She surfaced, shook her head, spat some water out and surveyed the expanse of a bath the size of the Hearst Castle swimming pool. Bala sat beside her in the water without saying a word, and Lisen remembered a bath—an eternity ago, it seemed—when madness had tossed her about like a toy and left her baffled and broken. This time she was stronger. This time she’d held her own somehow against the encroachment of seven dead souls. But this time, despite her strength and her ability to shield herself, a fragile sadness enveloped her, and ultraviolent Little Alex who’d once carried her through the first throes of possession seemed closer than ever.
“You rich people have all the nice stuff,” she said in English, savoring words in the language of the world she’d left behind.
“What?” Bala asked softly.
“Nothing,” Lisen replied, returning to Garlan.
“You can tell me about what happened if you want.”
“What I want is to know what happened to Nalin.”
Bala sighed. “Yes, I suppose you do.”
“It will always be my fault, won’t it. Not just Nalin’s leg, not just Korin and his eye, not your sister’s death or your father’s, but everything. I will always be Eloise’s tool, a puppet to her puppet master.” She paused and wiped the wet hair out of her eyes as she turned to look at Bala who continued to sit quietly, patiently. “I shouldn’t have left.”
“What?”
“I should have stayed for your father’s funeral. I’m sorry.”
“I know. My aunt can do that to people.”
Lisen nodded, nothing left to say.
“Here,” Bala said. “Let me bathe you.”
Lisen shrugged, helpless to decline, then turned her back to Bala and felt the soothing rub of the sponge with its cushioning oil on her skin, but nothing seemed capable of calming her nerves.
“Nalin’s horse fell on him,” Bala said softly as she ministered to Lisen, body and soul. “He suffered an open break to his ankle. Commander Tanres sent for me and his mother at the same time. Of course, I got here first and found him in the middle of an argument with Lorain.”
Lisen whipped her head around and looked into Bala’s warm eyes. “What happened with her?” she asked, hearing the terror of the dark wilderness of mind in her voice.
“Shh.” Bala put two fingers up to Lisen’s mouth, and Lisen turned away from her again. “This story needs telling in the proper order. So I stayed with Nalin almost constantly for over a week. At first it looked like maybe what the healer from Solsta was doing might work, but then Nalin developed a fever. Between the cilla nectar and the pain and the fever, I’m surprised he managed to comprehend anything that was happening around him. But he did.
“They started talking about amputation right after the fever hit. He refused. Thank the Creator, his mother arrived and ordered him to let them take what they had to of his leg. His recovery was rapid after that. And you should know that through it all he devoted all the energy he had to finding you. He held on to hope and wouldn’t let go. I think it may have been his only reason for living during the worst of it.”
Lisen whirled on her, wishing for something to say, but when she found nothing, she looked away again.
“So, you see, you may have actually saved him.”
“I’m…sorry. I should have been here.” Lisen turned once more, and this time Bala did nothing to push her back. Instead, she lifted one hand out of the water and brushed Lisen’s chin.
“You don’t understand.” Bala smiled. “Yes, we nearly lost him. And, yes, he might have had a better time of it if he hadn’t had so much to worry about. But he’s healthy now. And your return, your safe return, is only going to make a man who tends to worry a lot worry a little less. I call that a victory.”
“But he still can’t walk.”
“Well, yes, but we’re trying to work that one out.”
“And what about Lorain?” Lisen had to know what they knew.
“She conspired with your abductors. We believe it was her job to distract your security detail that day.”
“The woman in charge of my captors admitted as much.”
“That Lorain was involved?”
Lisen pulled a hand out of the bath, cupped, holding water, and watched as the water scattered back down into the pool through her fingers. “Yes. Ondra said there were witnesses and that they’d use them if they had to in order to control her.”
“That will be a relief to Nalin. It’s too bad it had to cost two guards their lives, though.”
“Creators.” Lisen began to shiver, not from cold but from the bodies piling up around her. Involuntarily, her hands pushed out away from her, trying to force the horror away.
