Then, the flame was gone like it had never been. Thaddeus dug deep, summoning up a ball of intense heat that he could throw. Let it burn a hole right through Malachi and deal with the consequences later.
The orb of flame flickered into life, heat waves rising above it and then, it too disappeared.
“You…” Malachi’s voice was rough. He was shaking in fury as he stared at Thaddeus. “You… you!”
Thaddeus couldn’t reach his magic. It was like the day Melanie cut him off from it, only more complete.
The pain came back. Thaddeus’s body went rigid, cords standing out in his neck as his back arched. Malachi gestured, and a cut opened across his stomach. Another gesture, and another wound, this time in his right arm. Then his right cheek, his left leg. A particularly violent motion and Thaddeus felt two toes on his left foot get severed.
All the while, he could do nothing but hang there as Malachi cut him open again and again. His screams echoed through the corridors.
Eventually, Thaddeus didn’t know how much longer, Malachi stopped. He stepped in front of Thaddeus, breathing heavily and staring into his eyes.
“It’s just starting,” he growled. Then he pulled his arm back and punched Thaddeus square in the face.
He was released and collapsed to the floor. He could hear others coming but didn’t pay much attention to it.
In front of him lay Melanie. Her eyes were open, but she wasn’t seeing him, or anything at all.
Chapter 42
Cursing under her breath, Shireen reined her horse to the side and let the column pass by. At the end, she rode between the same two scouts she spoke to earlier in the journey home.
“Names,” she spat.
“Nicolas,” one said immediately. Even that sounded insolent, with a hint of daring her to make something of it.
The other sat quietly on his horse, staring straight ahead.
“I said… name!” Shireen said.
When the scout still didn’t answer, or even look at her, Shireen guided her horse into his path, forcing him to stop. He still avoided her eyes.
“You have one more chance,” she told him, her voice pitched for his ears alone.
Finally, he turned to her. “Thomas.”
His voice sounded dead, like he didn’t care that he told her or what she would do with it. His expression was completely blank, as well.
“I don’t know what’s going on with the two of you,” she said, “but it will not stand. When we get back to Towering Oaks, you’ll report to your commander. Are we clear?”
“Sure,” Nicolas said. Thomas merely nodded, once more gazing off into the surrounding woods.
She glared at them both for a moment longer, then spurred her horse forward, taking her place at the front again.
♦ ♦ ♦
“Huh, that’s really strange,” Orlando said.
They were seated at the table in their quarters, finishing supper and a bottle of deep red wine.
“I know both of them, and they’ve always been good scouts. Not outstanding, at least by our standards, but they could go to any other House and run rings around theirs. Including Glittering Birch.”
“Especially these days,” Shireen said. “You should have seen the place. It was horrible. Filth everywhere. Staff not doing their jobs, or doing them with outright insolence. And Jamshir didn’t even seem to notice, to say nothing of poor Bragnold.”
“Poor Bragnold? Since when is he deserving of sympathy.”
Shireen shrugged. “You had to see him. He was a worthy general at one time, almost as capable as Jediah, which is saying something. He served his House with dignity and honor, and now…”
“Now… not,” Orlando said.
“More than that. Whatever happened to him left him a shell. He moves when Jamshir tells him to. Otherwise, he stands there staring and drooling. Like his mind is gone.”
“I guess you’re right. Still, I have a hard time forgiving him for his role in their attack on our House. And an even harder time sympathizing.”
“Like I said.” Shireen took another sip of her wine. “You had to see him.”
Orlando sat quietly, then. “And Jamshir? What happened to him?”
“He’s mad. Completely gone. He’s living in a world of his own, and even thinks the story of Solomon defeating that Soul Gaunt years ago is about him. Flaming sword and all.”
“Could it be an act?”
Shireen thought back. It could be, certainly. But Jamshir would have to be a better actor than he ever gave any indication of being if that was the case.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I think he really is crazy.”
“So his House is an extension of that.”
“I’m not so sure. It feels like more. Like something bigger is really wrong.”
“Sort of like that feeling in the woods when we first ran into the Soul Gaunts?”
They both shuddered at the memory of the fear and the cold that seeped into their bones those nights.
“No, not like that. That was really overt, you know? There was no questioning what you were feeling. This is different…more subtle. Like something is wrong that you can’t quite put your finger on. Beyond the obvious, I mean. Something almost behind the scenes? I don’t know if that makes sense or not.”
“Umm. It does. I think something Jamshir was doing backfired on him. Now, he’s caught by his own schemes and it’s driven him crazy.”
“Possibly.” Shireen yawned and stretched. “All I know right now is that it was disgusting being there. I’m glad to be clean and well-fed, and now I just want bed.”
Orlando smiled at that.
“Sorry,” she said. “I mean sleep. I’m exhausted.”
“Kind of figured,” he replied. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
She rose, kissed his cheek and walked to their bedchamber. She barely remembered Orlando joining her later.
