by Julia Knight
Petri had once thought himself a brave and noble man. Not any more. Now all he wanted was for this to stop. He’d say anything, betray anyone, if only Eneko would stop. But he wouldn’t, Petri knew that. Eneko would not stop even if Petri told him everything he knew.
Hands yanked him up by his hair and set him back in the chair. Eneko was breathing hard, face flushed and hair awry, and the stiletto was back in his hand. The blade was cool again now, but that didn’t stop Petri flinching away as Eneko touched it to his other, as yet unblemished, cheek.
“Tell me, Petri. Tell me and all this will end.”
Petri had nothing to tell him. Bakar was too paranoid, too clever. Yet there were some, Petri was sure, that Bakar knew, or thought, or hoped, he could trust. That would be the only way–to buy those men.
Petri stared at Eneko. He was lost, along with his thoughts. No one knew where he was except perhaps Bakar. No one would be coming to rescue him. It was just him and Eneko and the blade for as long as it amused the guild master, and then Petri would die. Unless he gave Eneko… something. When it came to it, Petri was no better than any other man, wanting to hang on to life to the last possible second even if it was as a man with half a face living in a silent black cell. Just hoping that something would change, maybe. Willing to beg if he had to.
“Bakar’s second valet.” The words dripped out, unwilling. “No one’s been allowed out of the palace in weeks without permission. But the second valet has a wife outside. She comes to the kitchen door sometimes, to see him.”
Eneko patted his still whole cheek. “That’s a nice story. Is it true?”
The knife again–it hung before his eyes like a sharpened sun, ready to burn his will away, burn his soul away and leave nothing in its wake but a broken man.
It wasn’t, but Eneko wouldn’t believe the truth–that there was no way, not that Petri knew of. “It’s true, I swear.”
“Swear on what?”
What did he have to swear on that Eneko would believe? Nothing, nothing left to hold dear except one thing.
“Kacha,” he whispered. “I swear on Kacha’s life.”
The sting of his tears was the worst pain of all.
Until Eneko brought the hot blade down into his hand.
Chapter Twelve
Dom had left, quiet and secretive as always, and Kacha was drumming her fingers and glaring at the wind chimes when Esti came back. As soon as she opened the door and took in the way Kass was wound like a spring, a hand came up, fluttered by her face and dropped again as though in defeat.
Kacha lifted up her cup of tea. She had spent the time waiting, thinking about whether Esti could have poisoned them–almost certainly–and taking some hope from the fact she hadn’t already. “I take it there’s nothing in this I need to worry about? Nothing that might kill me, for instance?”
Esti closed the door quietly behind her and put down the toddler struggling in her arms. He immediately launched himself at Vocho, who greeted his arrival with a pained “Oof.”
“Nothing in here, where the children might reach it. And nothing in the tea. Who told you? I knew it wouldn’t be long.”
Kacha shrugged. Esti seemed resigned. To what, exactly? Them finding out? Something else? “A friend.”
“Nothing in that jollop you’ve given me?” Vocho asked from under flailing toddler limbs.
“No! Or nothing harmful anyway, I promise. It’s just… Look, you helped me; I helped you. Fair’s fair.”
Kacha wanted to believe her, she really did. She liked Esti, and besides she’d looked after Vocho with more care than he probably deserved. But recent experience had taught her one thing–no one was to be believed all the way through. No one. She’d taken a risk with Esti because they’d needed her help, but it had been a calculated one. She hoped she could add up.
“Are you still a poisoner?” she asked because someone had to, and Vocho had his hands full.
Esti sat down at the table wearily and poured herself a cup of tea. “I don’t have much choice. A bit like Vocho and his tattoo, I suppose. Sabates took my brother last year, so I do what he says.”
Kacha sat opposite and tried to reconcile the part of her that was screaming not to trust a damned soul, and the part that believed Esti and wanted to hear her out. Maybe even help her.
“And what is it, exactly, that Sabates wants you to do?” And why are you telling me so easily now?
