“I—I am not allowed to heal you.”
“Not your fault.”
“It is the reason for my existence,” Marcus replied. “I mean, what all true healers were born for before the empire. We can’t tolerate the torture of others, but we of the palace, we are slaves born into it, made to heal the damage of torture so more pain can be inflicted. It goes against everything we stand for. But the consequences of disobeying . . .”
“I understand,” Cade said. “It is another evil among many.”
Marcus glanced furtively toward the door, then took a hesitant step closer. “Mr. Harlowe, I have seen the lady that came with you. I healed her fractured collar bone—”
Cade started. “Fractured collar bone?” He fought his restraints, but to no avail.
“Please listen. Time is short. I healed her, and she was well when I left her. Please believe me. She is well.”
Cade nodded. He knew personally what Marcus could do.
“I can sometimes see into a person I’m working on,” Marcus continued. “I can learn things about them. I saw she has some minor ability with etherea. I couldn’t discern exactly what, except that it is there. If my masters learn of this, they will use it, as we menders are used. Used and bred to produce more with powers that can be harnessed. The emperor is very keen on his breeding programs, whether it is his horses or his slaves.”
Battered as Cade was, the insinuation was clear. He clenched his hands, nails biting into his palms. He had led Karigan into this. He wanted to howl his frustration, his utter helplessness.
Marcus was not done. “When we produce children, they are taken from us. If they have the ability with etherea, they are raised here at the palace. Some are menders, others have an affinity for working with etherea engines. Those children without abilities are entered into the general slave population or otherwise discarded.”
Otherwise discarded? It was, for Cade, yet another example of why he’d chosen to oppose the empire, but the reasons kept getting worse and worse.
“I tell you this,” Marcus said, “because besides your lady’s health and ability, there was more I observed. I could sense a seed, a new potential, seeming to quicken within her, and if I am not mistaken, it is of your making.”
Cade stilled, working out the mender’s words until he was sure he understood. He nearly roared out a response, but Marcus was quick and slapped him across his raw cheek. The pain sobered Cade. He saw how unhappy Marcus looked.
“I will tell no one,” the mender said. “This has gone on for too many generations, the stealing and enslavement of our children.”
Cade jammed his eyes shut. Tears stung his scored cheeks, but inside, his agony and joy was over the potential that Karigan could be carrying.
THE SCENT OF HOPELESSNESS
The door opened and closed, and Starling appeared once again in their circle of light. He gazed appraisingly down at Cade.
“Well, well, well. It appears, Mr. Harlowe, a change of tactics is in order.” He came close, leaned over Cade, and whispered in his ear, “Do not forget that I always get what I wish, no matter the method.”
Then he straightened and backed away. “Marcus, heal the damage to Mr. Harlowe’s face.” Then he turned away and called, “Butler! I need my coat.”
When Marcus stood before him, Cade tried to read the mender’s expression to see if he knew what was going on, but all he saw was consternation. Was Starling merely planning to keep him guessing and confused, or had Dr. Silk issued some new directive, and if so, why?
Marcus placed his hands to either side of Cade’s face, not touching his ravaged cheeks but close enough to feel their heat. Marcus closed his eyes and a soothing haze of blue suffused Cade’s mind, and once again he felt as though he were floating. Was this the healing? Had Marcus been right about Karigan? The shiver of joy, counterbalanced by dread, passed through him once more. Could he trust the mender’s word, or was it merely an act, some ploy of Starling’s to manipulate his emotions? In the empire, it was never easy to know who to trust, but the mender had seemed so earnest. As the pain receded from his wounds, he was willing to give Marcus the benefit of the doubt, which brought back the joy and dread.
He dared not dream of what could be, or even try to imagine the worst. Doing so could only induce madness. He must narrow his vision and find a way to free himself and Karigan. So long had he prepared to be a Weapon, he had never paused to consider the idea of fatherhood. Now, everything had changed.
