“Because you told him you two were…oh, what does it matter. So Rinli is….”
“The Heir of Garla, yes.” Korin’s shoulders relaxed, the burden of the lie lifted.
“Creators,” Hozia said in Garlan.
“Yes.”
Hozia stood up and turned for the door. “You let her finish, then get ready to leave.”
“But….”
“You’ll have a nurser by the time you’re ready.”
“I shouldn’t go alone.”
Hozia whirled back, raised a finger to Korin and spoke. “I’ll find people you can trust, people from another section of the mesa who shouldn’t be able to connect the Empir they see with the Garlan who was your mate in the Farii.”
“Three. No, four. And she’s cut her hair, so that should help. I’ll stop at Pass Garrison. They must know by now that the Empir’s been taken. If I tell them I know where she is, I should be able to enlist a couple of guards to ride with me.”
“You’re planning on forcing Ondra to release her.”
“Yes, and then she’ll need guards to take her home.”
At that, Hozia nodded and left.
“Well, my little one,” Korin said softly in Garlan, “it seems your mother is in trouble, and I’m the only one who knows where she is. I promise. You’ll meet her soon.”
Once Rinli had finished nursing, Korin pulled her out of the pouch. He cradled her in his arms for a moment, admiring every little breath, marveling when she puckered up her face and sneezed and kissing her dark hair. Then he set her down and sorted through the folded clothes he’d used as a pillow. A few he threw into his pack; the rest he left scattered on his pallet. He changed from the slitted and slinged nursing tunic into one of his old tunics from Garla. He pulled on his leggings, then his boots and finally grabbed his robe. By the time he was ready, Hozia had reappeared.
“I got them, four of them,” Hozia announced, a bit out of breath. “They’ll be down in the stable waiting for you.”
Korin rose from the pallet, Rinli in his arms. “Did you tell them what we’re doing?”
“No. They only know they’re going to Garla on a mission for me.”
Korin nodded and slung his pack over his shoulder with his free arm. He sighed as he looked into his daughter’s eyes. “I’ll have to keep the teat flowing, won’t I.”
“It’s not hard. Shame to waste it though.”
“Yes,” Korin replied absently, his mind digging through possibilities upon possibilities. “The note was delivered to you directly?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Don’t let the messenger near my child,” Korin insisted.
Hozia nodded, and Korin handed Rinli off to her. “You think…you think she’s….” The Elder’s voice trailed off, the words seeming difficult to hear and even more difficult to say, but Korin knew Rinli’s circumstances certainly fit the prophecy.
Korin nodded. “Keep her safe.” He leaned down and kissed the sweet-smelling child of his pouch on the forehead, then stepped around Hozia and headed down the tunnel to the stable, making a mental list of first-things-first.
Camp as soon as the sun comes up, reach the base of the mountains the following morning and up to Pass Garrison the day after that. Hurry. No time to waste.
Lisen sat quietly, hood in place, hands tied behind her, her stomach growling but willing to wait. She sat, breathing—in, out, in, out—and pictured her mind extending outward. At her least intoxicated for the moment, this was the time to train herself to fight through the drug. But, after days or, perhaps, even a week of practice, she’d failed to extend her thoughts past her skull, but she didn’t dare stop. Too much on the line to give up.
She had a plan, though the first half of the plan still remained unclear. Until she could imagine a push through the web that bound her gift, she couldn’t even begin to picture using it again. But the second half had her jumping on Pharaoh and following the river home. If she had time, she’d grab some supplies, but if she didn’t, she’d only have to go hungry for a few days. Water she could get from the river.
She continued breathing and concentrating on sending her thoughts beyond the drug’s veil. She didn’t know how she’d recognize success, and she didn’t dare try to reach anyone within the cave. If they sensed her intrusion, she wouldn’t get a second chance. Ondra would just as soon kill her as risk losing her usefulness, whatever that was. She hummed to herself, barely audible, and didn’t recognize the song at first. She still reached out, but the tune refused to disengage. It was Earth. It was rock-and-roll. It was a favorite of Daisy Holt’s. It was…“Paint it Black” by the Rolling Stones. How appropriate, seeing as my world is pretty black at the moment.
