Peace knew that these fire-sculpted caverns had been the conjuring place for the earliest magics of the Founders. The caverns had been abandoned by the First Healed One, and all but forgotten by successive generations. Peace possessed no superstitious fear of magic as did the Hawk Havenese. His fear was real, rooted in belief, respect, and trembling awe. To be taken into these reaches, to be shut into a side cave, and see it sealed from without against his escape, these shattered his nerve as physical torment and psychological quandary had not.
The former Dragon's Eye collapsed onto hands and knees and took no comfort that the floor had been polished to some smoothness so the basalt did not abrade his palms. That smoothness meant this cave was among those the Founders had turned to their use and the proximity to such mysteries made him tremble and sink into black nightmare.
Grateful Peace came to himself to find Edlin crouched beside him, dabbing a rag dipped in water onto the worst of his cuts.
"How long?" he whispered.
"A bit," Edlin replied, his voice soft and the words distorted by his swollen lips. "Hard to say, really. They left us lanterns and there's water from a seep, even a clay cup. Here…"
Peace felt his head gently tilted and a cup placed against his mouth. Obediently, still trying to sort nightmare from truth, he drank. Edlin brought him more water and he drank again. The water tasted strongly of various minerals, but was no more unpleasant than some of the draughts offered by various baths throughout New Kelvin.
His thoughts cleared somewhat, and he struggled to sit up. Edlin assisted him and in the pale light Peace saw the youth wince as pressure was put on his arm.
"Is it broken?" Peace asked.
"I don't think so," Edlin replied. "Throbs every time my heart beats. Wish Cousin Jared were with us."
He paused, glanced about their prison, and amended.
"Then again, maybe I'm gladder he's not."
Peace found himself admiring the irrepressible spirit that wouldn't stop chattering even through broken lips. He fought to rise to Edlin's example.
"We're somewhere beneath the northern portion of Thendulla Lypella," he said. "How are we guarded?"
"Pretty well," Edlin replied. "The cave has a door, hinges and everything. Old-looking. I don't think we're the first to stay here. I listened at it and there's at least two men out there. Heard them talkingùnot New Kelvinese or Pellish, though."
"I understand several languages," Peace said. "Let me listen."
Stiffly, every limb aching as if he'd aged years with the passing of a few hours, Peace moved over to the door. The planks, he saw, were old, showing evidence of having warped and bent so that there were cracks between them. He didn't doubt that the planks themselves were solid and didn't waste precious strength testing them.
Although he heard some sound withoutùthe squeak of leather, a damped clanking of metal, a guttural coughùthe guards were not conversing. Peace thought about calling out to attract the guards' attention, but decided against this. He and Edlin had at least the illusion of privacy, and should use it to their best advantage.
Most important, perhaps, would be to learn just how real that privacy was. The cave seemed solid, but spy holes could have been drilled in any number of places. The presence of the lanterns also argued that they were being watched. Darkness would have been a fine tool to use against them, making it impossible for them to investigate their prison, even for them to find the water that had provided such a distinct comfort. His aching injuries reminded him that if their enemies were granting them light, it was not out of the goodness of their hearts but because they had some advantage to gain.
Limping over to the seep, Peace tore a rag from his robe and began systematically to wash his various cuts and scrapes. While attempting to seem completely distracted by this, he let his gaze rove. A crack in the door would offer the most obvious peephole, but its very obviousness would prove a disadvantage. Ideally, a second vantage, one that overlooked the back of the cave, would be ideal.
He was only partway through his examination, accepting Edlin's help in treating those injuries that were out of reach, when muffled sounds from the corridor drew their attention.
Holding up a finger for silence, Peace limped over to the door. Its thickness muffled what he could make out but he distinctly heard several voices, two of which, at least, were female. He felt a chill down his spine, for he knew to whom at least one of those voices belonged. There was no mistaking that cadence, silky yet commanding.
He turned to Edlin and hissed, "Melina!"