“Lorain was guilty of treason,” Bala said, “and although she wasn’t charged with your murder, everyone believed you’d died at the hands of your captors.”
“So, if I’d arrived a day earlier, even an hour earlier, Lorain wouldn’t have had to die?”
Bala pressed past Lisen’s barriers and took her in her arms. “You’re shaking.”
“Another dead body.” It was all Lisen could say.
“Listen to me. Lorain committed treason. The punishment for that is death. Now, hush.”
Lisen felt the salty water of tears slide down her wet cheeks, and she broke down in sobs in Bala’s arms. “Creators, Bala, I’ve done horrible things, things I can’t even talk about. There’s madness at the edge of reason, and I don’t think I can fight it again.”
“You don’t have to fight it alone.”
“But I’m the Empir. I can’t run off to Rossla on a whim.” She shrunk into herself, eyes growing wide, as she suddenly became aware of something new. Putting her hand up to her mouth, she continued in a tiny voice, “Creators, nobody knows I’m alive, do they. And Council’s in session, right? I’ll have to appear.”
“Don’t worry about it. Nalin and I will discuss it while you rest. By tomorrow you may feel different. If not, we’ll figure something out. Now, let’s get you out of here. I don’t want you to shiver to death.”
That might not be such a bad idea, Lisen thought as Bala helped her out of the bath and wrapped a large towel around her. Disoriented but, thankfully, not overwhelmed with voices and utter confusion, she allowed Bala to help her up the stairs and into a freshly changed bed where she lay down and immediately slipped into a deep slumber.
Nalin’s leg ached—not the absent part, but the part he still possessed. He’d sat here for nearly an hour listening to Sergeant Kopol tell him what she knew, and what she knew had horrified him. He’d summoned Commander Tanres to join them and then had asked the sergeant to repeat her tale of the Empir’s journey through darkness. Literal darkness, it seemed, with the Empir blind for what sounded like weeks. And the sergeant’s description of the blood in that cave where the Empir’s abductors had kept her and of her abductors’ deaths at the Empir’s hands—it was no wonder Lisen appeared to be on the verge of possession again. Nalin waited impatiently for Bala’s impressions after her time with Lisen in the bath.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” he said as the woman finished up for the second time, and he watched as Tanres shook her head sadly. “You and your companions from the Pass are welcome to rest here until it’s time for you to return to your garrison.”
“My lord,” the sergeant replied, “Commander, I would like to request a transfer here to the Keep. The Empir and I, well, I feel she could use me. I’ve seen things it might be difficult for someone else to understand.”
“Commander?” Nalin asked. This Kopol was young, though not as young as the Empir, but he believed that this guard might serve well as an aid in Lisen’s recovery.
“Of course, my lord. I’ll see to her permanent accommodations when we’re done here.”
“Thank you, my lord, Commander.” And after saluting, fist to chest, the sergeant turned and left the room.
Nalin leaned back in his chair. “How did she survive?”
“The strength of m
any generations of Ilazers flows through her veins,” Tanres replied. “Add to that all she went through to become Empir in the first place…well, she’s special, my lord.”
“But is she sane? You didn’t see her eyes. I looked right into them, and they told me she’s been to the Destroyer and back. How many times must her soul be exposed to that much fear and uncertainty without permanent damage?”
“She’s been tried on several fronts,” Tanres answered, “and not found wanting.”
Nalin jumped when the door from the hall opened, and, when Bala stepped in, he grew even more anxious. Now he’d know Bala’s opinion of Lisen’s sanity.
“How is she?” he asked as Bala approached and sat down in her usual spot beside him with his leg supported on the chair between them.
“Commander, you performed your task with mercy today,” Bala said.
“Bala?” Nalin urged.
“No, Nalin. I wanted her to know before we get lost in what might be an endless discussion.”
“Thank you, my lord. It helped that the holder allowed us to cut her hair.”
