Corrin's eyelids fluttered open. There was a moment of uncertainty, a moment in which Shanna must have looked unfamiliar to him, but then he smiled and half-croaked, half-whispered her name. Shanna scanned the room for some water. When she looked back at him, he was gone.
Shanna stared into his vacant eyes for a moment, then she lifted his head from her lap and lay it gently on the ground. She tried to reach out and close his eyes, but her trembling hand went to her mouth instead to muffle any noise she might make. The shaking threatened to seize her entire body, but she pushed it away and somehow managed to stand. She exited the room without thinking.
The robed man and his boy were waiting to greet her. The former remained slumped in his chair. The boy, his grin grown wider, stood at his master's side. Shanna made straight for him, stopping only when they stood face-to-face. The boy looked at her appraisingly for one second. It was all the time Shanna allowed him as she took hold of the hilt of the boy’s knife, drew it, and plunged it into his chest. The boy's look of amusement and delight became one of surprise and horror. Shanna withdrew the bloodied blade and, as the boy clutched at his chest and slipped to the ground, she sprang on his robed master with a snarl.
The man reacted with such quickness Shanna barely had cocked her arm to strike when he sprang from his chair, took hold of her, and bodily flung her away. She hit the ground with enough force that the knife was knocked from her grasp and sent skittering across the canvas floor. Expecting the man to be on her any moment, Shanna raised her arms in desperation. But there was no further assault. The man's attention was fixed solely on his boy. He just stood there, looking down upon his—student? apprentice? son? Surely not the last, Shanna thought—even as a growing patch of red, darker than the boy's tunic, spread further and further out from his body. The man did not kneel to cradle the boy in his arms, nor did he crouch and attempt to offer solace, for the boy was most obviously about to die. Still, Shanna suspected agitation in the hurried rise and fall of the man's chest. She knew it for certain when he emitted the most unholy howl of rage she'd ever heard. Thinking it best she flee, Shanna tried to get up. She made it halfway to her knees when she was hit from behind and knocked down. Then she felt the point-end of a spear pressed against her. She did not move an inch further.
"What have you done?" The savant screamed.
Shanna heard heavy footfalls approach. Then the spear tip released her and she was lifted from the floor. Not by the sitheri, though. By the savant. Maniacal eyes bulging with fury and a mouth twisted into a vicious snarl were the only features she saw as the savant squeezed her shoulders and shook her so hard she cried out. He put his face right up to hers, screaming at her with a full intake of breath. "What—have—you—done?" He threw her to the ground. Shanna had only a moment to see him grab the spear from his sitheri, then its tip was full in her face. But it did not pierce her. The savant's chest heaved in air. One breath, then two. Still, the spear remained steady. A third. After a fourth and a fifth, the man's face settled until only his labored breathing revealed his ire. His stare—his focus—was no longer on her. It was on something behind her. Not wishing to draw attention to herself, Shanna remained still, though she started when she heard a soft hum emanating behind her. More than that, now that the chaos had diminished, she felt something tugging at her senses.
The robed man removed the point of the spear from her and handed the weapon to his guard.
"Return her to her cage."
The sitheri responded instantly, lifting and dragging her from the tent. Before she'd exited she stole a single glance at the thing which had distracted the savant's attention: a pedestal or table, with a spherical bulge at its top, the whole of the thing covered in black velvet. Then she was forced outside.
Locked up once more, she settled into a corner and said nothing to the others about what had happened or what she'd seen. Corrin, the boy she'd slain, and even the fact that she'd barely, and inexplicably, escaped death at the hands of the savant was forgotten. Neither the cold nor the wind bothered her now. Her mind focused only on the hum of the thing concealed, the way it had somehow, in some way, reached out to her and, at the very end, just before the snakeman had dragged her away, the feeling—the rush—that had threatened to overwhelm her. She'd no idea what lie beneath that covering, but she swore she was going to find out.
* * *
More than half the prisoners disappeared before the next day's dawning. Taken one-by-one by the sitheri guards, they were dragged into the savant's tent where evidence of their treatment was demonstrated only by the corpses carried out. Some fought back when they were taken, but weaponless and weary, none were a match for the snakemen. By mid-morning, when the sitheri finally came no more, only six prisoners remained: Shanna, who remained huddled in one corner of the cage the entirety of the time; Sergeant Roe Tippin, mostly recovered from his abuse at the hands of the dwarves; a man who kept a protective arm around a woman named Nala, whose name Shanna knew only because her companion kept whispering it over and over; a boy Shanna's age which she at some point finally recognized as Rail, a sometime friend; and dark-skinned Jadjin the healer. As bone-weary as the rest of them, Jadjin still found the strength to visit with each of them, encouraging spirits with soothing whispers or bolstering courage with a reassuring smile. She was just smoothing Shanna's hair, who reacted not at all to the woman's ministrations, when the sitheri reappeared, ready to claim another victim. This time, they'd come for Shanna.
Immediately, Jadjin circled an arm around her. "No! She's just a child!"
The sitheri did not care.
