Poison Study

by Maria V. Snyder

  At the outer buildings of Brazell’s manor our pace slowed. A collective sigh of relief rippled through the soldiers. They had safely delivered the Commander. Now they could rest in the barracks until it was time to return home.

  I experienced the opposite of the soldiers’ ease despite my mental protection. I found it difficult to breathe as I followed the Commander and his advisers to Brazell’s office. I heard the liquid slamming in my heart, and felt light-headed.

  When we entered, Brazell rose from behind his desk, a large smile adorning his square face. Mogkan hovered behind Brazell’s right shoulder. With my mental shield in place, I remained near the door, hoping to be inconspicuous. As Brazell recited a formal greeting, I surveyed his office. Lavish in its decoration, the room had a heavy, brooding feel. Black walnut wood framed hunting scenes, and crimson and purple velvet draped the windows. Brazell’s oversize ebony desk seemed a barrier between his high-backed leather chair and the two overstuffed, velvet seats facing it.

  “Gentlemen, you must be tired from your trip,” Brazell said to the Commander’s advisers as a tall woman entered the office. “My housekeeper will guide you to your rooms.”

  She motioned for them to follow her. As the advisers exited the room, I tried to slip out with them, but Mogkan grabbed my arm.

  “Not yet,” he said. “We have special plans for you.”

  Alarmed, I glanced at the Commander, sitting in one of the chairs. The abundant purple fabric of the cushion exaggerated his pale face and slight build. No expression touched his features; he stared into the distance. A puppet waiting for his master to pull the strings.

  “Now what?” Brazell asked Mogkan.

  “We put on a show for a few days. Take him to see the factory as planned.” Mogkan gestured toward the Commander. “Keep his advisers happy. Once everyone’s hooked, then we don’t have to pretend.”

  “And her?” Satisfaction bent the edges of Brazell’s mouth.

  I kept the picture of the brick wall in my mind.

  “Yelena,” Mogkan said, “you’ve learned a new trick. Red brick, how mundane. But…”

  I heard a faint scraping noise like stone grinding on stone.

  “Weak spots. Here and here.” Mogkan pointed a finger in the air. “And I do believe this brick is loose.”

  Mortar crumbled. Small holes appeared in my mental wall.

  “When I have a moment, I’ll smash your defenses into dust,” Mogkan promised.

  “Why waste your time?” Brazell asked, drawing his sword. “Dead. Now.” He advanced with murderous intent blazing in his eyes. I flinched back a step.

  “Stop,” Mogkan ordered. “We need her to keep Valek in line.”

  “But we have the Commander,” Brazell whined like a child.

  “Too obvious. There are seven other Generals to consider. If we kill the Commander while he’s here they would be suspicious. You’d never become his successor. Valek knows this, so any threat to the Commander won’t work.” Mogkan turned his calculating eyes on me. “But who cares about a food taster? No one except Valek. And if she dies here, the Generals will agree that it was justified.”

  Mogkan leaned over the Commander, whispering in his ear. The Commander opened his briefcase, withdrew a flask and handed it to Mogkan. My antidote.

  “Starting now, you’ll come to me for your medicine,” Mogkan said, smiling.

  Before I could react, someone knocked on the door. Two soldiers entered the office without waiting for permission.

  “Your escorts are here, Yelena. They’ll take good care of you.” Mogkan turned to the guards. “She doesn’t need a tour. Our infamous Yelena has come home.”

  29

  I SCANNED THE TWO MUSCULAR guards. Swords, short knives and manacles hung from their belts. They were well armed, and wore grim expressions of recognition. I was outmatched. I touched the familiar lump of the switchblade strapped to my thigh, but decided to wait until the odds were more in my favor.

  The guards gestured for me to accompany them. I shot a final beseeching look at the Commander, but nothing so far had roused him from his oblivious stupor.

  I felt a small surge of hope when the guards led me to a tiny, barren room in the guest wing instead of the underground cells in which Brazell housed his prisoners. Having spent a week in those dank, rat-infested chambers after I killed Reyad, I loathed the thought of ever going back.

