“Ask Gabrielle; see if they can stay with her. I just want them to be free,” Marco felt exhausted from the conversation, and he began to sleep.
Folence took a step back and looked at the boy. He was asleep atop a bier that was positioned upon the altar of the chapel in the convent house of her order. The Sisterhood of Ophiuchus had a temple campus at Barcelon that appeared simple on the outside. It was never open to the public, except for the small building that women from the community visited for medical care and religious services. Marco was far inside the temple grounds; he was being kept in the most sanctified space Folence could use, as a way to try to tamp down the terrible evil force that lived within his body.
Although she wouldn’t admit it to the boy, his alchemical solution to the problem had been productive. The evil energy had been moving closer and closer to seizing control of his heart, and seizing control of his soul, for whatever unknown purposes it had in mind. His method, brutal and destructive as it had been, had driven the evil farther from his heart, and seemed to have cowed it into quiescence for the past day. She hoped the sanctity of the chapel would help to weaken the evil while the boy’s body was healed, and she desperately tried to discover some means of curing him further.
She stopped looking at him and turned to go. Her eyes momentarily locked with those of the statue of Mary that overlooked the altar. Folence didn’t like having a male on the grounds, let alone in the chapel. She would have to go through a ritual to re-consecrate the building once he was gone, as a way to appease the Mother, to appease her own conscious, and to settle the angry mutterings of the sisters nearby who were upset by the presence of a male upon their grounds.
When Marco next awoke it was the following day, and he felt more energetic. “May I have some water, please?” he called out hoarsely. He could see no one present within the scope of his vision, but he heard footsteps. An elderly woman appeared suddenly.
“Open your mouth,” she ordered, then dribbled some water into his mouth. He closed his lips to swallow, but she continued to pour, so that water splattered all across his face, and he opened his mouth again to catch the flow and stop the spray of water that covered his nose and eyes. He stopped to swallow again, and she continued to pour for a pair of seconds more, then smugly stopped and walked away.
Minutes later Folence arrived. ”How do you feel this morning?” she asked.
“Wet,” he answered curtly.
She raised her apron, and roughly wiped it across his face. “Now how do you feel?”
“Dry,” he told her.
She stared down in disapproval. “I’m keeping you alive, and I’m protecting your soul by keeping you here in this holy place where no man has ever been before. I expect more cooperation than this.”
“Where is the evil part? Has it moved?” Marco asked her.
“It hasn’t moved. It’s still the same size it was when we brought you here, which is smaller than it was originally. Your suicidal attack on it did shrink it noticeably in size,” she grudgingly told him.
“Can you untie me now?” he asked.
“Do you pledge to stay obedient and meek while you are here?” she countered.
“I can’t make that pledge,” he answered.
“Then I can’t untie you,” Folence retorted. She bent over him suddenly, her head approaching his, and he moved his head away from her so quickly that he wrenched his neck.
Folence paid no attention to him as she brought her nose down to the long string of stitches that crossed his chest, raggedly pulling his flesh back together. “There’s no infection so far,” she said as she raised her head after sniffing for the smell of infection.
“Are Mirra and Glaze freed?” Marco asked.
“Yes, they are. Captain Kilson put in a request with the Duke to facilitate their release. They were set free as a favor to him,” Folence said.
“Where are they? Can I see them?” Marco immediately asked.
“As you suggested, the brother is living with the lady at the alchemy shop,” Folence answered. “Because they were released on recognizance to Captain Kilson, the girl is staying at his home.
“I’m sure he is being a perfect gentleman,” Folence added, taking some pity on Marco, as she saw the expression on his face.
“Can you have her brought here?” he asked.
“In a few days. After you heal more completely,” Folence remained adamant.
“If I pledge to not run away, and to obey you while I am healing, will you unstrap me, and bring Mirra to see me?” Marco felt desperate enough to concede.
“So you’ll agree to be obedient, but not meek, while you’re here?” Folence referred back to her earlier request.
“Yes,” Marco said in a low voice.
“Then I will unstrap you,” Folence said. She reached across him and opened the buckle on one wrist, then undid the other. “And I will send a message to Captain Kilson to invite his young friend to come for a visit,” she added.
“Do not try to do too much, Marco. You will be in a great deal of pain. Do not try to walk about unless you have someone to assist you. You may not – under any circumstances – leave this building,” she instructed. “I will have someone here at all times to watch over you.”
She turned and walked away, leaving Marco to stretch his left arm over to the right, where he rubbed at his wrists, then raised his right arm and looked at the raised portion of that arm. The evil energy was a grotesquely distended knob in his bicep, just above the elbow, but it did look smaller than the lump had looked before. He could see the line of stitches that ran up his arm to his shoulder, and disappeared from his view on his torso.
He pressed himself up into a sitting position, and felt a sharp shooting pain run through his chest. Folence’s warning had been accurate – he was in a great deal of pain just from that one simple act.
He looked around. A patient woman, a member of Folence’s order, wore a severe gray gown, and sat on a pew watching him, as her fingers knitted yarn into some item of clothing. The building was beautiful on the inside. There were numerous rows of pews behind the woman, all empty. The perimeter of the room was ringed with statutes of women – holy women, he presumed. The walls were decorated with intricate tapestries and the ceiling was high, high above. There were four doors, one in each direction.
