“Everything as it should be?” Shireen asked Jeremiah.
It was early yet, the day after she quarantined those infected by the visit to Glittering Birch. So far, there was no sign of it anywhere else, for which she was grateful. No sign, that was, until Jeremiah turned to her.
“Sure, why wouldn’t it be?” There were stains on the front of his armor where something had dripped on it and he was unshaven. His eyes regarded her with an obvious challenge.
“Oh, no,” she whispered. “Not you too.”
“Me too what?”
“I need you inside the barracks. Now.”
“Hah. No, that’s not going to be happening. It’s too nice a day out.”
“Now, soldier. Move.”
Instead, he laughed and pushed past her, heading deeper into the Towering Oaks compound. Shireen shook her head, drew her sword, and stepped up behind him. Jeremiah was busy unbuckling his chest piece and never heard her coming. Reversing her grip, she brought the pommel of her sword down hard, directly on the back of his head.
Dangerous move, that, and not one she made lightly. But she couldn’t allow him to spread whatever this was further. Even now, who knew how many had been in contact with the others before she had them locked away.
And now she needed to drag Jeremiah to the barracks and get him inside by herself. She couldn’t risk anyone else coming near.
So far, she felt fine. She didn’t see any difference in her attitude or her habits. She still rose early, dressed in her uniform and armor, made sure it was neat and polished and did her duty. Perhaps whatever was going on was passing her by.
Grabbing the unconscious man under his arms, she lifted and began dragging him to the scouts’ barracks. Others started to approach, either to help or out of simple curiosity, but she warned them away. By the time she got to the tree and up the steps, she was sweating and out-of-breath.
“Now what?” she muttered.
She couldn’t simply open the door and drag him in. Those inside were likely to try to get out. And she couldn’t count of them helping her, either.
“No choice,” she said, and unlocked the door.
The smell hit her immediately. The same stench of unwashed bodies and waste that permeated the Glittering Birch tree. She gagged as she grabbed Jeremiah and dragged him further in.
“What’s this?” The voice was right behind her.
She dropped Jeremiah and turned. Thomas, one of the two that she needed to speak to on the way back from Glittering Birch, stood directly in front of her. She hadn’t noticed on horseback, but Thomas was large for one of the Folk, tall and broad through the shoulders.
“Take care of him,” she said, pointing down at Jeremiah.
Thomas glanced down, then returned his stare to her.
“Why?”
“Because I’m telling you to.”
“So?”
“What are you? A child? Do as you’re ordered.”
Thomas cocked his head, then looked back down.
“What happened to him?”
“I hit him.”
Thomas laughed. “Good. He’s an ass.”
He turned without another word and walked away, leaving Jeremiah where he lay.
“At least I didn’t have to hit him, too,” Shireen muttered, and dragged Jeremiah further into the room.
She left him lying on the floor, making sure he was breathing regularly. Although she felt bad about leaving him, she had no choice.
No one else bothered her as she walked to the door. Looking back, she saw several pairs of eyes watching. She returned their gazes for a moment, then passed outside, locking the door behind her. Once on the steps, she took large, gulping breaths of air, trying to clear the stench from her lungs.
♦ ♦ ♦
Shireen passed the rest of the day in her office, shuffling paperwork that should have been filtered to her by Samuel. Her aide was still missing, and she had yet to replace him. Doing so would have felt like a betrayal, like she was admitting that he was gone for good.
Wherever the Soul Gaunt had taken him, he seemed to have disappeared like he never existed.
She stared at yet another requisition for something that she didn’t even know they needed. How did Jediah deal with this? It was a never-ending, mind-numbing succession of minutiae that no one really cared about, least of all her. No wonder Solomon ditched the job and ran away.
Well, enough of it. For today at least. She glanced out the window at the sunlight shining on the leaves of the trees. What a beautiful day. Too nice by far to be cooped up in an office. A ride in the Greenweald was what she needed, to be out in the forest, listening to the trees sing their slow song of the ages.
“Where are you going?” Orlando was coming into the office as she was leaving.
“Out,” she said.
“Okay. Out where?”
“I don’t know. Out there. Taking a ride. What are you, my mother?”
“Whoa! What’s that all about?”
Shireen turned back to her mate. He was trying to mask the hurt on his face by making a joke of it, but she knew him too well for that to be successful. For a moment, she honestly didn’t care, and then it almost felt like a veil lifted and she saw him more clearly.
“I’m sorry. I…I don’t know where that came from.”
But she did. She could feel it, even now, telling her that it didn’t really matter if Orlando got his precious feelings hurt. What did he know of what she was dealing with anyway?
“You all right?” he asked her.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just… I need to get out of here for a few minutes. It’s driving me crazy being stuck in here all day.”
“I understand. Let’s go for a ride then.”
He smiled and took her hand. When she returned his smile, it almost felt like she meant it.
♦ ♦ ♦
Their ride in the Greenweald was wonderful, and it helped. The trees were always a boon to the Folk, something that soothed their souls and reminded them that even if their lives were fleeting, there was beauty in the world that would last far beyond them.