  After the door was locked behind me, I took comfort from removing the picks from my hair. The lock was a basic pin-and-tumbler type, which would be easy to open. Before springing it, I slipped a small pick with a mirror on the end under the door. With the mirror, I spied a pair of boots standing on either side. Those overachieving guards had stationed themselves outside my room.

  I went to the window. The guest wing was on the second floor. My view included the main courtyard. I could jump to the ground if I was desperate, but for now I would wait.

  The next day, I was permitted out of my room only to taste the Commander’s meals. After breakfast, Mogkan waved a small vial of antidote in front of my face.

  “If you want this, you must answer a question,” he said.

  I steadied my nerves. With a calm voice, I replied, “You’re bluffing. If you wanted me dead, I wouldn’t be standing here now.”

  “I assure you, it’s only a temporary condition.” Anger burned in his eyes. “I’m merely offering you a choice. Death by Butterfly’s Dust is a long, ugly and excruciating experience, while, say, slitting your throat is quick—a moment of pain.”

  “What’s the question?”

  “Where’s Valek?”

  “I don’t know,” I said truthfully. I hadn’t seen Valek since the fight in the woods. Mogkan considered my answer. Taking advantage of his distracted state, I plucked the vial from his hand and drained it in a single gulp.

  Mogkan’s face reddened with fury. He seized my shoulders then shoved me toward the guards. “Take her back to her room,” he ordered.

  Once there, I wondered what mischief Valek was creating. I doubted he was sitting idle. Mogkan’s questions on Valek’s whereabouts confirmed my suspicions. Restless, I paced the small chamber, longing for a workout with Ari and Janco.

  During my brief visits with the Commander over the next few days, I began to recognize that my presence was part of Mogkan’s show. In order to keep the Commander’s advisers from becoming suspicious, Brazell pretended the Commander was still giving orders. At one point, Brazell leaned close to the Commander as if they were having a private conversation, then proclaimed that, per Commander Ambrose’s request, a factory tour would be scheduled for the next day.

  I was allowed to join the group going to the plant. This surprised me almost as much as the fact that none of the Commander’s advisers made a protest or comment about Brazell manufacturing Criollo instead of the livestock feed he had reported on his permit. They munched on bars of Criollo, content to nod and agree with Brazell that the factory was a marvelous invention.

  As we walked through the building, sweltering heat pulsed from the gigantic roasters that were continuously fed with Sitian beans. Workers, streaked with sweat and black dust, shoveled coal into the massive fires under the ovens. Once roasted, the beans were conveyored to a large area where other workers cracked their shells with mallets, extracting a dark brown nib. Steel rollers crushed the nibs into a paste. The paste was spooned into a five-foot-wide metal container to which sugar, milk and butter were added. Using steel pitchforks, workers stirred these ingredients until the mixture became a smooth, thick liquid, which was then poured into square and rectangular-shaped molds.

  A veritable shop of delightful smells and flavors, the place was, however, a joyless environment. The dour employees, uniforms soiled with Criollo and sweat, grunted and strained under the physical exertion. During the tour, I searched the various work areas for poisonous or addictive ingredients that might be slipped into the mix but found none.

  When the group returned to Brazell’s manor
house, I watched the animated expressions on the advisers’ faces leak away, leaving behind the same blank look that had taken over the Commander’s face. Which meant that there must be a link between eating Criollo and succumbing to Mogkan’s magic. Mogkan’s show would end as soon as he had gained control of the advisers’ minds, and when that happened my accommodations would change for the worse.

  That night, under cover of darkness, I dropped my cloak out the window of my room and banged on the door, calling to the guards.

  When the door opened, I declared, “I need a bath.” Without waiting for a response, I strode with purpose down the hallway. The guards followed.

  At the baths, one guard stopped me in the hallway while his companion looked around inside. Only when he was sure I would be alone did he nod and step back.

  As I went through the entrance, I said in an authoritative voice, “I don’t need an audience. Wait here, I won’t be long.”