There was no time for more before a snapping and clattering of metal announced that the door was being opened. With the creaking of unoiled hinges as herald, Consolor Melina swept into the cell.
Marriageùor at least New Kelvinese styles in clothing, Peace thought cynicallyùapparently agreed with Melina, for she seemed taller, more slender, and even more commanding than he recalled. The dark green robe the new Consolor of the Healed One wore made her silvery blond hair seem to glow with a faint inner light, and her facial ornamentation served to emphasize her crystalline blue eyes.
Peace knew enough to avoid the direct gaze of those eyes, no matter how compelling they might seem. So, though he longed to glower at Melina, he only gave a perfectly correct bow, then focused his gaze over her shoulder.
Prudent as this tactic was, it meant that Peace could not avoid the smoldering gaze of the person who stood directly behind and slightly to one side of Melina. There Idalia waited, her expression mingling restrained fury and anticipation in equal parts. When her gaze met his own, Idalia's lips parted in an involuntary hiss of pure hatred.
Edlin had taken part in numerous discussions over just how Melina managed her particular form of magic. There had been differences of opinion on the fine points, but all had agreed that Melina's eyes were central to her control of another person. Therefore Peace was not worried that Edlin would make some careless mistake. However, he wasn't certain how the young man would react when at last confronted with the woman who had been responsible for so much in so little time.
Indeed, Peace thought it completely possible that the youth would say something like, "I say! Sacrificed any children to the silk spider gods? What?"
Edlin surprised him, however. From the corner of his eye, Peace saw Lord Kestrel give the Hawk Haven equivalent of a courtly bowùone nearly as deep as he would have given his own queen. After in this way acknowledging Melina's elevated status, Edlin said in a fairly good approximation of his usual breezy tones:
"I say. You're looking fine, Consolor Melina. Those robes really look classy. You'll be the envy of all the ladies when you make the diplomatic rounds."
Apparently, Melina was as surprised as Peace by this greeting, for she paused before replying.
"Thank you, Lord Kestrel, but I do not think the other ladies will be as quick to change their established fashions as you might believe."
Edlin responded with an easy, drawing-room laugh.
"If you were doing the convincing, Consolor Melina," he said, "it might be different."
Be careful, you young fool! Peace thought, momentarily panicked that Edlin might decide to push his teasing further.
Melina said nothing for a long moment. One did not need to be Grateful Peace and possess his long education in the interactions of men and women to realize that the Consolor was adjusting to their apparent composure.
I wonder what she expected? Peace thought. To find us cringing? Threatening? Demanding our freedom? Whatever she expected it wasn't Lord Edlin's casual insouciance.
He felt a flood of completely unheralded fondness for this young man with his foolish ways andùjust maybeùwise heart.
But Melina was not one to be put off her stride indefinitely. She stepped into the cave, Idalia and two of the guards, each carrying a lantern, following. Six in the makeshift room made for rather cramped quarters but Peace immediately understood the reason.
She cannot risk either herself or Idalia being
overpowered by us, yet she does not wish to let us out. Interesting. I wonder how far her control within Thendulla Lypella has spreadùand just who she feels she still must be careful around.
Continuing in his role as genteel guest rather than prisoner, Edlin made a sweeping gesture with one hand.
"Ladies? I'd offer you a chair, don't you know, but I'm afraid we're rather short."
Idalia gave an indignant sniff, but Melina summoned a smile.
"Thank you, Lord Kestrel, but we won't be staying long."
"Right-o," Edlin said, leaning back against the wall in a relaxed attitude that had to hurt his tortured limbs. "Delighted to have such charming company, what?"
Melina gave a rather icy smile.
"I am sorry I cannot invite you into my tower, Lord Kestrel, but it really wouldn't be convenient. However, if you cooperate with me, I can make your stay more comfortable."
Edlin said nothing, only tilted his head in a fashion that rather reminded Peace of Firekeeperùor of her wolf.
Melina went on.