“Thanks,” she told Orlando as they slowly neared the compound, far too early for her taste. “I needed that.”
He nodded. “So did I. It’s been way too long since we’ve been able to do this. I hope Solomon gets back soon. Then we can go back to being scouts and spending more time out in the wilds.”
“Yeah, right… Solomon.”
Orlando looked at her strangely, so she tried to cover it up. “I only meant that I wonder if he’ll ever truly take the Head of House position. Or if he’ll have some other reason to do something that only he can do.”
“I don’t think so,” Orlando replied. “If he said he’d do it, he’ll do it. He did say that he needed to go after Celia from the beginning, remember.”
Of course, you would say that, Shireen thought to herself.
She shook her head. This was starting to get serious.
“Orlando…” she began.
“Mm?”
“There’s something wrong… with me.”
“What are you talking about?” His concern was evident.
“I’m feeling strange. Like I don’t care about the House, or my duties, or…”
“Me?”
Shireen nodded, unable to say it out loud, which she supposed meant something.
“You think it’s part of what’s going on?”
She nodded again. “I feel so weak.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Whatever this is, it has nothing to do with how strong someone is. We’ll figure it out.”
“I need to go back,” she said.
“Back where?”
Shireen reined in her horse, bringing it to a stop. Orlando followed suit.
“Back to Glittering Birch. I have to see what this is and how I can stop it.”
“All right then, let’s go. First, let me go tell the other commanders that we’ll be away for a bit and that—"
/> “No.” She reached over and put her hand on his arm. “You can’t go.”
“What are you talking about? Of course, I’m going. You think I’m going to let you walk into Jamshir’s place by yourself? After what he’s done? And what you told me about it?”
“You have to. I need you here. I can barely make myself care enough to know that Towering Oaks needs a strong leader and that’s you.”
“You’re crazy. No one views me that way. I’m Solomon’s friend and your mate, in that order, to most people.”
“Then prove them wrong. Show them who you are and lead the House until Solomon gets back. Or until I return.”
He didn’t like it, that was plain to see. But Orlando had always been the level-headed, practical one, and even though he may not have liked it, he saw the necessity. All he needed was one more little push.
“Besides,” she said. “I can’t risk the same thing happening to you. It could be already, from being near me. If you go to Glittering Birch, you’ll be infected by whatever this is for sure. I need you whole, so that when it’s time, you can help me.”
That did it. She saw the defiance crumble and acceptance take its place.
If she wasn’t here, under the trees of the Greenweald, she didn’t think she would have cared at all about how he felt, or what the outcome was. Of anything, really.
“I have to go.” She shook her reins and moved off, leaving him where he was.
It took an effort of will to turn around and wave to him. It wasn’t that it was hard. It just didn’t seem important.
Chapter 48
“Hopefully, it will be enough.” Darius sighed and sat back against the rough wall of Samuel’s cell. The Towering Oaks aide was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. He slept at Darius’s command, and when awake obeyed his suggestions without knowing that he was under any sort of compulsion.
It was finer, dare he say more subtle, work than any Darius had ever done in the past. It made Samuel the perfect spy for them, suitable to be left in place even when and if Solomon returned as Head of House Towering Oaks.
After Jocasta drove him away, Darius had returned here first, working with Samuel for the past full day without rest. Malachi had expressed his doubts that Darius was up to the task, so he needed to show him that he could do it. And now, he needed to add an extra incentive to stop Malachi from punishing him for failing at Whispering Pines.
House Subtle Hemlock had never taken failure lightly, and Malachi took it to whole new levels.
Well, there was nothing for it but to go face the music. He’d lead with the news of Samuel’s conversion, and then when Malachi was well-pleased, he’d let drop that he was no longer welcome at House Whispering Pines.
With a sigh of fatigue, he got to his feet and passed through the bars.
Malachi was in his office, in the upper, brightly lit, parts of the House. He was standing at the bank of windows, staring at the mountain peaks when Darius entered.
“You have something to tell me?” Darius hadn’t been announced, or made any noise himself, yet Malachi still knew that someone was there, and who it was.
“Yes, good news.”
Malachi turned, his eyebrow raised. He kept his eyes on Darius as he took a seat behind his desk and leaned back. Darius felt a twinge in his chest, where the wound Malachi gave him had healed.
“And that is?” the Head of House Subtle Hemlock asked.
“I’ve finished with Samuel. He’s perfect. He will listen to my commands, believing they are only friendly suggestions, and obey them, thinking all the while he’s doing it of his own free will. He’ll report back to me when I command and remember none of it. In short, he’s the perfect plant, with no fear of even Solomon recognizing it when he returns.”
He took a seat without waiting for Malachi to indicate he could. Better to project confidence.
“I see. Well, that is nice work.”
Malachi’s voice was quiet. The twinge that Darius felt in his chest grew stronger, bordering on pain. He shifted in his chair, feeling that something was wrong, although he couldn’t have told what.
“Is there anything else?”
“Yes. One thing. A minor thing, really, and if you’re busy I can always fill you in later—"
“Now.”
