by Dora Machado
The smile that tickled Sariah's lips felt rusted and crooked, but it was a smile. “Your thoughts kept me sane, Mianina. I can still hear the words in my mind. We're near and we're here.”
Mia's face tilted to one side in puzzlement.
“What is it?”
“Uncle Kael told me to say we're near.”
“And?”
“I never, ever said we're here.”
Forty-four
MELIAHS HELP HER. We're here. The baby had spoken to her. It wasn't a pain-induced delusion or a wistful creation of her feverish mind. It was a true contact. She thought about the boost of strength she had felt during the quickening. It had been no coincidental revival of her battered senses. It had been him, her tiny courageous son, adding his incipient strength to hers.
The revelation confirmed what she had suspected all along— that the child was powerful beyond the norm, self-aware well ahead of his time. And if there was one thing Sariah knew for sure about Grimly, it was that even damaged, she wouldn't allow a wiserling treasure like him to pass her by. The thought dazzled her mind. Could her child be alive?
A deafening crash startled her. Something large thrashed in the hallway and then in the waiting chamber, scattering stools and tables before crashing like a battering ram against the door. The bedchamber's door exploded. Delis strode in, dirty and bloody like the executioner she used to be, sporting a new torque of fresh ears and noses. Her face was streaked with dirt and her hair was matted with mud. A contusion bruised her cheek. Aided by quite a few Hounds, she dragged something huge and ferocious behind her.
She snarled. “Get out of here!”
Mia and the Hounds scuttled out of the room, fleeing Delis's wrath.
“I won't have it anymore.” Delis slammed the huge sack against the wall. “I haven't come halfway across the world for this. I'd do it. You know I would. But I'm not the one. Am I? You!” Sariah recoiled from the dirty finger. “Stop toying with your damn life.
“And you.” Delis kicked the sack. “I don't care what you think you have to do or why. Fix her.” She dragged a battered man from the sack and hurled him against the bed. “Fix her now!”
The bed quaked with the force of the impact. The hangings collapsed to one side and tipped over the basin. Sariah stood with her back against the wall in disbelief. Then Delis was gone and the door slammed shut, leaving a bruised Kael sprawled against the foot of the bed and Sariah gaping.
Signs of life came from the bedside. An uncouth oath. A groan. “I'm going to kill the bitch.” A large hand grabbed the blankets and pulled, followed by Kael's battered face.
Sariah had to will the air to flow through her faltering lungs. He was alive. He was back. He was here. His mere presence was as fortifying as a year of healing. She wanted to cry from relief. She wanted to cackle like a mad woman. Instead, she fell on him like the most thorough of healers. His bones seemed whole, the blood on his face was dry, his pupils looked normal.
“Are you hurt?”
“I think she broke my ribs.”
“They're just ribs. They tend to mend on their own.”
The broken eyebrow went up. “Unless they puncture your lungs.”
“You don't have time to be pierced and done.”
She dipped a sponge in the basin and tossed it to him. She groped through the chest, throwing things out of the way until she found a long cloth. Without waiting for him to finish washing, she wrapped it around his ribs. Then she threw the window open, grabbed a chunk of ice from the sill, bundled it and pressed it against his bruised lip.
“What's going on, Sariah?” he mumbled through the cloth.
“We have to hurry. You'll have to kill Delis some other time.”
“I'm thinking today.”
“Not when she did right.”
He yanked a clean tunic into place. “So you thought it wrong that I left?”
“Only on one count.”
“And that is?”
She rose on the tip of her toes and kissed him on the lips. “That you left without me.”
The kiss he gave her in return was fresh salve to all her sores. He embraced her with such passion that, for a moment, Sariah feared for his ribs and hers. It was the only luxury she allowed herself.
“Did you find Grimly?”
“I almost did. I was so close—”
“Did you see any signs of a baby when you tracked her?”
