Chapter Thirty-One
Mistra
“It’s Billah,” whispered Scilla. “I didn’t like you, but I’m sorry you’re dead. Coll, was it Billah the whole time?”
“Of course.” Coll addressed the barrister and the judge, both wide-eyed and shocked. “Whoever killed this human charmed the body and turned it into the demon woman you thought you found.”
“Who could do something like that?” asked the barrister.
“I would imagine only someone who was well versed in the power of the word.” Coll stole a glance at Scilla, who glared at him.
“Why would I kill Billah? Use the other stuff.”
“Other stuff?” the judge said. “There’s more of this nonsense?”
Coll regarded the two men. “Unless ‘nonsense’ means something different on Mistra, I believe you are using it incorrectly. I have uncovered a new victim and evidence of a...” he turned to Scilla “What is it called when an innocent person is made to look as if they’ve committed a crime?”
“A frame job,” said Scilla. “Someone framed my brother. You,” she pointed at the barrister, “you should be thanking Coll, not making cracks about his people.”
Coll coughed behind his hand. Was that a laugh?
“Apologies,” said the barrister to the mage. “If this gets Rane out of the House, I’ll make sure you’re fairly compensated.”
“How interesting,” said Coll. “Let us move to the next phase of this nonsense.” Scilla stamped on his foot. “Pardon me, the next step in unmasking the true criminal. Scilla, the book?” He gave her a hard look.
“I can do it,” she said. She brought the book directly under the lamp and held it at just the right distance.
“I’ll begin by using this tincture, one of my own recipes, made from—”
“A secret ingredient found only on Eriis.” Was he really about to tell them he used Moth’s blood? She looked at him, eyes wide. He gave her a slow, conspiratorial nod. She rolled her eyes. Was it all adults, all men, or simply everyone?
“Quite. A secret. Suffice to say, when I apply it to this man’s eyes, we will all see what he saw in the moments before his death.” He nodded at her and she read. It was slow going and her eyes began to burn and water, but she sounded out the long, vowel-heavy words without looking up. When she reached the end of the page, she realized she felt dizzy. It was most likely because of how hard she’d been straining her eyes, but it had never been this bad before. And then it got worse.
“Coll, why is the room spinning?” She grasped the edge of a filing cabinet with one hand and covered her mouth with the other. “I feel sick.”
“The boy was drunk,” he replied, corking the bottle and secreting it back in his robe. He stepped away from the table. “What do you see?”
“It’s a room,” she said. To her surprise, her vision, other than the spinning, was perfectly normal. It was brighter and clearer than she’d been able to see for months, although the edges remained a blur. And then, “It’s Rane’s room. Oh, no.”
That placed Billah in her brother’s house before his death. At least she didn’t see Rane himself.
“I feel it too,” said the judge. “Can barely move. Must have been quite a party.”
Billah spoke, or he tried to. “Where’s Rane?” He could barely form the words. Scilla’s jaw ached with the effort. “What did you do to me?”
Drunkenness or something else? There was someone else there, just beyond her field of vision. She tried to push down the queasiness and relax enough to allow the sight to fill itself in. She was seeing the room she recognized through Billah’s eyes. He looked down. Those were his hands, but he couldn’t move them. And the other person entered the scene.
“Auri,” she gasped. “I knew it.”
“Hush, child, “said the barrister. He was also hunched over, leaning on a chair, and looked quite green. “I want to listen.”
Auri was talking. Actually, he was reading. The language sounded the same as the words she’d just recited, lots of aaahs and ooohs. Auri wasn’t just in charge of a bunch of fake demon hunters; he’d got himself a demon charm book somewhere down the line and knew how to use it.
Why don’t people listen to me? Scilla struggled not to vomit. Why does everyone love to drink this stuff?
He set the book aside, a smile on his handsome face, and lounged against the back of a sprung leather armchair. “A different look for you, Billah. I consider it an upgrade, honestly.” He brushed dust from the old book off his hands. “Well, I’d love to stay and see how long it takes for that ‘cordial’ to wear off, but I have a dinner appointment.”
Billah was struggling to speak. “Whuuu....”
“Whuu—with who? Rane and I are going to celebrate. I’m to marry Lelet. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Nuuuuuhh…”
“No? Too bad. The ambassador won’t think so either. No matter. I have some plans for him too.” Auri jumped up. “Let’s get you to bed.”