Contact.
She jumped back, all other thoughts forgotten. She’d reached the mind of someone, and she could do nothing but retreat. She’d broken through the dungeon cell of the drug. She’d done it, and she knew she could duplicate it. Now, to learn how to free her mind when the sack over her head stank of the fullness of the acrid drug.
“My Liege!”
Lisen started. Ondra had snuck up on her. She made note to practice more caution in the future when she delved into a trance.
“My Liege,” Ondra repeated, and Lisen felt the movement of the air as the woman sat down in front of her. Lisen blinked as the hood was pulled off, and the torch’s light assaulted her eyes. “News. From Avaret. I thought you’d want to know.”
“What?” Was it Nalin? Had he died? She dreaded the possibility of hearing those words—“Nalin’s dead.” Without Korin to help her, Nalin was the only one left who would care enough not to give up on her.
Ondra wiped something on the hood and then rinsed her hand in the bucket they kept out of Lisen’s reach. “They’ve declared you dead, your friends in Avaret. You are to be replaced by a newborn Heir.”
Relief washed over her. The only one dead was her, and she wasn’t dead yet, thank the Creators.
“Elor,” she mouthed.
“I guess that means I can call you Lisen again, since technically you’re not the Empir.”
“Holder Corday?” She didn’t care what the woman called her. Nalin never would have abandoned her. She braced herself for the worst.
“I don’t know. His name wasn’t mentioned. Maybe his injuries proved too much.”
It was the first time Ondra had admitted that she knew something about Nalin’s part in the abduction.
“Injuries?”
Ondra leaned in close, unsheathed her damn knife again and began to play her little tracing game on Lisen’s jaw. “I believe it was his leg. Broken, I think. Other than that, I know nothing.”
Lisen jerked her head away, as best she could. Her arms had reached such a level of pain, bound behind her as they were, that any movement jarred them into spasms.
“Don’t run away, little one,” Ondra cooed, her knife slipping slowly down Lisen’s right side until she stopped at Lisen’s pouch. “Nice little pouch. Empty though. Every Empir needs an Heir. Oh, but you have one, your brother’s son. He’ll make a lovely Empir, especially with his mother as regent.”
Lisen wanted to spit. She’d worked hard to overcome her brother, and many had made sacrifices along the way to help her. To find herself in this powerless position after all she and others had done galled her. Escape was no longer an option; it was a necessity. Lorain wasn’t getting her throne.
Apparently finished with Lisen, Ondra threw the hood back over her head. Lisen felt the abrupt absence of the knife against her side and heard the woman stand and start out of the cave.
“Farewell, little Lisen. Someone will bring your meal in soon.”
This time, for the first time, with the sack threatening to suffocate her, Lisen chose not to hold her breath. This time, for the first time, she breathed deeply, fought down her fear and let the inhalant in to steal her gift. But this time, for the first time, she employed what she’d learned before Ondra had come to see her. She failed to find an
other mind, but just as she meant to let go, she sensed a crack, a pop, something giving, and knew she’d broken through. But only for a second, and then disorientation flooded her.
Futility. Magic could have been a means to her escape in the beginning, but the shock of the attack had thrown her, a reality she’d tried to accept. And yet, a push here, a push there, and she might have been free before she’d been taken hostage.
If I can overcome the drug, fight my way through it, I can push one, maybe two, but can I push all seven? I have to keep trying, both before and after they dose me. The hood is usually re-drugged right around a meal. Not always then, but always twice a day. If I can time it right…. And despite the nausea-inducing drug-laced air she continued to inhale, she allowed herself to hope, if only a little.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
sight
The privy council began to gather in the Empir’s office, meeting for the first time since the divvying out of assignments. Nalin and Commander Tanres had not arrived yet, and only Bala knew why. Nalin had insisted on coming down the stairs with only the commander and a crutch to get him down, and Bala assumed they were still on their way.
