When she closed the door, he sank into a chair. He was shaking with the strain of keeping a good facade before his generals. The bleeding had stopped on most of his cuts, but not on all of them. It was taking Seger much too long to repair Wisdom. Rugad needed her, and soon. His body had lacked resiliency since he was attacked weeks before. The pressure he had put upon it, first abandoning it as he found his great-granddaughter, and then fleeing into it when he was escaping that golem, had left him weak and dizzy. He suspected some of that was from the blood loss.
But it might also be a warning. When he had come to Blue Isle, he had been a healthy man of ninety-two years. He still had fifty years of life ahead of him if he lived his normal life-span. But warriors often didn't. Many died in battle. Others died young due to the stresses they had put their bodies through.
This last month had aged him. He hoped the feeling would leave as his health improved, but he needed to face the fact that it might not. He had to get his great-grandchildren, and quickly, before he lost the energy to show them how leaders of Black Blood behaved.
Before he lost the energy to teach them himself.
Or bend them himself, if he had to.
He hoped he wouldn't have to.
But it was looking more and more likely. The girl was strong and willful. The golem had gotten his personality through the boy, and that would also mean he was willful. They hadn't been brought up as proper Fey. There was much conditioning to undo.
Rugad sighed. He had made only one serious mistake in his entire career, and he was still paying the price. He had let Jewel go with her father, let her come to Blue Isle, and here she died. If Rugad had kept her by his side, none of this would be happening now.
He wouldn't have these wild great-grandchildren, and the future of the Fey Empire wouldn't be in doubt.
One mistake was going to take years to rectify.
One mistake.
He sighed again, tilted his head back, and then, suddenly, smiled as an idea reached him.
One mistake. If that was all it took to put something as grand as the Fey Empire in doubt, imagine what one mistake would do to a place as tiny as Blue Isle.
Nicholas had yet to make any serious errors with the Isle. He had shown great strength in all things, turning great odds against him into his favor.
But he had a serious weakness, and it became clear as Rugad had struggled inside Nicholas's daughter.
The man loved his children. He would sacrifice his country for them. And that, as any leader knew, was a great mistake.
Rugad's smile grew.
A mistake Rugad could use to his own advantage.
SIXTY-FOUR
Gift sat at the base of the steps, arms wrapped around himself. He knew he had shocked them with his vehemence, but they didn't understand. Some people did not deserve to live. Some people caused such destruction in their wake that they deserved death.
This Matthias was one.
The Black King was another.
Gift could do nothing about his great-grandfather — there were strictures against that — but he could do something about Matthias.
And he would.
He started to stand when he saw a movement beside the fountain.
"Coulter," he said, wanting Coulter at his side. Coulter was the only other one with magick in this cave — at the moment. If Gift could see something, chances were that Coulter could too.
"What?" Coulter asked. He came partway down the stairs.
"Did you see something?"
"No," Coulter said.
The movement behind the fountain grew. Shadows rippled and changed, then Gift's mother slid out from behind it. Her braid was tangled, her eyes wild. She looked terrified.
"Gift," she said, "do you have a Link to your sister?"
"What?" he asked. Then he realized what he had done. He was responding to her without letting the others know she was there.
"Coulter," he said again. "Do you see anything near the fountain?"
"No," Coulter said.
The others were looking as well. Adrian was actually squinting, as if that would make him see better.
"No," Coulter said, this time more slowly, "but I feel something." He hurried down the steps and crossed the floor.
"Careful of the water," Adrian said.
Coulter seemed to ignore him.
Gift's mother frowned at him, as if he were a gnat, then made her way past him. "Gift," she said. "This is important. Do you have a Link to your sister?"
"I don't know," he said. "I don't think so. Why?"
"Because your father is bringing her here, and without your help, she is lost."
"My father is coming here?" Gift said.
"The King?" Adrian blurted, then put a hand to his mouth, looking surprised at his own reaction.
Coulter had turned. He clearly did sense her. He was following her closely. If she stopped moving, he would walk right into her.
"Listen," his mother said. She stopped close enough to Gift that he could touch her without moving his arm. "That's why I left you so suddenly. It had nothing to do with what you said. I had to go to your sister. To your father, actually. My grandfather — " she stopped speaking, shook her head, and then sighed
"What did he do?" Gift asked. Her urgency was contagious.
"The King?" Adrian asked.
"No," Gift said. "The Black King."
"He tried to take her mind like he tried to take yours," his mother said. "Only she doesn't have" — she raised her head, turned, and faced Coulter — "an Enchanter for a friend. All she has is my pathetic golem."
She spoke the last words with distraction. Coulter was looking at her, but his eyes were gazing at a space just beyond her. He didn't see her, but he seemed to know where she was.
"A golem?" Gift asked. He didn't understand her urgency or her concern. Wasn't she a Mystery? Couldn't she do a lot of these things on her own? Why would she need him?
"Does she mean Sebastian?" Coulter asked. He was now looking at Gift.
Gift shook his head. "Sebastian is dead."
