by Anne Bishop
A woman screaming in rage.
A man roaring a battle cry.
A child screaming in terror.
Then he remembered the other danger that lived among the boulders.
Jared ran to the flat-topped boulder and climbed up it as fast as he could.
He saw Garth first.
The big man stood at the edge of the large nest of viper rats, pounding, pounding, pounding the faintly squeaking bodies into pulp. Tears ran down his face, and each breath came out as a sob.
Jared looked to the right and saw Lia crawling away from the nest, dragging Tomas with her.
Jared slid down the boulder, landing hard on his hands and knees. “Lia!” When she didn’t respond, he crawled after her and grabbed her foot. “Lia!”
She didn’t answer him, didn’t notice him. With one arm wrapped around Tomas’s chest, she kept trying to crawl away from the nest.
Jared leaned forward to grab the back of her coat, lost his balance, and fell on top of her.
She still tried to crawl.
“Lia!” Thera cried.
Jared rolled off Lia and looked up.
Blaed and Thera stumbled toward him.
“Let go, Lia,” Thera gasped, dropping to her knees beside the now-still body. When she couldn’t pry Lia’s fingers open, she used Craft to rip Tomas’s tunic around the clenched hand.
Blaed dragged the boy a few feet. Thera went with him.
Breathing hard, Jared turned Lia onto her back.
Her tunic was so torn, she was almost bare to the waist.
He looked into glazed gray eyes that stared back at him, unseeing.
Numb, Jared saw the smears of blood, the grotesque swelling of the viper rat bites on her jaw and neck, the swelling above her left breast. Aching, he listened as Lia struggled to breathe. Desperate, he tried to remember something, anything, about healing Craft that would save her.
Thera knelt beside him. Tears ran down her face.
“Tomas?” Jared asked.
“We’ll honor him as Blood,” Thera replied.
Jared waited for Thera to do something.
She simply knelt beside him, her hands pressed against her thighs.
“Help her,” Jared said, frightened by Thera’s calm shell.
Thera licked the tears from the corners of her mouth. “I only know a little basic healing, Jared. My knowledge of poisons is limited to what a Black Widow needs to know for herself. There’s too much venom in her. I’m s-sorry. I don’t h-have the s-skill.”
Watching Thera curl in on herself, Jared didn’t realize the pounding had stopped until the broken axle, now slimed with gore, thumped down beside him and a heavy hand squeezed his shoulder hard enough to crack bone.
He looked up at Garth’s tear-stained face.
“Yyyou fffind help,” Garth said, fighting for each word. “Yyyou go. Yyyou take—” He pointed at Lia. “Fffind help. Fffind sssafe place.”
Help. Safe place.
Hope shot through Jared.
Closing his eyes to concentrate, he sent out a summons on a Red spear thread. North, toward Ranon’s Wood. *Belarr!*
He waited a moment, then tried again. *Belarr! I need help!*
No answer.
Even if Belarr was still angry with him, he wouldn’t ignore a call for help.
*Father!*
No answer.
He tried an Opal thread. *Mother! We need a Healer!*
Silence.
Lia’s breathing sounded harsher.
Jared sent out a broad summons at the depth of the Red, letting it spread in an ever-widening circle as far as he could push it. There was the risk that an enemy might answer, but he felt desperate enough to believe any answer was better than none. *Please! I need help!*
Not knowing what else to do, he tried again and again.
Here.
At first, he wasn’t sure he’d been answered.
Here.
Not a communication thread. This was far more subtle. He couldn’t tell whether it was a male or female who had answered him. Couldn’t even tell what direction it had come from.
Here.
It would guide him. He couldn’t have explained why he believed that, but as he felt that coaxing tug, he was sure of it.
Jared opened his eyes and got to his feet.
“Something?” Thera whispered.
The painful hope in Thera’s voice decided him. “A chance,” he said as he picked up Lia.
“She can’t go like that,” Thera said, calling in her dark-green, hooded cloak. “She’ll get cold.”