Bala nodded to Tanres and finally turned back to Nalin. “She’s not mad and she’s not possessed if that’s what you’re asking. She stayed with me, not once slipping into some sort of internal conversation the entire time we were together. I think she’s more tired than anything.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.” It was more than good to hear; it was the miracle he’d hoped for.
“She won’t talk about it though. I sensed a great deal of shame. What did you learn?”
“She was held on this side of the Rim in a cave the Thristans use when they’re in Garla. They gave her a drug—the sergeant couldn’t recall its name—which inhibited her gifts.”
“Sounds like gryl,” Bala commented. “My aunt mentioned it once when I asked if there were a way to silence her visions. Don’t know much more about it than that, though.”
“The sergeant said that she and her two companions were recruited when Korin arrived at Pass Garrison from Thristas with four Thristan comrades. He knew where the Empir was and needed guards to take her home after they’d rescued her.”
Bala nodded. “So it was Korin who saved her.”
“Not precisely, according to the sergeant,” Tanres said.
“Oh?”
“Yes,” Nalin continued. “They arrived to find she’d just killed all seven of her captors. Blind. Bala, the drug had left her blind. And she held them all in her mental grip until she’d finished them off.”
“Through the drug?”
“That’s the part I don’t understand,” Nalin replied, “but I’m sure there’s an explanation in there somewhere. She told the sergeant that she’d planned on groping her way to her horse when she was done and letting him bring her home.”
“You would think that at least one of those souls would have managed somehow to possess her,” Bala mused aloud.
“Thristans, my lord,” Tanres explained. “I would expect their souls to run in any direction save towards a necropath.”
“True.” Bala nodded.
“So, can she face the Council tomorrow?” It was the question Nalin had been asking himself all afternoon as this had unfolded.
Bala shook her head. “She’s broken. She’ll mend, but I don’t know how quickly. I promised her we wouldn’t make any decisions until she’d gotten some rest. If necessary, can we possibly put off revealing her return for a day or two?”
“The longer we wait,” Nalin replied, “the more people will see her—you know, servants and all—and the more likely it is that rumors will begin to circulate.”
“True. How many people have seen her already?”
“Let’s see. The sergeant says no one on their way through Avaret seemed to recognize her. I hardly did, so that’s not hard for me to believe. The only people who know at this point are the guards who rode with her as well as the two guards who were with me here. Oh, Tanres, can you talk to them?”
“Aye. Right away, my lord.” And the commander stood and headed out the door leaving Nalin and Bala alone.
“And you and me,” he finished.
“Then let’s wait and see how she is in the morning.”
“Creators, Bala. I keep asking myself how she survived.” Nalin began shaking. When he’d awakened this morning, he’d risen with a leaden dread in his heart. He’d never in his life expected to have to sentence a holder to execution, and he wished he hadn’t had to preside over Lorain’s. And then, to have the day turn into Lisen’s homecoming? As wondrous and joyful as that was, he’d watched the carefully woven tapestry of his control fall into tatters.
“I wish I knew, Nal.”
“Would you mind staying with her tonight? I can have a cot set up.”
Bala smiled. “In fact, I was going to suggest it.” She got up, stepped over to him and, still standing, cradled his head in her hands and brought it to rest against her pouch. He, in turn, embraced her hips, and they held each other, unable to let go.
“I can’t decide if we’re cursed or we’re blessed,” he said softly.
“Right now, I’m feeling blessed. My spouse-to-be is well again, and my Empir is alive.”
Nalin looked up at her. “Then I, too, shall choose to feel blessed.”
Rinli in his arms, Korin stepped into the caring chamber for the first time since his return from Garla. It was a risk, exposing Rinli to the members of the Tribe, but he would likely risk more if he kept her hidden. The People of Thristas celebrated children, and any whispered rumor would gain credence if the child it concerned became an unexplained enigma. So out he’d brought her to greet The People—her playmates for the first years of her life.
