Sacrifice: The First Book of the Fey (The Fey Series)

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  “Talking?” Nicholas asked.

  She nodded. “I swear. But it wasn’t Islander. ‘Twas Fey. I heard enough of them bastards ta know what it sounds like. And I said, that’s an awful strange meow, and he said, forget the cat, he would take care of it. So I left and went around the corner and watched him, and he took the cat up to his chamber. And I never did see him again after that.”

  “The cat spoke Fey?” Nicholas said.

  “I know it sounds crazy. That’s why I dinna want the others ta hear. But I swear. I swear.”

  Stephen had said, on the day of the invasion, that the Fey had powers that Islanders didn’t. But he never said they could turn into cats. He did say they could take over men’s bodies and make them do their bidding. Maybe they could do that with dumb animals as well.

  “Do you remember what the cat looked like?” Nicholas asked.

  She frowned. “ ‘Twas orange.” Then she shrugged. “It looked like a cat.”

  He patted her hand, afraid to touch her any more than that. Then he smiled at her, wishing she didn’t have a reputation with the staff, wishing that he were like his grandfather, a man willing to roam the lower halls. But his father had told him that bastards threaten a dynasty, and the best way to avoid bastards was not to make them at all. Before the Fey arrived, Nicholas had hoped he would have a wife by now. But the dynastic concerns had disappeared under the weight of the war. Perhaps he should figure a way to revive them.

  He stood and offered her his hand to help her up. Then he thanked her and started to follow her as she left the Great Hall. But he stopped himself. Better that he didn’t know where her quarters were. Better that he let her disappear back into the bowels of the palace, to deal with her problems, her life, and her livelihood. He had promised her that he would help her if she needed it, and help he would.

  But right now he had bigger concerns.

  He watched her make her slow way down the corridor. She glanced toward the kitchens once but did not enter them. He leaned against the cold stone wall and took a deep breath as she disappeared into the darkness. Then he closed his eyes, feeling the exhaustion carry him.

  The Fey had been in the palace. Somehow they had overtaken the master of the hall and Nicholas’s favorite groom. Maybe some of the people he had spoken to this evening were taken by the Fey. He would have to tell his father. And he would need the new holy water immediately. All of the palace staff would need to be tested. All of them. Even the lovely Charissa.

  And he would have to warn the Rocaan even more. Somehow the bones and blood led to the Fey’s ability to make a man do their bidding. That meant there were two spies in the Tabernacle. They might try to kill the Rocaan.

  Suddenly he opened his eyes, exhaustion forgotten. If he had spies in the Tabernacle, he would assign them to learn the secret of holy water.

  No sleep for him tonight. He needed to speak to his father, then get another horse out of the stable and return to the Tabernacle. He didn’t trust this message to anyone but himself.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  When Jewel emerged from her room early the next morning, she was alone in the cabin. But the fire burned brightly in the hearth, and steam rose from one of the iron pots. At least there would be tea, even though their supply was getting terribly low. She suspected that she and Rugar had the last remaining tins.

  She ladled the water into her mug. Her father had left a tea strainer out for her; they had been sharing strainers since it became clear they would be trapped on Blue Isle for a long time.

  He also left some fresh bread on the table. She carved a slice. He had probably had some business with the Domestics. Lately he had been leaving early to supervise some of their work. He was becoming worried that the food supply would dwindle, and anything they could do to increase the yield would help them all.

  A knock on the door startled her. She swallowed, set the bread back on the plate, and called, “Who is it?”

  “Caseo.”

  She took a deep breath. He was not the man she wanted to see before she had finished her breakfast, but she doubted she had a choice. “Just a moment.”

  Before she got up, she took another large bite of bread, then wiped off her mouth. She unlatched the door.

  Caseo didn’t wait for her to ask him in. He ducked under the threshold and stepped inside. “Late breakfast?”

