Blooded (Lisen of Solsta Book 3)

by D. Hart St. Martin

  He shook his head and kicked his horse into a run across the last of the brown, arid land remaining between himself and Mesa Terses. One of the wranglers stepped out and offered to help Korin, but he tossed the reins to the woman, slid off his horse, grabbed his pack and ran inside. Up the tunnel he climbed, his heart two steps ahead of him, leading him to Rinli.

  He skidded into his personal chamber and found Hozia seated on his pallet, Rinli asleep in her arms.

  “Welcome home,” Hozia said softly and set Rinli down on the pallet beside her. “Come, sit. We must talk.”

  “Yes,” Korin replied and sat down on the floor in front of the Elder. He reached out to touch the miracle he and Lisen had created.

  “They’re all dead?” Hozia asked, her voice hushed.

  Korin nodded as he smiled at the child. “She’d just stabbed Ondra, who was the last, when we got to the opening of the Khared. How bad is it?”

  “Bad enough. Many think you’ve brought the worst curse possible down upon us.”

  Korin sighed. “What was I supposed to do, kill her? They kidnapped her. She had no idea I was coming. In her mind, if she was going to survive, she had to act.”

  “But all of them, Korin?”

  “They’d given her gryl. I think it affected her judgment.”

  “Why would they give her gryl? Wouldn’t that be the last thing you’d want to give a powerful hermit?”

  “I don’t think Ondra understood the way it works. I think she needed to subdue the Empir’s powers quickly before she could stop the kidnappers with the push, and it never occurred to Ondra to look at the effects of extended use.”

  “Ondra never was one to pursue the full truth of a thing,” Hozia commented with a sigh.

  “I warned her.”

  “Warned who? Of what?”

  “I warned the Empir this could lead to war.”

  Hozia nodded. “Make sure I’m the only one you ever tell that to.”

  “You’re the only one I intend to tell. Do you think it will? Come to war, I mean?”

  “The Elders Council here has met, and, as word spreads, we will send representatives to the other mesas to see what we can do. But you know the Elders have little control over The People. They defer decisions to us, but they’re not required to listen to our counsel.”

  Korin scooped Rinli up into his arms and, with one hand, began to work the teat. When she awoke, he wanted to be ready to feed her again. He’d missed her soft lips and gums suckling for milk.

  “We have to find a way,” he said, his body warming to the touch of his infant daughter.

  “To stop it?” Hozia shook her head. “I don’t think we can. I do know one thing. This one, this babe in your arms, must survive. Your only task from here on in is to serve as her protector. I’ve sensed it. She is Mantar’s Child.”

  Korin closed his eyes. Never in a thousand lifetimes could he have imagined hearing those words used by an Elder in reference to a child of his. And he’d thought watching after a willful Heir-Empir a challenge. Preparation, he thought. I’ve been prepared for this.

  He brought Rinli up to his neck and allowed her to snuggle in there. The smell of her—milk and spit-up and the fine, fragrant sand from the water chambers that they used to keep her dry under the diaper—intoxicated him. Less than a year ago, he’d journeyed on a sailing barge to the Isle of Solsta and thought that an essential duty. Now he held prophecy in his arms and wished he knew where it would take him from here.

  Sergeant Kopol had fussed over Lisen this morning—over her hair which remained hopeless, over the color of her eyes returning as well as her sight, and over the fact that there were no decent clothes for her to wear for her ride into Avaret. “An Empir should make a glorious impression,” the woman had said, frustrated that she couldn’t put Lisen back together any better than she had. The other two guards had offered suggestions, but Kopol had decided Lisen was hers to make right.

  Lisen smiled at the memory as they approached the capital city, the hills of Avaret lying visible before them. Visible, she thought. Avaret. Visible. Both had seemed unlikely but a few days ago. Then, Korin had arrived, his timing practically perfect. Except that she’d murdered seven people right before he’d shown up to free her. But he’d come, and she’d heard his voice. Her heart had risen but then had dropped when she realized he didn’t love her, couldn’t love her. Not after all she’d done. Stop it. It was over. He’d moved on to the other side of what was coming.

