As we get closer, Merek tugs my cloak and gestures for me to stop. “Where exactly are the children being kept?”
“There’s a cave system,” I whisper. “Three large caverns, and a few smaller ones, though we don’t know how far back they go. The smallest children are in one, and the men there have assigned the older girls to care for them. Come on – let’s get a bit closer and I’ll introduce you to our men on watch.”
I move on, scrambling higher, until I find a narrow path, almost completely hidden by rocks. There are three men sat at the end of the path and all of them turn sharply, bows and pikes in hand as they hear us, only relaxing when they recognize me.
“My lady,” the men say, low voices in tandem, as we get closer.
“Tally, Rutya, Serge,” I greet in return. Serge’s eyes widen when he sees Merek, and he tries to bow.
“Your Highness. Forgive me, I mean, Your Majesty. Hobb said you were alive. . .” he begins, and attempts to bow again, as the other men also move to show their respect without giving themselves away.
“Be at ease,” Merek says, and Serge sits back down, though he stares at Merek as though seeing a ghost.
“We saw these men approaching from a different route,” I say, pointing at them beside the smallest of the caves. I move up, beckoning Merek forward so he can see them.
Carved naturally out of the sheer grey rock face, the caverns gape like the mouths of giants, three in a row, though separated by huge walls of stone. Outside each of the largest caves, six men stand guard armed with bows, knives – one even has a large many-tailed whip that makes me feel sick to look at – pace up and down, talking to each other.
The newcomers approach the cave, and the guards hail them, relaxed, clearly recognizing their visitors.
“I wish we could hear what they were saying,” Merek murmurs, and I nod.
“Does this happen often?” I ask Tally. “Visitors, I mean?” “This is the third time.”
“The third? When was the first?”
“A week ago,” Rutya chimes in. “Four men came, and went into the caves – like that, look—” He nods to where the men we’ve followed are entering the middle cave.
“What’s in those sacks? Food?” Merek says.
“No, sire. The food delivery comes once a fortnight. The first lot were empty-handed.”
“Who’s kept in there?” Merek says, looking back at the cave.
“The boys. Aged five and over.”
We all watch the mouth of the cave, and my skin prickles with apprehension. “Did they go into the same cave last time?”
“Yes, my lady,” Serge confirms.
“And we don’t know what’s in the sacks?”
“No, my lady.”
“Why was this not reported?”
“We did report it, my lady. We sent a message back to Hobb, who said to keep watch, and to come immediately if anything changed. It hasn’t. They just go in with bags, and come out later without them. And we’ve seen the children, when they’re brought out to use the pits. They’re not being harmed. In fact they looked well, healthier than before, and some of them were wearing better clothes.”
“Why only the boys, though?” I say, more to myself than with the need for a response.
But Merek replies, “We need to find out.” He turns to me, his expression serious, and I nod.
We stay there, crouched behind the rocks as the sun moves across the sky above us. When the men eventually leave, they carry nothing, and we all press ourselves more firmly into the rocks, until the indistinct sounds of their chatter have long faded.
“My lady, I don’t wish to give you orders, but it’s getting late and the mountains get cold at night,” Serge says gently, and Rutya and Tally nod.
“He’s right,” Merek says, and I swivel around to look at him with raised brows. “We should go, if we’re going.” Even as he says it, he shifts his weight from one leg to the other.
I turn back to the men. “I’m going to double the team here. I’ve got an odd feeling about this, and if anything happens I want there to be enough of you to fight, as well as have someone come and warn us. And I want to know the moment anything else unusual happens down there. Something is up, I’m sure of it.”
“Yes, my lady,” Serge says.
“Expect the new men to arrive tomorrow. Is there anything else you need in the meantime?”
“No, my lady.”
“You’re sure?”
He nods, and his fellows join in.
We bid them farewell and scuttle down the track, keeping low. There is a bite to the air as the sun sets, and I start to move a little faster; we don’t have lanterns, not that we could use them up here, and it’s a cloudy night. When we reach the mere a fog hangs over the small valley, and Merek reaches out, grabbing my hand and pulling me to a stop.
“What are you doing?”
He doesn’t say anything, waiting, staring into the mist until he finally seems satisfied. “Sorry,” he says. “I had to be sure.”
“Did you hear something?”
He shakes his head, and won’t be drawn further. When we move off his limp is more pronounced, and without saying a word I pull on the strap of the bag and hold my hand out. When he swings it over his head without protest and hands it to me, I realize just how much pain he must be in.
We arrive back at the commune after dark, and the last part of the journey is slow going, partly because of his leg, and partially because of our caution. Merek hasn’t spoken since we left the mere, and I am poised at every step to break his fall if his leg gives way. We hail the first set of guards, then the second, as we arrive back at the commune.
“Thank the Gods we’re back,” I say as I push the doors open. When he doesn’t reply I look at him, to see his face is strained, his lips drawn into a line. “Merek?”
“I’m all right.” He speaks through his teeth.
“I can see that.” Without asking permission I put my arm around his waist. “You need Errin.”
