadwin today, so I wondered if you could use some help here.”
“Oh, no need to ask. I’m sure Reigna and Eden would like for us to get these plans together as quickly as possible. I’d appreciate your assistance.”
“I’ve got this afternoon free. I had intended to meet with Salus about heading to the border, but he’s nowhere to be found. So I’m going to return to the palace for a short time, while Dixon remains here with the twins. I want to check on Mara. You know, I’m surprised she hasn’t shown up herself . . .” She shook her head and sighed. “In any case . . .”
She strolled to the hearth, then stood there quietly, rubbing her hands together to warm them over the crackling fire. Looking back over her shoulder, someone outside the window behind Dax, heading toward the building, caught her attention.
“Oh!” she gasped.
“What is it?”
“I’ll be right back!” she cried.
She ran out of the room, down the hall and through the crowds, and then burst out the front door. Having thrown caution to the wind, when she reached the second step, she slipped. Her feet gave way beneath her, sending her tumbling down the remaining steps where she landed, sprawled out, her legs twisted beneath her.
“Oh, blast!” she groaned, pulling herself up to her elbows. Grimacing, she sat up, then brushed the snow from her face and sleeves.
“Can I help you?” came a man’s voice.
Looking up, her breath caught her throat. She stared. Then, “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Percival! Percival Ferreolo!” Her eyes narrowed. “Is that you?”
“Well, hello, Lucy. I’m flattered you remember me. It’s been quite some time. Here, let me help.” He reached his hand out to her.
Gripping it firmly, she thanked him, staring at him all the while. “When did you arrive?” she asked.
“Just a couple weeks ago. It seems word of all the Oathtakers and Select gathering here in the city finally reached my little corner of the world.”
“Goodness, but I feel so ridiculous,” she muttered.
“It could happen to anyone.” He paused. “Well, anyone with two left feet anyway.”
Chuckling, she stood, only to discover that having twisted her knee, she couldn’t put all of her weight on one leg. “Oooh oooh, oooh . . . ouch,” she moaned.
“Here, let me help.”
Nearly carrying her, Percival assisted her to a nearby bench.
“I’m a healer, you’ll recall,” he said as he sat beside her, “although I’ve been told that my bedside manner is rather . . . unusual. Left to my own devices, I’m afraid I’m a bit . . . grim. But you know, over the years I’ve discovered that people who laugh, mend more quickly. So, while humor doesn’t exactly come naturally to me, I . . . try.”
She grinned. “Yes, as I recall, you were always a serious one.”
“I was just on my way to report for duty.” He motioned toward the research center. “It seems we’re in constant demand these days.”
Lucy looked at him closely, as though examining his every feature. “You know, I never noticed the resemblance before,” she muttered.
“Resemblance?”
She shook her head.
“To whom?”
“Oh . . . never mind.” Then, cocking her head, she asked, “Did you just come from that way?” She pointed toward the training grounds.
“Yes. Why?”
She pursed her lips, in thought. “And you’ve been out to the training grounds of late?”
“Regularly, since my arrival, yes. I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other before today.”
“Hmmm. Well, like I said, it’s nothing.” She winced from the pain when he lifted her leg to rest it over his thighs. “You just remind me of someone I knew way back when. In fact, the resemblance is . . . uncanny, really.”
She rubbed her knee. “Now, do you think you could lend me a bit of healing here?”
“Certainly. Sprained knees are one of my specialties—and it’s a good thing, too. We can’t have you out of commission.”
He placed his hands on her knee. “Just here then, is that right? I can feel the heat.”
“Yes.”
As he poured his magic into her, she felt the swelling around her knee reduce, and the pain lessen.
When he was through, she rubbed it and put her foot back down. She bent her knee a couple of times and wiggled her toes. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” He stood, but then quickly resumed his seat. “Ahhh, Lucy . . .”
“Yes?”
“I . . . ahhh . . . Well, I . . .”
“Yes?”