"Sebastian," she said, "is a golem. They don't live, so they don't die. I thought you were raised Fey, Gift."
"I was," he said.
"Then you should know that."
"I didn't learn everything," he said.
Coulter put a hand on his arm. "There's a great deal of magick energy right in front of you. Is that what you're seeing as your mother?"
"Yes," Gift said. "It is her. I can touch her."
"I'm going to try," Coulter said.
"We don't have time for this," his mother said, glancing at Coulter. "I need to know if you can help your sister."
Coulter reached out to her. Gift's mother took a small step backward to remain outside his grip.
"Let him touch you," Gift said.
She raised an eyebrow, as if to say that he didn't know what he was asking, and then stopped moving.
Coulter's right hand touched her and sparks rose as if he had put steel against a grindstone. He cried out in pain and grabbed his wrist with his left hand.
"It is real," he said.
"And not very safe for him," Gift's mother said. "I'd advise him not to do it again."
"Are you threatening him?" Gift asked.
Adrian had come closer. Leen had her dagger out, for all the good it did her, and the Cap had moved farther up the stairs, as if having the others there gave him an excuse to save himself.
"No," his mother said. "But it is as I told you. I am allowed three people — "
"I know," Gift said. "I remember."
"All others must deal with me, not as Jewel, but as a lower-end Power. A Mystery. It would not be good for him to touch me again."
"Was it a threat?" Adrian asked softly.
Coulter's fingertips were red. He cradled his hand to his chest.
"She says it's because she can only appear in Fey form to three people, and Coulter's not one of them."
"All magick has rules
," the Cap said.
"So now you believe her," Gift snapped.
"I believe the rules," the Cap said.
"Something is there," Coulter said. "This is not a hallucination, and Gift doesn't have the kind of magick to create a magick energy column like this. Right, Scavenger?"
"So far as I know," the Cap said. "I don't know everything about all magicks."
"But you know more than we do," Adrian said.
"True enough." The Cap sounded pleased with himself.
"I'm not going to let it harm any of you," Leen said. "Tell it that."
"What are you going to do?" the Cap asked. "Stab it with your pathetic knife? Come on, girl. You know that physical objects have no effect on pure magick."
"I don't know that," she said. "And if it were true, then Coulter's fingers would have had no effect."
"It was his magick colliding with mine that created the sparks," Gift's mother said. But Gift did not translate. She focused on his face again. "Please, Gift. Can you help your sister?"
"I'm not sure I want to," Gift said. And he wasn't. She had attacked him, that sister of his. She had turned into a bird and tried to peck his eyes out. She might even have killed him if Solanda hadn't tried to stop her. And then what would have happened?
"You and she are the only defenses against the Black King," his mother said.
"Why would you want defenses against the Black King?" Gift said. "Why would you care?"
"Rugad is too close to true power," Gift's mother said. "He is a great warrior, and has a brilliant military mind, but he is not the person who should touch true power."
"Who should, then?" Gift asked.
She shook her head. "A person who knows the pain such power can bring. A person who knows its anguish, and who does not want it. Rugad wants power too much."
"And that's bad?" Gift asked.
"It was good for the Fey until we came to Blue Isle," his mother said. "But it isn't good any longer."
"How does my sister fit into this?"
"You and she are the heirs to the Black Throne. She knows the Isle, Gift. You know the Fey. Together you would be a formidable team. And an acceptable one to both the Islanders and to the Fey."
"I thought the Fey didn't care about the Islanders. Why do you?"
Her gaze darted to the fountain and then back to him. It was as if her look encompassed the entire room. "A person's perspective changes when they cross over to this plane," she said.
"When they die, you mean," Gift said.
"I'm not completely dead yet, son," she said. "If I were, I wouldn't care about this at all."
He shook his head. He wasn't sure he understood her. "So what are you, then?"
"Enough questions about me," she said. "I already warned you about that. I need to know if you can help your sister. She'll be here soon. And your father will not have the Shaman's help."
"Why not?"
His mother bit her lower lip, then sighed. "She will make the wrong choice as far as your father is concerned."
Coulter crouched near her feet, as if he were studying her magick from the ground up.
"Will make?" Gift asked.
"Made," his mother said, but she sounded less sure of herself.
"I don't have a Link with my sister," Gift said. "You know how we were raised."
"But you saw her a lot. You knew her, through Sebastian."
"And through Sebastian's body, not my own. She's his sister by love, mine by blood. There's a big difference."
His mother let out a sigh that echoed in the room. Even the others seemed to hear it. The Cap looked up. Adrian put a hand to his ears, and Leen swung around in a slow circle, knife out, like an ancient warrior.
"Whistle?" Coulter asked.
"Sigh," Gift said.
When Coulter spoke, Gift's mother looked directly at him as if seeing him for the first time. "Your Enchanter," she said. "When he closed your Links, how did he do it?"
"We have our own Link," Gift said. "He came through that."
"But how did he close the Link between the two of you?"
