Mother of All

by Jenna Glass

  “I heartily agree,” Ellinsoltah said, giving the woman’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “I would not ask anyone to go through that a second time.” She looked up and met Tynthanal’s gaze. “That poison is horrific.” Her eyes shone as if she might be on the verge of tears. “I’ve seen some terrible things in my life, but…I’m embarrassed to say I had to leave the room for a while during the worst of it.”

  Shabrynel reached over and patted the back of the queen’s hand. It was an inappropriately familiar gesture, but Ellinsoltah showed no sign of being offended.

  “You’ve no cause to be embarrassed, Your Majesty,” Shabrynel said. “It is not pleasant to watch a seer take even a mild poison. I certainly had no expectation that you would be present in the first place.”

  Ellinsoltah shrugged. “If someone is going to suffer in my service, then I think it is beholden on me to bear witness.”

  Tynthanal smiled. “I see why you and my sister get along so well.”

  Alys was old enough to be Ellinsoltah’s mother, and yet the two of them had clearly bonded very early in their relationship. If anyone else had sat on the throne of Rhozinolm as the world changed so drastically, the alliance between Rhozinolm and Women’s Well would never have happened, and Women’s Well would have been destroyed by now.

  “Yes, I suppose you do,” Ellinsoltah replied. “Now perhaps it is time for Shabrynel to tell us what her vision revealed. I wanted you to be present for this so that we can both hear the firsthand account.” She turned to Shabrynel and asked gently, “What did you see?”

  “I saw two men and two women in what I presume was Aaltah’s Well chamber. One of the women wore a veil.”

  “That would be Mairahsol,” Tynthanal murmured.

  “The other looked…very ill. I believe one of the men was King Delnamal, as he was described to me, but I don’t know who the second was.”

  “At a guess,” Tynthanal said, “it was likely Lord Melcor. He was Delnamal’s secretary and was seen going down to the Well on that night. He hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”

  Shabrynel nodded. “Yes, that makes sense. I don’t understand exactly what was happening, but the man—Melcor—gave the sickly woman a knife. She held that knife to one of her wrists as if to slash it, but then she attacked Melcor instead. She wounded him, and while they struggled over the knife, they fell into the Well.”

  Ellinsoltah gasped, and Tynthanal felt a pit forming in his stomach. He had not shared the information about the possible existence of sacrificial Kai, nor about the effects that Mairahsol claimed Kai—sacrificial or otherwise—could have when introduced into a Well. The information had seemed both too unreliable and too dangerous to spread. But if Mairahsol was right about what could happen…

  “Moments after they fell in,” Shabrynel continued, “the Well started to make rumbling noises.”

  Tynthanal remembered the section of Mairahsol’s notes that suggested there would be catastrophic results if men’s Kai entered the Well, and he shivered at the realization that yet another outlandish claim he and Kailee had found in those notes appeared to be true.

  “King Delnamal began hurrying to the exit,” the seer said, “but Mairahsol instead grabbed a potion out of a bag. Then she slit her wrists and threw herself into the Well.”

  The pit in Tynthanal’s stomach grew larger and harder.

  “Wait,” Ellinsoltah said, “are you saying that Mairahsol killed herself?”

  “Yes,” Shabrynel confirmed.

  “That does not seem in keeping with what I’ve heard about the woman up until now.”

  “Maybe not, but that’s what I saw. Up until the moment she went into the Well, I was watching with my physical vision, but it looked to me as if she activated the potion she’d pulled from the bag with Kai before she jumped.”

  Ellinsoltah frowned. “But she wouldn’t have to die to use women’s Kai.”

  “That’s because it wasn’t women’s Kai,” Tynthanal said, for suddenly Mairahsol’s notes seemed much more trustworthy. “At least not the kind we’re familiar with.”

  He told the others what he and Kailee had learned about sacrificial Kai. “We believe her plan was to use the sick woman’s sacrifice to close the Mindseye of everyone in Aaltah,” he finished. “Obviously, the woman did not cooperate, and I don’t know what Mairahsol was trying to accomplish by performing the sacrifice herself. Or why it didn’t work as planned.”

