The Curse Giver

by Dora Machado

  Hato decided to act. Eleanor insisted she would stay to take care of Bren, but a wary Hato made arrangements for Pharseus to look after his lord and for the balance of the Twenty to continue to guard him. Taking Clio and Cirillo with him, he followed Khalia and Tatyene as the bodyguard led them to the place where Lusielle, Severo and Elfu had been ambushed.

  Tatyene stood under a decorated bridge. “This is where it happened.”

  “It figures.” Khalia fiddled with the pack of keys she wore on her belt until she found one that fit on the keyhole of the little door and opened it. “This bridge is located in between two traffic towers.”

  Hato took in the rounded chamber. It was designed to facilitate the flow of Teos’s private traffic, mostly Chosen, high-ranking highborn, and their messengers and servants. Ten different openings came together at the chamber, ten different options leading to different places and that was only on the first level.

  “We’re never going to find her.” Hato despaired. His lord would go into the madness and he wouldn’t be at his side to fulfill his oaths.

  Khalia sniffed the robe she clutched in her hands, then the air. Circling the room slowly, she stood before every opening, inhaling like a hound on a trail. “This way.” She marched decisively down a sloping tunnel.

  “You can smell her?”

  “The essence of her,” Khalia said. “I told you I had a good nose.”

  Hato reeled. “Can you—smell me?”

  “I could track you among the stinking demons if I had to.”

  As extraordinary as Khalia’s gift was, it still took her a while to make her way through the labyrinthine corridors. Hato’s impatience grew as Khalia assessed each junction and door that opened up into the tunnel with a set of whiffs, until at last, she found herself hesitating before a small indistinct door. She lifted her fist to knock, but Hato stopped her.

  “We don’t know who hides behind that door,” Hato said. “This could be dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” She flashed him a glance askance and rapped on the door. “I once retrieved a pair of vermilion shells from right under Terrachio’s pillow.”

  Hato had to will his mouth to close, because the door opened and a smartly dressed servant stood on the threshold. Hato recognized the colorful patterned livery and the crest on his breast. It wasn’t what he was expecting. Khalia took one look at the servant and swept by him as if he was as insignificant as the carpet beneath her feet.

  “Tell Ernilda I’m in her parlor,” she said, “and don’t make me wait.”

  “Stay here,” Hato said to Tatyene, Clio and Cirillo, trotting to catch up with Khalia. “I was expecting one of Riva’s allies.”

  “Keep expecting.”

  Khalia strode to the parlor with the authority of one accustomed to rule. The servants didn’t bow so much as cowed as she passed, recognizing her for the high Chosen she was. The groom must have raced all the way up the stairs because by the time Hato and Khalia made it to the ornate parlor, Ernilda was also arriving through the private stairs at the back of the room, still buttoning her lavish overdress.

  “You needed proof?” Khalia said without a greeting. “I’m going to give it to you. But I need access to your cellars and no fuss.”

  “Proof of what?” Hato asked.

  “Men.” Ernilda took the lead. “Follow me.”

  As they marched down the stairs, Hato motioned for Clio, Cirillo and Tatyene to come along.

  “Forty years of marriage,” Khalia said. “And I’ve got to show you?”

  Ernilda threw her hands in the air. “I’ve been telling you—”

  “Talking isn’t enough!”

  “I won’t ruin Barahone with false accusations!”

  “But will you ruin the rest of us?”

  Hato felt like the daftest man alive. “What are you two talking about?”

  “Conspiracy.” Khalia stopped to sniff the air again.

  “We had suspicions but not proof,” Ernilda said.

  “This way.” Khalia rushed down a corridor and stopping again, pointed at a door. “There’s some of her in there, but it’s not quite her.”

  “Steward!” Ernilda called. “Open this door.”

  The scrawny fellow who answered her summons shook his head. “I’m sorry, my lady, but I’m not suppose to—”

  Hato’s staff came down on his head with a hollow thud. The steward collapsed on the ground. Wasting no time, Cirillo grabbed the keys from him and unlocked the door. At first, all that Hato could see was darkness.

