by Brondos, Pam
Nat didn’t budge. The books, the table with the map, all the furniture, everything she’d seen before was still there, but no Emilia. “She was here before,” she said, trying to reassure herself that she hadn’t led them into this disaster for nothing.
Soris slid past Andris and skirted a pile of books to reach Nat. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, Natalie. She’s not here,” he said.
“Move to the next room,” Andris ordered. “We’re pushing our luck as it is.” He turned to leave. Blood seeped through the makeshift bandage pressed against the wound in his hip.
Nat stared at the corner, where a window let in the weak morning light. The window. She squinted. The window doesn’t end at the corner. She stepped over a broken chair and touched the edge of the window, feeling a crack where it met the wall. “Soris, help me,” she said.
He was already next to her, prying his fused fingers above her hands into the small crack. A hidden door groaned open under the pressure.
Light from the window fell upon Emilia.
She sat upright on a high wooden pallet covered with a filthy gray blanket, her head tilted against the wall behind her. Her black hair hung in greasy tendrils around her head, and she wore a ragged brown shift that barely covered her legs. She opened her blue-gray eyes and looked at Soris. She jerked her legs protectively away from him. Bruises covered her bare calves.
“Blessed Rim.” Andris drew in a breath and brushed past Nat. He dropped next to the pallet. “Emilia,” he whispered. Her eyes darted between the brothers. Nat thought she looked as if she were a cornered animal deciding when to strike.
“What do you want?” Emilia’s voice trembled and she clutched the soiled blanket.
“Emilia, it’s me, Andris. Don’t you recognize me?” He pulled off the guard’s hat. He reached for the thin chain that bound her ankle to a metal ring on the floor.
“Don’t touch my cord,” she warned. Her eyes expressed only fear and not the slightest recognition.
“We’re here to free you.” Andris reached for his dagger to pry the chain apart. Soris took a step forward to help him.
“Stay away from me, creature.” Her voice teetered on the edge of hysteria. Soris stepped back.
“Emilia, that’s Soris, he won’t hurt you.” Andris calmly pleaded with her and inched forward.
She blinked and grasped a length of chain between her hands. “I said stay away!” The chain slashed through the air, striking Andris’ forearm.
“Do you have any of Benedict’s resin left?” Nat asked under her breath. Andris clutched his arm and looked utterly shaken as he stared at Emilia. “Resin, Andris,” she said again in a hushed request. He pulled a crumpled packet from the folds of the uniform and placed it in her hand without taking his eyes off Emilia. Nat held the packet so it was out of Emilia’s line of sight and slowly moved to the edge of the pallet.
“Not a lot of light comes through here,” Nat said, trying to keep her voice even. Emilia’s blue-gray eyes flashed with suspicion. Nat cautiously sat down and looked out the window, averting her gaze. Even with her back turned, she could feel tension radiating off the woman. Nat swallowed, thinking back to Sister Rory and her suspicions of what the Chemist might have done to her. If she didn’t recognize Andris or Soris, then maybe Rory was right, maybe memories of the people she loved were gone.
“It’s cramped in here, too,” Nat observed, still keeping her back to Emilia and the resin packet hidden from view. Soris lingered protectively in the doorway next to Andris, but Nat shot them a look of warning, and they both backed away.
“I suppose it is,” Emilia said as if noticing her surroundings for the first time.
“What’s your name?” Nat asked, wondering if she even remembered who she was. She edged a little closer.
“My name is . . .” Her voice died.
“It’s okay if you don’t remember,” Nat said reassuringly as she faced Emilia. The chain drooped between her hands.
“He makes me forget,” she said in a distant voice. She sniffed and her eyes came back into focus. “But you . . . You smell familiar.” She reached for Nat’s arm. Nat’s sleeve fell back, revealing her vine and spear markings. Emilia paused and traced her fingers over the tiny spears. “No birds, I hate the birds,” she said absently as she looked at Nat’s markings. She buried her nose in the fabric of Nat’s tunic. She clambered onto her bony knees and smelled Nat’s hair. “You smell like rudit.” A small light came into her eyes.