♦ ♦ ♦
The next day, Shireen walked to the tree that housed the scouts. The offending soldiers, Nicolas and Thomas, were confined to their quarters until proper disciplinary reviews could be conducted. Their commander, Jeremiah, a capable officer, met her at the entrance.
“Lady Shireen.” He bowed slightly.
“Jeremiah. What’s the news?”
“No repentance. At all. I put them through their paces, even after their trip, and it didn’t seem to faze them in the least. As a matter of fact, I received the same type of response that you reported. Insolence and indifference.”
“What’s your assessment?”
Jeremiah shook his head. “I really can’t say. I’m sorry, I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but this is completely out of character for these two. For any Towering Oaks scout or soldier, for that matter.”
“Orlando told me the same thing. I don’t understand—"
While they were talking, the door to the tree opened and a scout appeared. He pushed between them without a word, his uniform and armor in disarray.
“Scout!” Jeremiah yelled. “Halt!”
The man stopped walking but didn’t turn back around.
Jeremiah’s face was like a storm as he marched around to face the man.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
“I’m late,” the man muttered.
Shireen walked forward as well, peering at the scout. He returned her look with a sneer of his own, one that was remarkably similar to the expression on the face of the woman who served her sour wine in a madman’s throne room.
“Where are you going, scout?” she asked.
He tilted his head up, pointing with his chin. Shireen glanced that way. The scout was indicating the tree that housed the mess hall, where the rank and file ate their meals.
“And you’re late for?”
“Breakfast, obviously. Some of us do like to eat, you know, and don’t get to have our food served to us on fancy platters of gold.”
Jeremiah drew his arm back, but Shire
en put her hand out, stopping him from striking the man.
“I see. Your meal will be brought to you. Return to the barracks.”
The scout scoffed, then turned on his heel and returned inside, slamming the door behind him.
“Are there any others still in there?” Shireen asked.
“A few,” Jeremiah said.
“Put a guard on this door, immediately. No one in or out until I say so. That includes you. Bring them food, leave it on the doorstep and back away. No contact.”
“What do you think is going on, Lady Shireen?”
“I think we brought something back from Glittering Birch.”
She left Jeremiah and found Orlando, telling him to round up anyone else who went with her the day before, and that if any of them showed any signs of the behavior of the others, they were to be immediately taken to the barracks.
None of them did. They all lined up, armor immaculate, discipline fully in effect. They answered her questions succinctly and with respect.
Whatever was going on, it hadn’t spread to all of them, and Shireen herself felt no different than she ever did.
Frustrated, she decided to walk the perimeter of the compound, taking the opportunity to think, and stopping at each sentry point to check in. This was something that Jediah often did. He believed it gave the sentries the sense that what they were doing mattered, even during extended periods of peace.
Jediah had a way with people that belied his stiff, formal exterior. Familiarity wasn’t his strong suit, and no one, other than perhaps Solomon, thought of him as their friend. But they all would have fought and died for him without question. He inspired that type of loyalty, made you believe that you were on the side of right.
Shireen hoped that she could do half that, even for the short time she was in charge.
Solomon would have his own way, of course. There was no sense in even trying to guess what that would be. For now, she would follow the example of the leader she knew and loved, and trusted that it would be enough.
When she reached the back of the compound, she found one of the sentries more on guard than the others.
“Trouble?” she asked.
The woman glanced at her, then returned to scanning the forest, her gaze flickering across the bright sunlit spots between the trees.
“No, my Lady,” she finally said. “There’s nothing. Around dawn, I thought maybe...”
She trailed off and Shireen noticed a faint blush to her cheeks.
“Thought?”
“I thought I saw something. But now… I’m afraid that maybe I was overtired. Seeing things that weren’t there. I’m sorry. It’s inexcusable.”
Tired was something that every soldier dealt with. It was no shame, and said something about this one that she was willing to admit to it.
“That was a few hours ago,” Shireen said. “If it’s still bothering you, I’m thinking there’s reason. What did you think you saw?”
“It’s silly.”
“Tell me anyway. I could use the laugh.”
The sentry sighed. “Early this morning, as the sun was just starting to come up. You know how it starts to get lighter, but not really? That sort of predawn time?”
Shireen was very familiar with it.
“I thought I saw someone standing right about there.” She pointed out into the forest. “At first I wasn’t sure what I was seeing, but then they got a little clearer.”
“They? Who?”
“I don’t know. They looked like any other Folk, except with weird clothes. Even in the bad light they stood out. Blue, all over. Bright blue. Except for…”
“What?” Shireen asked.
“Its face. If the rest wasn’t weird enough, its face looked completely white. I blinked, looked around to see if anyone else was seeing it, and when I turned back, it was gone.”
Shireen stared off into the woods herself. She had no doubt that the sentry had seen something, and whatever it was, she was willing to bet it had something to do with what was going on at Glittering Birch.