  Then he saw the men, trussed like sheep bound for the market.

  Chapter Eighty-one

  SEVERO WRESTLED WITH HIS ROPES IN the darkness, knowing full well that he had fallen into Tatyene’s trap like a snared hare. He could barely move. Beside him, the monkey man was as still as the dead. Damn the Twins. He had gotten his mistress all the way to Teos and for what?

  Steps sounded outside. The door opened. Another body landed next to Severo, trussed and bound just like him. The man was conscious, but they couldn’t communicate because they were both gagged. Could he perhaps have news about his mistress?

  Severo tried for several hours to untie his ropes. He tried to free the other man too, but nothing worked. He was going mad in the dark cell, knowing full well that his mistress was in mortal danger and his lord’s life depended on her.

  He didn’t know what to do. When he found himself reciting the old prayers he had learned as a child, he scolded himself. The gods had conspired against Laonia. The Twins had forsaken them all. They were probably laughing right now, at his lord, at Severo, at all those wasted efforts. If not for amusement, why else were the gods so cruel?

  And still he prayed, because he could do nothing else.

  Hours had passed when he heard a noise outside the door. At first he thought they belonged to the filthy rats who had locked him in, but then he recognized Lord Hato’s voice, as well as Cirillo and Clio’s. Had the fickle Twins answered his prayers?

  When the door finally opened, the light dazzled his eyes.

  “Severo!” Clio loosened the gag and got working on the ropes.

  “We’ve been ambushed, my lord,” Severo said hoarsely. “The mistress, she’s been taken.”

  “It was Orell,” the prisoner next to him said, newly freed by Cirillo.

  “Orell?” Severo cursed. The chances his mistress was alive were very low if Orell had her. He grabbed the man next to him by the mantle. “Who by the damn Twins are you and why are you here?”

  “I’m Vestor,” the other man said.

  “He’s dressed like an Ascended,” the Lady Khalia said.

  “Speak!” Severo shook him. “What do you know of my mistress?”

  “I’m a friend of Lusielle,” the man said. “I saw you when you arrived. I trailed your group and I witnessed what happened. I tried to rescue Lusielle, but Orell was too strong for me. We were separated. I don’t know where she is.”

  Damn the Twins and all the gods. Severo was so mad he could have pummeled the walls.

  “Elfu?” Clio was undoing the monkey man’s ropes, trying to wake him up.

  “He hasn’t regained his senses since the attack,” Severo said.

  “I’m a healer,” Vestor said. “I might be able to help.”

  “Then do so,” the Lord Hato said.

  Severo was rubbing his numbed hands when he spotted that treasonous Tolonian viper standing behind Lord Hato. He broke through and, grabbing Tatyene by the neck, slammed her against the wall. The woman was strong, but she struggled in his grip all the same.

  He snarled. “I’m gonna kill you!”

  “I—didn’t—know,” she tried to speak.

  “Severo?” Lord Hato said. “Let her go. Let. Her. Go,” he repeated, placing his hand on his arm, but Severo had no intention of letting go of the Tolonian traitor until she was dead.

  “It was a misunderstanding,” Lord Hato said. “She helped us find you.”

  “A misunderstandi
ng?” Severo leered, squeezing harder, watching the woman’s struggle for breath. “I don’t think so.”

  “On behalf of the Lord of Laonia,” Lord Hato said. “I command you to let her go.”

  “But she—”

  “Now, Severo, you’re wasting time!”

  Severo’s grip relented.

  The woman collapsed against the wall, gasping for air. “I thought your mistress was going to hurt mine,” she said, wheezing. “That’s why I did it. That’s why I gave her to Orell.”

  Severo groaned. “You’ve killed my mistress!”