“Bala, what in the name of the Creators is Nalin really up to?”
Bala stared across the conference table at Melanda Cabell. “What?”
“We’ve all got our little tasks,” Melanda explained, “and that’s fine. But why did I get stuck with Lorain?”
“Melanda,” Felso Mira said, “it’s simple. You and Lorain are friends, and no one in Council can argue with your assessment if your investigation determines she’s a traitor.”
“More like you think I can get her to say things to me she wouldn’t say to anyone else.”
Felso nodded. “Also true.”
“It was my idea,” Bala offered. “I wanted Nalin off the investigation. Truthfully, I wanted him off anything to do with Lorain. He’s been carrying a terrible load since the abduction, and he was sicker than he’ll admit, I’ll tell you. With his focus on the search for Ariannas, frustrating as it is, he doesn’t have to put up with Lorain barging in anytime she feels like it. There are others who can step in and shield him.”
“We’re glad to do it,” Malaki said. “And I’m sorry—”
The opening of the door from the hall interrupted Malaki, and Bala smiled to herself when everyone at the table rose in silent tribute as Nalin hobbled in, supported by the commander. Tanres brought him to his chair, and, once Nalin had sat, she took his crutch and set it aside.
“Sit down, sit down.” Nalin, looking embarrassed by their gesture, took time to catch his breath as they resumed their seats, Tanres taking hers on his left. Nalin pulled his leg up onto the chair between himself and Bala. Bala smiled at him and forced down the tears that threatened every time she couldn’t ignore his disability.
She thought of her father. The months of watching her father deteriorate had never worn on her the way that Nalin’s struggles had and still did. Her father had filled his life with love and friends and work, and, at the time of his death, he’d accomplished more than many people older than himself could ever claim. Nalin, on the other hand, was too young to be forced to deal with everything the fates had foisted upon him, and Bala ached for his pain, both emotional and physical.
“Now,” Nalin began, lifting his large pink crystal from the papers in front of him on the table and leafing through them. He looked up and across at Melanda. “Welcome, Melanda. I know I welcomed you privately, but it’s good to see you here with the rest of us.”
“Thank you, Nalin, although, as I said to you previously, it would have been nice to be included in the initial decision-making.”
“I’m sure everyone understands that,” Nalin replied. “But as I explained to you, we are up against time, and we have none to spare.”
“Yes, I know. And now that I’ve made my complaint official, I’ll let it go.”
“So,” Nalin continued, looking around the table, “Bala has updated me on your reports, but let’s update one another here. I’ll start. Unfortunately, I have no news regarding our Empir’s whereabouts or status. The search will continue utilizing the two-person parties in their currently assigned areas, with reports to myself and the commander, until the opening of Council next month. At that point, we can reassess and decide whether or not to consider other options.”
Bala knew what “other options” meant and how painful it was for Nalin to even hint at the possibility of the Empir’s death. But by the time Council convened, some sort of decision would have to be made, and Nalin knew it.
“One thing,” Nalin added, tapping his index finger on the table. “If the Thristans were behind the abduction, why haven’t they stepped forward to take the credit? If this is an attempt to engage us, there seems to be no point in their doing this without telling us why or what they want.”
“I agree,” Felso said, rubbing the sparse beard on his chin. “Perhaps it’s a small group who lack sufficient support from the majority.”
Tanres shifted forward in her chair. “Something we’ve considered,” she stated. “Given that our message to Pass Garrison was sent barely two weeks ago, our infiltrators have likely only just left for the mesas. In conjunction with Holder Corday’s hope to learn something before Council, they’ve been ordered to spend no more than two weeks investigating so they can get word back to us by then.”