Marco unbuckled the straps on his ankles, then laid back down, and fell asleep, exhausted by the simple effort.
The next day, Mirra came to visit. Kilson brought her to the convent grounds, then waited outside while Folence escorted her to see Marco. She wore a new gown, one he had never seen before. It had a low neckline that revealed her décolletage to a greater degree than Marco thought appropriate, and he asked about it before they said anything else.
“Captain Kilson bought this gown for me,” she explained to Marco, and he let the issue pass, as his eyes took in the sight of her beauty.
The two of them held hands and talked for nearly an hour, until Folence returned, and took Mirra back out of the chapel. Marco became aware that every day Folence came to the chapel to treat his wounds with ointments and salves, and had sisters of her order lay hands upon him as they prayed.
The following day, Marco tried to walk. Folence had two members of her order stand on either side of him, and he slowly walked to the back of the chapel. The day after that, Folence sniffed his stitches again, and decided that he could be bathed, and insisted that it happen. The females of the order vacated a bathroom in one of their dormitories, and Marco washed himself in lukewarm water, then felt refreshed from the cleansing.
Mirra visited the following day, with news. “The Duke still wants to have a ball to honor you for curing the plague and for defeating the Corsairs’ sorcerer. He has it scheduled for three days hence, and wants Lady Folence to let you come to the palace for it. Kilson has said that you’re not strong enough to leave, but the Duke insists.”
“Will I go to the palace for the duke’s ball?” Marco asked Folenc
e when she arrived later in the day to inspect and treat his wounds.
“That may be up to you. Will you promise to not run away, and to continue to be obedient?” she asked as she examined him.
“If Mirra is at the ball, I’ll be obedient,” Marco answered.
And so, on the day of the ball, Folence came to him in the mid-afternoon. “It’s time to remove your stitches,” she told him. She had a small, sharp knife, and she carefully cut away the black threads, and pulled each one out. The process took an hour.
“Now, let them drain for a while, then we’ll take you to have a bath, and we’ll dress you up for your night at the palace. Afterwards, you’ll return immediately here, agreed?” she asked.
“How much longer are you going to keep me here?” Marco asked, as he looked at the long, angry red line that ran along his arm and his shoulder. It would be an ugly scar to carry around, though he thought he could compose some alchemical creams that would substantially fade it away. It was a goal he set for himself for the day when he could finally return to Gabrielle’s shop and resume his life in Barcelon. If that day ever came, he cautioned himself to remember.
“I can’t tell you,” Folence answered. “You still have the sorcerer’s evil in your body. I don’t know how it will react when you leave this sanctified place. I am judging that a few hours at the palace will not be enough time to allow it to do any damage to you. Afterwards, we’ll bring you back here.
“Physically, you are moderately healed Marco, but your soul is still in grave danger. I expect to receive advice from Lady Iasco any day now that may give me some direction in how to resolve the problem.”
Marco sat silently, digesting her information, then walked to the baths and cleaned himself up. “Here is an outfit for you to wear,” Folence surprised him by walking unannounced into the bath. She had clothing draped over her arm. “Don’t be shy boy, get up here and get dressed. I’ve had to clean you up enough that you don’t have anything to hide from me, so move along.”
Marco obediently stepped up to her and pulled on the dark pants and the white shirt. “What’s this?” he asked about a blue triangle of cloth.
“That’s your sling. Put it on and put your right arm in it,” Folence ordered, then she helped him put on stockings and boots.
“That white shirt will show off your medal nicely,” the priestess murmured as she inspected him. “You know,” she replied to his puzzled look, “the Duke will award you with a medal for all your valiant service.”
Marco rolled his eyes, and saw that Folence smiled, the first sign he could remember that she had a sense of humor.
They rode in a carriage to the palace, and arrived in the early evening, before sunset. As soon as they left the grounds of the temple, Marco heard the humming murmur of the evil energy resume. The rhythm of its chant instantly raised Marco’s blood pressure, as he recognized that it was again calling out to evil powers elsewhere, inviting them to come to seize him.
He looked over at Folence. She was dressed in a regal blue robe, and wore a headdress that made her seem to be a queen in her own right. She sat rigidly, looking neither right nor left as the carriage carried her and her unwilling ward towards the palace.
Within minutes they arrived at the palace gates, and the carriage of the priestess was immediately admitted, ahead of a long line of other carriages that waited in line to attend the ball. Marco declined assistance, and climbed down from the carriage on his own, looking about from the porte-cochere in hopes of seeing Mirra waiting for him. She was not present, but several court servants escorted Folence and Marco through the palace to a waiting room.
The building was large, and grand. Marco was distracted by the increasing volume of the murmur that came from the evil energy within him. He considered admitting the problem to Folence, but refrained, fearful that she would take him immediately back to the temple grounds before he could see Mirra.
“So, do you remember much about your last stay here?” Folence asked as the two of them sat in a pair of comfortable chairs.
“No,” Marco admitted. “I remember running away, and that’s about all.”