Jared wasn’t sure Lia could feel anything at this point, but he didn’t argue. He and Blaed held her upright while Thera draped the cloak around her and pulled up the hood.
Jared wrapped his arms around Lia, resting her head against his shoulder. He looked at Blaed. “Get to Ranon’s Wood as fast as you can, any way you can.” He hesitated, hoping it would be true. “We’ll join you there.”
Blaed slipped an arm around Thera’s waist. “May the Darkness embrace you, Jared.”
“And you.”
Here.
Putting a Red shield around Lia, Jared caught the Red Wind and followed the promise of help.
* * *
Had it been a trick after all?
Jared stared at the large, rough-looking traveler’s inn. Somehow, the clean windows and the small flower beds on either side of the brightly painted door made the rambling stone building look rougher, like a sweaty laborer standing next to a woman dressed for an afternoon tea.
Not a sleek or refined place, Jared decided. Definitely not to aristo tastes, but definitely Blood. There was an unmistakable feel to a place where the Blood resided, a psychic residue that was absorbed by wood and stone.
Turning away from the inn, Jared focused his attention on the nearby road that led to a Blood village a couple of miles away. Was that his destination?
Sighing, he reluctantly turned back to the inn. The coaxing tug that had guided him had stopped here. If whoever had answered him was in the village, wouldn’t the tugging have continued? Here, then.
A cautious probe had told him there were twenty people in the inn, three of them women. Maybe one was a Healer.
Jared looked over his shoulder at the faint outline of a cloaked body. He’d taken the precaution of wrapping a Red sight shield around Lia before they’d dropped from the Winds to this landing place, and he’d used Craft to float her so that it wouldn’t be obvious to anyone who might look out a window that he wasn’t alone. For a moment, he listened to her labored breathing, both pained and relieved by the sound.
He hadn’t found the Red-Jeweled person who had guided him there when he’d probed the inn on his arrival. That’s why he was still standing on the landing place, even though he knew Lia’s life was trickling away with every minute he hesitated.
Decide, he thought. Decide before she takes a breath and then doesn’t take another.
Jared raked his hands through his hair and brushed at his clothes. He smiled grimly. He doubted the owner or the customers were dressed much better, so at least he wasn’t going to look out of place.
All right. He’d rent a room where he could safely tuck Lia while he tried to find someone with the healing skills to help her. Failing that, he’d use the healing skills he had. Failing that . . .
Jared straightened his shoulders. He wouldn’t fail. No matter what he had to do, he was not going to just sit back and watch her die.
He added an aural shield and a psychic shield to the sight and protective shields already around Lia so that the others wouldn’t detect her psychic scent or hear any sounds she might make. The shields would make her completely invisible to anyone who wore less than the Red. Even another Red would only pick up a faint outline.
Jared took a deep breath. As he breathed out, he wrapped psychic threads around himself and Lia that sent out a feeling of danger and violence. With his Red Jewel hanging in plain sight, those projected feelings
should be enough to keep everyone at a distance. All his efforts to prevent anyone from knowing she was there wouldn’t be worth anything if someone bumped into her.
With Lia floating upright behind him, Jared strode to the inn.
Balls and sass, he repeated under his breath. Balls and sass.
The door opened onto the common drinking room. To the left was a partially open door that led into a small, private room.
A heavy silence descended as every man in the room turned toward the door, including the bushy-bearded, Green-Jeweled Warlord standing behind the bar—a man who looked big enough and strong enough to wrestle with Garth and come out the winner.
Standing in the doorway, Jared looked at every face. No one but the innkeeper met his eyes for more than a second. Except for the innkeeper, the men were either lighter-Jeweled Warlords or Blood males who wore no Jewels at all.
Jared slowly walked to the bar, relieved that the men, picking up the scent of danger and violence that swirled around him, carefully moved out of his way. Calling in the gold marks he hadn’t returned to Lia after his trip to the village, Jared placed one on the bar and looked the Green-Jeweled Warlord in the eyes.
