Sapient Salvation 2: The Awakening (Sapient Salvation Series)

by Jayne Faith

  “Possibly. And if so, it may also be driving him to want to challenge you for the throne.”

  I let that sink in. In a strange way, it made perfect sense. I squeezed my eyelids closed and pulled my hand slowly down my face before I met her gaze. “What do I do?”

  “These are strange times, my Lord,” she said, her voice hushed. “As you said once before, the gears are turning. We are but pieces of the greater machine. All we can do is take care and do our best to keep on the path to Earthenfell.”

  I knew she was right, but I wanted to take more initiative. I couldn’t just stand by and hope that Jeric didn’t destroy everything. “I want to visit the hothouse where the plants were grown,” I said. “I want you to come with me.”

  She shook her head. “No, my Lord, we cannot risk tipping off the person who kidnapped Maya. You and I are much too recognizable. I have people who can do errands discreetly, who can be trusted.”

  “No,” I said, my certainty growing. “We need to go there ourselves.” I lowered my lids halfway and quirked a half-smile at her. “Haven’t you ever gone out incognito? It’s great fun.”

  She gave a little tinkling laugh, a surprisingly delightful sound. “My Lord, you wander about in disguise?”

  “Not often. Only when I need to.” I shrugged one shoulder, and then I grinned fully. I could tell I’d hooked her. “I’ll have my man put together our identities.”

  *

  With expertly constructed prosthetics on my face and a bit of makeup, my disguise aged me by three decades. The Priestess and I were posing as a retired couple of some means, but not nobility, who were shopping for an ornamental plant for her birthday.

  Calvin and Palovich were posing as military men on temporary leave. They followed just a few yards behind us. Another pair of guards in everyday dress went ahead.

  The botanical district was in the middle of Eros, a borough that was once a district that offered all manner of vices—from sex to drugs to gambling—but had been cleaned up about twenty years prior. It had experienced a revitalization and flourished with industry and artisan studios.

  We’d already passed through the textile district and then the great crystal cutting workshop—a massive warehouse run by Calisto’s most skilled crystal maker. I was greatly relishing getting swept along in the bustle of Calistan commerce.

  “Too much spring in your step for an old man. You’ll give us away,” the Priestess muttered at me and then chuckled.

  I slowed my pace a bit and cast her a sidelong glance, suppressing a smile. It seemed she was enjoying herself every bit as much as I was.

  Her skin had been colored with makeup so it appeared a couple shades darker than her natural tone. She wore the shaded spectacles that many older Calistans had to wear when outside due to a common hereditary over-sensitivity to light that developed in old age. A shoulder-length, gray-streaked dark brown wig hid her hair, and she’d tied a scarf over her head for good measure.

  The two younger guards leading us to the hothouse made a right turn, and when we followed, I saw the sign for Mercury Exotic Botanicals. As planned, the guards went into the shop. Calvin and Palovich would find a reason to linger outside. All the guards were in contact with each other through communication devices that were hidden in their collars, rather than their usual royal guard earpieces.

  When the Priestess and I entered the shop, a warm, humid puff of air washed over us. The space smelled strongly of organic matter—not unpleasant, but a shock to the senses compared to the dry, sterile air of Calisto.

  The plants grown in the shop were cultivars that were native to our planet as well as a few imports from other planets. But none from Earthenfell, as it was forbidden by the sacred texts to grow Earthen flora anywhere but their native home.

  Metal shelving crowded with all manner of greenery, and flowering plants lined the long, narrow shop.

  When an employee approached—a young man wearing a soil-streaked apron with gardening gloves tucked into its pocket—I let the Priestess do the talking. We’d decided that was wiser because my voice was more recognizable due to many public speeches.

  She told the young man our story and pulled out a small tablet to show him a picture of the plant we sought. “I remember a neighbor having one of these plants when I was a girl, and ever since I’ve wanted one of my own,” she explained.