  She was in no mood to be civil. “I’d offer you tea, but I would worry that you were going to stay if I did.”

  “Nothing should stop a Fey from being a good host,” he said, eyeing her cup.

  “Except an unwanted guest.” She returned to her chair, slid her cup closer, and took another bite of bread. She chewed it slowly and swallowed before speaking again. “Did you come for me or my father?”

  “You,” Caseo said.

  “Well,” she said, “I can tell you already that the poison will probably kill me, and that no, I will not participate in your experiments. So thank you very much for considering me, and be sure to close the door on your way out.”

  “When and if you become Black Queen,” Caseo said slowly, “I would hope that you have more patience with your subjects than you display with me.”

  Jewel sighed. “I am not Black Queen yet, and I find you difficult at best, Caseo. Insulting me is not the way to work with me.”

  He sighed, clearly impatient with the enforced politeness. “The prisoners,” he said. “I want to use them. I assume you’re done with them.”

  So he was going to be direct. Perhaps that was best. “I spoke to them only yesterday.”

  “And had a Healer still one of their tongues. Nice idea, but you can’t interrogate a man who can’t speak.”

  “No,” she said, standing so that she met his gaze. “But you can scare his companions into talking.”

  “So you are done,” he said.

  “I’ve only begun with them.” She leaned against the table. “But tell me what you plan to use them for, and I will consider your request.”

  “You know what I want them for. I need to figure out this poison.”

  She crossed her arms. “I’ve already asked them about it. They know nothing.”

  “Well, perhaps you didn’t ask them properly,” he said.

  She stared at him. Just because he was older didn’t mean that he could speak to her that way. “I don’t have to defend myself to you, Caseo. I asked the prisoners, they said they didn’t know, and I was satisfied with their answers. Now, you be satisfied with mine.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then crossed his arms as well. “I would really have preferred to talk with your father.”

  Jewel shrugged. “Then find him. It will do you no good. I’m in charge of the prisoners.”

  Caseo leaned toward her, using his height as a weapon. He placed his face inches from hers. “You are preventing us from discovering the one thing that could save us.”

  She didn’t move. “I am doing nothing of the sort. I am discovering the information in my own way. And if you were so worried about finding the answers, you would be in your own cabin right now, working.”

  “I have worked!” The words exploded from him with such force that she felt the puffs of air from his breath. “I have worked for months!”

  “And you’re finding nothing?” she asked the question softly.

  “Nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing except what you already know—that it can be diluted, the effects slowed or reduced, with real water. That is all we have learned. All. In months of intensive work.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “So you see why we have to do this. You see why we need those prisoners. We have little hope of finding the answer on our own.”

  She stepped away from his grip. “I doubt that, Caseo. I have full confidence in your abilities. You are tired, that’s all.”

  “Why is it that everyone questions me?” He straightened to his full height.

  “I am not questioning you,” Jewel said slowly. “I am saying that I believe in you.”

&nb
sp; “But you will not work with me.”

  She suppressed a sigh. Her father had been right when he called Caseo temperamental. “All right,” she said, using her softest, most reasonable voice. “Tell me what you will use the prisoners for.”

  “Experiments,” he said. “First to see if the water affects them. Then to learn if they know more than they told you. Finally to discover if we can recreate the effect on Islanders.”

  She didn’t move, but in her mind’s eye she saw Adrian’s face and the caring look he had shot at Luke. Her promise that if Adrian cooperated, his son would go free. She didn’t want to see Adrian mangled and melted beyond recognition. But she also didn’t want to spend the rest of her life in the Shadowlands.

  “How would you do that?” she asked.

  “We create spells. We do not dissect them. We would work on what we do best, creating spells.” He spoke with such enthusiasm, she almost thought the idea his until she realized he had not credited it. Apparently one of the other Warders had pushed him in this direction and he believed the Warder to be right.

  “So anything could happen to these men.”

  “Yes,” Caseo said.