“Does that remind you of something?” Nat asked. Her heart pounded. She remembered the story about Andris hiding rudit in Gordon’s kit before her coronation. She carefully moved the packet of resin close to Emilia’s arm.
“It does!” she exclaimed. “It reminds me of . . .” She looked down at the tan smear on her forearm. “What have you done?”
“Nothing bad, I promise. Tell me what you remember about rudit.” Nat looked into her eyes.
“The smell makes me . . . It makes me happy.” Emilia sniffed Nat’s hair again. After a few moments, her lids drooped and closed.
“Andris, Soris!” Nat called out and laid Emilia gently on the blanket. Andris limped across the floor and dropped to her side. He thrust his knife blade into a chain link near Emilia’s ankle. Soris pulled the chain taut and the link broke, then he lifted her into his arms. Bruises and abrasions covered every inch of her exposed skin.
“Get her to the passage, we’ll cover,” Andris ordered with his eyes fixed on Emilia.
They crossed the room and paused briefly at the door. Nat poked her head outside. Nothing moved in the courtyard.
Soris closed his eyes a moment. “Annin’s still near,” he whispered reassuringly.
Andris took Soris’ crossbow and they exited the room. Nat shut the broken door behind them the best she could. Bits of the dried plants suspended from the beams of the overhang showered onto their heads. Soris dashed past the third door set into the long building, Emilia’s arm dangling near his thigh. They disappeared into the Chemist’s garden.
Andris motioned for Nat to follow Soris. She sprinted toward the garden and crouched among the purplish vines winding up a trellis and waited for Andris to catch up. Soris vanished behind a boxy door set into the castle wall. Annin better be there, she thought. Andris grasped her shoulder and jerked her to the ground just as a drawling voice filled the air.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“Calm yourself. The Nala came alone with Sister Malorin. It gains nothing by attacking us. I warned the creature that my guards know nothing of its presence and would kill it the instant they see it. You have nothing to fear. Besides, my riven antidote will protect you from its bite,” the Chemist added hastily as he strode into the courtyard near the garden. His dark-purple tunic swung around his knees.
“Your test subjects from the Rewall have done little to instill confidence that the riven antidote works.” Lord Mudug reached out his meaty hand and clasped the Chemist’s shoulder menacingly. His mustache drooped over his double chin. “Not one of them has survived the venom injection even after ingesting your riven concoction.”
“What do you expect when you only allow me to test on children and broken adults?” The Chemist cleared his throat and waited for Mudug to remove his fingers. He lowered his voice. “If you’d give me permission to try the venom on a healthier specimen, then we’d have positive results.”
“No!” roared Mudug. “I’ve enough unrest on my hands, and all the adults that can work are needed in my mines. You don’t seem to grasp that I’m at the tipping point. I have less than a year before I can declare full regency, and I need metals from those mines for weapons to arm my men. The rebels could strike at any moment and will certainly do so after I claim regency.” Mudug’s face grew crimson. “There are still fools that believe Estos is alive, and I must be ready to cleanse the people of any thought he could return.” His mustache twitched wildly.
“It was merely a suggestion.” The Chemist backpedaled.
“My
suggestion is that you perfect your antidote against the Nala as you promised you would years ago.” Mudug loomed over the Chemist. “The day when we end our alliance with the Nala will come the moment I’ve quashed the rebellion. I’m wasting valuable time and bodies while you dither about with your antidote.”
“Another reason to meet with the Nala. I can use the Rewall scum to continue my tests if the Nala provide you with more adult duozi to bolster your workforce in the mines. The Nala desire the duozi children over the adults. The children’s minds are more malleable to the Nala’s will.”
Nat peered over a cluster of red-tipped bushes. Her ears burned as she listened to him talk about the duozi and the children. The Chemist’s back was to her. His brown hair flapped above his head in the breeze. She inched closer and put her hand on the hilt of her sword.
A strong hand clamped against her leg. She looked over her shoulder. Andris had one hand on her leg and the other pointed in the direction of the door. He mouthed, “Emilia.” Nat lowered herself into the grass and crawled forward, but froze when she heard Mudug’s reply.