  “We don’t know that,” the Lord Hato said. “We must try to find her. Tatyene, lead Vestor, Elfu and Severo back to Laonia’s hall and wait for us there. Be discreet. We don’t want to spook Bausto or Riva into doing anything foolish. Clio, Cirillo, I want you to talk to the grooms and see if you can squeeze any information out of them regarding Orell and his whereabouts.”

  “My lord,” Severo said. “I’d rather go with you.”

  “Lad, you’re not looking so steady on your feet.”

  “My lord gave me a charge and I’ll stick to it,” Severo said.

  “Alright,” Lord Hato said, “but you must hurry. Go along with Clio and Cirillo then. Keep your eyes and ears open for any signs of Orell. If we find him, we find your mistress. Do you understand?”

  Oh, yes, Severo understood. He was going to find Orell no matter what.

  Chapter Eighty-two

  HATO CHASED AFTER KHALIA, WHO WAS on the march again, moving deeper into the cellars. They had gone but a short way when she stopped in front of another door.

  “Ugh.” She grimaced.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s perfume.” Ernilda fumbled with the keys and opened the door. “Lots of it.”

  Khalia gasped as she entered the room.

  Hato rushed in, but saw nothing of concern. “Khalia?”

  Khalia doubled over in pain, cupping her face and whimpering. Blood poured from her nose in alarming spurts.

  “Oh, no,” Ernilda dragged her friend out of the room. “Fresh air. She needs it right away!”

  Hato scooped up Khalia and rushed behind Ernilda, who led him through yet another set of doors, this one disgorging them into a back garden with a small fountain bubbling against the wall. Khalia groaned as she stumbled from his arms and rinsed her face in the fountain.

  “Are you all right?” Ernilda pressed her handkerchief against Khalia’s bleeding nose.

  “I can’t smell anything but blood. I’m a fool. I can’t believe I fell for that.”

  “What just happened?” Hato said.

  “It’s happened once before,” Ernilda said. “Someone has developed a scent to throw her off the trail. This time, they disguised it with heavy perfumes. It was a trap.”

  “A trap?” Hato said. “You mean you’ve done this before?”

  “Teos is rife with intrigue,” Ernilda said. “There are some here who we think conspire with Riva against the territories.”

  “Including your husband Bausto?”

  “Remember Arnulf’s warning,” Ernilda said. “The foe hides in friendship’s shadows, where we come to escape the sun’s angry glare.”

  “The Twins be damned,” Hato said. “It’s a sad day when highborn betray each other in favor of kingship.”

  Ernilda scoffed. “It’s a sad day when wives can’t trust their husbands and husbands suspect their wives.”

  “Are you hurting?” Hato asked Khalia.

  “It’ll pass.”

  “She took weeks to heal the last time.” Ernilda fretted over her friend. “She’s since suffered from unbearable headaches.”

  “You could’ve gotten killed,” Hato said.

  “The risk comes with the gift,” Khalia mumbled through the bloody handkerchief.

  “Is there no one else at Teos capable of assisting you?”

  “How would we know who to trust?” Khalia said, and Ernilda echoed the feeling.

  A furious Hato was about to tell them they could have trusted him when Severo found them.

  “We’ve got a lead on Orell,” he said. “We’re told he’s on his way to the docks. Word is he was furious when he left.”

  “Why?” Hato asked.

  “Something was done without his authority, although the groom at the door couldn’t tell me what.”

  “They moved her,” Khalia said. “Riva had her moved without Orell knowing and they sprayed the toxic scent to prevent me from finding her!”

  “Clio and Cirillo ran ahead to try to catch sight of Orell,” Severo said. “I’m after them.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Hato said.

  “Me too,” Khalia said.

  “Do you really think that’s wise?” Ernilda said. “Another whiff could kill you.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Khalia said.

  Hato stopped her. “To be careful, you’d have to stop breathing.”

  “You still need me,” Khalia said. “She’s got to be on one of those ships and you know what that means.”

  Hato let her go and followed behind her, knowing full well they had to hurry. He wanted to be by his lord’s side when the madness came, but if the ship that held Lusielle sailed from Teos’s harbor, her life was at an end.