  To my delight they remained outside. I scurried to the far wall where, hidden from view, there was another entrance. The guards might work in the manor house, but I’d grown up here. With a child’s curiosity and free time, I had been able to explore almost every corner of the house. Only Brazell’s private suite, office and Reyad’s wing had been off-limits. Unfortunately once I turned sixteen, Reyad’s wing became my daily nightmare. Pushing away the thought, I concentrated on the present.

  I pulled the handle of the door and encountered my first unwanted surprise. It was locked. No problem, I thought, reaching for my picks. The mechanism popped with ease, the door swung open, and I discovered a second nasty shock. One of the guards waited in the hallway.

  He smirked. I rushed him. Using my momentum, I shoved him off balance and punched him in the groin. A dirty Valek move, but I didn’t care as I raced down the corridor, leaving the guard far behind.

  Slipping out the south entrance, I retrieved my cloak, and then headed west to find my pack and bow. Bright moonlight illuminated my path, and I could see where I was going; however, my true path was less evident. I knew I couldn’t help the Commander from a locked room, but I was unsure what I could do from the outside. I needed to talk to Valek. Deciding it would be too risky to go to the barracks, I took to the treetops. Only Valek knew this trick. Once he learned of my escape, he would track me.

  When I reached the open area reserved for the annual fire festival’s visit to MD–5, I stopped for the night. Shivering in my cloak, I huddled against a tree trunk, blowing clouds of steam from my mouth. Once, I heard the baying of dogs and distant shouts, but no one came close to my makeshift bed in the tree. Sleep eluded me; I was too cold and nervous. Instead, I envisioned the bright fabric of the festival tents in the clearing, hoping to warm myself by remembering the hot energy of the festival nights.

  I imagined the big tops in their proper places. Dancers, singers and acrobats lined up in the middle of the clearing. Food stands huddled in and around the big tents, scenting the air with mouthwatering treats. I went to the festival every hot season when I had lived under Brazell’s roof. It had been the highlight of my existence. Although my memories of those last two years, when I had been Reyad’s laboratory rat, were dreadful.

  Unable to resist, I climbed down from the tree and walked through my imaginary festival. I stopped where the acrobatics tent had stood, wondering if I could still perform the tumbling routine that had won me first place and the fire amulet. Without thought, I tossed off my cloak and started a warm-up. In the back of my mind, I knew I should be hiding, that it was stupid to be this exposed to discovery, but the desire to relive my one moment of true joy was too strong to deny.

  Soon all thoughts of Brazell, Reyad and Mogkan were banished as I spun and soared through the air. My mind settled into the mental zone of pure concentration I used when I fought. I relished the release, brief as it might be, from my days of tension and threat.

  As I performed my routine, I discovered that I could push my heightened awareness beyond my body to encompass the trees, even sense the animals in the forest. An owl, perched high on a branch, tracked the movements of a field mouse. A family of possums slipped without sound through the underbrush. A woman, crouched behind a stone, watched me.

  Stealing into Irys’s mind was as easy as slipping on a pair of gloves. Her thoughts flowed into my mind like silk. I reminded her of her younger sister, Lily, and she longed to be back home with her family, not sneaking around in cold, horrid Ixia. The situation in the north was getting dangerous; she would be safer in Sitia. But for how long? she wondered. As a master-level magician, she couldn’t allow the abuse of power that she had felt emanating from this area to continue. Kangom, who called himself Mogkan, was producing Theobroma at alarming quantities. He had also rigged a way to intensify his power.

  Irys’s thoughts returned to me, and I felt a tug on our mental connection.

  Yelena, what are you doing in my mind?

  I’m not sure how I got here.

  Haven’t you figured it out by now? You’re focusing your magic when you fight. That’s why you instinctively anticipate your opponent’s moves. I felt you at the castle when you were fighting your friends. Now that you have learned to harness your power, you have taken the next logical step by expanding it beyond the immediate area.

  My surprise broke our link. I stopped, panting in the cold night air as Irys emerged from the woods.

  “Does that mean I’m not going to flame out?” I asked.