He pulled his shoulders back. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I’ve outlived two charges. Filip passed not long after I last saw you.” He paused, sighing. “Then my next charge, Arvid, died just recently.”
Holding his gaze, she nodded. “No, Percival, I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Actually, of course, Filip was still just a child when I lost him.” He looked out at a crowd gathering near the building.
“Oh, yes, now I remember! Filip was very young when you first swore to protect him.” She cocked her head in thought. “If I remember correctly, there was a Council hearing into the matter of his death.”
He hung his head. “Yes, that’s right. I was, of course, exonerated from any wrongdoing.”
“Yes, of course.”
“And then there was Arvid . . . Well, I’d never intended to commit myself once again, but he was in need, and I was there. It . . . seemed like the right thing to do.”
“I see.” She held his gaze. “This ‘Arvid’ you mention. I don’t recall ever having heard of, or of having met, him.”
“He was a loner. Rather like your first charge, Selene.”
“You say he died recently?”
“Of old age.”
“I see.”
She sat quietly for a minute. Then, “Remind me what happened to Filip,” she said. “I seem to recall something about an unexplained illness that wasn’t healed in a timely manner, or . . . something to that effect, anyway. Is that right?”
He looked down. “Truthfully, it’s . . . hard to talk about . . . even after all these years.”
He brushed newly fallen snow off from the top of his head. “It was a shock. I don’t think Filip’s parents ever got over it, and I— Well, if I’d understood the true nature of what was happening—of the dangers . . . I might have done something differently, taken action more quickly, even though it’s sometimes best to allow a malady to run its natural course. Still—” He stopped short, swallowed hard.
“I’m sure,” she patted his arm. Then, rubbing her hands together to warm them, she sighed. “As much as we all try to do for the Select, some things, as you know, are beyond our experience or our control. You’re not to blame. Illnesses happen. Accidents and injuries happen. Old age happens, for that matter.” She hesitated, lost in thought for a moment, and then added, “My advice is that you pick up the pieces and move on. You’ve a whole new life ahead of you now.”
Glancing down, he nodded. “Yes, I’ve thought to do just that—move on, I mean. So I wondered . . .”
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes?”
He turned to face her full on. “Do you remember, Lucy, some time ago, when a number of us Oathtakers here in the city, along with our charges, happened to meet up with you?”
“I do.”
“We had a great time,” he said, holding her gaze. “At least, I had a great time.”
“It was fun, yes. I remember that we gathered for dinner. Goodness, I don’t know if I’ve ever laughed so hard. But you! Well, it took some doing to get you to join in.” She slapped his arm and chuckled, recalling her memories. “You were just so very serious, Percival. Even so, I seem to recollect that we got you to lighten up—eventually.”
“I do try,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I make it a conscious effort these days to be a bit more . . . lighthearted—to smile more often. I find that it helps to put others at ease.”
“Yes, it seems I’m relearning that same lesson. So, what about that night?”
“Well, excuse me if I’m being forward, but . . . as you know, at the time I was—” He hung his head. “Well, I’d just sworn an oath to protect Filip. I was committed.” He glanced back at her. “But now . . . Well, in truth, I’d like to spend some time with you. You know, now that I’ve been released from my latest oath and all. I mean—”
Lucy put her hand on his arm. “Percival, you’re a good man, but I’ve never made it any secret that my focus is elsewhere— So . . . Well, if it’s your intention that something might come of our spending time together, you’d only be disappointed in the end.”
“I see.”
She gazed up at the falling snow. “I’m sorry.”
“Hmmm.” He pulled his shoulders back and took in a deep breath. “Well then, as to your injury, there will be no wild dancing on the tabletops for you for a while.” Though the comment was humorous, he didn’t crack a grin.
She laughed. “Oh, goodness, how ever will I restrain myself?”
“Truly, I advise you to stay off of your feet for a bit.” He looked toward the research center, and then back at her. “And watch those steps next time. They can be slippery. Even for those of us without two left feet,” he added with a shaky grin.
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