  Shabrynel frowned. “I don’t believe she was trying to cast the same spell,” she said. “Whatever the potion was she used, she had to retrieve it from her bag, so clearly it wasn’t the one the other woman was supposed to trigger with her sacrifice. Also, she could rather easily have fled the Well chamber when the rumbling started. She and Delnamal were alone, and I feel certain she could have outrun him. Perhaps she had little chance of escaping in the end, but it appeared to me that she had a chance to run. She certainly looked like she wanted to. But instead she turned back and grabbed that potion.”

  Tynthanal shook his head, unable to imagine the little bundle of scorn and spite that was Mairahsol choosing to sacrifice her life. For anything. But it turned out Shabrynel’s story wasn’t finished yet.

  “When Mairahsol jumped into the Well, my vision shifted to Mindsight.” The woman shivered suddenly, and beside her, Ellinsoltah reached for another blanket to wrap around her.

  Shabrynel smiled up at her. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” The smile quickly faded as she huddled in the warmth of the blanket.

  “After Mairahsol entered the Well,” she continued, “something…unimaginable rose out of it. It looked like a thick black gout of smoke, only it didn’t move like smoke, and it looked strangely…solid.” The color was slowly leaching from her face, and her eyes looked distant and frightened.

  Both Ellinsoltah and Tynthanal gasped at her.

  “Whatever it was, it shot out of the Well with impossible speed. It hit King Delnamal in the back as he was fleeing. It bodily picked him up and slammed him into the wall of the Well’s antechamber. The smoke disappeared into his body as bits and pieces of the chamber rained down, but the rumbling had stopped. When it was done, Delnamal lay senseless—but breathing—in the rubble. I could not see the smoke anymore, but…I sensed it when I looked at him. Something about him made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I was heartily glad when the vision ended.”

  She shivered again, her eyes sliding closed as if she’d used the last of her strength recounting what she’d seen.

  “Rest now,” Ellinsoltah said softly, tucking the covers up under Shabrynel’s chin. “You have given us a great deal to think about.”

  That was an understatement.

  Ellinsoltah leaned closer to the talker, and Tynthanal gathered by the movement that she had picked it up and carried it out of the bedchamber, leaving Shabrynel to her well-earned rest.

  “What do you think?” she asked when she’d settled in a chair in what looked to be a sitting room.

  Tynthanal blew out a deep breath. “To be honest, I’m not sure what to think.”

  “Nor I,” Ellinsoltah agreed. “I can’t even decide whether Mairahsol jumping into the Well was meant to be malicious or heroic.”

  Tynthanal’s first instinct was as always to assume the worst where Mairahsol was concerned. He had spent very little time in her company when she’d visited Women’s Well, but she was exceedingly skilled at making a bad impression. Kailee was the only person he knew who hadn’t instantly disliked the woman, and she had insisted Mairahsol had not been acting out of malice. Clearly whatever Mairahsol had been planning was not what had actually happened, and he had to admit that the events as described made it unlikely the woman had been trying to close everyone’s Mindseye when she threw herself in the Well.

  “Kailee and I will examine the notes again,” Tynthanal promised. “Maybe with what w
e know now of events, we will be able to piece together exactly what happened and how to fix it.” He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, for he wanted easy answers and none seemed to be forthcoming. He did not imagine his royal council would be terribly impressed with the intelligence he had just gained—some of them would go so far as to actively disbelieve it—and he imagined the grumbles would be louder than they had been before.

  He thanked Ellinsoltah again and tried to convince himself to regard this new information as a step in the right direction rather than a bitter disappointment.

  * * *

  —

  Zarsha and Ellin were just polishing off the remains of a lovely private dinner in the royal apartments—a delicious luxury and indulgence, when ordinarily their dinners turned into tedious and lengthy affairs of state in a formal banquet hall—when a page entered the cozy parlor and bowed. He bit his lip nervously, his eyes taking in the dinner dishes. It was a rare page who relished the prospect of interrupting a royal dinner.