  Avaret, capital of Garla. They kept moving forward but didn’t appear to be moving any closer. The sergeant had said it would be about four more hours on the road this morning. How long had it been so far? Felt like more than that. Probably wasn’t. Home. Finally. Home.

  Did you ever think this would feel like home? she asked herself. Not in a million, trillion years, she answered. Clean bed, clean clothes, a warm bath in the bathing pool just off the giant kitchen. And Nalin. The hermit on the road had said that Holder Corday was “all right.” Alive. That gave her hope. Whatever happened, her Will—her trusted friend—awaited her, and he would help her become Empir again because she was afraid she’d forgotten how to do it.

  They reached River Gate, the southern entrance to the city, where three guards greeted them. Lisen didn’t recognize a one of them.

  “Hold!” the captain of the gate contingent ordered. “State your business.”

  “Since when did guards question other guards about their business?” Lisen’s sergeant asked. “The Empir’s business. Is there any other?”

  “Sergeant,” the captain said, “the city streets are full of people, waiting for blood.”

  “And we’re returning the Empir’s horse.”

  “With some peasant astride him?” The captain nodded towards Lisen, and she shrank in response.

  “She was riding him when we found him,” Kopol explained. “She wasn’t willing to talk to us, so we brought her along. Seemed easier to bring her with us than waste time there trying to make her tell us what she knew.”

  “Off with you then. It will be welcome news to the Empir’s Will.”

  “That was clever,” Lisen whispered to the sergeant once they were out of the captain’s hearing and making their way through the rapidly filling streets.

  “We need to get you off that horse,” Kopol said. “You and I can switch. Over here.” She nodded towards an empty alley.

  “Why?” Lisen asked as they made the swap, and she ended up on Kopol’s bay.

  “The streets are filled with people. We don’t want anyone recognizing you until you’re safe inside the Keep.”

  Lisen nodded, and they rejoined their companions and headed up the road that led to the plaza.

  The closer they got, the more claustrophobic Lisen felt. So many people pressed into this single narrow road that her guards often had to bark orders of “Move” or “To the side” so they could get through. For some reason Lisen couldn’t fathom, she wanted nothing to do with the crazed crowd. Their emotions seemed to have taken possession of her soul, but not like the possession with Jozan. No, this manifested in a feeling of maniacal public voyeurism, and she couldn’t seem to shield herself. Perhaps a residual of the drug Ondra had given her incessantly for weeks? Thank the Creators, she could see fairly well now. She couldn’t imagine how making her way through this crowd blind would have affected her. She could hardly bear it sighted.

  They reached the top of the hill, and the plaza opened out in front of Lisen—the huge oval fountain, the old palace reserved for the Council members, the monumental Keep. The plaza appeared to be the center of all the excitement. Something special indeed was about to occur here. People had even positioned themselves in and on top of the fountain. They were everywhere and packed in to the point where movement had become impossible.

  “Here, my Liege,” Kopol yelled in her ear. “Follow me. I’ll get you through to the stable.”

  Lisen nodded and kicked her horse forward behind Kopol and Pharaoh. She to
ok a quick look behind her and saw that the other guards had allowed themselves to be sucked in by the crowd. Whatever happened now, it would be up to the sergeant to get her the rest of the way home.

  Movement was slow and laborious. Pharaoh’s size alone was enough to break through the throngs, but he was still limited in how fast he could move. Riding through the path he cleared, Lisen and the sergeant’s horse kept pace until they were nearly at the gate into the park. That was when she saw it, when she saw the reason for the highly stimulated crowds.

  A hastily constructed platform rose from the cobblestones just to the south of the great stairs of the Keep. It stood high enough for many in the plaza to see everything and for many more to see at least a little. Three people stood upon this platform, and Lisen squinted to make them out. Two guards in full uniforms and armor, one of them with a huge broadsword shining in the sun. The one with the sword turned towards Lisen, and Lisen recognized her immediately. Tanres. And who was the person standing with hands manacled beside them? Dark brown hair cut short to her head—yes, Lisen had determined it was a woman—dressed in a grey tunic. A grey tunic. I…Creators!