“It’s supposed to be one of the most beautiful palaces in the Western kingdoms,” she told him.
Just then the door opened, and Folence stood up with an elegant poise that impressed Marco. He turned to see that the Duke had arrived.
“I’m so glad the two of you are here,” the nobleman said in a booming voice as he approached them. “What’s the point of having a ball to honor someone when the guest of honor can’t attend?” he laughed. He bent over the hand of Folence, then looked at Marco critically. “Her ladyship appears to have kept you alive, and I’m glad of that. I certainly owe you thanks for saving the city twice now, young man.”
“I’m honored to be able to serve,” Marco said nervously.
“We’ll want to introduce the two of you after most of the ordinary guests are already present. The staff will bring you down the main staircase, and you’ll have to deal with all the dreadful chatting and small talk. That’s why I wanted to see you now, to tell you how sincere my gratitude is,” the Duke said.
“Are Kilson and Mirra going to be here?” Marco asked.
“Oh of course! Kilson is my right hand man, and he’s had an extra spring in his step providing hospitality to that young beauty of yours these past few days. You won’t be able to keep him away from dancing with her,” the Duke said jovially. “Now excuse me. I’ll see you soon in the hall.” And with that the Duke was gone.
Marco sat and stewed over the thought of Kilson continuing to shower gifts upon Mirra. The girl had lived a life of deprivation until these past few weeks. Now, Kilson was showing her wealth and gifts and a genteel life that Marco couldn’t begin to offer.
“Shall we go?” Folence interrupted his dark thoughts when a servant came to lead them to the ball.
The sorcerer’s energy within him seemed to jump with excitement, and Marco tried to covertly place his left hand inside the sling to feel the lump of evil power. It had moved! It felt warm, and seemed to quiver with energy. Marco felt his stomach flip with fear and tension.
“What’s happening? What’s wrong? You’re as white as a sheet,” Folence immediately recognized his state of anxiety.
“It, it’s moving,” Marco stuttered.
“We need to get you back to the chapel immediately,” Folence said sharply. “Would you go have my carriage brought around?” she asked a servant in the hallway.
“No, I’ve got time. I just want to see Mirra,” Marco insisted.
Folence rolled her eyes at him. “Think with your brain, not your heart – or anything else,” she snapped.
“Let’s just hurry through this,” Marco was full of fear, but still determined to at least see the girl he cared for.
“We’ll hurry through this,” Folence said through gritted teeth, and they began to pace down the hall. The murmuring of the energy was growing louder, and then Marco felt a painful ripping shock to his arm, bad enough to make him stumble; without even looking he knew the evil swelling had moved again.
He gathered himself together and refused to meet Folence’s eye as they turned a corner and descended a staircase, then stepped into a small room, where Marco suddenly realized that Kilson and Mirra were waiting for them.
Mirra was a vision of beauty. Her hair was swept up on top of her head, with delicate white flowers woven into it artfully. Her shoulders were bare, and her gown was a subtle shade of blue, with matching gloves that reached from her fingers to her elbows. There was make-up lightly applied around her eyes, making them seem even larger and more entrancing.
“Marco!” she said affectionately. “You look so handsome in those clothes,” she stepped away from Kilson and over to him. “I’d hug you, but this gown is so tenuous I’m afraid it would fall away,” she giggled momentarily. “Are you well? You look pale.
“I brought you something,” she told him. She went to a corner of the room an
d returned with his sword, set in a beautifully worked leather scabbard. “Here let me adjust it for you,” she delicately reached around him, standing only inches in front of him as her arms encircled him to ring the scabbard around his hips.
Marco stared into her eyes, mesmerized. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered.
“I’ve missed you too,” she told him, and he was pleased to see a spark of genuine affection in her eyes.
She looked down and buckled the belt tight. “There,” she said as she stepped back, and took her spot next to Kilson, “now you look like quite the proper gentleman hero of the court.”
“He does,” Kilson heartily agreed. “Quite the dashing young squire, ready to go out and learn about the world and to do more good deeds.
“Will you ladies excuse us?” Kilson asked. “I have a quick question for our boy hero.”
Folence looked skeptically at Kilson. “I’ll not wander far from my ward,” she said sternly. “I’ll be right out here in the hall, and the door stays open so that I can see him,” she warned as she stepped out with the servants and Mirra.
Marco looked out at Folence, then looked at Kilson, who put his arm around Marco’s shoulder and turned them to face away from Folence.
“Marco my boy, that girl is extraordinary! She’s a real beauty, and her heart is sweet as honey,” Kilson told Marco in a low voice. “I’ve enjoyed showing her a taste of the life among the people of the palace, and everyone here is in love with her!
“You are still very young, and not ready to settle down. You’re not in a position to make her life as easy as I am able to. There are a lot of things you need to do in life before you settle down. Me,” Kilson thumped himself on the chest. “I’ve gotten all that out of the way. I can be a steady breadwinner for her, and treat her like a queen.
“Why don’t you move out of the picture, real gentle-like, and let me give her the life she and that little baby of hers deserve?” Kilson finished making his pitch.
The Gorgon's Blood Solution Page 26