  “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, Your Highness,” the boy said, “but a flier has arrived marked urgent. Your secretary said I should bring it to you right away.”

  Ellin was glad they’d finished eating, for a flier marked as urgent might well be just the sort of thing to ruin a good meal. With a silent sigh, she began to reach for the message, then realized the page was addressing Zarsha, not her. She and her husband shared a quick, anxious look before Zarsha turned to the boy and offered an easygoing smile that effectively hid any turmoil.

  “Thank you, lad,” he said, his expression and tone so warm Ellin could see the boy practically basking in it, forgetting his earlier concerns about the interruption. Even in her concern, Ellin felt a warm glow in her chest to see him thoughtful enough to put the page at ease when he must be as filled with foreboding as she.

  When the page had been dismissed—sent off with a selection of sweets that neither Zarsha nor Ellin felt inclined to eat—Zarsha grimly broke the seal on the message.

  “It’s from Waldmir, isn’t it?” Ellin asked, though she needn’t have, for she recognized the seal.

  “It is,” Zarsha confirmed, his whole body radiating tension. “And the only reason I can imagine him sending me a flier is if he believed he had news to deliver that would cause me pain.”

  Ellin suspected he was probably right about that. It was clear that Waldmir had no intention of ever forgiving or trusting Zarsha, and that he would never stop striking out at his nephew in any way he could.

  “Do you want me to stay while you read it?” she asked softly. “Or would you prefer privacy?” Like most men of her acquaintance, Zarsha was not fond of letting others see his vulnerability, and she fully expected him to retreat to his own rooms to face Waldmir’s message. Which only went to show how much she still had to learn about her husband, despite feeling as if she’d known him half her life.

  Zarsha took a deep, bracing breath and met her eyes. “Stay with me,” he said. “I…I have a feeling I’m going to need you. When my uncle strikes at someone’s heart, he rarely misses.”

  Ellin rose from her chair and went to stand behind Zarsha as he broke the seal on the letter. She put both her hands on his shoulders and gave them a firm squeeze of support, biting her lip anxiously. She was quickly disabused of the notion that she might read the letter over Zarsha’s shoulder, for Waldmir had written in Mountain Tongue, the native language of Nandel. Zarsha had taught her a few words of his language, but nowhere near enough to allow her to read the letter. Instead, she read the increasing tightness of Zarsha’s shoulders, the shallowing of his breaths, the tremor that ran through all his muscles.

  “What is it?” she asked, her own hands squeezing tighter on his shoulders in anticipation.

  Zarsha crumpled the letter and threw it halfway across the room with a roar of rage and anguish that brought palace guards running. Ellin hastily dismissed them, then gathered Zarsha into her arms as her own heart pounded in sympathetic pain. Zarsha hugged her back so tightly she could barely breathe, and she waited in dread for him to gather himself enough to speak.

  “He knows about the money I’ve been sending,” Zarsha whispered harshly before his voice died once more.

  Ellin closed her eyes, knowing that she bore much of the blame for whatever horror Zarsha was now suffering.

  “What has he done?” Ellin asked, dreading the answer.

  Zarsha shuddered and gently extracted himself from her arms, turning away from her and rubbing his face with both hands.

  “He’s taken the money, naturally, saying it was rightfully part of my ‘brideprice.’ But of course that’s not near cruel enough for him,” Zarsha continued, his breath coming harsh and loud. “No, he had to remind me of just how much power he has over me, of how easily he can make it worse.”

  He turned back toward her, and his eyes were shiny and rimmed with red.

  “He’s sent her to the Abbey,” he rasped, shaking his head. “A helpless five-year-old girl who may just as well be his daughter as mine.”

  “No!” Ellin cried, the horror piercing her heart. “You said he would not hurt a child!” The accusation came out before she had a chance to censor herself, and she wished she could take it back as she saw her words cause her husband even more pain.