“If the Nala agrees to trade more adult duozi for children so I have the full workforce, I may be agreeable to what it asks. What does it want?”
“When the Nala arrived last night, it asked for our assistance in finding a Sister, a particular Warrior Sister. The creature was quite adamant that it discuss the matter with you. It believes a Warrior Sister invaded the Nalaide’s nest. Malorin had no idea who it was talking about, but perhaps Emilia can help us determine which Sister it’s seeking.” The Chemist clasped his hands behind his long robe.
“It’s mistaken.” Mudug’s jowls trembled. “There are no Warrior Sisters left in Fourline. I’ve met that end of our bargain with the Nala. It can go north and search among the fringe if it wants to find a Warrior Sister,” he huffed. “Only a fool would attempt invading the Nalaide’s nest, and Warrior Sisters are not fools.”
“Possibly, but the creature was insistent. If we give it some scrap of information, a Sister’s name perhaps, you may have a bargaining chip to get more duozi slaves for the mines. Emilia has extensive knowledge of the Sisters,” the Chemist added in a wheedling voice.
“There are no Warrior Sisters in Fourline,” Mudug repeated. His eyes narrowed. “And Emilia is worth too much to me at the moment to be tossed to the Nala for interrogation. I met my end of the bargain when I pushed the Sisters out of Nala territory and provided them with children and any young duozi we found,” he sputtered, working himself into a rage. “If the Nala want more from me, my price will be very, very steep.”
“Calm yourself,” the Chemist said, placing his hands on Mudug’s expansive chest. “Listening to its request is worth your time. It’s better they believe we are still allies in this game. Think how useful they will be once we locate Gennes’ hideout.”
Mudug twisted his beard and regarded the Chemist. “Has Emilia been of any assistance to you in locating Gennes? If I knew the rebel hideout’s location, the Nala might serve a purpose other than providing me with adult duozi.”
The Chemist stroked his chin. “I believe she’s past the point of usefulness in assisting us with locating the rebels.”
“I told you not to permanently damage her until I tell you it’s time.” Mudug’s voice rumbled like a small earthquake.
“Yes, yes, she is perfectly alive,” the Chemist interrupted. He looked shrewdly at Mudug, whose belly strained against the enormous gold buttons securing his blue vest. “I will keep her until your coronation. But afterward, she is mine to dispose of as we agreed.”
Andris dug his elbows into the loamy soil and pulled himself next to Nat. He gave her a frantic, demanding look. She wanted to stay and listen to more of the conversation, but she knew the information would make no difference if they were caught. Keeping her head down and her hips low, she covered the rest of the distance to the door and crawled through the narrow opening on her belly. Andris clamped a hand around her mouth the second he emerged from the garden behind her and pressed his finger against her lips.
The dim corridor extended the length of half the courtyard, then dipped down a set of stairs. The light from the cracked door extinguished when Andris inched it closed with his foot. Nat pulled her orb from her pocket. Annin peeked her head from behind a dusty tapestry and beckoned them to join her behind the heavy fabric. Andris and Nat ducked behind the dusty folds and passed through an opening in the wall.
“Where is she?” Andris placed one hand flat against the wall and clutched the wadded-up guard’s hat to his hip with his other hand.
“Over there.” Annin gestured down the passage as she slid a panel, sealing off the opening.
Emilia was propped against the wall. Soris dug his dagger into the lock on the manacle around her ankle. Andris limped over to her and dropped to his knees. He lifted Emilia’s limp hand. Her bruises looked mottled in the light of the orb. “Emilia,” he whispered in a pained voice.
“Where’s Benedict?” Nat looked up and down the dark passage for a sign of the Hermit.
“He’s gone,” Annin said flatly. “He saw me when he fled from the courtyard. He knew where I was, but he chose to run the other direction. He disappeared into the castle right after Soris shot Andris. I’m sure his little mind figured Soris’ next arrow would strike him.”
“Soris made an impossible shot to hit the soldier,” Nat said defensively. “How could Benedict even think he was trying to kill Andris?”
“Where have you been?” Annin tossed her head to the side and turned her attention to Andris. “Not that we’ve time, but do you need me to look at the wound to your hip?” she asked.