  She nodded and pushed away from the table. He had a point. The Fey had tortured prisoners before. She had helped late in the Nye campaign by bringing the prisoners to the commanders herself. She had seen things at Luke’s age that he couldn’t even imagine. Still, she didn’t feel right throwing the prisoners to Caseo.

  “I am not done with them,” she said. “When I am, they will be yours. Until then work with the Red Caps on obtaining some fresh skin from the bodies outside. See if that will help you.”

  “We already have skin,” Caseo snapped. “We need those prisoners. You’re delaying the inevitable by being stupid—”

  “And you are making me angry,” Jewel said. “I do what I believe best for this troop, and only my father will overrule me. Do you understand that, Caseo?”

  He crossed his arms and leaned back, peering down at her with that frightening hooded gaze.

  “Do you understand?” she asked. “Because if you don’t, I am sure my father would be all too happy to explain it to you.”

  “You are an Infantry soldier. You have no jurisdiction over me,” Caseo said.

  “I am the Black King’s granddaughter. I own your very life,” Jewel said. “Don’t tempt me to take it.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Caseo said. “I am the best Spell Warder you have.”

  “If you were,” Jewel said with a smile, “you would have thought of this idea, instead of one of your other Warders. You are no longer the best, Caseo. You let a lucky, magickless people get the best of you. Aren’t you ashamed of that?”

  “I have nothing to be ashamed of. It was your father that brought us here. It was his failure of Vision that trapped us here, not mine.”

  She was so tired of hearing that, so tired of thinking it herself. “If you were able to do your job, we would have controlled this Isle long ago. But you can’t beat a simple spell that most of the Islanders don’t even realize is magick.”

  Caseo took a step toward her. “Don’t shift the blame onto me, girl,” he said. “Do you know why we moved Shadowlands? Because your father’s Vision is breaking down. He should have been able to expand the first Shadowlands with no trouble at all. Instead, his abilities failed him. Magick always fails first on water.”

  “If you knew that, then why trust his Visions?” Jewel asked. “You came with us, after all.”

  “He was once the best Visionary of us all. But sometimes Vision decays, Jewel. Especially when it is used to See the same things over and over.” Caseo’s face had turned dark. His brows leveled over his eyes, making him seem angrier than he was.

  “If what you say is true, then you have still failed,” Jewel snapped. She was shaking. No one had quite maligned her father like this. “Warders are supposed to bring these concerns to the Black King, and in his absence or if he is the one with the problem, they are supposed to bring it to the Shaman. Have you talked with her?”

  “I have been a bit busy,” Caseo said. He stood to his full height.

  “So you haven’t.” Jewel pushed off the table. “Yet you threaten me with my father’s inability to do things. You try to fob off your mistakes on someone else, and you demand that I give you prisoners even though you won’t say what you’ll do with them. I have no reason to help you, Caseo.”

  “Except to help yourself,” he said.

  “I see no evidence that helping you will help any of us. And if I catch you spreading those lies about my father without going through the proper channels, then I will make sure you are on the next small boat heading for the Stone Guardians. Then we will see what kind of stuff you are made of.”

  “You have no right to threaten me, girl.”

  Jewel tilted her head back at him. “I have every right,” she said. “I am your better and always will be, even if we stay on Blue Isle forever. It would serve you well to remember that.”

  “And it would serve you well to remember that without Warders, you would have no idea how to use your powers at all.” Caseo flung open the door. Gray mist spilled in. The Weather Sprites must have been attempting to experiment with rain again. “You are a naive child, Jewel. Look around you. Fey do not make these kinds of mistakes unless their magick is dying. We are trapped by your father’s unwillingness to admit that he is losing his Vision.”

  “If I hear you attack my father one more time, I will take this to the Shaman myself. And you will run the risk of losing your position as head of the Warders.” Jewel backed him toward the door, pointing her finger at his chest.

  Caseo stopped in front of the door and glared down at her. “I need those prisoners.”