“A baby? Nay. But I never caught up to Grimly herself—”
There it was, the spark that had been missing from his eyes, the green-eyed boyish look of wonderment that never failed to steal her breath. “Please, Sariah, tell me. Are you thinking he might still be alive?”
“Maybe—”
“What about the body I saw?”
“There was this other baby. Violet's baby. It was dead.”
“You think the witch staged everything and showed me some other child?”
“She's capable of that and more.”
“If he's as strong as you say, the witch will want him alive.”
“The prism,” Sariah said. “Does Grimly have it?”
“Not anymore.”
Sariah's back collided against the wall. In Kael's hand, the lifeless yellow prism reflected the candlelight with a macabre golden glow.
Kael dropped the accursed stone. “Are you all right?”
Panic was rising through her veins like boiling magma.
“You said we needed it, that's why I brought it back.”
“We did,” Sariah said. “We do.”
“Should I toss it? Should I bury it? What is it, Sariah? Tell me.”
She kept her eyes on the stone as if it were capable of launching itself and striking at her navel.
“Is this the thing they used to—”
“It was misused,” she said for her own ears.
“How do I destroy it?”
“You can't.” Her voice was steadier this time. “How did you get it?”
Kael's face went blank. “They had fallen behind the others. They were running from the sunlight, I think, and they took refuge in the shade. She had it in her hand when I killed her.”
“Who did you kill?”
“The black one. I killed the black sister.”
Meliahs help them. Kael had caught up with the sisters and killed Telana, and there wasn't a trace of regret on his face. She knew he spoke truth. Only death would have wrestled the prism from the dark sister's hands.
She was afraid to ask. “What happened to the other sister?”
“I would have killed her too. Except that Delis showed up.”
“You mean Belana is not dead?”
“Delis caught her and dragged her along. I could tell by the ungodly screams. The woman's mad. She's likely at the cages.”
“At the cages?” One thought fell systematically behind the other. Belana was near. The prism was here. Kael had returned. The babe was alive. The whole world came back into focus, ripe with possibilities, renewed with purpose. She had to wise the prism. Right away. But how could she wise the stone without her stonewiser power? An idea began to take shape in the back of Sariah's mind, a dangerous, desperate thought.
“I have to see her.” She snatched her mantle from the peg and made for the door. “I have to speak to her.”
She stopped dead in her tracks and retraced her steps to fetch the prism from the floor. She hesitated, but she couldn't let her fear of it prevail, so she grabbed it. It was lifeless and cold in her hand, a far cry from the sinister tormentor she remembered. Perhaps if she tried… She pressed her palm against the stone and willed her mind to reach out to the trance. Nothing. She tried again. Not even a twinge or a tickle.
“Malord.” Sariah called from the door.
Malord knuckled himself into the chamber.
“I need to know if this stone can be wised.” Sariah held out the prism. “It's a very strong stone. It can be dangerous. You've got to act with care.”
Cautiously, M
alord tapped his weathered fingers against the stone. “I don't feel anything.” He laid a careful palm against the stone. “Nothing at all. There's a wising in this?”
It was disappointing but expected. It confirmed Sariah's theory. The prism could only be wised when active, and even then, like with the seven stones, its final trance would only engage the one stonewiser who had managed to wise Leandro's game and the sage's statues, namely her. Damn. It was back to her dangerous idea.
“Thanks, Malord,” Sariah said. “Come on, Kael. We've got to go.”
They startled the people loafing in the antechamber with a swift passage.
“Find Mia,” Sariah said to Delis in passing. “Bring her to me.”
Lorian dropped her counting tablet. Uma tried to ask, “Where are you g—”
The Hounds guarding her door deployed themselves to detain the others. A half-dozen Hounds fell behind Sariah and Kael, as if they had been escorting the pair all their lives. They made it down the stairs and into the keep's main lane, where the wind sliced through her clothing as if she were a ghost without substance. She didn't care. She had forgotten about the pain, the weakness, the crippling sorrow. Her mind was clear with purpose and sprinting like the strongest runner. They were within sight of that horrible place by the time the notion struck her.