The details she did know astonished him, more than the details she didn't know.
"I closed it," Gift said.
Coulter was watching him now. "What's going on?" Coulter asked softly.
"But you're still Bound," Gift's mother said.
"We'll always be Bound," Gift said, and felt a flare of anger. At her. If she hadn't died, he wouldn't be Bound to Coulter. Sebastian would have lived —
— or was he really dead? Gift was no longer certain about anything any more. And if he didn't have a body, but he lived, how did he do that? Was he like that bit of energy that filled the Fey Lamp, something to be burned up and discarded? Or was it something more than that?
"What does it matter?" Gift asked.
Coulter had moved closer to him, as if to protect him. Gift moved away. He didn't want Coulter's protection. He hadn't wanted Coulter's protection since the night Coulter had closed his Links.
"It matters," his mother said, "because he can help save your sister."
"Can he?" Gift said.
"Along with you and your father. If you let him."
"And if I don't?"
"Your sister will be lost forever." His mother wrung her hands together as if the thought terrified her.
"Why don't you do something?" Gift asked.
"I can't," she said.
"Because — ?"
"I chose you," she said. Her hands were clasped together so tightly that her knuckles had turned a brilliant white. "I thought you needed me more."
He felt an odd elation at that. His mother had chosen him over his sister. No one had done that before. His sister had been the favored one, even with the Shaman. Everyone had always gone to her rescue. Everyone had always catered to her. He had been abandoned and lost to both parents and they hadn't cared. They hadn't even recognized Sebastian as the replacement.
"Please," his mother said. "She'll be here any moment. Help her."
Finally they needed him. Finally he was more important than the sister who had grown up in the palace where he had been born. His mother's words, strange as they were, eased an ache in his heart that he hadn't even known he had.
"All right," he said. "Tell me what to do."
SIXTY-FIVE
Rugar was still staring at the maps of Blue Isle when Seger returned to the Audience Room. Her manner was subdued, her head bowed as she approached him. She had been his personal healer for a long time, and she knew better than to rebuke him for things he had done, but he could feel her disapproval.
She had stayed longer with Wisdom than she needed. Rugad would have one of his assistants discover what she had done. He hoped she had done nothing more than stop the bleeding and give him a bit of strength to leave the palace — an ability to survive the trauma to his body and the changes which he would now suffer.
Rugad would hate to have to break in a new healer as well as a new adjunct. But he would do it if he had to. Sometimes changes in location led to changes in personnel. He knew it, but he never liked it.
"You will let me see to you now?" she asked.
He nodded. She sat across from him, her fingers probing his new wounds. He had several cuts and scrapes from the explosion, some bruises from his fall onto the chair, and a rather serious pain along the right side of his rib cage.
She probed the wounds, removing small bits of rubble. The golem's stone. She made a pile on the table as she did so. The shards were good-sized; all were about the size of a fingernail, and as slender. He wondered that he hadn't felt them.
She helped him remove his shirt, and she treated the bruises on his back. She paused for some time over his rib cage.
"You've broken two ribs," she said. "You should rest."
"I have no time," he said.
She nodded, once.
"I can't spell you forever," she said. "At some point, you will need to let the body's own healing powers work."
"As soon as the Isle is secure," he said.
She said nothing, but he could feel it again, that current of disapproval rising from her.
"You may as well say what you're thinking," he said. "If it has to do with Wisdom—
"I have learned to accept incidents like Wisdom's over the years," she said, making her discomfort known without actually criticizing him. "You must do such things to maintain your command. I understand that, and do as you ask in treatment. Sometimes it goes against my healing instincts, but you explained that to me when you brought me on as your personal physician. Many things you do go against my healing instincts. The fact that you have continued to speak without letting your throat heal properly is a choice I would not have made. You will always pay for that."
More than she knew, he thought. His real voice was gone. And, unlike a soul, there was no way to capture it and bring it back.
"I need my voice," he said.
"I know," she said. "You made a leader's choice, not a healer's choice."
"Then what do I feel from you?"
She smiled a little. "You think I would criticize you after that display tonight?"
She had a good point, but an invalid one. He always accepted honesty in conversation with his advisors. It was when they tried to usurp his power that he drew the line. Wisdom had crossed the line several times since arriving on Blue Isle.
"Seger," he said, "you have not committed any acts of treason that I know of, unless you gave Wisdom his tongue back."
She paused from her ministrations at his ribs. Her eyes were dark and almost unreadable. Her wrinkled skin appeared pale with fatigue.
"I do not disobey your orders," she said.
"Then you have nothing to fear from me," he said.
She took a deep breath. "I took extra time in returning to you."
"I noticed," he said.
"Not because of Wisdom. It took little to staunch the blood flow. I gave him some extra strength which will get him from here, and help him survive a few days. I figured you would not object to that."
"The last thing I wanted was for him to die too soon," Rugad said. "It would not impart the lesson I had hoped he'd learn."
The Resistance: The Fourth Book of the Fey (Fey Series) Page 41