  “I’ll have to check that for you,” the employee said. “I’ve only been working here for a week, and I’m not sure whether we carry this botanical.”

  The Priestess went with him, but I stayed where I was, pretending to be interested in a shelf full of vines. I walked the aisles slowly, past twisted thorny plants and shrubs trained to grow as miniature trees, and entered the section with the flowering plants.

  Small pots of plants that formed a thick mat of greenery and sported longer drooping stems with delicate violet flowers caught my eye. The color of the flowers and the way the flower heads bobbed at the slightest movement of air tripped something deep in my memory.

  I bent to sniff the flowers, and the aroma nearly sent me reeling. My pulse quickened. I knew those flowers. I straightened and looked for the Priestess. When I caught her eye, I made a subtle beckoning tilt of my head.

  She pointed toward me, and then she, the young man who’d been helping her, and an older gentleman who’d joined them started my way.

  “I apologize, sir, but the botanical your wife seeks is no longer available,” the older man said. By his authoritative demeanor, I took him to be the manager or possibly the owner of the shop. “We stopped growing them many years ago. But we have many other fine succulents in stock.”

  I nodded and feigned a moment of disappointment at the news. Then I turned and gestured to the pots with the little violet flowers. “These are lovely. What can you tell me about them?”

  The man perked up and gave me a broad smile. “This delightful botanical has a bit of a story. Twenty-five years ago or so, they were the favorite of the Queen. These little plants are short-lived as the environment here is not ideal for them. Queen Stella had two new pots delivered weekly, and rumor was that she kept them on either end of her vanity.”

  My chest constricted at the mention of my mother’s name. “Is that so?” I tilted my head and forced an interested expression. “And does the Queen have any other favorites supplied by your establishment?”

  His brows rose. “Now that you mention it, the very plant your wife was hoping to buy was another favorite of the Queen. After her phase with the violet flowers, for about a year she ordered the succulent in that photo.” He gestured at the Priestess’s tablet. “She ordered so many we couldn’t keep them in stock, as I recall.”

  The Priestess and I locked eyes. She quickly chose a spiky succulent. I paid for the plant, and we left the shop.

  Unable to speak of sensitive matters in public, we walked in silence through the streets. The shopkeeper’s story had jogged my memory further, and I remembered seeing those little violet flowers in my mother’s quarters when I was a boy. I had no doubt he was also correct about my mother’s orders of the other plant, the source of the drug.

  Cold dread circled my heart all the way back to the palace.

  My mind skirted around the question I did not want to ask but knew I had to face. Could my mother have extracted the drug from those plants and kept a supply of it all this time? Could my mother really have been the one who drugged Maya?

  18

  Maya

  I SAT ON my beautiful bed and looked with loathing at the sleek black outfit laid out on a chaise lounge that angled out from the corner.

  Just after dinner, Clarisse had unceremoniously dropped the clothes and shoes into my hands and told me I’d be going to the throne room after breakfast the next morning, along with the other Obligates. The period of meditation and fasting brought on by the appearance of the Third Sign of the Return would end at sunrise the next day, and apparently Akantha was wasting no time resuming the Tournament.

&
nbsp; I knew I should be grateful that I’d had such a reprieve, that I was now recovered and strong enough to compete. But I missed Iris. I was forlorn over how things had soured between Lord Toric and me. And I was deeply weary of all of it—the palace, Akantha’s cruelty, even the unbelievably luxurious room that I’d stayed in for the past several days. The opulence seemed to mock me somehow, like feeding a prisoner a king’s meal just before chopping off his head.

  Not that I was sure I was going to die in the challenge. I knew the possibility was there, of course, but in spite of my weariness, I had a new resolve. I could not quite pinpoint exactly how or why, but I felt like a different person than the one who had competed in the first challenge. Perhaps I was less naïve. Or my determination came from more than just a desire to survive. In spite of the foolishness of it, my heart still wanted Lord Toric. I knew I shouldn’t pin any hopes on fantasies, but I couldn’t help brief moments of imagining the two of us together.