  “You will get what is left of them when I am through with them.” She put her hand in the middle of his chest and shoved. “Now get out and don’t bother me again.”

  He let himself be forced through the door. When he reached the porch, he tilted his head toward her, his eyes suddenly bright with an idea. “You have come into your own Visions, haven’t you? What are they telling you? Do you see the decay of Shadowlands? The rescue of our troop? A life forever on Blue Isle? Or do all of us die hideously because your unwillingness to help me allows the Islanders to poison us all?”

  “If I had my Visions,” she said, “if I have them, I would follow them. And if I saw the poison destroying us all, I would find a way to make certain you Warders were more efficient. Now, get out of here before my father comes back and I am forced to tell him of your lack of faith in him.”

  “Caseo believes in no one.” Her father’s voice echoed in the gray mist. “That is something you will have to learn about senior Spell Warders, daughter. They are so corrupted by their power that they forget others have powers too.”

  “Ah, Rugar,” Caseo said without turning around. “You have forgotten to teach your daughter to listen to her betters.”

  Rugar stepped out of the mist. His hair was damp, and he had circles under his eyes. “She listens to me and to her grandfather,” he said. “Now, what are you bothering my daughter about?”

  “I want those prisoners. I think they hold the secret to the poison.” This time Caseo did turn, but only halfway so that Jewel could still see his face.

  “And what did my daughter say?” Rugar asked.

  “That he can have what’s left of the prisoners when I am done with them,” Jewel said, hating to be discussed in the third person.

  Rugar shrugged. “Sounds fair enough, Caseo. I will make sure you receive them when she is through with them.”

  Caseo muttered a curse under his breath. He stalked down the steps without looking back at Jewel and disappeared into the mist. Rugar grabbed the railing and pulled himself up, his movement young and athletic even though he was three times Jewel’s age.

  “You angered him,” Rugar said, taking her arm and helping her inside. He closed the door after them.

  “I don’t
care,” Jewel said, pulling her arm from his hand. “He’s an insufferable ass, and he thinks he can order me around.”

  “Technically,” Rugar said, “he can order all of us around, at least when it comes to magick. He is in charge of the spells, and he can change them at a moment’s notice.”

  “We don’t use spells.”

  “No,” Rugar said, “but it’s the Spell Warders who determined that Visionaries have a place in this culture. We used to be considered crazy until the Warders realized our Visions had truth, that we saw one possible future. Once we learned that, we became even stronger than we are.”

  “Ancient history, Father,” Jewel said. “It has nothing to do with Caseo.”

  “It has everything to do with Caseo,” Rugar said. “There is no such thing as ancient history for the Warders. Time is fluid for them. Some of them, it is said, can move backward or forward in time as they are needed. It is also said that a Warder never dies, but merely finds a new body to live in.”

  “I see no great ancient wisdom in Caseo,” Jewel said. “He is a pompous, insufferable man.”

  “Yes,” Rugar said. He cut himself a slice of bread and turned it over in his fingers. “But he is the best we have here, the best your grandfather allowed us, and we must make room for that. And we must cooperate with him as best we can so that we can change our fortunes here.”

  “I don’t believe he will discover the antidote to that poison.”

  Rugar looked up at her, then set the bread down. “If he doesn’t, Jewel, no one will. He is our only hope to solving the riddle of that odd magick.”

  “He won’t do so by bullying me,” Jewel said.

  “And you won’t help by fighting him.” Rugar leaned on the table, much as Jewel had earlier. “Sometimes, Jewel, part of ruling is dealing with people we don’t like because they are the ones in a position to help us.”

  “I know that,” she snapped. “I’m not a child. But I have not Seen any—I mean, I do not see any evidence of his ability to solve this riddle.”

  Rugar stepped toward her and took her elbow again, but this time his grip was firm, his fingers digging into her flesh. “You Saw something new, Jewel?”