He came closer, and Scilla felt the sensation of being lifted. Her stomach lurched as Auri dragged Billah through the house.
“I’m afraid I need your clothes. Wouldn’t do for you to be wearing them, would it?”
A nauseating sensation of being jostled, of hands on her.
“Stop this,” moaned the barrister. “We’ve seen enough. And the child...”
“Not quite enough.” The judge swallowed heavily. “It’ll be over in a moment, I think.”
Coll appeared at Scilla’s elbow. “When you want me to stop, let me know. It’ll cease at once.” She nodded.
The judge was correct. After Auri tossed Billah’s clothing in a small suitcase—Scilla recognized it as Rane’s weekend bag—he approached the bed.
“Light’s out,” he said, reaching for Billah’s throat. Now, at the end, Billah managed to raise his hands to defend himself. They were slender, dark golden, and definitely feminine. “Nahhhhh—”
Scilla pulled hard on Coll’s sleeve, and as he promised, the scene vanished. As did the sick feeling.
“That was real,” said the judge. “I mean, what we saw. That really happened.” He was no longer leaning on a chair, nor was the barrister. But they both looked ashen.
“It was,” said Coll. “I, at least, am no amateur.”
“I don’t know what you are. It was a desecration. You didn’t feel a thing, did you?”
Coll shrugged. “The indulgences of your species have little effect on me.”
“I didn’t mean the liquor or whatever that poor man drank. Someone—a real human was murdered, and you didn’t feel a thing.” He drew a notebook out of pocket and scribbled something then opened the door and handed it to a waiting assistant. “Young lady, we’ll have your brother released, if nothing else. Let me give you some advice.” He looked at Coll with distaste. “Steer clear of these creatures. This is unclean. Maybe that Door I’ve been reading about ought to stay locked after all.”
Scilla was about to tell him to mind his own fat ugly business but instead blurted, “Oh my gosh, what time is it?”
Coll look at her, confused. “What time is what?”
“Sir, judge, sir, I’m sorry you thought this was evil or whatever, but Auri—the murderer—he’s having a party. He’s going to announce that he’s marrying Lelly.”
The barrister nodded. “I knew there was a party this evening. I certainly didn’t know about any proposal.” He frowned suspiciously. “This is the first I’m hearing about any marriage, besides the vision. Does your father know about this?”
“No, because it’s fake,” Scilla said. “I knew it.” She snatched the notebook out of the judge’s hands and wrote down the address. “His house is in Upper Garden, off the park.” The judge didn’t move fast enough for her. “Didn’t you hear him? That’s what he was talking about. The ambassador’s going to be there, and if he’s next to be killed, what do you think the magicians of Eriis will do about it?”
The judge and the barrister
looked at each other then back at Scilla.
“You stay here,” the judge said and turned to leave. But as he did, a stream of bluecoats knocked him back as they headed for the main exit. “What’s all this about?” he asked one of them. “Where are you all going?”
The young man paused. “A big fire or an explosion or something—they called it at one of those big houses in Upper Garden. It’s just off the park. The whole place went up.”
He turned to rejoin his group.
The barrister had enough and called, “Make sure Scilla stays here,” as he ran off.
The judge turned to leave as well. “See that she does,” he said.
“I think they were talking to me,” said Coll. “Well, what would you like to do?”
She was breathing fast, trying to control her thoughts, which were all flames and the death of everyone she loved. “My sisters are both there. And Moth. Is this what Auri meant? They could all be...”
Her breath caught in her throat. Tears pricked her eyes. Think, think. Don’t panic. Panic is for other people.
A warm hand touched her shoulder. “I have seen the prince walk through fire to protect those he loves in the past. I see no reason why this fire should be any different.”
Scilla looked at him. “He walked through fire?”
“Metaphorically. But still.”
She sniffed, wiped her face, and said, “I want to go to Upper Garden, fast as we can. They’ll need our help. But first, I have to send a message.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Eriis
Ilaan went over it in his head. Again, again. The places in his head: where to look, where to put his feet, where to climb and where to jump. And most important, when to push where he once only thought to pull.