  “No!” Lisen screamed as the other guard forced the woman to her knees and whispered in her ear. The woman nodded and bowed her head. The plaza grew silent, and Lisen intended to scream again, but Sergeant Kopol turned around and shook her head in an exaggerated movement.

  “Don’t look,” Kopol mouthed. “Look at me instead.”

  This time Lisen shook her head and turned to watch. She saw no way to stop it, and as this was going to happen in spite of her, she would watch to see the woman at the center of it receive the punishment Lisen reluctantly admitted she deserved. She shifted a bit to see who was overseeing this execution, but it seemed whoever it was stood too far back at the top of the stairs before the great doors of the Keep for her to see from her vantage point.

  Commander Tanres raised her sword, and the sun flashed off it right into Lisen’s eyes. She put her hand up to shade them, and in that moment she stared unbelieving as Tanres brought the sword down and through the woman’s neck. Blood spewed out, and the head rolled to one side as the body fell to the other. A great shout rose up from the crowd, and Lisen shuddered. Lorain Zanlot was dead.

  Sergeant Kopol leaned over, grabbed Lisen’s reins from her hands and rammed her way through the crowd, dragging Lisen and her horse with her and Pharaoh. Pharaoh got them all the way to the gate, and several guards there took one look at Kopol on what they appeared to recognize was their Empir’s horse and opened the gate to them. Once free of the crowds, Kopol kicked Pharaoh into a trot, and Lisen’s horse followed. And throughout all of this, Lisen felt blind again, though she could see. The horror of a beheading had captured her and wrung her empty.

  Images passed across her eyes. Empir Flandari. The Halorin spy. Jozan. Later, her brother. She’d witnessed death, and she’d felt it seven times in quick succession in the Khared. But this was cruel in a way she’d never understood when she’d read of it in books on Earth. For a person to go from alive to dead and know for a fact it was coming—that defied any emotional definition she could imagine.

  Then, Ondra’s words returned to her. “Another Heir and his mother will give us what we want exactly the way we want it.” Lisen had known immediately whom she’d meant—Zanlot—which Ondra had confirmed. Still—wasn’t there anything fair but less brutal?

  “My Liege!”

  And she was back—back in the now, back in the park between the Keep and the stable, back in her very much alive and sighted body.

  “Yes.”

  “Off your horse. We need to get you inside.” The sergeant spoke urgently, and Lisen nodded, threw her right leg over and slid off her horse. Kopol, already on the ground, ran to Lisen, grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the Keep.

  “But the horses…,” she protested feebly.

  “Someone will get them.”

  Lisen nodded and allowed herself to be pulled along, up the steps into the private dining area, through the door to the hall and into the great room where their footsteps echoed. All that way, and not one guard had confronted them. All called out for crowd control on the plaza? Lisen wondered.

  Into the main hall that led from the great doors, and Lisen heard before she saw—the sound of multiple boots stepping inside and heading in the direction of her office. She yanked her arm out of Sergeant Kopol’s hand and turned to see who headed towards her. That’s when her expectations and reality collided, and she fell to her knees.

  “Nalin,” she whispered, her eyes dropping to the floor to avoid staring at him and the stump that was once his right leg. “Creators,” she mouthed, unable to articulate any more than that for a prayer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  fragile, not fractured

  “Halt,” Nalin ordered, holding up a hand. The guards carrying him stopped, and he studied the figure kneeling on the floor. “Lisen?” he whispered. This can’t be. Questions danced in his mind so frantically he couldn’t corral them. Yet, there she knelt. If only she’d lift her head so he could see her face. “Get Holder Tuane. She should be in my office. Go. Get her. Get her quick.” Even as he barked his orders and a guard stationed behind him headed for the stairs, he never took his eyes from the figure on the floor.

