Taellaneth Complete Series Box Set

by Vanessa Nelson

  “I understand that the House does not recognise you.” The Queen might be hurt, but she was dangerous, too, for Arrow’s peace of mind.

  “I am not Named.” And wanted, badly, to be elsewhere. There were too many people here, watching for her mistakes, her lack of grace, waiting for her to fail.

  “Nonsense.” The brisk response was unexpected.

  Arrow blinked again, chest tightening with the old shame. “Seggerat told me so several times. And that my lineage is struck.”

  There was a sharp gasp from the ladies gathered and she felt Miach’s attention sharpen on her. Without a Name, without her lineage, she had no status at all among the Erith. She could defeat a hundred surjusi and it would make no difference.

  “Cunning old devil.” The Queen’s voice was laden with emotion Arrow could only begin to guess at. Sadness. Admiration. Bitter hurt. “This is a conversation for another time, I feel. We have talked too long.” The Queen’s eyes went past Arrow to survey the room. “I understand that Evellan has commissioned you to find Gilean, and I want you to find what you can about these deaths. You may draw on all the resources here to do so. Miach will see to it that there is no interference.”

  “Kallish nuin Falsen has offered her services and that of her cadre,” Miach said. Arrow was somehow not surprised.

  “Yes, she would. Young rebel.” The Queen’s voice held a fond note and Arrow nearly choked at the description of Kallish. One she would never have come up with herself, but which, oddly, fit. “We will speak again.” The Queen smiled at Arrow, a warmer smile than before, and placed a hand on her cheek. “Good hunting, mage.”

  “And to you.” Arrow bowed once more as the Queen and her ladies swept past, breaking the spell of the circle and being swallowed by the crowd in moments.

  “On Kallish’s recommendation, we have moved you into one of the annexes rather than leaving you in the magician’s dormitory,” Miach told her, voice low, “so make sure you leave with some of her cadre.” He paused. “She seems to think that you attract trouble.” Even without looking at him she could hear the laughter in his voice. Colour washed over her face, tips of her ears prickling under her hair. Fortunately, Miach did not seem to expect a reply.

  CHAPTER 15

  Before Arrow could find anything else to say, Miach had ducked back into the crowd on some errand of his own, leaving her alone. But only for a moment. Before she had done more than take a step she was surrounded by richly dressed Erith. Far from reviling her, they were now openly curious. She was showered with invitations. Come and talk with them. Walk with them the next day. Visit with them and take tea. Take a stroll around the Queen’s garden. She recognised a few faces as among those who had twitched their clothing out of the way when she first entered the room. It seemed the Queen’s attention still had power in the Palace and was noticed. Arrow had no appetite or time for the courtiers’ games. She made a shallow bow, drawing a few frowns, then excused herself with no promises made.

  She had memorised where the main doors were and headed in that direction. The Queen had spoken with her. It seemed that there was nothing more for her to do.

  She had taken only a few paces before a warrior appeared beside her. Xeveran.

  “Good evening, svegraen.”

  “Good evening, mage. We cannot leave quite yet. The Queen will make a speech, and then we can leave. Kallish is watching Orlis. This way.”

  He steered her gently away from the path to the doors, the presence of a fully armed warrior parting the crowds, and back to the patch of wall where Orlis’ mood seemed to have improved dramatically. The improvement in his temper was perhaps due to the fact that he seemed to have found a pair of Palace servants who were carrying trays laden with food, small bites of the best that the Palace kitchens had to offer. He was making his way through the food on the trays, talking animatedly with Kester, who was watching the crowd with most of his attention, answering Orlis absently as Arrow and Xeveran arrived. Kallish was standing at parade rest a few paces away, her presence, like Xeveran’s, ensuring the crowds stayed back.

  Before Orlis could ask any of the dozen or so questions she could see bubbling on his lips, the whole room fell silent at some invisible signal. Arrow turned to find that the Queen had ascended the dais at the end of the room, her ladies and Miach, with his third, gathered around her.