"Your greatest use to me would be as a hostage. At this point, however, I am not certain what price I would take for your return. I have so much, you see…"
Again Edlin resisted the obvious prompt and Peace, aware that he himself was being deliberately snubbed, had to stifle a completely inappropriate chuckle. Once again he felt certain that this interview was not going as Consolor Melina had anticipated.
"What would make your stay more comfortable?" she asked.
Edlin looked around the cave, which, other than the lanterns and the clay cup, was completely unfurnished.
"Your hospitality has been even greater than I expected," he said smoothly. "I could not ask for more."
Peace saw Melina stiffen as the insult went home, but she refused to show her angerùperhaps because of the presence of the guards. These were clearly foreignersùWaterlanders, Peace thought, perhaps purchased from the debtors market. Debtors made among the most tractable of slaves because by Waterland law they were stripped of any place within their own society and so they were determined to make the most of their new life.
Debtors were also among the most expensive of slaves. Peace wondered just how high the ransom for Edlin might be set. No matter what gifts Melina had managed to extract from her besotted spouse and his associates, here was evidence that she was spending amply as well.
As for himself, Peace had no illusions that ransom would be an option. Idalia's gaze, unwaveringly fixed on him no matter what her mistress said, told him that he was the price for another's service. He only wondered how long he had until that price was exacted and how painful the ultimate paying out would be.
"Well," Melina said to Edlin after a long pause, "I can only say that my hospitality can be greater than you imagine. I hope you do not mind sharing your quarters?"
Edlin gave a casual shrug.
"It matters not. What are your plans for Grateful Peace?"
Melina's smile turned momentarily cruel.
"Eventually, he will be reunited with his older sister. I believe she wishes to have a long… discussion with him regarding her late son. However, that joyful reunion will be somewhat delayed."
Peace heard the "can be" in her inflection. He was being offered a chance to buy a few more days of life. What would the cost be? As he had not yet been addressed directly, he forbore from asking. Edlin, however, had no such restraints.
"Really? It must be something very important to delay such a reunion."
"Important?" Melina made a dismissive gesture. "Let us rather say helpful. I am eager to learn about my new homeland yet find surprisingly few people knowledgeable about the more obscure geographies of Dragon's Breathùespecially of the subterranean city. Repeatedly, I have heard 'If only Grateful Peace had not turned dirty, stinking traitor. He would know what you wish to learn.'"
Peace schooled himself to impassivity, but the taunt went home, even more as he didn't doubt the words were perfectly accurate, even mild.
Within New Kelvinese society, where merit overwhelmed all other considerations for promotion, slandering the competition was common. Complete character destruction was usual in cases of overwhelming failureùas Peace had failed his Dragon Speaker and his kingdom.
Edlin didn't know this, of course, and had the grace to look offended, but the wisdom not to comment.
"What would you want him to do?" he asked instead.
"Recite at length and in full the details of the hidden ways above and below Thendulla Lypella," Melina said promptly. "That will do for a start. If he can prove to me he knows more of value relating to other areas of the kingdom, he may preserve himself longer."
Idalia gave a small, indignant squeak of protest.
Melina laid a hand on Idalia's arm.
"Of course, maybe he can attend a family gathering or two," she said silkily. "As a reward."
Peace knew that the reward was Idalia's, for her patience, and he knew, too, who would supply the punishment if the information he gave was less than correct. From the fashion Idalia's fevered gaze rested on the limp sleeve over his amputated arm, he didn't doubt that she was contemplating more of the same.
He strove not to vomit, not to scream, not to rush forward in a desperate dash for freedom. Surely one of the guards might cut him down? Perhaps if he attacked Melina herself…
But such impulses died even as they rose. Melina had too much self-control to let herself lose such a valuable tool. All he would do would be to put himself in Idalia's hands the sooner.
Instead Peace said in a rusty voice he hardly recognized as his own:
"I would be honored to see my humble knowledge preserved so that it might serve the Healed One and his wife. If you would do us the great kindness of returning to Lord Kestrel his drawing materials, he might be willing to make maps of what I recall."
