Return of the Exile l-3

by Mary H. Herbert

  She stepped into the room, her hands clenched into fists beside her, her entire demeanor stiff and apprehensive. He did not hesitate. He strode to her, pulled the candle from her hand, and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides.

  Linsha could scarcely breath in his embrace. She could feel his intense need for her, and the reality of it sickened her. She didn’t want this man, and she knew at that moment that she could never bear to give herself to him even in pretense. She squirmed to pull her arm loose, but his hold was too tight. His lips trailed down her neck and his hands moved over her back. Her wrap dress fell loose and remained between them only by the pressure of his body against hers.

  She forced herself to relax. Pushing every feeling of revulsion aside, she made the lightest hint of a moan and leaned closer to him.

  “Thank Takhisis you are mine now,” he said huskily in her ear. “I have waited too long.”

  She felt his arms release their tight grip around her enough to move further down her body. She squirmed just enough so she could take a deep breath. He grinned at her, misinterpreting her action, and she smiled in return. Taking her breath, she held it and pulled her arm loose. She raised her palm and blew the powder into his face.

  Lanther coughed and choked once then toppled to the floor with a heavy thud.

  Linsha looked down at him. “You’ll have to wait a damned sight longer,” she snarled at his unconscious form. Suddenly her own head swam and her eyes unfocused. She realized belatedly that talking while that powder was in the air was not such a good idea. She quickly staggered away and sat down on the bed where she could breathe without falling over. For a short time she breathed slowly and deeply to clear her head, and while she rested she stared at Lanther.

  The temptation to wrap her fingers around his neck and apply pressure to the artery just under the skin was almost more than she could bear. Her fingers itched to throttle him or smash the wine ewer into his skull. He was a menace, a constant danger to her world and her life. He had not hesitated to betray the encampment at the Scorpion Wadi, murder Sir Remmik, or order the slaughter of hundreds of defenders in Duntollik. If given the opportunity he would return to the Plains of Dust and kill anyone in his path to an empire.

  She forced her teeth to unclench and took several more relaxing breaths. She wanted to kill him, wanted it so badly she could feel it like a fever. But she couldn’t. She would let him live for now. If he came at her with a weapon, she would not give a second thought to killing him, but even without Afec’s warning, she knew she was not like Lanther. She was a Knight of Solamnia, Order of the Rose, trained by the Oath and the Measure and sworn to accept honor as one’s guide. She could not in good conscience kill Lanther while he was helpless and unarmed. She just hoped she didn’t live to regret her decision.

  Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t gag him, tie him, and make him completely uncomfortable while she made her escape. Quickly she doused the candles and worked silently in the ambient moonlight to truss the Akkad-Dar very tightly and gag him so he could not make a sound. Just in case a passing sentry decided to peer in an open window, she heaved Lanther up on the bed and covered him with a blanket, and just to be sure he did not wake anytime soon, she dusted him with more powder.

  When she was satisfied, she went to the small cabinet under the wash basin and found a clear glass bottle filled with a dark liquid that gleamed with the faintest hint of red when she held it up to the candlelight. She was unwilling to leave it behind, so she wrapped it in the cloth bag and tied it to her stomach. After that it took only a moment to change into the dark clothes, tie Afec’s knotted belt around her waist, and tuck the pouch of powder into her waistband. She still had the wax on her palm, but she decided to leave it for now. If any of it remained, it might come in handy later. She slipped through a window as stealthily as a cat and slid into the shadowed groves of the garden.

  Her mind worked fast as she moved carefully from one patch of shadow to the next. She wasn’t sure where she was in relationship to the Akeelawasee, but if she could find that she could find Callista and slip down the promontory one more time. The thought of the courtesan climbing down the long rock face gave her pause, yet they really had no choice. She did not want to assault the guards on the stairs leading down to the cavern if she didn’t have to.

  So all she had to do was avoid the guards, find the Akeelawasee, get Callista, go over the wall, and climb down the steep stone cliff to awaken the dragon. She just hoped the night and the sleeping powder lasted that long.