Not wanting anyone else to get hurt, Shanna unwrapped herself from the woman's grasp and exited the cage. Though the sitheri took up positions to either side of her, this time neither of them touched her. Stranger still, as they led her through the mid-morning fog, they steered her away from their master's tent, through the main encampment where the smell of food cooking set Shanna's mouth-watering and to a scene where dwarven teamsters busied themselves harnessing teams of oxen to a varied ensemble of wagons and carts. The sitheri gave Shanna no time to perform more than a cursory examination as they led her past those first few vehicles to the rear of a wagon covered by a garish patchwork of blue, red, and green. The wagon looked like it belonged in a circus. One of the guards motioned Shanna up the short ladder lending entry to the wagon. Whatever was inside was blocked by a wall of drapery. Shanna hesitated. When the sitheri offered nothing but another gesture for her to enter the wagon, she mounted the ladder, pushed the drapery aside, and stepped inside.
The wagon's interior was a simple but elegant arrangement. Short candles set upon a small, round table revealed a cherry wood chair, a cushioned bench built into one side of the wagon draped with pillows, and a short stack of drawers that rose up from the far end of the bench. Several changes of boy's clothing hung inside a narrow cabinet. A plush rug covered most of the floor. The whole of the place smelled of the boy she'd killed. Behind her, the swish of drapery caused her to spin around, but it was only her escort drawing the curtain closed. She was alone. Surprised, yet uncertain of her surroundings and this new predicament she found herself in, Shanna took the opportunity to search the place more thoroughly. She found an unlocked chest containing more clothing and several pairs of garish shoes—nothing she'd ever wear—along with a small vanity filled with a small collection of perfumes that made Shanna's eyes water when she ran them under her nose. Last, she found a narrow bed that swung down for sleeping but was presently folded against the wall opposite the door.
"I trust you find the arrangements suitable?"
Shanna nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of the savant's voice. She turned to see the drapery just being swept aside and the robed man mounting the steps. As he entered, Shanna saw that he wore the same gray robes, except that now the hood was drawn back, allowing Shanna her first real look at him. Bald but for a few gray wisps of hair, the man's face was long and narrow, with a pointed nose and even
pointier chin. Pale, but not nearly so white as the hands she'd spied at their first encounter, the skin of his face nevertheless reeked of age, with pits and wrinkles aplenty. Gone entirely was the man's hunch as he swept past her to take the wagon's only chair. One thin leg crossed the other and long-fingered hands tinged with the barest trace of color were folded at one boney knee. Steel gray eyes beneath bushy brows locked with hers. The man smiled, revealing teeth so perfect Shanna knew they were fake.
"I do apologize for the room's sparseness," he said, his tone pleasant, "but it is of necessity. I have tried, however, to accommodate certain needs."
Shanna ignored the man's congeniality. "Who are you and why am I here?"
He smiled again, then lowered his gaze to the floor, sweeping a boney hand across his balding head before he lifted his face to answer. "My name is Erlek Abn Nee. As to the latter, I must first ask a question of you: What do you know of your lineage?"
The question gave Shanna pause, but only for a moment. "Why do you care?"
The savant laughed this time, a small display of mirth that quickly subsided.
Shanna crossed her arms. "I have no idea who my parents were."
"Really? An orphan, then," Erlek said. He settled himself, folding his hands at his lap.
Outside, Shanna heard muffled shouts: orders to start breaking camp.
"Tell me, then," the man said, drawing Shanna's attention back to him, "what do you know of Norwynne's sorcerer, the one called Elsanar."
"Master Elsanar? I don't know anything about him."
"You were not one of his apprentices?"
"Me? An apprentice?"
"Then perhaps an assistant of his?"
Shanna looked at the man with a blank stare.
The savant, for his part, turned silent, as if he were baffled by her answers and needed time to sort through them. When next he spoke his words were only his thoughts formed aloud and not addressed to her at all. "Could there have been two? Not entirely impossible. But why keep them so close to one another? Why not, just in case? Perhaps…" He stopped and smiled. "Yes." He took some moments to bathe in the pleasure of a revelation before speaking to Shanna once more. "There was a boy, one whom Elsanar kept close. An apprentice of his. What do you know of him?"
Both a chill and a sinking in her stomach assailed Shanna simultaneously as she realized the savant was talking about Aaron. "I don't know who you're talking about." She thought she sounded convincing. She hoped she did. "I work in the kitchens. I mean, I did, but…" Her words trailed off, something Erlek did not miss as the man raised a brow. Shanna took a deep breath. She had to remain convincing. She'd be damned if she was going to feel ashamed before this man. "But now I'm—I was—apprenticed to a soapmaker, a master soapmaker." As if that made a difference. "I was learning to…" She hated thinking about it, let alone talking about it. "Make soap." Saying it out loud let loose something within her as patience fled from her in a landslide. "What do you want? Why are you asking me all of these questions? Tell me why I'm here." She wanted to stomp a foot, but thought the gesture might take things too far. She'd seen what this man had done to Corrin.
"Oh, as to why you are here. Let us say it is because I am indebted to you."