  Arrow was not quite sure what the Queen said, the monarch’s voice carried through the room by a gentle spell which must be woven into the dais, as her attention was snagged by several clusters of the gathered nobility. Priath, a pair of lords she did not know, a cluster of ladies and lords most of whom were strangers, and a few other individuals scattered around.

  She had no idea why those individuals attracted her attention. It was as though someone had marked them, telling her to look at them, to see how they were behaving, who they were talking to.

  And then the Queen’s speech ended and the bubble was broken, the crowd becoming a crowd again, with no one person standing out. Arrow blinked, found one side of her face felt warm and put a hand to her cheek where the Queen had touched it. The faintest trace of spellwork met her fingers. Subtle enough that her wards had not reacted and she had not spotted it until now.

  Arrow’s heart thumped, throat tightening. The Queen was far more than she appeared, like many Erith. Somehow the Queen suspected that she herself was in danger and had just pointed out the likeliest suspects to Arrow. And only Arrow. She remembered the reading stand behind the Queen’s shoulder when they had talked, sitting next to the unlit fire. The volume had been open at the illustration of a plant with purple flowers. Mercat. Arrow’s skin prickled. Would she have spotted the mercat in the flower fields if the Queen had not left that clue for her? She liked to think so, as it was an anomaly, but the Queen had not been sure. The Queen was sure of one thing, though, and that was that she was in danger.

  “We need to talk,” she said to Kallish. “Now.”

  “Bring the cadre,” Kallish told Xeveran. “This way.”

  Silently blessing Kallish for not questioning her, or insisting they stay longer, Arrow walked with her escort through the doors and down the stairs. Kallish turned them along a corridor inside the Palace, one Arrow did not recognise.

  “We have the smallest annex.”

  “The entire building?” Arrow’s voice squeaked.

  “It is not a big building,” the warrior sounded amused, “and far easier to defend if we are the only ones there. You are coming with us, young thing.” The warrior reached out and snagged Orlis’ sleeve when he would have sidled away.

  “But I only had a bite earlier. There was no dinner. And Gilean’s rooms …”

  “Food will be provided. Your belongings have been moved. There is a watch on Gilean’s rooms.”

  “Am I included?” Kester asked from somewhere behind Arrow. He sounded amused.

  “If you wish to be.” Kallish sounded tense and Arrow realised that she was keeping a close watch on their surroundings.

  “Trouble, svegraen?” she asked, voice as low as she could make it.

  Before Kallish could answer, a blur of dark rushed out of one of the side corridors and hit Arrow side-on, tumbling her to the ground. She raised an arm as her wards flared. Something cold sliced through her wards and into her skin. She twisted, trying to get away, hearing a cry of alarm over her head, the sound of rapidly approaching feet, a shout of anger she thought might be Kester, the bright amber of Orlis’ power, the sound of Kallish’s weapons striking something.

  She huddled on the ground, frozen, unable to move, wards in tatters about her, the cold sting of whatever had sliced through her defences and skin growing, creeping up her arm. Poison. She had been poisoned. Something on the blade.

  Her mind scattered, thoughts going adrift until she forced them back. Her second sight would not work properly, but ahead of her she could see a tell-tale dark fissure that would take her into shadows. She managed to get her feet under her, arm clutched to her
side, and spoke the necessary word to open the door. Heard and felt Kallish’s anger, then the warrior grabbed her arm. Arrow was already moving forward, and stumbled, falling into the shadows, taking Kallish with her.

  “Where are we? What is this place?”

  “This is the shadows,” Arrow answered, and straightened, surprised. Her mind was clearer here. She quickly glanced around. No immediate threat. Kallish was on guard, weapons ready, eyes skimming their surroundings.

  “Why are we here?”

  “The blade was poisoned.” Arrow looked down at her arm, the cloth neatly cut, the flesh of her arm opened to bone along her forearm, blood flowing freely. The numb sensation was receding. “And I saw the shadows so I came here. It seems to have helped.”

  “Poison? What sort?”

  “I do not know. Something that interfered with my magic and made me freeze.”

  “Sounds like a pure dose of mercat.”

  Mercat again, Arrow thought, mind beginning to fade at the edges. There was an easy cure for mercat poisoning, if only she could remember what it was.