  13

  Slave Magic

  Linsha found the main palace building and the door leading within. She watched the shadows by the walls and the dark corners, and when she saw no one move, she slipped inside.

  Something shifted behind her. She heard the brush of sandals on the wooden floor and suddenly a clammy hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Quiet,” hissed a voice in her ear. The smell of herbs and incense filled her nostrils. Afec.

  Linsha relaxed and nodded once.

  He backed away, gestured for her to follow, and led her to an empty room just a few paces away. “I hoped you would be able to flee him,” he whispered.

  Linsha gave him a hug. “Are you all right?” she demanded. “Where have you been?”

  He hugged her back but quickly backed away, looking nonplussed and embarrassed. “Busy. Preparing for your marriage ceremony. Among other things, I was sent to prepare the royal pavilion. Was it to your liking?”

  “It was to Lanther’s.” She held up a quick hand to forestall any worries. “I did not kill him-hard as that was. He sleeps in bed, where he should be this late at night.”

  Afec bowed in agreement. “As it should be. Did you bring the bottle?” When she nodded, he pantomimed pulling a cork. “Good. Now you take that to her. If she is asleep, pour it in her mouth. Make her drink it. It is a tonic to counteract the spells of the High Priest and renew her strength.”

  Linsha patted the bottle under her shirt. “Is this what we gave her the other day?”

  “It is very close. This has… more. To help her fight the poisons of the Keena.”

  “Do the Damjatt have the same potions?”

  “No. We have learned to make our own.” He took her elbow in the dark and led her silently to the door. “There are only a few hours of darkness left. You must go fetch the dragon. As soon as she is strong enough, fly with her away from here.”

  Linsha stopped in her tracks. “But I have to take Callista. I cannot leave her behind. And what about you? We cannot just leave you. Come with us.”

  Afec shook his head vehemently. “I have been down to the caves to see the dragon. She is not strong enough to carry three. You go release her. I will fetch Callista. We will wait for you by the lake in the garden of the Akeelawasee.”

  The plan sounded reasonable to Linsha-much more reasonable than trying to help Callista climb down the rocky promontory. But the thought of leaving Afec behind did not sit quietly. There had to be some way to help him.

  “What if-”

  He cut her off. “Come,” he beckoned. “I know other ways to the lower levels of the palace.”

  Light of foot, they passed out of the room and trod silently into the maze of back corridors and small stairs that only the slaves and servants knew well. They saw a few guards and one patrol along their way, but Afec stayed in the shadows and avoided their attention. They went down about three floors before they stepped off a flight of stairs into a dark hall that disappeared into darkness in both directions.

  “I must go this way to the Akeelawasee,” Afec told her. “If you go to the right, you will come to a small door that opens to the main stairs leading down to the cavern. It is forbidden for slaves to go that way, so I can only tell you what I’ve heard.”

  Linsha reached for the knotted belt to return it, but the old Damjatt touched her hand. “Take it. I can always make another.”

  They parted quickly and went opposite w
ays down the long corridor. Linsha followed the way Afec had indicated and soon found the hall ended in a stone wall with a guard standing stiffly at attention. A small oil lamp hung from a sconce on the wall beside him and lit the area with insufficient light. Behind him she could see a narrow door.

  She pulled loose the powder bag and hefted it experimentally. There wasn’t much left, but if all went well, she wouldn’t need much more. Too bad really. The powder was very useful. Since the wax was nearly gone from her palm, she made another impromptu bag from a strip of her tunic and added a little powder. She swallowed hard to moisten her dry throat, then she strutted forward in her baggy dark clothes as if she had every right to be there and knew exactly what she was doing.

  “You!” she snapped in clear Tarmakian. “Where does that door lead?”

  The guard was a young Tarmak, probably placed on guard at that quiet door late in the night to practice patience and self-discipline. He looked very startled to see her.

  “Drathkin’kela, what are you-” he began. He got no further.