And as if I’ve summoned her, she appears, Stuan chasing closely behind her, hand on the hilt of his sword. Errin’s wrists are still bound, and her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright; her hair, though tied back, is falling loose around her face.
“There you are,” she says. “Do you have my asulfer?”
I hold the bag up.
“Good.” She smiles, a satisfied little smile. “Because I’ve done it. I’ve deconstructed the Opus Magnum. I know how to make the poison. So, as soon as we have the rest of the ingredients, I can make the Opus Mortem.”
Chapter 21
“You’ve what?” Merek and I chorus. His surprise makes him stagger, and I have to brace to support him. His hand moves to mine at his waist, and I thread my fingers through his without thinking.
“I’ve done it. I’ve been working on it all day. All last night, too. I couldn’t stop. It’s actually very simple, because the asulfer and the quicksilver cancel each other out. You just reverse the quantities and—”
She finally pauses, and looks at Merek, who is almost grey. “You’re an idiot. Why didn’t you tell me to shut up? Come on. Help him.” She turns and commands Stuan, who does so immediately. Merek releases my fingers and moves his arm around my neck, doing the same to Stuan on his other side.
Between us, we get Merek to his room, Errin at our side, cataloguing his symptoms with her eyes. His brow is damp by the time we get there, and it glistens in the light of the candles I place on his bedside cabinet so Errin can see what she’s doing.
“I need my hands,” she says to Stuan, and he looks at me for permission before he loosens the knots. Errin rubs her wrists faintly, red marks across them, before reaching for Merek.
She places her hand on his forehead and sighs. “No fever,” she says, as much to herself as to us. Then she moves down the bed, rolling his trousers up in a brisk, businesslike manner. His ankle is clearly swollen, the skin shiny, and she looks up at him darkly. “Did I not say to rest?”
He shrugs, and I see her mouth become small as she unwinds the bandages and examines the wound.
“It’s not infected. You must have the luck of your Gods.”
“Or it’s my exceptional breeding,” he says. For a moment we all pause, looking between each other, until he gives a tired laugh. “Forgive me. I expect that’s only funny if you’re Lormerian. And me.” When we continue to look bewildered, he sighs. “Because my parents were. . . Never mind.”
Errin ignores him and turns to me as I shake my head. “Can you go to our room and get my kit?”
I hurry down the corridor, through the courtyard to ours and back again, finding a burst of energy I didn’t know I had. Stuan has taken up a position by the door, watching Errin intently.
Errin takes the kit from me and begins to pull bottles and jars out, placing them on the bed. And despite the pain he must be in, Merek tries to sit up. Errin shoots him a filthy look.
“You need to rest.”
“No chance,” he says. “This is nothing short of a miracle, and I want to know how you did it.”
Errin beams, pulling a jar towards her. “It’s really simple. In apothecary, everything has an equal and an opposite. And you can use something called the Petrucius Table to work out what those equals and opposites are. Every element, every plant. Everything. For the equal, like cures like. And for the opposite, it’s about achieving balance. You find similar qualities and you match those. In this case, the quicksilver and the asulfer are the opposites, so they’re the match. You see?”
Merek hums in agreement, and I just stare at Errin.
Errin rolls her eyes to the side as she thinks. “All right. For example, if you’re poisoned, the best chance of a cure is something that negates the original poison, yes? So you need the equal of it, but the equal opposite, to cancel it out. The Petrucius Table helps you choose the path, based on the best match. Therefore, to deconstruct something, you have to find the opposite of each component. And in apothecary, and apparently alchemy, you build the opposite into the original potion.”
This does not sound at all simple to me, and I look at Merek, only to find he’s nodding at Errin as though he understands completely. Stuan looks at confused as I do, and I feel very warmly towards him in that moment.
Errin shoots me a small smile, as though she can sense my discomfort, before she continues. “So, all I had to do was fit the ingredients into the Petrucius Table and slide them around until I’d achieved balance.”
“And that was easy?” I say.
“Some parts were easy. Obviously quicksilver and asulfer opposed each other, as they’re the only mineral elements. So I just need to reverse the quantities in the Opus Magnum of each.”
“What about the plants?” Merek asks, his eyes eager now. “Because marigold and morning glory have the same properties, theoretically, and the quantities are similar. Obviously mandrake is the balance to one, but which?”
“Marigold,” Errin says instantly.
“How can you be sure?”
“Because yew is the natural opposite of morning glory,” Errin scoffs.
“Explain,” Merek says, but before Errin can begin, I stand up.
“I’m sorry. This is fascinating, but I need to eat,” I say, “and bathe.”
Errin nods, but Merek looks tired again, sinking back against the pillow.
“I’ll have something sent to you,” I say to him. “Errin, you’re a wonder.”
“My pleasure,” she says. “Now all we need is for the others to return, and the remaining ingredients, and we can do this. We can kill him.”
“With the . . . Opus Mortem,” I say, and she nods. “Where did you find the name?”
She grins impishly. “I made it up. It made sense.”
“Silas will be so proud of you,” I say.