Starling dismissed Marcus and, in turn, ushered in a pair of guards. They unlocked Cade from his chair, made him stand, and manacled his wrists behind his back. Starling had said there was to be a change of tactics. What came next?
Starling did not explain, just hummed a jaunty tune as Cade was pushed through the chamber. Cade caught glimpses of machines and chains and sharp objects waiting in the shadows. What methods could be worse than these devices of torture?
He was taken into a corridor. This was not one of the magnificent colonnaded halls he’d seen before, but a dimly lit narrow corridor of stone blocks. They stopped at an open door that led into a small, closet-sized room. Cade noted the levers inside, and realized that it must be a lift. He’d heard about them certainly. They were of particular use in the empire’s mines, but there were none he knew of in Mill City.
“Step inside,” Starling said.
When Cade proved too hesitant, he was shoved in. Were they going to use the lift to torture him? Apparently not, for the guards stepped right in with him, followed by Starling, who had resumed humming. He closed the lift’s door and manipulated the levers. The car bounced, then descended.
Cade had never before felt anything quite like the downward motion, like a very slow, controlled fall. The whine of cables guided through the pulley system told the story of their descent as much as the motion. When the car came to rest, Starling did not immediately open the door but turned to Cade.
“Mr. Harlowe, I am to understand that you and the lady who arrived with you were far more than just traveling companions. Now don’t glare at me in that fashion, though it does confirm for me your protective feelings for her.”
Had Luke informed his imperial contacts about them? He clenched his hands behind his back, wishing he could beat them into Starling’s fleshy jowls.
“In fact,” Starling continued, “I am to understand the young lady has quite the unusual background. Professor Josston had claimed her as his niece, but it was all to protect her true identity.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Starling laughed. “Of course you do. She has given her real name and story to Dr. Silk.”
Given? Cade wondered with alarm. If they had done anything to her . . . He strained against his manacles.
Starling gloated at Cade’s distress for a moment, then continued on. “But right now, none of that concerns me. What does interest me is this—what shall we call it?—this romance? This love between the two of you, so very like those silly girl novels my fourteen-year-old daughter loves to read. What, you are shocked I have a daughter? A beast like me? Two sons and three daughters, Mr. Harlowe. I cherish my children.
“In any case, this romance, this love between you and Miss G’ladheon, it is so very useful.”
“There is nothing—” Cade began.
“You are quite welcome to waste your breath as much as you wish, but I know the truth. Now, I am going to show you someone we’ve kept down here beneath the palace for a very long time. I am accustomed to her appearance, but you may find it—no. Dear me, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise for you. When you do look upon her, I want you to imagine your Miss G’ladheon in her place. Strange name, G’ladheon. I can’t even begin to imagine its origins.”
With that, Starling opened the door. The guards that greeted them were not the usual palace guards. These wore uniforms of scarlet, thei
r faces concealed by sinister masks. Cade was shoved out of the lift into a corridor of stone. It was damp, and he slipped. The bare phosphorene bulbs did little to illuminate the space. Cade imagined they were very deep in the earth. A powerful force even deeper vibrated the floor beneath his feet in a regular cadence—the distant roar of water and turbines. He’d been in enough mills to recognize the sounds. Why turbines beneath the palace? He supposed he would never know, and it did not matter. He had more pressing concerns.
They approached a steel door at the end of the corridor, and as one of the guards in scarlet started turning keys in a series of locks, Starling said, “This is a sight few have ever seen. Mainly just the members of the Scarlet Guard, Minister Silk, and myself. The Scarlet Guard, by the way, is under a strict oath of secrecy about what it is that is kept here. Yes, this is indeed a rare privilege, Mr. Harlowe.”
When the final lock released, the door was slowly drawn open. Cade was not prepared for the foul stench that flowed out from within, and he turned his face away. A taper was brought in to illuminate the cell.
“Behold the witch, Yolandhe,” Starling said.