  Linsha walked swiftly to him, so close she could smell the old sweat on his body and the fat he had rubbed into his leather gear. He took a step back in alarm, and she swatted his face with her powder bag. The pale powder flew out in a cloud, forcing her to leap back out of the way. The Tarmak crashed to the floor with a clatter of weapons. This time Linsha did not hesitate to take weapons. She removed his dagger, belt axe, and the short, powerful sword strapped at his waist, then she rolled him out of the narrow patch of light and into the dense shadows. The weapons felt good in her hands. She shoved the dagger and the axe in her belt, held the powder bag in one hand, and gripped the sword in the other. It felt like an old friend.

  Cautiously she opened the door and peered in. As she hoped, it opened onto a small alcove to the side of the dimly lit staircase that led down to the dragon’s cave. In her bare feet she padded quickly down the stairs, keeping a careful watch for any guards on the way. The steps remained empty, and when she reached the last step she saw the tunnel was clear to the cave opening. At the entrance to the cave, however, there were two warriors standing to either side of the door. Both looked alert and very imposing. These Tarmaks guarded the main entry into the sacred cave and were far different opponents than the untried youth at the side door. She would not be able to slip up on them either, for the tunnel cut straight and clear from the stairs to the cave with no cover other than the dark shadows from one torch to the next.

  Linsha frowned. There was no time for finesse and no room for error. She had to dispatch these two quickly or she would never be able to revive Sirenfal in time to meet Callista before daylight. It seemed very important to get away before the sun rose, before Lanther revived. She did not want to face his wrath, nor did she want Sirenfal to have to fight the Tarmaks. The brass would need all her strength to fly across the Courrain Ocean.. _

  She pressed into a shadow and tried to think. She had no throwing knives and no bow. Just sleeping powder, a sword, and her reputation as “Friend of Dragons.” The frontal approach had worked before. The Tarmaks did not seem to be able to conceive of a woman approaching them unarmed as anything but a curiosity and a nuisance.

  She pushed the dagger and axe around behind her back and wrapped her hand around the bag of powder where it could not be seen. Reluctantly she left the sword behind. It had only been hers for a short time, but it was too obvious to carry. Lifting a torch from its sconce on the wall, she stepped out into the corridor and walked boldly toward the guards.

  “Good morning,” she called. “The Akkad-Dar is sleeping well.” She chuckled meaningfully. “But I cannot. He gave me permission to visit the dragon.”

  The guards exchanged glances. Although her Tarmakian was more than a little rough, they seemed to understand all of it. The question was, Linsha thought, would they accept it?

  “The dragon’s cave is forbidden to women,” one guard told her.

  Linsha continued to walk toward them. “I’ve already been here, remember? I remember you. You helped the priests prepare the funeral pyre and stood guard at the foot of the steps in the cavern.”

  The guards looked uncertainly at each other again, and Linsha pressed her point in her most arrogant tone of voice.

  “I’m not like the other women. I have fought to the death and won. I am the Chosen of the Akkad-Dar. Do I have to go back to him and tell him you did not allow me access to the dragon’s cave when he has already given his permission?”

  By this time she had almost reached the two Tarmaks. They glowered down at her, their expressions tense.

  “I shall ask the priest Imshallik if you may enter,” one guard told her.

  He was turning to go into the cave when Linsha threw the bag of powder and hit the other guard in the face. The first guard whipped around, drawing his sword as he turned, and he met Linsha’s dagger coming around to strike his stomach.

  The Tarmak blade sank in deep just below his ribs. He gave a grunt of surprise, clutched his wound with one hand and with the other brought his sword around to chop her head off.

  Linsha ducked the blow and lunged toward the second guard who lay sprawled on the stone floor. Her hand reached for the dusty powder bag, snatched it up, and threw it at the wounded guard. It grazed his head and flew by to hit the wall behind him. Linsha thought she had missed him with the bag, but the light graze had been enough to shake powder loose over his face. He staggered, fell to his knees, then toppled forward onto the dagger still embedded in his stomach.

  Satisfied, Linsha retrieved another sword and dagger and hurried into the cave. The guards had warned her that a priest was somewhere within. As late as it was, she hoped he slept in the room Sirenfal had mentioned. Perhaps she should ensure he remained asleep.