  “Oh, but she’s not being hurt,” Zarsha said, the bitterness dripping from his words like noxious poison. “She’s merely ‘visiting’ with the abbess, who was Waldmir’s first wife. Keeping an old woman company.” He swallowed hard. “It’s just a threat, really. She’s too young to understand what the Abbey is or to know what it means to be sent there. It’s me he wants to hurt, and he’s reminding me what I have to lose if I try to go around him again.”

  Yet again, Waldmir was making Zarsha choose between the well-being of a helpless little girl who might be his daughter and the well-being of servants he had tried so hard to protect.

  There was no question whom Zarsha would choose, though the choice itself would fill him with guilt. It was an uncomfortable admission to say that one child’s life was more important than the lives of over twenty servants. Then again, it was clear that the “help” he’d tried to send had not, in fact, been helpful at all.

  Grinding her teeth—and hating that she had no choice but to treat Waldmir as an ally and trade partner despite his loathsomeness—Ellin determined that somehow, they must find a way to get little Princess Elwynne away from Waldmir and Nandel.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Draios did not like the uncomfortable feeling that he was somehow following Delnamal’s command; however, he was far too curious not to do as his cousin suggested and open his Mindseye. He had no inkling what to expect, but there was no earthly way he could have prepared himself for what his Mindsight revealed.

  Having witnessed a few violent deaths over the course of his life, Draios had seen masculine Kai in person before. He knew exactly what it looked like, and that there was nothing else that in any way resembled it. So there was no mistaking the myriad colorful crystals that surrounded Delnamal for anything but Kai, and yet…

  “Impossible, I know,” Delnamal said. “But you cannot doubt the evidence of your own eyes.”

  Trying very hard not to show how unnerved the sight of all that Kai made him, Draios shut his Mindseye and suppressed a shudder. No wonder his cousin had felt so very wrong to him from the moment they’d met.

  “That is…” Draios started to say, but found he could not put into words everything he was feeling.

  Delnamal smiled, the expression almost warm, although the sight of that skeletal face left Draios chilled. “I know,” he said gently. “Believe me, I know. But when you look at it as a gift, given to me by the Creator, perhaps you will see what an asset I can be. And what you saw with your Mindseye is not all of it. When Bandar arrives, I will show you what else the Creator has allowed me to do. I must wa
rn you in advance that this demonstration will be…disturbing. Mine is a power that should not exist, but it is because of that very fact that I believe it was granted to me by the Creator.”

  Despite what he’d just seen with his Mindseye, Draios wondered if his cousin might not actually be mad. After all, it was not uncommon for madmen to have such grandiose illusions about their own importance. But something inside of him, some animal instinct, kept shouting that the man was dangerous. That had to mean something, and Draios found his pulse racing as one of the disreputable honor guardsmen who’d greeted his carriage entered the room.

  The guardsman bowed to Draios as was proper, but even as he did, his gaze seemed to remain warily on Delnamal. As if he, too, sensed a creeping dread in his master’s presence.

  “You asked to see me, Your Majesty?” the guardsman inquired of Delnamal, his words ever so slightly slurred.

  Draios raised an eyebrow at the address, surprised to find that Delnamal still styled himself a king.

  “Yes, Bandar,” Delnamal said, rising from his chair with some help from his cane, then gesturing to the guardsman. “Please come closer, there’s a good man.”

  That Bandar was reluctant to follow the order was written all over his face, but he approached nonetheless, his gaze fixed on the carpet below his feet. The timid, submissive approach was unseemly for an honor guardsman, and Draios frowned at the man. Clearly the king had not deigned to send a high caliber of staff to his nephew’s secret manor, but this Bandar character hardly seemed fit for guarding chickens, much less a king in exile.

  “Good, good,” Delnamal said, sounding rather like he was praising an obedient dog. “Now close your eyes for me and keep them closed.”

  Draios cocked his head to the side, finding this whole display perplexing even as the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Bandar visibly swallowed hard, and for a moment Draios thought the man might turn tail and flee. Had he perhaps seen demonstrations of Delnamal’s mysterious power before? Or was he fearing being on the receiving end of a madman’s rage when the “power” failed to manifest?