  Chapter Eighty-three

  LUSIELLE KNEW SHE WAS AS GOOD as dead when the boards beneath her feet groaned and the room swayed with the distinctive movement of a ship challenging the current. Given a choice, she would have gladly tackled the sucking vine and the famished yearlings in lieu of Aponte. All those years of abuse flooded her with torrents of fear. Huddled in the corner like a frightened kitten and chained to the bed by the leash strapped to her neck, she dreaded what came next.

  Aponte whistled a merry tune as he draped her dress over the back of a chair. “Very nice.” He caressed the fine green silk. “Do you think the king might let me keep it? I’d like to see it on some of my girlfriends. It’ll keep stoking the yearning after you’re gone.”

  Something inside her rebelled against the notion of yielding a single measure of herself to the repugnant creature who had owned her for so long. There had been a time, long ago, when she had made excuses for Aponte, trying to justify his depravity, that he had been neglected as a child, that he had been rejected as a youth, that life had been harsh and unfair; that she had been a faulty wife.

  Then the massive walls enclosing her tiny world had crumbed, and she had been booted out into a reality that was no less harsh, difficult or brutal than the circumstances that might have shaped Aponte. People experienced hardship every day and, unlike Aponte, chose not to become self-indulgent and debauched. People could change.

  But not Aponte. He saw nothing wrong with his ways and that was a danger not just to her, but to the others who might come after her.

  “Come to bed, wife.”

  She knew from experience that she would be a thousand times better off submitting as she had done throughout the marriage. Her preservation instinct flared up: Hadn’t she survived all of those years with only a few notable injuries? Hadn’t she lived a productive life enjoying her craft’s complex challenges? Why not fall back on the old habits that had kept her alive through the worst of it?

  Because she had learned that survival without freedom meant slavery and slavery wasn’t the only way to exist. Because she had met affection in her journeys and knew that life without it was pointless and grim. Because she had learned courage from a brave man. And because the boat was moving, leaving behind Teos and her captive friends, which freed her to make her own inevitable choices.

  Aponte loomed over her like a threatening storm. “What kind of trip do you think this is going to be if you begin by defying my commands?”

  “You’re going to kill me anyway,” she said. “You’re going to burn me as soon as we’re back in the kingdom.”

  “That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the last of you.”

  “You’ve already enjoyed your last. You just don�
��t know it yet.”

  “I have a mind to show you different.”

  “You can try,” she said, very calm. “But it won’t work anymore, with me or elsewhere.”

  “You’re not talking about—?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

  “Have you forgotten how persistent it can be?”

  “Was.”

  He stared at her, then looked down on himself as if commanding his body to react on demand. “You can’t pretend to have any sway over me.”

  “If I had the power to rouse you, why can’t I have the power to pacify you for good?”

  “Pacify me?” He tittered then went suddenly serious. “You can’t do that. Can you?”

  She shrugged.

  “You’re a remedy mixer, not a conjurer, and I haven’t taken any of your potions lately.”

  “True, but not all results can be accomplished with remedies and not all remedies work with the expedience you might think.”

  “You never believed in that other stuff,” Aponte said, pacing the little room. “Spells, charms, you thought they were tricks and foolishness.”

  “Yet you accused me of practicing the odd arts, better yet, got me convicted of it and sentenced to death.”

  “Out of necessity, to please the king.”

  “Well, here we are, practicing justice again. Only this time, it’s my kind of justice.”

  “You’re jesting,” Aponte said. “I don’t like you having fun at my expense. You were many things, but never an oddity.”

  “What do you know of oddities and such?”

  “Still, you weren’t that.”

  “All those chicken bones you brought to the magistrate. Babies’ bones, you said, proof of my crimes. You had fed on the fowl every night, and yet you never admitted to that.”

  He looked worried. “I swear it, if you’ve done something to me—”

  “Money spells, lucky charms, lust potions, love hexes. Did I not bring money, luck and so much more to your life? Then surely I can take them away. And I did.”