  Slowly her head rose, and Nalin saw tears streaming down a grime-streaked but blessedly familiar face. The Empir. The Empir is alive. Looking tired and ragged, the Empir lived. He wavered between celebration and restraint. She was home; he didn’t know how, and at the moment he didn’t care. And yet, he’d just executed the person he believed responsible for an Empir’s death. He’d played it carefully, labeling Zanlot’s crime as treason, no more, with a punishment as dictated by law. But would he have gone so far if he’d known the Empir was on her way home? And what would she have done, if she’d arrived home in time to take his place as judge?

  “What have I done to you?” she asked, and Nalin noted that anguish accompanied her tears.

  “Let me down,” he ordered the guards.

  “My lord?” one of them questioned.

  “Can’t you see? She’s the Empir. Let me down.” His patience diminished by the second. If he’d had two good legs, he would have joined her on his knees already.

  Since the two guards holding him appeared to have frozen in place, the sergeant with the Empir stepped forward between himself and Lisen. “Allow me, my lord.” She put her strong arms out and held him as he put his lone foot down on the floor. She kept him balanced as he lowered himself slowly, and then she backed out of the way. He crossed his legs, hiding his right under the left, and scooted forward to touch Lisen’s knees with his shins. He reached up, and, with a thumb, he wiped at the tears on one of her cheeks.

  “Nothing,” he said softly. “You didn’t do anything. Your abductors did it.”

  “I ruin everything,” she sputtered through her tears. “Everyone who’s loyal to me ends up wounded somehow.”

  “I’m not.” Nalin looked past Lisen to see Bala descending the stairs. He smiled halfheartedly and shrugged. Bala smiled back, and as she got to them, she reached down and offered Lisen her hand.

  “Come, my Liege,” she said. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  Lisen pulled away. “I don’t want to clean up. I want to stay dirty. Don’t want anyone else getting close to me and getting hurt.”

  Bala crouched down beside Lisen, and Nalin caught a look in Bala’s eyes that he had no difficulty translating. She wondered if Lisen were possessed again. Bala had witnessed Lisen slipping into madness once, and she seemed to suspect something was wrong.

  “Lisen.” It was almost as though Bala had sung her name. “Look at me.” The Empir turned her eyes to stare into Bala’s. “You see that man there in front of you? He’s been through a lot in the last couple of months. I suspect you have, too.”

  “He’s…been through…far worse…than I have.” Lisen’s breath came in heaves, and Nalin reached out an
d touched her cheek again.

  “But I’m all right now,” Nalin said, hoping to reassure her.

  A horrified look on her face, Lisen slid back just far enough to get away from his touch. “No.” She shook her head, and Nalin saw grief in her eyes. “No, you’re not all right. You…you….” She couldn’t seem to find the words, and she flopped her hand out in front of herself in an ineffectual manner. “You only have one foot. You can’t walk on one foot. That’s not all right to me.”

  Nalin looked to Bala, and Bala got that look she always got when it was time for her to take charge.

  “My Liege, I don’t care what you want. I’m taking you in for a bath and then upstairs to sleep.” She took Lisen’s arm, and Lisen didn’t fight as Bala pulled her up and took her away.

  “You,” Nalin said to the sergeant who’d brought Lisen home. “You’re coming with me.” He raised his arms up to his escort and allowed them to lift him up and help him into the Empir’s office. They set him down in his usual chair at the conference table, and he lifted his right leg up on the chair and its pillow beside him. The sergeant had followed him in and now stood at the other end of the table.

  “Sit,” he ordered once the other guards had left. “Tell me everything you know.”

  Lisen allowed herself to slip below the surface of the bath water, head and all, and let everything that had stuck to her body break away. What stuck to her soul refused to be so easily dislodged. That would require more than a bath; it would require even more than a river baptism. But what it would require, she didn’t know.

  Nalin had become yet another one of her casualties. She’d accumulated so much weight on her soul that its burden had taken her captive. She was the ruler of the world—at least the world they knew here—and she couldn’t unshackle herself from self-accusations.