Witch? Cade looked, and the creature he saw, molded out of flesh and shadows, did not appear human to him, not even living, with her mutilated body, the masses of snarls that had once been a head of hair. She hadn’t even eyes—just depressed eyelids over the sockets. At first he could not discern what was wrong with her mouth, maybe because his mind could not, did not wish, to grasp it. Her lips were sewn shut with large, crude stitches.
How could they do this to any living being? The obvious torment scarred upon her body, chaining her spread-eagle to augment her vulnerability, the tines of a metal collar digging into her neck.
Cade looked at Starling who appeared affable as ever and started humming again.
“Monsters,” Cade spat. “You are monsters.”
Starling stopped humming. “So judgmental are we, Mr. Harlowe? You don’t know who she is or what she is capable of. She is here for a reason, but for now I want you to look at her, not me.” He gripped Cade’s chin with fingers like iron and turned his head to force him to look.
“Now, Mr. Harlowe, I want you to think of your love, your Miss G’ladheon, in the witch’s place. The torment, the torture, every conceivable indignity could all await her here. The members of the Scarlet Guard are eager for a new prisoner, fresh flesh upon which to sate their pleasure and carve their initials.”
Cade struggled fruitlessly against those who held him.
“Women are much stronger than men, you know,” Starling continued matter-of-factly. “At least when it comes to pain. A man would never survive childbirth.” He chuckled. “The witch here, she has endured for a very long time. She is extremely strong and has never been entirely broken. From all accounts, your Miss G’ladheon looks to be the strong type. The guards like them strong, for it prolongs their sport.
“But you being a man who loves her, you will want to spare her the pain, the degradation, the violation. Am I right?”
“If you touch her—”
“You will do what, exactly?” Starling asked.
Cade trembled with rage.
“Yeees,” Starling said, and released Cade’s chin. “It appears I was right.”
Cade wanted to look away again, but something about the witch caught his attention. Her head was slightly cocked as though she listened. He had not been able to tell if she were even conscious.
“No one deserves this,” Cade said.
“You are being judgmental again regarding a case about which you know nothing. But for her imprisonment the empire stands.”
Cade regarded her with renewed interest. This poor wretch? This woman? She could bring down the empire? Was it his imagination, or did the corners of her mouth twitch, forming a ghastly smile?
“All you need to know,” Starling said, “is that if you do not answer my questions, this is the fate that awaits your lady.”
Cade strained against those who held him, wanting nothing more than to lash out.
“Yes, yes,” Starling murmured. “Your impulse to protect what is yours is strong. Remember this vision of the witch, and remember your duty as a man.”
Cade wanted to scream at Starling how he planned to kill him, but it never passed his lips because a ripple of calm, like a soft ocean current, soothed his mind.
Patience.
Cade looked wildly about, but no one appeared to have spoken. The witch hung in her chains like a perverse marionette. They slammed the door closed, sealing her away, cutting off his view of her.
As he was escorted back down the corridor, he asked, “Why is her mouth sewn shut?”
Starling smiled. “A precaution only. You see, one of my predecessors, or perhaps Minister Silk himself, wrecked her voice long ago. It held power, her voice, and by wrecking it, we diminished her, but there is still some, hmmm, persuasiveness, shall we say? in her voice. We could have removed it entirely, but we need her to speak on occasion. With a newcomer such as yourself, we deemed it necessary to prevent her from speaking. As diminished as her power is, there is still something there. Her tongue is most vile, in any case, and it is a relief not to have to listen to her.”
As Cade was pushed into the lift and the pulleys began winding it upward, he realized he had learned something valuable: that this woman, this Yolandhe, was still some danger to the empire, which was why they kept her prisoner in such a state. He also learned that Starling and his masters wanted information from him badly enough that they were willing to show the witch, their secret prisoner, to him.