Esti fiddled with the edge of the tablecloth, shredding it with her fingers. She didn’t seem able to look at Kacha. “He said I was going to be helping the king. I mean, that’s what magicians do. Reyes has its duelling guild, and they say they’ll work for anyone, but who they mostly work for is Reyes. And they all swear to protect Reyes, if it comes to it. Well, magicians are the Ikaras version. Or magicians and life-warriors anyway. So he told me I’d be serving the king, and that my brother and sister and their children would be all right. If I did what he said. Said I could practise my magic again, properly, get me a pardon.”
Kacha had a brief flash of what that might mean–to her it would be like being back in the guild, back doing what she was always supposed to. She got the feeling that was the real nub of it for Esti. She didn’t want her family to die, but she also dreamed of doing what she was born to do.
“So you did what he wanted?”
Esti’s mouth worked, a corner of the tablecloth turned into tatters. “I did. But then he killed one of my brothers anyway. Slaughtered like a traitor in the plaza. Took all his ranks away, took his knife and broke it. Made him die like nothing. So I ran. I took the children and my family and I ran. Couldn’t go far–no money. So we hid. Easy to hide if you’ve got a magical knack for it. He’ll find me eventually, him or Alicia, and maybe she’s worse. He always gets what he wants. So I do what I can to earn money so we can leave for good. Somewhere far enough away even he can’t find me.”
“Yes, but—” Kacha said.
“Poison, that’s what he wanted. I didn’t think I had any choice, so I made it. Lots of it before I managed to get away. Tincture of mansbane. It gets absorbed through the skin if you touch it.”
“And does what?”
Esti shrugged and applied herself to the tablecloth. “Depends how much over how long a period. Doesn’t do much to start with, but a sustained dose over a number of weeks? Insomnia, paranoia, delusions. That sort of thing. It’d be hard to get enough in someone to kill them–he knew I’d never agree to that!”
“You’re the king’s poisoner.”
“Who told you that? I am–or rather was–the king’s botanist. Plants, that’s where my magical skills lie, and the king’s always had a keen interest. Up at the palace he’s got as fine a collection of flora as you can find anywhere. Plants from all over the world. Left over from the empire–the Castans’ gardens here were famous, and even after the Great Fall a few kept them up. King’s gardener is a rank almost as high as prince, though more popular with some kings than others. They must have lost some plants, but there’s still a thousand or more species up there. It was like heaven. Anyway, the current king is especially keen, always pushing for better crops, quicker-growing sugar, strains that are resistant to mildew, that sort of thing. But when a magician died, they said it was me, only it wasn’t, I swear, and the king wanted me dead and Sabates helped me to start with, kept me hidden even from Alicia, if only I’d work for him and…”
She broke off, but Kacha didn’t need to hear any more. The king wanted Esti dead–she knew how that felt–but she wasn’t sure how much to believe.
“A poison that sends men mad,” Vocho said, having finally disentangled himself from the toddler and distracted him with a biscuit. “Sounds familiar.”
Kacha didn’t like how pale he was, or how quiet. It was unnerving her. “Doesn’t it? Esti, how long before Voch is well enough to travel? Say, quite a long ride.”
“Today, if he takes the drinks I made him.”
Vocho groaned but Kacha ignored him.
“Can you promise me there’s nothing untoward in them?”
“I promise you. As soon as I knew that tattoo was of Sabates’ doing, I only wanted to help. He’s got me in the same net as you. And what can I do? Oh, I could poison him perhaps, use my magic, but don’t you think I’ve tried? The man’s impossible to kill, or impossible for me to kill. But you two can do more than me. You can expose him to people who might believe you. Maybe even kill the bastard. You get him for me, make it so I don’t have to hide or run away, maybe so I can even openly practise my magic again. And I promise you there is nothing in those drinks except something for the pain.”
Kacha gave Vocho a once-over. Pale, quiet, slightly clammy but noticeably better after the drink. “Well, I suppose you haven’t turned green yet.”