“No.” Andris placed Emilia’s hand in her lap. A look of misery flashed behind his eyes.
“Lift her up, Soris. We can work on the manacle later.” Annin started down the passage.
“Give her to me.” Andris addressed Soris, but his eyes remained locked on Emilia.
“She’s light, but your hip . . .” Soris pointed to the smear of blood Andris’ hand left on the floor.
“Give her to me,” Andris demanded. He took a step toward Soris and curled his arms under Emilia’s body. “I’ll tell you when I can’t carry her.” He stroked her dark hair. “I’ll tell you,” he reassured Soris.
Nat watched bewildered. Was no one worried about Benedict? Her feelings toward him bordered on hate, but the idea of leaving him behind made her stomach flip. “We can’t leave Benedict. What if someone catches him?” she protested.
“Since when did you become such a fan?” Annin stalked farther up the passage.
“I’m not a fan.” She ran after her, Soris and Andris trailing behind. “I’m into self-preservation. If they catch him, he might tell them everything.”
“I told you a long time ago he is a rat.” Annin opened a small latch in the low ceiling. “Rats always find a way to escape.” She grasped the edge of the opening and clambered through the hole. She kicked her legs wildly, then disappeared. She popped her head out like a jack-in-the-box with black curls springing around her. “Hand her up.” She motioned toward Emilia.
Andris lifted her body toward the ceiling, and Annin wrapped her arms around Emilia’s chest. Her thin legs bent at an odd angle as they passed through the opening.
“Careful,” Andris barked.
“Keep up the yelling, and she’ll be back in the Chemist’s chambers when Mudug’s guards find us.” She extended her arms toward Andris. “You’re next.”
Soris encircled his brother’s waist and hefted him up through the hole. Andris’ face contorted in pain when his hip brushed the side of the hole.
Nat sent her orb after Andris and stepped into Soris’ foothold. She gave him a worried look. “We can’t leave Benedict.”
“He made his choice. And don’t even think about going back there. I’d have you out cold next to Emilia in a second,” Soris threatened. His features seemed to sharpen in front of her eyes.
“I don’t like
it.” She slapped her hand on his shoulder and slid her boot into his interlaced hands.
“I don’t care.” His voice followed her through the opening. Her orb spun ahead. The passage was little more than shoulder width, and her back scraped the ceiling even on her hands and knees. A thick layer of dust covered her hand when she lifted it off the floor. How were they going to get an unconscious woman through the dark space without causing more damage to her frail body?
“Give me your cloak.” Andris yanked at Nat’s garment. She unclipped the hook before he choked her. The fabric whipped off her shoulder. He rolled Emilia onto her side and arranged the folds of the cloak underneath her.
“I’ll pull her.” Soris lifted the access panel into place and eased past Nat.
“We’re wasting time.” Annin twisted around in the small confines. “They’ve found the guards, the Nala, or the broken door by now.”
Andris dropped his hands and let Soris drag the makeshift sled through the passage after Annin. Emilia’s limbs jostled against the uneven floor. Nat’s orb spun close to Annin’s head, and she swatted it away like it was some type of insect. They crawled down the passage and snaked past recessed panels and over sharp latches in the floor. Dust caked Nat’s face and hands, and the inside of her nose.
Annin paused in front of a square opening cut into the side of the tunnel. The orb illuminated a tall stone ceiling below worn steps. Nat’s hopes rose just thinking of walking upright again.
“How far?” Andris’ voice sounded weak.
“We’re on the opposite side of the castle. This way leads to the river beyond the Rewall. That’s how far.” Annin dropped down the stairs and set her fingers on the top step. “You can carry her down here,” she said to Soris and walked backward a few steps, giving him space to climb down.
Soris grasped the edge of the cloak and slid Emilia toward him. Her knees and then waist bent, and her body descended into his arms. Andris lowered himself into the stairwell and landed at the bottom with a groan.
Nat jumped down the stairs, alighting next to Andris. She noticed the blood seeping through the guard uniform around his hip. She lifted the long slit of blue fabric and glanced up at him. “I need to bind this. It’s bleeding too much,” she said.