Shanna narrowed her gaze. "What do you mean?"
Just then the curtain at the wagon's entry was pulled to one side to reveal a woman dressed in white holding a bowl of water and fresh linens draped over one arm.
"Ah, here is Mirna," Erlek said.
Shanna recognized the woman who had stood behind both Erlek and his boy as they'd inspected the line of prisoners. Mirna did not mount the steps, but stood half-framed in the entryway, her head bowed. With a gesture, Erlek motioned her into the wagon. The woman was dressed in a simple gown, tied at the waist with a strip of leather. Short half-sleeves left her forearms exposed and her feet peeked out of open-toed sandals. She placed the basin down on the small circular table, then went to draw the curtain so that the three of them were separated from the camp.
Mirna moved to stand before Shanna, her gaze remaining on the floor. "Clean water to cleanse your wounds, milady."
One of Shanna's hands went to her chin where she'd cut herself falling from the cliff face after she'd escaped the Underkeep. There were other scrapes and bruises, too, but they’d seemed the least of her worries. She looked at the fresh water with hungry eyes, for every inch of her felt laden with filth. She knew she stank something awful as well. There was a sponge floating at the surface of the water. As Shanna reached for it, Mirna stopped her.
"Please, milady, sit." She gestured at the settee.
Shanna, not truly understanding what the woman meant, did as requested. Erlek remained seated in the chair, his stare fixed on her but with a faraway expression. Mirna knelt, then sprinkled something aromatic into the water. She dipped the sponge and brought it to Shanna's face. Bliss overcame Shanna the moment it touched her forehead as the fragrance of lilacs permeated her senses. Mirna was gentle as she moved on to Shanna's cheeks and to the cut on her chin. Meanwhile, Erlek spoke.
"I'm afraid a hot bath is quite beyond our current means, but Mirna will shortly bring more water for washing as well as food as I am sure you are hungry. Also, you will find fresh clothes in the armoire. Feel free to help yourself to anything you find. This room and all its contents are now yours."
Shanna started, jerking her face from Mirna's attentions to glance full at Erlek. "What do you mean, all of this is mine?" The fear that had been nagging her finally spoke. "You killed all those people. I thought when your guards came for me that I was going to die, too. Especially since I killed—"
"Yes," Erlek said without hesitation. "You killed Tool. I was angry at the time, but I have since recognized it for the boon that it is. You see, Tool was a particularly nasty boy. All sorts of odd and, shall we say, cruel fetishes. I'm afraid I remained hesitant to take the proper disciplinary action with him largely due to personal impediments. You, however, have solved that issue for me quite nicely. It is for this reason that I am in your debt."
Shanna stared at the savant a moment longer before she returned her face to Mirna. The moment she had, Erlek rose.
"Now, I must leave you. We have a rendezvous to make and—"
"Where are we going?" Shanna blurted out, looking past Mirna.
"Oh, not far. I've arranged a rendezvous with a dirigible. From there… well, we can discuss those particulars later."
"A diri-what? What's that?"
Erlek smiled, revealing the ivory of his false teeth. "A means of transportation. More than that, a wondrous machine which you will simply have to see for yourself to understand. But for now, Mirna is yours. Should you desire anything, command her and it shall be done."
With that, Erlek turned and was just opening the curtain to leave when Shanna rose and said, "After I killed him, killed Tool, something happened. There was something… I don’t know what it was, but it…"
Erlek folded his hands before him. "Yes?"
"It hummed. I'm sure of it."
"Yes," Erlek said. "Yes, it did. Is that all?"
No, it wasn't. There'd been something else, but it had been so fleeting she wasn't even sure it had been real. "I felt an odd sensation. I can't describe it." Shanna lowered her gaze from that steel-gray stare that hadn't left hers since she'd broached the subject. Her voice went soft. "What is it?" She did not expect an answer. Rather, an outright dismissal or at best a round of laughter for her to dare such presumption. But she asked it anyway. She fought to hide her surprise when Erlek answered directly.
"The device is called an Element. It is the power that flooded—destroyed, I dare say—your home."
Shanna wondered at the subtle reminder of how she'd arrived here. She especially did not like the word 'destroyed'. She'd not seen the full extent of the damage caused by the quake and flooding, having been underground most of the time, then out cold the rest. There had to have been damage, she knew that. But she'd no idea how much. She co
uld ask. She almost did. But, right now, she had a mind for only one thing. "Can I see it?"
Erlek's lips curled into a smile. "Yes, of course. But, for now, cleanse yourself and take refreshment. We depart for our rendezvous within the hour. I shall send for you after we are underway. Then, we shall talk some more." He half-turned to leave, but then stopped as he looked at her almost apologetically. "Though I feel as if we have come to an understanding, please do not think of escape. My sitheri shall be close. While they have been instructed not to kill you, I'm afraid that, in their desire to serve me, they are sometimes overzealous. I do not desire you to come to harm. Let us also say that, as a sign of good faith, that as long as you remain cordial to my wishes, none of the remaining prisoners shall be harmed."
The Five Elements Page 13