“Thanks. I think.” Vocho turned to Esti. “So you’re probably not trying to poison me. I appreciate it, really I do. But look, trust isn’t something we come by easily. Especially lately. We’ve only got your word for all this, against the word of someone who, while I don’t trust him much, it’s more than I do you. He at least has not made my back a flaming pit of hell.”
Esti sat up straight at that. “He hasn’t removed Sabates’ means of finding you either, has he?”
“I’ve only got your word for that. Haven’t I?”
Esti’s mouth flapped open and shut as though she was desperate to say something, but no words would do justice to her rage. She stood up, shoved the chair out of her way and stormed out of the room.
“Nice one, Voch. Pissing off the one person who’s helped us in this godforsaken place.”
“Are you saying you trust her?”
“No. No, not exactly. But I don’t not trust her either. She did what she said she would, and we’re both still alive. Which, given that she’s fed us for a couple of days, means I don’t think she wants us dead or we’d be foaming at the mouth.”
Vocho tried to sit up straight, winced and gave the toddler another biscuit to forestall the next sticky-fingered assault on his person.
“True enough.”
Kacha sat down opposite him. “Look, Voch, there isn’t much choice. This place is being watched. And why didn’t Alicia finish us off when she got the chance? Well, maybe so she could follow and watch. I get the feeling there’s not much love lost between her and Esti, and if Sabates really is looking for her, we just led him right to her door. Why in hells should she trust us? But I tell you one thing: she might not be being honest about why, but I can tell you she hates Sabates’ guts as much as you do. So why not trust that? Anyway, we’ve got to leave; you know it and so do I.”
“To Reyes, and Petri, no doubt.”
“Not just Petri. Eneko trying a coup is our business.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It’s guild business. As is the fate of Reyes itself. You’re a fickle bugger, Voch, and I know it, but I can’t believe you’d just let the place go to hell without even trying.”
“Can and will, given half a chance.”
“Fine. You stay here, and Alicia can catch you and flay you alive.”
“Or we can get flayed alive in Reyes.”
Kacha sat back with a sigh. He had a point. Wherever they went, whatever they did, flaying was a distinct possibility.
Esti slammed back into the room and banged a small clay bottle on the table.
“What’s that?” Vocho asked suspiciously.
“That,” Esti said, “is the antidote to what I gave Sabates to use. It’s mostly sugar–a good dollop of that will help if you can’t get anything else or lose this–plus a dose of goatsfoot trefoil.”
Bakar, whose fevered dreams had led to this, all of it if indirectly. Kacha looked at Vocho and could tell he’d had exactly the same thought. “The antidote?” she asked.
“You’ll need to find out how the poison is being administered and stop it, and you’ll need to keep using this for a while after that. But it’ll reverse the effects sure enough. And Kacha?”
“Yes?”
“Sabates. You get him and you get him good, for me.”
Kacha looked at her long and hard. To trust her or not? Even if she was only telling them the half of it, the antidote might be enough to get Bakar back into his right mind and them a pardon. If they could get the antidote to him, of course.
“All right.”
“Kass!” Vocho’s mouth had dropped open, and he looked comical in his dismay.
“You don’t have to come,” she said. “You can stay here and deal with Alicia if and when she finds you. Or any number of other people who’d love to turn you over to the king for the reward. Or you can hide away with Esti here, and I’m sure she won’t put a damned thing into your food, will you, Esti?”
The botanist grinned at Vocho. “Well, I can’t promise anything. Old habits die hard.”
Vocho raised his hands in defeat. “All right, all right. I suppose being flayed at home beats being flayed in a foreign country. Reyes it is.”
Chapter Thirteen
Alicia stared out of the window and watched the play of light on the glass of the university as the sun rose. Behind her Gerlar stood still as stone, waiting for her to speak, to say something about what he’d just told her. She took her time.
“So, Vocho and Kacha have left. No one visited them?”
“No, ma’am, not that I saw.”