The innkeeper calmly returned the look, but Jared noticed a flicker of something else in the depths of the man’s eyes. Relief?
“What’s your pleasure, Warlord?” the innkeeper rumbled.
Jared let the silence spin out a little before he answered. “A room with a bath, if you have it. Dinner. A bottle of good whiskey.”
“Have a room that shares a bath with one other. All the others use the common bathing rooms.”
“Is the other room occupied?”
That flicker again in the innkeeper’s eyes. “It is.”
Damn.
Jared turned slightly away from the bar and scanned the room. No one admitted being the other room’s occupant. However, tucked between the staircase leading to the upstairs rooms and the inner wall of the small, private room was a round table that held an open bottle and a half-full glass of red wine.
The prickling started between Jared’s shoulder blades as two things struck him: Wine wasn’t usually served in a place like this, and all the men were standing or sitting on this side of the room, as if no one wanted to get too close to that table.
He had to get Lia out of this room before whoever was sitting at that table returned.
“I’ll take the room,” he said to the innkeeper.
The man took the gold mark. He set a bottle of whiskey and a key on the bar. “There are glasses and a jug of water in the room.”
Noting the number, Jared slipped the key into his pocket and picked up the whiskey.
He took a couple of steps toward the stairs and stopped, clutching the bottle with suddenly numb fingers.
The table was no longer unoccupied.
Daemon Sadi raised the wineglass in a mocking salute.
Balls and sass, Jared muttered silently as he walked over to the table, careful to keep Lia hidden behind him. Balls and sass.
“Prince Sadi,” Jared said politely.
“Lord Jared,” Daemon murmured.
The golden eyes watching him looked deceptively sleepy. That deep voice flowed over him like warm water over bare skin. That beautiful face might have been carved from ice for all the feeling it revealed.
“What brings you here?” Jared asked, feeling sweat trickle down his sides. He didn’t have time for this. Lia didn’t have time for this. “It’s not the sort of place I’d expect to find you or your Lady.”
“You’re right about my current Lady. This wouldn’t be to her taste.” Daemon sipped his wine. “But I sometimes find places like this a refreshing change from a court.”
“Then you’re alone?” Jared couldn’t mask his surprise fast enough.
“My Lady and I have reached an agreement. I spend a few days away from the court each month.”
“What does she get in return?”
The Sadist smiled.
Jared shuddered.
“I don’t hurt her as much as I want to,” Daemon said too softly. Another wineglass appeared on the table. “Join me, Lord Jared.”
It wasn’t an invitation or a request.
Feeling sick, Jared tried to smile. “It would be a pleasure, but let me wash the travel dirt off first.” He didn’t wait for Daemon’s consent, but turned toward the stairs, using Craft to float Lia in a counterturn so that she ended up in front of him.
Sweet Darkness, please don’t let the Sadist notice her, Jared silently prayed as he climbed the stairs, painfully aware of those golden eyes watching every move.
As soon as he was out of Daemon’s line of sight, Jared grabbed Lia and hurried down the corridor. The inn was larger than he’d thought, and it took him a couple of minutes to find the side corridor that held his room.
He put a Red shield around the room, a Red lock on the door. He pulled back the bedcovers, dropped all the shields around Lia and laid her carefully on the bed.
When he vanished her clothes and looked at her, the strength went out of his legs. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the viper rat bites.
They had swollen to twice the size they’d been when he’d taken Lia away from the wagon a short time ago. In the center, where the rats’ teeth had broken the skin, the bites looked pus-filled and yellow. The rest of the swollen skin was an angry, red-streaked purple that darkened to black.
The only viper rat bite he’d ever seen was the one his little brother Davin had gotten. Granted, that was years ago, but he didn’t remember it looking so dark and malignant.
Jared tucked the bedcovers around Lia’s still body. “I’ll find someone to help,” he whispered, gently brushing her dark hair away from her pale face. “I swear it.”