  “You’ve stabilized, but you won’t get any stronger unless you receive the proper training. You don’t want to waste your potential. Come south now; your pursuers are miles away.”

  “The Commander…”

  “Is ensorcelled. Nothing you can do; his mind is probably gone. Mogkan has been feeding him Theobroma. I’ve smelled it since I arrived.”

  “Theobroma? Do you mean Criollo? The brown-colored sweet that Brazell’s manufacturing.”

  “That sounds right. It opens a mind to magical influence. It relaxes the mental defenses, allowing easy access to someone’s mind. We use it as a training tool in controlled situations where a fledgling magician is close to the subject. The Commander has a strong personality, very resistant to magical suggestion. Theobroma breaks down that barrier, which helps when a student is learning, but using it on the Commander to gain control of his mind is the same as rape.” Irys pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders. “Even with Theobroma, a magician shouldn’t be able to reach the Commander’s mind from this distance, but Mogkan has. He has found a way to boost his power.”

  Irys rubbed her arms with her hands, trying to warm up. “I’m guessing Mogkan’s visit to the castle was to lock himself into the Commander’s mind so he could lead him out here.”

  “What can we do to break the lock?” I asked.

  “Kill Mogkan. But it’ll be difficult. He’s very powerful.”

  “Isn’t there another way?” I recalled my conversation in the woods with Valek about murder as a solution. My formula, he had said, and it still annoyed me. He’d probably never been in the lose-lose situation I was always finding myself in.

  “Block Mogkan’s power supply. That might work. He’ll still have his magic, but it won’t be enhanced.”

  “What would his extra power look like? How do we find it?”

  “My guess would be that he’s either recruited a number of magicians to pool their power, or he’s devised a way to concentrate the power source without warping it.” She paused, considering. “Diamonds.”

  “Diamonds?” A cold knot of anxiety churned in my stomach. There was so much I didn’t know about magic.

  “Yes. Very expensive, but they will gather and store power like a hot coal holds heat. He might be using diamonds to enhance his magic. He would need a man-size circle of diamonds, and that’s not easily hidden. If we could find this circle I might be able to use it to block his power or, at least, redirect it long enough for you to awaken the Commander.”

  “What if the source is a
group of magicians? How would I recognize them?”

  “Unfortunately, Ixia doesn’t have a uniform for magicians,” Irys said, her voice sharp with sarcasm. “Instead of searching for them, look for an empty room with a wagon-wheel design painted on the floor. To link magical power, each magician must be perfectly aligned along the edge of a circle.”

  “I can search the manor, but I need help,” I said. “I need Valek.”

  “You need a miracle,” Irys replied with a wry twist to her lips.

  “Can you direct Valek here?”

  “He’s already on his way. You two have forged a strong connection, although I don’t know if it’s of magical origin.” Irys pursed her lips. “I’d better go before Valek arrives. When and if you discover the source of Mogkan’s extra power, chant my name in your mind. I’ll hear your call because we, too, have created a bond. Our mental link grows stronger each time we communicate. I’ll try to help you with the Commander. But no promises. I’m after Mogkan.” She disappeared into the forest.

  While I waited for Valek, I paced on the packed dirt and tried to think of a way to find Mogkan’s power source. Irys’s words about needing a miracle were, indeed, an understatement.

  To distract myself, I focused on my surroundings. The tread of many feet had rubbed out the grass and trampled the earth until it was worn smooth and shiny. I remembered digging my heels into this same hard dirt the last time I was here, when Reyad dragged me to the manor house to punish me for disobeying him and winning the amulet. I had pressed that prize so tight against my skin it had left a mark. Then I had hidden it to keep it out of Reyad’s cruel hands.

  Two years had passed since I had buried my amulet. Someone had probably discovered it by now. For an exercise, I tried using my new magical skill. Directing my awareness downward, I circled the clearing. I made many circuits and was growing bored, when suddenly, the soles of my feet felt hot. When I continued they cooled. I moved here and there until, once more, heat stabbed my feet.