“Right. Well, as I say, it’s a minor thing, but it seems that Jocasta somehow became aware of who I really am and…”
He faltered at the fury growing on Malachi’s face. His chest ached and he had to stop himself from rubbing it. That sense of wrong, that he had done something horrible and now had to pay for it, grew stronger. He turned in his chair to see if someone was behind him.
“You failed.” Malachi’s calm voice was the most frightening thing Darius had ever heard at the same time.
“It wasn’t my fault! I tried to get into her mind, to bend her will even slightly, but there’s something there, something blocking it. Even you couldn’t—"
The bolt of pain felt like lightning striking his chest. Hot, angry, intense, his jaw clamped shut, his teeth piercing his tongue. The blood flowed into his throat, choking him, before Malachi let him go and he could lean forward and spit it onto the floor.
Even as he did, the thought that he was defiling the polished wood and angering Malachi even further flashed through his mind. He sat back, swallowing hard and fighting back nausea, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
“I don’t like failure,” Malachi said.
The pain vanished. Darius panted, staring at Malachi, afraid to say anything.
“Still,” Malachi said, his tone conversational now. He turned in his chair, gazing out the windows again, leaving Darius at his back. “You did succeed beyond what I thought you were capable of with Samuel. Now my decision is which of those two things merits my attention. Your success… or your failure?”
Darius kept quiet. It wasn’t a real question and Malachi had already decided what to do with him.
“For the moment, let’s focus on the positive, shall we? After all, I do owe you a debt still, for your aid with the two traitors.”
He hesitated, giving Darius an opening.
“Of course, you owe me nothing, my Lord. I was only too happy to help you, and we both know you were only biding your time. If anything, I may have blundered in too early and ruined plans of yours.”
He was babbling, but unable to help himself.
His chest still hurt, and things still felt off. It was all from the wound that Malachi gave him to make it appear that a Soul Gaunt had done it. That had somehow allowed Malachi access to him, his inner-self, and now he was no longer his own man.
“Yes, I could have broken free whenever I wished. There was no way for you to know that, given your limited abilities. But you are correct when you say that you moved too soon— another failure, although a small one.”
Malachi sighed, then turned back to him with a smile.
“There is potential in you, Darius. Therefore, I choose to forgive your foibles. This time, at least. Take Samuel to Towering Oaks, tell them you rescued him and make it convincing. You can let them believe a Soul Gaunt is still at large, that will help to unnerve them and provide a distraction to Solomon if he returns. For now, I will allow you to be the contact for Samuel. Until I have another task for you.”
“Yes, my Lord. Thank you.”
Darius scrambled to his feet, grateful to be dismissed with so little trouble. Yes, what happened hurt, but it could have been oh-so-much worse.
He bowed and started for the door.
“Oh, one more thing.” Malachi had risen behind him. “Your story must be believable. How would you possibly have taken him from a Soul Gaunt and show no signs of it?”
Darius whimpered as his body turned on its own to face Malachi.
Chapter 49
Jocasta had never felt so disgusted. Not even at times when her ship was becalmed and she’d been unable to bathe or clean herself for days on end. Jamshir’s touch was
repulsive, his odor nauseating and his personality repugnant. Yet, she had done what she needed to save her House and submitted to him, pretending that she enjoyed it when he asked. Which he did, incessantly.
Finally, he left her and she tried to sleep, in a filthy bed, which was in a room that smelled of mold and dust. She didn’t get much rest.
He returned to her in the morning and repeated the act, and she repeated hers, even going so far as to feign disappointment when he decreed that it was time for him to resume his duties.
She hoped that would give her time to try to find someplace to clean up, maybe even to leave. After this, she was almost ready to abandon House Whispering Pines and return to her seas. But no. She’d never been driven from anything before and wasn’t going to start now. She’d see this through. She’d add the strength of House Glittering Birch to that of her own and then…
Then when Solomon returned, with or without Celia, she’d be in position to dictate terms. Then House Whispering Pines would get its rightful due.
“Come, dear,” Jamshir said, holding out his hand.
He’d already risen from the bed and thrown his clothes on. They were stained and rumpled and smelt bad, though it was hard to tell if the stench was coming from them or from Jamshir himself.
She pushed back the covers and took his hand, allowing him to help her up. His gaze wandered up and down her body. For a moment, she thought she would have to endure more of his attentions, but he only turned and began to leave the room.
“Come to the grand hall,” he said over his shoulder. “We’ll have breakfast and then I’ll show you the rest of the tree. It will be something to tell our grandkids.”
He smiled in what she was sure he meant to be an endearing manner, but truly only served to show dark, yellowed teeth.
Once he was gone, she sank back down onto the bed, and put her head in her hands. Jocasta never wept. Never. She wouldn’t now either.
♦ ♦ ♦
Breakfast consisted of thin gruel and a few pieces of fruit that had turned and attracted tiny, fast-moving flies. It was served by an older woman, her dress dirty and threadbare, who glanced at Jocasta, snorted and left the room without a backward glance or any sort of pleasantry. Jocasta ate a small amount of the gruel and tried to keep her eyes from the sight of Jamshir apparently relishing the fruit.
Solomon's Journey Page 25