Would they do to Karigan what they had done to Yolandhe? He did not doubt they wouldn’t hesitate if they thought it would fulfill some purpose. And the potential within Karigan—what would happen if it came to fruition? What would it to do to his—to their—child? The genteel society he’d known in the professor’s house and at the university was a façade only. The emperor’s men knew no bounds when it came to cruelty and crossing the lines of human decency.
“Yes, I can see you are thinking it over,” Starling said. “The Scarlet Guard are eager to meet your Miss G’ladheon.”
If Starling wished to enflame Cade’s emotions, he was succeeding. Cade could not help but see Karigan’s face in place of Yolandhe’s, her lips sewn shut, the body he’d touched so tenderly mutilated by the hands of monsters. He tried to force the image from his mind. He could not let it happen. But even if he did all that Starling wished, what would guarantee Karigan’s safety? Maybe they’d go ahead and do to her whatever they wished, even if he gave them every single name of the leaders of the opposition. Luke’s betrayal had done nothing to save his family. He shuddered, remembering the head of Luke’s son in the coffer.
What of my child?
Misinterpreting Cade’s shudder, Starling smiled. “One does not soon forget the sight of the witch.”
Cade didn’t reply. He knew he could not allow them to harm Karigan. But if giving up names was no guarantee, how could he rescue her? He was guarded and in chains. He could not even help himself.
Starling leered at him as if he could scent hopelessness.
THE PRISON OF FORGOTTEN DAYS
Karigan was unceremoniously tossed into Lorine’s chambers, and she sprawled across the floor. A pair of slippered feet hurried over to her.
“Miss Goodgrave!” Lorine was in a sleeping gown and robe. She helped Karigan rise to her feet. “Are you well? I didn’t know what to think when those brutes dragged you away.”
“I’m hungry, mainly,” Karigan said.
“What are they thinking?” Lorine fretted. “Manacles and no food. If Mirriam were here, she’d tell them a thing or two.”
Karigan agreed and slumped wearily onto the sofa. Lorine’s eyes, she noted, were red-rimmed and puffy. She must have been weeping for Cade. Before Karigan could tell her anything, a look
of resolve set in Lorine’s features, and she hurried off to what must be her bedchamber. Moments later, she returned with a veil covering her face. She strode to the door without a faltering step, and swung it open.
“Miss Goodgrave has had no supper,” she informed the guards. “You should be ashamed of yourselves for her poor care on your watch. You must have something brought for her right away.”
Karigan thought Lorine did as well as Mirriam ever could. When Lorine rejoined her on the sofa and pushed the veil back, it looked as though the effort had cost her.
“I believe some of Arhys’ willfulness has rubbed off on me,” she said.
“In a good way,” Karigan reassured her. “Perhaps you can convince them to remove my manacles.”
“Oh no! I didn’t even think!”
Karigan had only been jesting, believing it was beyond anyone’s power but Dr. Silk’s to have them removed. “Speaking of Arhys, where is she?”
“In bed. I haven’t had the heart to tell her about Mr. Harlowe.”
“About Mr. Harlowe,” Karigan said, “he is not dead after all. I fear I jumped to that conclusion when I heard about Luke.”
“Oh!” Lorine placed her hand over her mouth and paled. “You are sure?”
“As sure as I can be without actually seeing him. It does not mean he is out of danger, however.”
“Thank all that is good that he still lives,” Lorine whispered.
“I don’t know for how long,” Karigan murmured. “He is being . . . questioned.”
“It is all too much. All of this.”
“Yes,” Karigan replied. “Yes, it is.” She glanced about the room wondering if there were listeners, or even watchers. She decided she could assume nothing. “Lorine, I am feeling chill. Do you suppose we could have a fire?”
Lorine gave her an odd look at the change of subject. Karigan tried to convey in her return gaze that it was more than a simple request to start a fire in the fireplace.
Lorine nodded. “Yes, Miss Goodgrave, I’ll see to it.”
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