Damn. She was sure he would have done. Then again Domenech was too good to let just anyone see him. Still, he’d turn up wherever the damnable duellists went, she was sure of it. And at least she knew where that little traitor Esti was hiding.
“Where did they go?”
“Livery stables on the edge of the city, ma’am. Looks like they’d had their horses there a while. Cheap place, and they didn’t look too happy with the state of the horses, but they paid up and left. Heading south.”
Back to Reyes. Well, that was a stupid move. What did they think they could achieve?
“You saw no one else? Are you sure?”
“No one went in or out except that Esti woman and some children.”
Alicia snapped out her fan and tried to move the too-hot air around with little success. “I thought life-warriors were supposed to be the best.”
“At fighting, ma’am. Not as spies.”
Alicia watched the play of light as she contemplated. She couldn’t track Vocho any more. She’d tried over the last few days, but while he was a tickle in her mind, even that was gradually fading. Esti, no doubt; the woman had an irritating way of thwarting her whether she meant to or not. The end result was the same.
Well then. Kacha and Vocho were gone, but it seemed clear enough where they were heading. Good luck to them. The plains to the south were alive with soldiers–new recruits, all moving as quietly as possible to the border–not to mention farmers and an army of slaves. The king had bought every one he could find, and now they were taking in the sugar harvest, replacing the Ikarans he’d drafted into his army. And Vocho and Kacha with prices on their heads as possible Reyen spies. Kacha in particular would stand out, even dressed in Ikaran clothes, and neither could speak Ikaran well enough to pass.
Where they were heading wasn’t the important question. The real question was, why? Why back to Reyes, where they were even more likely to be recognised and lose their heads than they were here? What did they hope to achieve? What had changed?
She snapped the fan again. Ikaras was very pretty in the dawn, before the heat fell like a hammer.
Gerlar hadn’t seen who she’d hoped, but he was so very good at not being seen, at disappearing into shadows. Maybe Esti knew something useful, and she knew where the little witch was now. Alicia smiled behind her fan. And she needed some blood as well. Now there was a plan.
She pulled a jar of leeches from a shelf and got to work.
Alicia had to admit it–the place was well disguised. No wonder she’d never been able to find Esti. If Gerlar hadn’t told her, she’d never have even known it was there. He show
ed her the way now, silent and watchful.
The thickets of vines and mangroves weren’t unusual in this quarter of the city, where sparkling glass gave way to houses built wherever some wretch could hack out a space at the edge of the swamp north of the shallow harbour before the land rose sharply. The stink of stagnant water coiled through what she supposed must be called streets, if only because they connected houses, but they were ankle-deep in water that grew darker and deeper the further out you went. Dark shapes moved in the water under the stilts of some of the far houses.
Alicia picked her way with care yet was still stained with swamp mud when she reached it. The only hint that this tangle of putrid vegetation was anything other than what it appeared was the mud-streaked dog sitting in the shade of a mangrove as though at attention and a dark tunnel that led off into the deep green of it.
She and Gerlar watched from the shadow of a tangle of driftwood on stilts that seemed to serve several families as a house. Alicia prepared herself mentally, not that Esti was especially powerful. Not as strong as Alicia anyway, but it wouldn’t do to underestimate her. Not as strong, but she was unusual. Manipulating people, persuading and nudging them in the direction you wished them to go, that was every magician’s skill. A few could use animals in much the same manner. Alicia had never seen another who could manipulate plants.
A pathetic skill, she’d once thought it, as pathetic as its owner. They’d all thought that right up until they’d found Harnet hanging in a vine forest that had sprung up overnight in his rooms with a branch grown through where his heart had been. Esti, found in the corner with a strange smile on her face, had claimed self-defence. It had been only her good luck that Sabates had seen something in her odd powers, and while he couldn’t go against the king, he had hidden her away from non-magical eyes. Lied about her to the other magicians, kept her and his plans secret even from Alicia. Esti had escaped that confinement too, and it was only then, as Sabates had raged about her, that Alicia had become aware her biggest rival was still alive and in Ikaras.