  When I finally turned out the lamp, I lay in bed envisioning myself emerging triumphant from the challenge. Years ago, I’d heard somewhere that visualizing a desired outcome helped to prime the mind and body for success. I had no idea if I were doing it correctly or if it would make any difference at all, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do in the way of preparation.

  Actually, there was one other thing to do. When I’d tired of my visualizations, I began to pray. I asked the stars that I be filled with strength of body and character, courage, and quick thinking during the challenge. I fell asleep praying for Mother and Lana.

  When I awoke the next morning, I sat up, drew a deep breath, and fixed my mind on a single narrow focus: winning the challenge before me. I closed my eyes for a moment as I recalled Iris’s encouragement and imagined that she was sitting there with me. Then I threw back the covers and stood.

  My pulse tapped a marching rhythm as I slipped into the form-fitting black clothes, like the distant beat of a drum calling me to battle.

  A tray of food arrived on a cart. I ate methodically, all the while focusing on how the food was giving me strength and sharpening my mind.

  My so-called guide, Clarisse, came to my door to take me to the throne room. I expected no words of encouragement or advice, and of course she gave me none.

  When two guards followed us out of Lord Toric’s chambers, she looked at them and then rolled her eyes. “Such a special little snowflake you are,” she said sarcastically to me.

  “I may not be special, but I am going to win,” I said, my chin lifted and my gaze trained straight ahead. “And when I join the harem, we’ll be equals. Actually, that’s not true. Lord Toric is already quite fond of me. I can’t imagine he has any deep feelings for you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her give me a long look—probably a glare, if I’d actually turned to fully see her face—but I ignored her the rest of the way to the throne room.

  The throne room was empty, our footfalls echoing off the marble and stone. I looked up at the wall where the faces and ranks of the Obligates would be displayed, imagining my tile rising to the top of the women’s column.

  In the hallway of the Obligates’ dressing rooms, all the doors were closed. I wondered if everyone else was already inside their rooms, consulting with their guides.

  Before I went into my own room, I turned to Clarisse. “How long until we go in?” I tilted my head toward the throne room.

  She lifted one shoulder as if she didn’t know the answer, though I knew she did.

  “Half an hour,” Tullock, one of the guards, said.

  I gave him a grateful smile and nod and began to shut the door. To my great annoyance, Clarisse caught the door with her hand.

  “I have to come in with you,” she said.

  “No, you can go. I don’t want you here.” I pushed at the door again.

  “Akantha said . . .” Clarisse trailed off. A flash of trepidation shone in her eyes at the mention of the Mistress of Tournament.

  In spite of my irritation, I felt a faint pang of sympathy for Clarisse. Obviously Akantha had intimidated her.

  I sighed and let go of the door. “Fine.”

  I went to the divan at the back of the room, the only seat, and sat in the middle. I didn’t want Clarisse sitting next to me. I poured myself a glass of water from the pitcher and watched her lean against the wall and studiously avoid looking at me.

  As long as we were forced together, I figured I might as well see if I could get anything useful out of her. “Would you like some water?” I picked up the other glass and held it up.

  Her eyes flicked to the pitcher and her face tightened for a split second, and then she shook her head.

  “I’m sorry about what I said earlier, Clarisse.” I did my best to feign sincerity. “It wasn’t nice, and I hope you’ll forgive me. You’re welcome to the food. I already ate in my room.”

  She turned to me and gave me a sharp look. “You did?”

  I nodded. “So please help yourself. I’m a bit too wound up to eat any more.”

  “Ah, no thank you.” She seemed agitated all of a sudden. Her gaze flicked toward the closed door, then at the tray of food, and finally at the tumbler of water I’d lifted to my lips.

  I froze with my first sip of water still held in my mouth. Something was wrong.