  “This will hurt,” the warrior warned before shoving her blade into Arrow’s arm.

  Arrow screamed, falling to her knees. That was it. The cure. Put a steel weapon into the wound and use power to draw the poison out. It hurt.

  She was drenched in sweat and shivering in pain when Kallish was finally satisfied. The warrior drew her weapon back and flicked the blade. The poison, pure darkness even in this place of shadows and colour, slid off onto the ground.

  “All out.” Kallish produced a cloth from one of her pockets and quickly bound the wound. “Can you stand? I do not know how to get back.”

  “Yes,” Arrow answered automatically. One did not show weakness among the Erith. She tried to stand. Kallish put a hand under her elbow, helping her up. “This way.” She found the doorway still open and stumbled back through it.

  They came back to the first world to find the cadre on alert, more than one weapon turned to them before the warriors recognised them.

  “The mage is wounded. To the annex. Now, and quickly.”

  Arrow was gathered up, off her feet as easily as she would carry her satchel. Undurat, she thought. Second in Kallish’s third, a giant Erith who had carried her before. Careful as he was, her arm bumped against his coat, every nerve in her arm set alight, and a whimper escaped her throat before she could check it.

  “Sorry.”

  “No time. Go.” Kallish’s voice snapped.

  She was jostled, bumped against an armoured shoulder, sensation of air past her face and the jolt of Undurat’s pace telling her they were running. Warriors rarely ran. Her mind dissolved again, hissing in pain as the rapid movement jostled the wound. Not quite as bad as Kallish removing the poison, the pain was clouding her mind, thoughts scattering, eyes not working properly.

  There was a loud bang. A door opening, thumping against a wall. Rapid orders given in a breathless voice that did not sound like Kallish’s normal, cool tones. A flare of amber, battle wards raised. And stillness. Finally.

  Undurat put her down on something firm, her head on something soft. Everything was blurry. She blinked rapidly, trying to see, and realised her face was wet. She was crying. Stupid tears.

  “Let me see.” Orlis’ voice was soft. Someone moved her arm and she made a low, moaning sound. “Did you get all the poison out, Kallish?”

  “Yes, young thing. Mercat.”

  “There is something else wrong, then. She should be more alert.”

  “Another poison?”

  “Possibly. I will need to test her blood.”

  “There is plenty of it.”

  “Lights at all times and line of sight watch.” Kallish’s voice was moving away as she issued orders.

  “Who was it with the knife?” Arrow asked, fragmented parts of her mind coming together for that one, essential question.

  “A null.”

  “Null.” She turned the word over in her mind, brow creasing. “No. Do not know.”

  “A null is someone with no magic who has the ability to cut through any magic,” Orlis explained. He sounded tense. She wished she could see him, but her eyes would not clear.

  “Not Erith.”

  “No. Nulls are Erith. Very rare. Not as rare as you, but close.” Kester was behind her now, his voice low, too.

  “Not rare.” She huffed a laugh and then hissed as it hurt. “Ache all over,” she said, words as blurred as her sight.

  “Definitely poison,” Orlis said, a tremor to his voice. “What can you taste, Arrow?”

  “Taste. Ugh. Bitter. Rotten.”

  “Surrimok venom.” Orlis sounded reluctant. “Kallish, we need tea and a bucket. Lots of tea.”

  ~

  The rest of the night passed in a haze of misery as Erith tea was forced down her throat. Her stomach rebelled and she threw up into the bucket Orlis held. Then he forced more tea down her throat, Kester and Kallish helping hold her down when she struggled against the mage’s hold. Her wards would not rise, her mind unable to form the simple commands that would set them up in her defence. More tea. And she threw up again. And they repeated the process. Over and over. Until her throat was raw and her every muscle ached and she never, ever, wanted to see or smell Erith tea again.

  She had lost count of the repetitions, but the last dose of tea was still inside her and the others seemed happy. Her eyes were clearing slowly and she could make out a beautifully furnished room with pale wooden panels on the walls and light coming through the windows.

  “Morning already.”