“Grimly must have thought them unnecessary,” she said. “She wouldn't have left the sisters behind if she still needed them.”
“Does that mean that—?”
“Grimly must think that she already has what she wants.”
Her live child.
No one had ever termed the Guild's cages as comfortable, especially not Kael or Sariah, who had spent time in the misery of the wretched place. They rushed from one cage to the next, looking for Belana among the dejected prisoners crowding the upper cages.
“Stonewiser!” A voice thundered from one of the cages. “How could you stoop so low as to bring us here by force?”
Sariah spied the trio of red robes among the defeated keep guards.
“It's about that time,” Petrid said. “Have you been bitten yet?”
He must have seen Sariah flinch. He cackled quietly, an odious chattering eerily similar to that of the monkey perched on his shoulder. “You can't wise anymore.” He laughed even harder.
Sariah rushed to the floor below. Curse the executioners. They had loaded their dice to win and were ready to collect their earnings.
“Is it true?” Kael said. “What he said? About you not being able to wise?”
“It's true.”
Without a word, he moved on to the next cage. Sariah appreciated the reprieve, because at the moment, even a kind word could have tripped her fickle emotions.
The cage they sought was in the deepest and gloomiest part of the keep's many dungeons. Ultimately, it was the wailing that led them to Belana. The woman was balled in the darkest corner of the foul-smelling cage.
“Open it,” Sariah said to the guard.
“Are you sure? She bites and scratches like a wild cat.”
“I'm sure.” Sariah stepped into the cage, scattering the rats with her cautious steps. “Belana? Are you all right?”
The creature who struck from the shadows wore horror's face. The ashen pallor, the gruesome snarl, the guttural growl that turned into a hiss through bared fangs sent Sariah tumbling against the bars.
“Don't hurt her.” Sariah stopped the guard. “Your light. It bothers her.”
“The woman's blind, my lady.”
“But the light hurts her.”
Indeed, Belana was clawing at her eyes as if the torch were a relentless sun.
“Is that better?” Sariah asked when the guard withdrew. “I've brought what you need.”
“Do you have it?” Belana sniffed the air like a she-wolf. “Did you bring it?”
“Right here.” Sariah placed the prism in Belana's anxious hands. The sister clutched the accursed thing against her breast and sobbed like a weeping widow. Sariah hesitated before patting the wretch's back. Despite the spectrum of her terrible memories, Belana seemed frail and alone in the cage's darkness. Her arms locked around Sariah's waist. Kael was by her side in an instant, but Sariah waved him off.
“She's dead,” Belana whimpered. “Little sister's dead.”
Sariah didn't know quite what to say.
“It was awful. We felt it. It hurt. He killed her.” Belana's nostrils flared in Kael's direction. “That putrid stink of a mongrel killed her. We'll scratch his eyes out, we swear.”
“No, nay, please don't.” Wordlessly, Sariah pleaded with Kael for forbearance. “He thought Telana was my enemy, you see. He thought you wanted to kill me.”
“We didn't want to. I promise we didn't want to.”
“I know, but he's my mate. He thought you hurt me.”
Belana wrinkled her nose. “Stonewisers don't have mates.”
“I do,” Sariah said. “I couldn't tell you before, because I couldn't speak. Remember? He went looking for Grimly, but he found you and Telana instead.”
“The light,” Belana said. “It hurt. We needed the prism. We had to have it.”
“You have it. You're fine now.”
“We were one in the womb, all alone with the stone. What will we do now?”
“It's all right. I'll take care of you.”
Kael mouthed a soundless but definitive no.
“You won't like us.” Belana sobbed. “The mistress said it. What we need. Nobody but she will give it.”
Grimly had probably been right about that.
Sariah stilled her churning stomach. “We'll have to find another way. A little cream, perhaps some cake?”