  Quietly she ran into the cave and hurried down the stairs to the main cavern floor. She saw Sirenfal asleep by the wall, but she turned away from the dragon and slipped over to the doorway that led into the priest’s sleeping room. The room was dark and silent. The bed was empty. Where was the Keena?

  Linsha muttered several frustrated words under her breath and dashed to the dragon. This time the brass did not rouse at her arrival. She lay curled tightly in a ball. Her eyes were firmly shut. She was barely breathing.

  “Oh no.” Linsha hissed. The dragon seemed to be in a state of dormancy. She knew dragons could put themselves in a deep hibernation, but she could not believe Sirenfal had done this to herself intentionally, not after their talk only three days ago. The brass had been truly sincere in her desire to escape her captivity. Which meant, Linsha decided in growing anger, the priests had probably drugged her again.

  Desperate, she heaved at Sirenfal’s head and pulled it out from under the dragon’s wing. Staggering under the dead weight of the dragon’s big head, she tugged and pulled and finally stretched the neck out onto the stone floor. She untied the bottle under her tunic and brought it out. Afec had said to pour it into the dragon’s mouth, so Linsha hauled open Sirenfal’s mouth and, holding the dragon’s upper jaw with one hand, she poured the thick, dark liquid over the dragon’s tongue.

  Obviously the dragon could not swallow while she was asleep, so how did the liquid get into her stomach? Linsha wondered. Maybe it didn’t have to. Maybe it absorbed into Sirenfal’s blood through her mouth. She didn’t know, and Afec hadn’t told her. She just had to trust the Damjatt and hope this tonic worked quickly.

  She dropped the bottle and spread her hands over Sirenfal’s forehead. Her eyes closed as she concentrated on the power of the dragon scales hanging around her neck. She focused the power and send it inward to the dragon’s mind. At this close proximity, she should have no trouble reaching Sirenfal’s conscious thoughts-if there were any. Yet she found nothing. The dragon was completely unconscious and her thoughts buried under a shroud of dense obscurity. Linsha wished she had the talent to reach deeper. All she could do was try to talk to her and perhaps lead her closer to consciousness.

 
Sirenfal. I am here. It is time to go. You have to fight this! I have given you a tonic. Find it in your body and put it to use. It will help you, if you want to leave this place. She went on, sending her message to the unconscious dragon with growing urgency.

  All at once a massive pain exploded in her back. Linsha cried out and fell sprawling on the floor beside the dragon. The high priest in his black robes leaned over her, a staff in his hands and a look of utter fury on his rugged face. Several Tarmak guards stood behind him, and one held a bloody dagger in his hand.

  “Where is the text, woman?” snarled the priest. “What have you done with it?”

  Linsha had no idea what he was talking about and had no time to give it further thought. The priest reached into his robes and pulled out an amulet of dragon’s teeth hanging on a cord around his neck.

  Linsha struggled in the hands of the guards. “Sirenfal!” she screamed. “Wake up!”

  The priest laughed, a nasty sound that reverberated through the cave. “The dragon cannot hear you, and the Akkad-Dar will not save you.” Holding the amulet in his hand, he reached out to Linsha.

  She saw his hand coming and threw herself backward in the Tarmaks’ hold. She looked frantically for her powder bag, but she had left it in the tunnel beside the wall where it had fallen after she threw it at the guard. The warriors tightened their grip and held her still.

  The priest’s hand touched her face. Pain bright and agonizing exploded in her head, and yet, even as the priest’s magic ripped away her strength and tortured her mind, she realized this was not as bad as the time the Akkad-Ur or Lanther had used this spell on her. Either the priest was not as strong or something was interfering with his magic.

  Then she had no more time. The Tarmaks dragged her up the stairs away from Sirenfal and into the tunnel. She sagged in their hands in despair. Her chance to waken the dragon was gone. She would be taken to Lanther, and if he was lenient he would punish her and imprison her somewhere where she would never see the light of day again. If he was not, she would die.