“Good.” Melanda nodded.
“Melanda,” Nalin said, taking charge again. “Anything new regarding Lorain?”
“I’ve gone over the testimony and reports you gave me, and I had dinner with her last night. She spent the entire time cooing about her son who, by the way, she wants more than anything to be the next Empir. And what Lorain wants, Lorain assumes she’ll get.”
“You might want to conduct your own interviews with the witnesses,” Nalin suggested.
“Good idea. I’ll think about it.” Melanda nodded towards Nalin and sat back, done with her report.
“Thank you, Melanda. And that brings us to you, Felso, Malaki. Is there a way to neutralize Lorain’s desire to sit her son upon the throne?”
“Well, I, too, shared a meal with the Holder of Bedel, a couple of nights ago,” Malaki responded. “She specifically asked me to clarify her position to the privy council.”
“Which is?” Nalin asked. “Other than she wants it all and she wants it now, I mean.”
“She claims—and that’s a generous term on my part—that she’s only thinking of Garla when she insists on a resolution to the ‘Ariannas situation,’ as she calls it. ‘Garla requires a leader,’ she said. ‘A Will is not a leader. Especially a crippled Will.’ Her words, not mine, Nalin.”
“I know,” Nalin replied softly. Bala never thought of him as crippled, but she knew Nalin thought of himself that way.
“As far as calming her down or whatever you want to call it, I don’t think we’ve got a chance,” Malaki continued. “I suggest we place our hopes in Melanda’s investigation.”
Nalin sighed. Bala watched his eyes go cold and quiet, and she knew the pain had begun to wear on him again.
“Melanda,” he said. “I want you to get all the information you can, and then we’ll call Lorain in for questioning. I think it’s time she answered to all of us.”
“And now, I think that’s enough for today,” Bala announced and stood up. The others rose after her, hesitant, one at a time. “Any questions?”
Mumbles of “no,” “it’s all right” and such greeted her words, and they all left, save for herself and Nalin, of course. Tanres paused at the door.
“Do you want help up the stairs now or later, my lord?” she asked.
Bala watched Nalin’s hand tense into a fist. “In a moment. I’ll send for it.”
And with a nod, Tanres was gone.
Bala pulled her chair around so she could sit right next to him, no partial leg to intervene between them.
“It hurts, doesn’t it,” she said softly as she pu
t her hand over the back of his neck, her fingers touching the hair covering his ear.
He pulled away abruptly, grabbed the pink crystal from the table and flung it across the room where it landed in several pieces, leaving a dent in the marble wall.
“Damn it! Lorain’s right. I’m a cripple, Bala. I can’t even piss in private.”
Bala rose and stepped over to where the crystal had shattered and began picking up the pieces.
“It’s not the pain,” Nalin continued. “Pain is nothing. It can be dealt with, and it’s getting better. It’s the damn lack of independence. Like right now. I can’t get up and go in to talk to Jazel. I have to yell to get her to come in to me. And I can’t head upstairs with all this paperwork in my hands until two guards can come and get me.” He paused.
The larger pieces of the crystal gathered, Bala returned to the table, set the pieces down and resumed her seat beside him. She listened in silence as he talked, allowing him to purge the grief and anger and frustration.
“We can’t find her,” he went on, and Bala could see the tears welling up in his eyes. “Why can’t we find her? Or any sign of her? I feel like if I could just get out there, I’d know where to look somehow. But I can’t. Damn it!”
And that’s when Nalin did something she’d never seen him do before—he began to sob. She wrapped her arms around him and let him cry. She rocked him gently as he continued mourning losses he’d let fester too long. No words were exchanged; no words in need of being said.
At one point, the door from the hall opened softly, and the commander stuck her head in. Bala gave her a look that she hoped told the commander to exit quietly and not return until summoned, and the commander backed out and shut the door without a sound.
Blooded (Lisen of Solsta Book 3) Page 19