“Cake tastes nice to the tongue,” Belana said. “But it does nothing for the belly's growl. We are what we are.”
That's what they had been raised to believe. This poor oddity, how could she believe otherwise? Why would she consider herself anything other than what Grimly said she and her sister were? And even if Belana tried, could she, Sariah, overcome her own revulsion to keep an oath?
She held Belana's grisly face between her hands. She stared at the ghoulish complexion, at the bizarre sightless eyes, at the feral expressions on her quasi-human face. She inhaled the scent of ripe olives and lard, seeking her senses’ acceptance. It wasn't easy. The woman's smell provoked her bile. She had lost so much to the sisters. She asked so much of Belana. Could she give in similar measure?
Compassion. Sariah summoned it, from where, she didn't know.
“Ooooooooh.” Belana's lips puckered in wonderment.
“We can be who we want to be,” Sariah said.
Belana's hot tears soaked through Sariah's tunic and drenched her belly. All Sariah could do was cradle the odd creature who was going to help her to find both the tale and her son.
Forty-five
“TELL ME AGAIN,” Sariah said. “Where was the mistress going? What did she intend to do? Did she travel with my baby?”
“Baby?” Belana grimaced a puzzled frown.
“Wiserling. Did Mistress Grimly travel with my wiserling?”
Belana turned to Kael, fangs bared in a chilling smile. “More, please?”
Sariah cautioned herself not to look, but her eyes meandered to Kael's bloody hands, picking the brains of a slaughtered piglet and offering Belana a share.
“No core?” Belana asked.
“No core,” Kael said.
“Shame.” Belana pouted. “A wiserling's core is the best part.”
Sariah stumbled to the bucket and wretched.
“Sorry,” Belana mumbled through bloody teeth.
“It's hard for Sariah,” Kael said.
“It's delicious for us,” Belana said.
Belana's feeding was the foulest of spectacles, one that evoked memories Sariah would rather forget. But Belana had been starving and Sariah knew that the woman couldn't be of any use unless her basic needs were satisfied. If she would just finish quickly. A sliver of pure red was all t
hat remained in the bracelet's ninth crystal, a tiny dot filling up fast. Sariah was hard pressed to restrain her urgency. But at least Belana was calm now, looking much better.
They had found a small, dark storage room in the Hall of Numbers’ cellar. It was clean, warm and rodent free. Fresh straw piled with clean blankets in a corner to make for a comfortable nest and the single light of a shielded candle didn't bother Belana's eyes. The food selection had been Kael's idea. It wasn't to Sariah's liking, but it was a damn good choice considering the alternatives.
“I think you've had plenty.” Sariah wiped Belana's face with a wet rag. “About the wiserlings. Where's Grimly going?”
Belana shrugged. “Bright place. Cold, wet, bad. We cried and cried with the hurt. We needed it.” She kissed the prism in her hands and turned to Kael. “We think your eyeball would taste good. We'd eat it, if you give it to us.”
“No, thanks,” Kael said. “I think I'd rather keep it.”
“Thirsty.” Belana squeezed Sariah's breast. “Is there any left for us?”
Sariah fought the urge to slap her. Instead, she took a deep breath and removed Belana's hand from her breast. “My milk's long dried up.”
“Pity. We liked mother's milk. We drank it all the time. From the stonewisers. It goes sour when they die.”
Sariah gagged.
Kael intervened. “How do you grow the wiserlings?”
“We were made for it. Before us, the stone was only a hound for the blood. But the mistress, she found a new way.”
It was just what Sariah had concluded that fateful night at the Mating Hall. Grimly had adapted the stone's unique power in an attempt to create the powerful stonewisers she coveted. It was a trespass as old as the execration, a foul deed prohibited as early as Meliahs’ pact. Sariah had felt the prism's struggle in her own flesh. She didn't dare consider the effects of that struggle on her child.