  “Nearly noon, actually.” Orlis’ face appeared in front of her. He looked as ill as she felt, skin pale and drawn, deep circles under his eyes. “You are past the worst but you should sleep the rest of the day. I healed your arm when the poison was out.”

  “You need rest too,” she told him, thinking that sleep was an excellent idea.

  “Is she awake?” Kester asked from a short distance away.

  “Yes.” Orlis rose and stretched, joints popping. He yawned and scrubbed his hand through his hair, destroying the last of the style he had worn the night before.

  “Kallish said this might help.” Kester held out a cup to Arrow. She struggled to sit up and took it, sniffing cautiously. Erith tea. Her insides twisted..

  “Ugh.” She held it as far away as she could. “No more tea. Please.”

  “It will soothe your stomach.”

  The pair of them were dark shadows looming over her and her heart thudded, fright taking over. They might force more tea into her as they had so often during the night, hazy memories of the long, awful night too fresh in her mind. The Erith had her as helpless as she ever had been wearing a collar. She had no strength to fight them. Her wards flared silver, brilliant in the sunshine. They took a step back, exchanging frowns.

  “Please,” she repeated, turning her head away, ashamed of her fear and the weakness that meant her hands were shaking.

  The room was so still she could hear her own breathing, harsh and rapid. She could not look at them, holding the cup away from her with both hands, more tears falling. Her wards died as she called them back.

  “I will find something else,” Kester said, taking the cup gently from her, careful not to touch her. He left the room with rapid, tense strides. Orlis sighed, settling beside her.

  She was on a long bench, she realised. Long enough for Undurat to lie on with his head and feet supported.

  “We did not know if you would live,” Orlis told her, then shocked her speechless by folding her into a warm hug, familiar scent of burnt amber enveloping her. She returned the hug awkwardly, patting his shoulder. He held her shoulders for a moment, red eyes bloodshot as he stared at her. “Do not go anywhere without an escort. There will be a warrior in the room with you when you sleep.”

  “A null.” She remembered that from the night before. “That was the one who attacked me before?”

  “We think so.” He shive
red. “Elias’ cadre are tracing all the known nulls.”

  “Elias?”

  “The attack was in the Queen’s house,” Orlis’ mouth twisted, corners pulling down, “and she is not happy. The attacker meant to kill you this time.”

  “Yes. Two poisons. Seems overkill.” She drew her feet up onto the bench, rested her head on her knees, the residual ache from the poison seeping away. “And you saved my life again. Thank you.”

  “Not alone. Kallish and Kester were here all night, too. Kallish made the cadre take turns to rest. She is consulting Miach at present.”

  “Here. This might be better.” Kester advanced, holding a different cup. She took it gingerly, sniffed, and felt her mouth curve up. Mint. Fresh, untainted. Her stomach eased just at the scent.

  “Thank you.”

  She drank the whole cup in quick, greedy gulps.

  “Sleep,” Orlis reminded her, taking the cup. “The first door on the right.”

  “Come, I will show you.” Kester offered a hand as she got off the bench. She shook her head, preferring to stand under her own power, only to clutch at his arm when her knees wobbled. “Not many people survive surrimok venom poisoning.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “You are the one who survived.” The tone was weighted with a feeling she had no name for, his arm steady as he walked her, slowly, the short distance out of the room and to the first door on the right where a pair of warriors waited. They opened the door and her entire focus became the bed waiting for her, piled high with blankets.

  She thought she managed a farewell to Kester, stumbling forward and collapsing onto the covers, sinking into the never ending softness with a sigh.

  At the edge of her hearing she heard a low voiced conversation.

  “Should we try to put her under the covers?”

  “Not a good idea. Trained war mage. Put a blanket over her.”

  A light, soft warmness covered her from chin to toes and she slid into blissful sleep.

  ~

  The room was full of sunshine when she woke, and a pair of warriors who carefully searched the bathing room before leaving her there alone to wash and change, finding the clothes Orlis had provided at the Academy, so long ago, cleaned and waiting for her along with her bag, its wards undisturbed, all the contents in order. The bright clothes she had worn since the reception were gathered by one of the warriors.