The spark goes out of her eyes then. “Yes. . .” she says quietly. “I hope he gets to see it.”
I look at Merek, pleading with him to do something.
“Can you take me through it?” he asks. “I’d love to see how it all works.”
She nods absently, then again, a little firmer the second time. “Yes. But let’s get this seen to first.” She looks at me. “Do you have any injuries you need me to look at?”
“No. I’m fine. Just bone tired. I’m going to get some rest.”
I pause in the doorway and watch as she opens the jar and begins to rub salve into his wounds. When he meets my eyes my stomach swoops, and I nod goodbye, leaving them to it. I mean to go to the kitchens to eat, and I mean to bathe. But instead I head straight for my room, where I collapse face first on the bed and fall asleep without even taking my boots off.
When I wake, the room is empty, though someone has pulled off my boots and thrown a blanket over me, all without me waking. I roll on to my back, feeling heavy and thick, throwing my hands above my head.
Then it all comes back: the men visiting the caves, Errin’s success with the Opus Mortem. I sit up, and groan. I ache, and I feel hollow. And I smell a little ripe.
I have the bath I wanted last night, and bind my hair up. As I make my way to the refectory to see if anything has survived from breakfast, I hear the clash of metal upon metal, and, ignoring my now-furious stomach, divert to the main courtyard, where I secret myself behind a pillar and watch the occupants of the commune fight each other.
Merek is sat in one of the corners, Hobb with him, conversing, in between calling tips to fighters. Row after row of people brandish swords at each other, some with more success than others. I step out into the courtyard, skirting around, observing them as I make my way to Merek. Hobb sees my approach and waits for me.
He speaks immediately. “Forgive me for not telling you about the activity at the caves. I was waiting to discover more before I reported.”
“It’s fine. Have you learned anything else?”
“Nothing useful in that regard. Though we have word that Aurek appears to have gone into hiding. Since the fire he’s holed himself up in his tower, won’t see anyone, won’t do anything. My man says he’s heard Aurek goes to the kitchen to watch his meals being prepared, and then forces at least three people to taste them before he’ll eat. No one is allowed in his tower; he has golems on the door, and everywhere he does go.”
“What about Lief – the Silver Knight?”
“The Silver Knight and six others rode for Scarron.”
For Scarron. They still think I’m there.
“If that’s all, my lady,” Hobb says. I nod, and he steps back into the field, shouting encouragement at the fighters.
“How are they doing?” I ask Merek quietly.
“For people who have never fought before they’re doing well.”
“Not well enough, though?” I read the implication in his voice.
“Not against soldiers Lief has trained,” Merek admits.
“Perhaps we should split them,” I say. “Those who are good enough to fight men hand to hand keep training with the sword, and those lacking could be taught to fight golems.”
“Who would teach – ah.” He smiles. “Of course. The resident golem slayer.”
“It’s not that hard. Stay out of their way, and use fire.”
Merek’s eyes light up. “Yes. . . At the castle, the golem that went into the fire disintegrated when it came out.”
“It dries them out, like the clay they are. Makes them easy to shatter. And it exposes the commands inside them. Once the command is destroyed, it founders.”
“Like the simulacrum. They’re nothing without the alchemy powering them.”
My thoughts turn to Errin, and I know Merek’s have done the same when he says, “It seems as though Lief kept his promise. He must have destroyed it.”
“Perhaps,” is the only reply he gets. First time for everything, I suppose.
“What about those who aren’t good enough for either sort of combat?” Merek nods at where poor Breena looks in more danger of stabbing herself than an enemy.
“We play to their strengths. Breena is a gifted archer, and she’s been teaching the others. So let’s allow them to focus on the discipline they favour. I wonder . . . if Errin could make us something we could dip arrows into, some compound. . .”
“They’d have to be very good archers to make that safe for us,” Merek says.
“They would be. Where is Errin, by the way?”
“She’s set up a laboratory, down the corridor.” He points towards the south wing of the commune. “I’m going to help her once I’ve finished here.”
“Make sure you get some rest, too.”
“Wait.” His fingers curl around my wrist as I move to leave. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“Not now,” I say. “I have to see Errin. And you have work to do here.”
“I’ll find you.”
I nod, and he releases me, though I can still feel the warmth of his skin on mine, and his eyes on me, all the way back into the commune.
Errin has indeed set up a laboratory, using a hotchpotch of glassware, stoneware, and clearly whatever she has been able to steal out of the kitchen. She’s somehow – and I suspect from the way Stuan glowers at her, tapping the rope from her wrists against his leg, that he was involved – dragged one of the giant wooden tables from the refectory down here, and is using it as a bench. At one end of the bench is a collection of jars and bottles, with herbs, plants, powders and liquids inside. In the centre is a makeshift firepit. And at the end, pens and reams of paper, already covered in scribbles. I wander over to look and see what I expect is the famous Petrucius Table, drawn on thick parchment, held in place by an assortment of empty vials and a knife.
[Sin Eater's Daughter 3] The Scarecrow Queen Page 24