As he stood there contemplating the children in the room, a small person attached herself to his leg.
“Korin, Korin, you’re back,” the ever-enthusiastic Madlen declared. “Can I see the baby? I was there when she came, you know.”
With his free hand, Korin reached down and rubbed the top of her head. He admired the look of her long dark hair against her little dusky red tunic. “Yes, I remember. Now, let’s sit over here. I’ll even let you hold her if you’re very careful.”
Madlen grabbed his hand and dragged him to the bench where they both sat.
“Here. Give her to me.” Madlen reached out both hands to steal Rinli away from him, and he could do nothing but smile.
“I think she’s found her first friend,” Korin said as he repositioned Madlen’s arms to help her take the baby in her lap.
“Oh, I’d like that.”
“Now, I’ll set her here and you just hold her so she doesn’t fall.” His feelings swirled when he thought of the risk in the simple act of allowing a small child to hold a smaller child. He believed that Madlen would make a good guardian for someone younger, such as Rinli, but the amount of trust he must offer was greater than the trust he possessed.
“I won’t let her fall,” Madlen promised.
Korin nodded and smiled. “I believe you won’t.” And he released Rinli into her arms completely, holding his breath for the briefest moment as he kept his hands separate but close, and then finally pulled them back. His reflexes would provide safety for her now, and he knew this marked the beginning of letting go, a process that might continue, unrelenting, until the moment of his death.
“She’s pretty,” Madlen said.
“I think so, too,” Korin replied.
“Her eyes are green.” Madlen lightly touched Rinli’s cheek. Korin’s slippery trust overcame his need to defend, keeping him from yanking the child’s hand away from his baby’s face.
“Yes, they are. Have you seen green eyes before?”
Madlen’s expression screwed up in concentration and then softened again. “I don’t remember.”
His teat began to ache, the sign that Rinli was ready to nurse. “Have you ever watched a baby nurse from the pouch?”
“Yes. I think so. Maybe.”
Korin didn’
t laugh though he wanted to. Madlen was a proud little thing who didn’t like admitting she didn’t know it all. “Hand her over to me, and I’ll show you.” He pulled the sling around from behind his back and allowed it to settle into place, then he opened his arms and received Rinli from Madlen’s arms. “See, you put the baby in the sling with its bottom up top.”
Madlen laughed. “That’s silly.”
“Not for the baby. Then you make sure the baby’s head can reach the pouch from the sling.” He’d done this so many times now that he could do it half asleep, but Madlen’s eyes widened as she watched Rinli’s head disappear into the pouch.
“Can she breathe?”
“I know.” He couldn’t help but grin. “It doesn’t look like she could, but she hasn’t stopped breathing yet.” He felt Rinli grab onto the teat and begin to milk, a pleasurable sensation, which, when he was alone, could lull him into a level of contentment he’d never felt before.
Madlen put her hand on Rinli’s back through the sling and felt the baby’s rhythmic movement as she drew nourishment from her father. It was a thing Korin could never describe, so Madlen’s touch would reveal much to her that Korin couldn’t.
“Korin.”
He looked up at the sound of an adult voice in this room filled with active children and saw Elder Hozia standing in front of him.
“Elder.”
“May I join you?” Hozia asked.
Korin scooted closer to Madlen, and Hozia sat down on the other side of the bench.
“I haven’t yet grown accustomed to this,” Hozia said and gestured to Rinli in Korin’s arms, suckling in the pouch. “The captain of the Guard I once knew would have scoffed at the suggestion.”
“Don’t be fooled,” Korin replied. “I haven’t changed that much. The minute I hit Pass Garrison, I felt the guard in me reviving.”
“But that guard joined a parent on the mission.”
Korin looked down at Madlen who seemed intent on Rinli. “Ears,” he cautioned Hozia.
“She’s a captive to the babe.”
Korin shrugged. “Still….”
Blooded (Lisen of Solsta Book 3) Page 26