  I spit the water back into the tumbler, slammed it onto the tray, and lunged at Clarisse.

  Before she could react, I rammed all my weight into her. The back of her head snapped back against the wall, and I jammed my forearm across her throat.

  My heart hammered. “What is it? Did someone poison my food? My water? Tell me!”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped. She tried to say something but could only take a rasping breath.

  I let up on the pressure at her throat so she could speak.

  “Guards, help,” she tried to holler, but it came out a weak croak.

  I reflexively lifted my knee square into her diaphragm. I let go of her as she doubled over and gasped weakly for breath.

  Feeling as if some other person who was much bolder than I was had suddenly inhabited my body, I lunged, meaning to knock her down and pin her to the ground, but she held up a hand.

  “No, don’t,” she rasped. “I won’t scream.” She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor.

  It took a few more seconds before she had her breath back. I towered over her, my arms crossed. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  She glared up at me, pale-faced, and then looked off to the side. She shrugged one shoulder. “Your food and water were spiked with drugs to make you slow and clumsy during the challenge. Akantha and the other guides, they’re plotting against you. Akantha promised to reward them if their Obligates helped make sure you didn’t survive this challenge.”

  My heart seemed to freeze. “Did she promise you anything?”

  “Yes. I’m only telling you because it won’t make any difference. You won’t get out of this alive with all the other Obligates against you, even without the drugged food.”

  “What is wrong with you?” I whispered. My entire body shook with adrenaline and anger. “Were you always this rotten? Even back on Earthenfell?”

  Her lips trembled before she twisted them into a sneer. “Don’t be stupid. The only thing for us here is survival. When someone like Akantha wants something, someone like me has no choice but to comply.”

  No, Clarisse was wrong. Iris had tried to warn me. She wouldn’t have betrayed me even if Akantha had threatened her. And besides that, Iris was a warm, kind person. Clarisse was hard and heartless. I suspected she’d never had much kindness in her, even before she came to Calisto.

  She stayed where she was on the floor, and I went to the divan. We sat in silence until a chime sounded. I rose and went to the door and out into the hallway where the other Obligates were emerging with their guides.

  When I spotted Orion, my insides clenched. Would he be against me too? I caught his eye and couldn’t read obvious betrayal on his
face, but there was no way to be sure of his intentions.

  As I scanned the faces of the other Obligates, I caught several of them peering at me furtively and then quickly looking away.

  If only I had a moment to try to reason with them. To make them see that Akantha was just using them, that if their guides had guaranteed them anything in return for taking me down, they were empty promises. Ganging up on me would not help them in the rankings. There was nothing preventing them from murdering me, but Obligates who acted dishonorably during the Tournament lost favor.

  But of course we were forbidden to speak.

  We formed two lines under Akantha’s sharp gaze. She left quickly through the back door, presumably to go into the hallway under the throne from which she always emerged with the Priestess during such events. I had only a minute or two before the doors would open and we would file out into the throne room.

  I stood directly behind Orion. I leaned forward and touched his shoulder. “Are you going to try to kill me?” I whispered, not bothering to mince words.

  He twisted to look at me. “What?”

  “The other Obligates aren’t supposed to let me survive this challenge. There is a plot against me. It’s coming from Akantha and the guides.”

  His eyes widened a bit, and then he blinked hard and scrubbed a hand across his eyes.

  “Your guide didn’t tell you to make sure I died during the challenge?”

  He shook his head.

  I started to breathe a little easier. Maybe if Orion wasn’t against me, some of the others weren’t either.

  The doors to the throne room opened, and the two lines began to move.

  In the throne room the guides angled off to take their seats in the audience, and we Obligates lined up shoulder to shoulder in the center of the floor facing the throne.

  When Lord Toric emerged from the dark hallway under the throne only a few yards directly in front of me, my heart seemed to still for a moment. Rustling filled the room as everyone stood.