Chapter 43
Jocasta didn’t even bother with the lamps in the library anymore. When it got dark, she simply sat in the chair behind the desk, gazing into the gloom. Florian probably sat here at one time, as well. Ruling over House Whispering Pines with a steady hand and a calm mind. Oh, he faltered, according to some, after he thought Celia died, but over the course of his long life, he acquitted himself with honor.
She didn’t know how he had done it. It was maddening. There were enemies everywhere, whispering, plotting, planning her downfall. Even those she believed were friends, like Childress, turned against her. It wasn’t fair. And really, he gave her no choice. He was going to have her removed and take the House back to what it once was. A mere extension of the will of the two other Great Houses, Towering Oaks and Glittering Birch.
He needed to go, so she did what was necessary.
And she definitely did not see him over there, standing near one of the shelves, watching her with his accusing eyes. How could she? It was dark in the room. Dark enough that she couldn’t see his eyes, boring into her.
She turned away. Let him stand there all night. The glass she took a sip of wine from was the same one that she had handed him. Hah. That will show him.
And Darius. Her trusted aide. Where was he?
Darius was gone a lot, lately. Jocasta hadn’t sent him on any errands, not since telling him to go spy on Towering Oaks. Yet he wasn’t here. She summoned him earlier and he was nowhere to be found.
Darius was working for someone else. Jocasta wasn’t stupid, and she’d heard all the stories of what happened when the Soul Gaunts attacked. The fact that they were brought here by a secret house, under the control of Jamshir.
A secret house. One that moved behind the scenes and was unknown to any others. They made what Whispering Pines did seem childish by comparison. Maybe Childress had been working for them. She glanced at the darker shape near the bookcase. The one she knew was just a large urn on a delicate table. It wasn’t a stooped, elderly body, watching her and laughing at her failures. It was not that.
Childress was gone, but Darius was still here. Darius, who, she was fairly certain, was working for the secret house.
She took another sip of wine, sure that she could taste a hint of bitterness. Maybe the poison wasn’t as tasteless as she’d thought.
She was lifting the glass to her lips again when the door opened and light flooded in.
“Are you sleeping in here? Why is it so dark?”
There was the rasp of a match and one of the lamps flared to life.
“What are you doing?” Darius asked, moving to light another one.
“Thinking,” Jocasta answered.
She watched him, moving easily, not looking over at her. So at home, so confident in his place.
“That sounds ominous.” Darius finished lighting the lamps and took a seat across the desk from her. He reached for the wine and poured himself a glass.
The glass he chose from the tray was clean. It had always been clean and never held any of the poison.
At least, not yet.
“Where have you been?” Jocasta kept her tone conversational.
“Out and about. Seeing what was occurring in the Greenweald and how it could benefit our House.”
“I didn’t order you to do that.”
Darius laughed and took a healthy swig. If Jocasta had poisoned his wine, he would be choking right now, his face turning purple and swelling.
“No, I guess you didn’t. But I was doing what you pay me for. Gathering information. Would you like to hear it?”
She took another sip of her wine. “No.”
“No?” Darius blinked, his head jerking in surprise. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“I mean no. I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I don’t want to hear what you have to say…ever.”
Darius set his glass down on the desk.
“Lady Jocasta, I�
�m afraid I don’t understand—”
“You can stop the pretense. I know who you are. Or at least who you really work for.”
“I work for you, my Lady,” he replied.
“Get out, Darius. Go back to your secret house. And if I see you again, my knife will be in your belly before you’ll even know I’ve pulled it.”
“Secret house? What are you talking about? I know nothing of any….”
He trailed off as she casually lifted her dagger from her belt. Another word and poison wouldn’t be necessary.
“I see,” Darius whispered.
He rose and left the room, not turning back once.
That alone was enough to convince her that she was right.
♦ ♦ ♦
Even in daylight, walking the grounds of Whispering Pines, she had a hard time shaking off the feelings of the previous night. If she looked up, she was sure she would see his shock of white hair in one of the windows of the main tree, watching her. She didn’t look up.
And it wasn’t just his eyes. Everyone was watching her, waiting for her misstep. On her ship, she would have dumped them all on an island, and sailed on to find another, more trustworthy crew.
Of course, sailing such a ship by herself was impossible, and it was even more so trying to run this place by herself.
Childress, a traitor and dead. The other lords dead, and their children vying for power and plotting her overthrow on the new council. And Darius, one-time friend but secret spy, gone for good.
There was no one for her to turn to.
She remembered Thaddeus and his warning the other night. Something about evil coming from Glittering Birch and destroying the Greenweald. At the time, she thought that something would have to be done about Thaddeus. He and Celia were the only credible threats to her. They were enough, especially if they joined forces.
She needed an ally.
“My horse,” she told a groom.
Minutes later, she was mounted and, spurning the offer of accompaniment from the guards, rode off into the Greenweald.
♦ ♦ ♦
The guards at Glittering Birch, if they could be called that, didn’t so much as glance up as she rode through. The place was a mess, with overgrown gardens, fountains spitting foul-smelling water and Folk scattered about as if they had no jobs to do, nowhere to go.
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