"I say!" Edlin said. "That might be fun."
"Fun," Melina echoed flatly. "Perhaps. But certainly useful."
She signed that the audience was ended and her entourage filed from the cave. The last look she gave them was cold and judgmental. It left no doubts that her cordiality had been feigned, nor that she had forgotten the one of their company who had escapedùand what the wolf-woman had likely borne away with her.
Chapter XXVI
THEY WERE IGNORING HER and that was the last insult. She'd been hauled halfway across two countries, dressed as a foreign boy, treated as a servant all for a single reasonùso that she could see her mother. Now no one was making any effort to bring them together.
They'd set up a hospital. They'd bought cloth and funny-smelling herbs. They'd talked and talked and talked and talked, and none of that talk had brought her to Mother.
Now they were all worrying about Edlinùand even about Peace, even though he was just a servant and a traitor whom they admitted they hadn't even trustedùand worrying about them meant that they weren't thinking about her. Citrine's fury at being so thoroughly ignored shaped her thoughts into a narrow tunnel out of which she peered like a sailor seeking a safe harbor with a spyglass. She found one, just where it had always been.
Mother. She would go to Mother. She would tell her about the others, about their nasty plans and plots. Mother would be happy and proud. Mother would make her a princessùa princess just like Sapphire.
Everything would be wonderful. Citrine knew it, and if the traces of common sense that clamored to rise through her anger and resentment tried to tell her otherwise, Citrine simply didn't listen.
By the afternoon of the day when Firekeeper had returned and told how Edlin and Peace had been captured by Peace's angry sister, the household had returned to some semblance of normalcy. Firekeeper was sleeping off bone-deep exhaustion. Elise had gone to the Hawk Haven embassy, just in case Ambassador Redbriar's spies turned up something significant. Wendee was searching for rumors on the streets. Doc was seeing patients. Derian was pulled two directions at onceùtending to all of his and Wendee's usual routine and assisting Doc when
he needed another set of hands.
It was easy to slip away. Indeed, the ease of it added fuel to the raging fire of Citrine's resentment. Step one had been telling Derian she needed to lie down, that she was tired from sitting awake worrying all night. Derian hadn't questioned her, only given a tight smile.
"Go," he had said. "I only wish I could join you."
Citrine knew Derian was actually glad to have her gone away. She'd heard the grownups discussing their fears that her lack of New Kelvineseùbrilliant though her ability was for one who had spoken none of the language a few moonspans beforeùwould give her impersonation away to Hasamemorri or one of her maids.
Citrine had gone into the sleeping room she shared with Wendee and EliseùFirekeeper preferred to be outsideùand lay down, keeping the door open a crack so she could hear what went on in the rest of the house. When she heard Doc call for Derian and guessed from the rising note in his voice that Derian would be busy for more than a few minutes, Citrine rose, straightened her New Kelvinese attire, picked up a small bundle of personal possessions wrapped in a square of silk, and went into the kitchen.
From there she had simply walked out the kitchen door, out the back gate, and down the alley behind. Even though she longed to run, Citrine had learned when she was very young that running attracted attention. She strained her ears to hear Derian calling or the shriek of Bee Biter, Firekeeper's kestrel.
There wasn't a sound. No one came after her. No one on the street looked twice at her. Panic flooded Citrine when she realized she was going to get away with it, almost washing away the anger.
Almost, but not quite. With a firm, steady step she went to the market from which she'd posted her letter to Mother. The letter should have arrived by now. Indeed, she might miss the messenger Mother was certain to send for her. She envisioned a coach and four, later changing her mental picture when she recalled that the New Kelvinese tended to use litters for smaller human cargo.
The litter her mother would send for her had been hung with red-gold curtains, just a touch lighter than her own citrine namestone. The men who carried it had been muscular, their bodies painted in fanciful swirls that shone beneath the oil they rubbed on themselves.
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