There had to be a back staircase, a servants’ staircase, some other way to reach the ground floor without using the stairs where Sadi waited for him. Hell’s fire, he’d climb out a window if he had to. One way or another, he was going to find a Healer and drag her back here. And no one, not even the Sadist, was going to stop him.
After probing the corridor to be sure it was empty, Jared slipped out of the room and Red-locked the door.
He’d taken one step when a phantom hand clamped around his throat and slammed him against the wall next to the door. Strong, slender fingers squeezed, cutting off his air. Long nails pricked his skin.
Jared tried using Craft to pry that crushing hand away from his throat, but it just absorbed the strength of the Red and squeezed harder. Knowing it was useless, he raised his hands as if he could physically pull the hand away. His own nails scratched his neck as his efforts became more desperate, but there was nothing to fight, nothing to grab. He could do nothing, while it could kill him.
Finally, too breathless to fight, he dropped his hands to his sides and leaned against the wall.
A sight shield slowly faded.
Daemon leaned against the opposite wall, his hands in his trouser pockets, his golden eyes still sleepy.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t tear your throat out,” Daemon said too quietly.
“You’ve no reason to,” Jared gasped. “Isn’t that reason enough?”
Daemon made a sound that might have been laughter. “You really shouldn’t play games with anyone from such a perverted race as Hayll, little Warlord. You say I have no reason. I say I do. Where do you think that leaves you?”
“Dead.”
Daemon smiled. “Exactly.”
Hell’s fire, it hurt to swallow.
“What are you doing here, Jared?” Daemon asked.
Working to breathe, Jared studied Daemon. The man looked as if he was just making small talk with an acquaintance instead of choking someone to death. Then again, unlike his half brother, who was known to be a walking explosion, Daemon seldom gave any indication of his mood.
“What are you doing here?” Daemon repeated.
This time Jared heard the snarl of temper under the calmly spoken
words.
Struggling to sound calm despite the phantom fingers pressing into his neck, Jared replied, “The witch who owns me is ill. I was ordered to find a place where she can rest.”
“And you couldn’t find a closer Blood community between where you were and here?” Daemon shook his head. “Try again.”
Jared didn’t dare blink let alone breathe. How did Daemon know where they’d been?
“I told you—”
Daemon cut him off. “When the Gray Lady left Raej, you were with her. Why aren’t you still with her, Jared?”
Jared swallowed carefully and wondered how to answer. If he could trust Daemon, there was no one better to help him. If he couldn’t . . . “Ownership changed hands a few days after we left.” That was true in a way. Once Lia’s illusion web had broken, the Gray Lady was no longer part of their little group.
“What happened to the Gray Lady?”
Jared tried to shrug. “She’s probably back in Dena Nehele by now.”
The phantom hand pulled him away from the wall and slammed him back into it.
Something malevolent flickered in Daemon’s eyes. “Dorothea’s Master of the Guard is hunting for the Gray Lady. Every band of marauders who preys in this part of the Realm has been sniffing around for a particular quarry. Does that sound like Grizelle’s safely returned to Dena Nehele?” Daemon sighed and looked at the ceiling. “This is becoming tedious, so I’ll make it easy for you. You have three chances to give me a believable answer. After that, I’ll take the information I want. But I’ll make sure I leave enough of your mind intact so that you’re able to fully understand what I’m doing when I tear your little witch apart.” He paused. “What are you doing here, Jared?”
For a moment, Jared felt too stunned to even try to answer. Even the agony of the Ring of Obedience was a mild threat compared to this. He’d have no chance against Daemon. His inner barriers would be forced open, his thoughts, feelings, memories picked over like tawdry goods at a market stall. At best, it would be a mental rape. At worst, he wouldn’t necessarily be broken, but he could still be savaged so badly he’d never fully recover.
And what would happen to Lia? Daemon made no secret of his revulsion for the distaff gender.
Jared licked his dry lips. “It’s none of your business, Daemon.”