He’d figured it out. At last, all the head pains and nosebleeds—and eye-bleeds and ear-bleeds to keep them company—finally, finally paid off. He’d visited Auri’s little room full of plants, and he’d plucked a flower and taken it home. It was in cup of water next to his as-yet-flowerless orchid, still fresh and fragrant, nodding its pink face at him and encouraging him to do his work. His work, finally, of bringing his father home.
Things were happening back on Mistra, and the timing was perfect. His last trip had not only gotten him physically into that other world; it had gotten him what he needed to know. His father was about to go on some sort of voyage that would put him on water and carry him away. Could Ilaan follow where he went? He didn’t know. He did know that on his return to Eriis the pain in his head forced him to lie in his darkened room with a cloth over his eyes, a cloth that came away stained with blood. He thought he had one more trip in him or else find his brains spattered on the four walls of the tent.
There was only one thing wrong. Well, not wrong, exactly. He’d found his father laying out his plans, talking earnestly with a little girl. There was no doubt in his mind the bright and vivid child accompanying his father was indeed Thayree wearing a human face. Ilaan decided to try to bring the girl back home along with his father. To what end, he wasn’t sure. And watching the two of them, while well-hidden of course, he had to admit it was a face that Yuenne had never shown him or Aelle. This Yuenne was a kind, caring, even loving father.
Yuenne should have thought of that earlier. It didn’t absolve him of his crimes. Someone would take care of the child, despite her mother having been one of the first to go missing. Someone certainly had room for a little girl, who would be confused, angry, looking for her “father”—for that’s what she called him. Someone would dry her tears, provide yet another home for her—her third home, so many for such a little girl.
No. He pushed those thoughts aside and started the process that would get him through a Door of his own creation without use of a single drop of Beast’s blood. The stones were laid out, he’d fasted for a day and a night—he found that helped sharpen his wits—and he’d begun the process of mentally sweeping away all cares and distractions. It was damned hard to sweep away the anticipation, the fear, the anger. What would he say to his father after all this time? His mind conjured a firewhirl, the Crosswinds. He assumed his mind and his heart would cooperate on administering the proper punishment. And despite his best efforts to set it aside, he wondered again: what would he do with Thayree? Perhaps Aelle could mind her? Zaii and Liim? But he did his best to push it all away. He closed his eyes, picked up Mother Jaa’s imaginary broom, and began to sweep.
thunk
The broom vanished, sensation flooded back, and he opened his eyes. A note had fallen on his tray, knocking over one of the stones. He opened the folded sheet.
The blood of Eriis has been spilled. Come at once
“What? What’s this?” The scrawl was barely recognizable as Scilla’s normally neat hand. “But...”
A second note fluttered down to join the first. This one appeared to have been ripped in haste from the bottom of a larger sheet.
Auri’s house—hurry!
Scilla wouldn’t have written such a thing unless the situation was desperate. And there was only one person she could be referring to.
The blood of Eriis.
Why don’t you just do both? Niico asked.
“I can barely do one. Rushta.” Ilaan wadded up the final note and tossed it across the room. “If my father leaves on the river, I may never find him again. This was supposed to be it. I was going to bring him home, and...” He balled his fists. “Now he’s going to get away, he’s getting away with all of it. Niico, Niico, I’m sorry.”
“I’m not angry,” Niico replied. “Not at you, anyway. But, ‘the blood of Eriis.’ That sounds dire. And ‘at once.’ It doesn’t sound like a request.”
“Quiet. I want to think.”
“Drip, drip,” Niico said. “Don’t take too long.”
“Rushta,” he muttered again, but he had already picked up the broom, swept aside grief and fear and anger, and even as the pressure built in his head, opened a new Door.
The room in Mistra was small and stank of blood, smoke, pain, and something bitter and metallic.
Rhuun looked up at him. His face was smeared with grime, and he held Lelet’s limp, bloodied body in his arms. “You’re here,” he said. “I never doubted.”
“It appears as if we’re on a tight schedule,” said Ilaan. “Better hurry.” And he held out his hand.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Eriis
The first few moments after bringing Lelet back to the tents were some of the most frightening of Rhuun’s life. Mother Jaa was confused as to what exactly happened, and all Rhuun could do was shout, “Help her, help her,” as if that could help the old woman figure out what to do. Ilaan was no help. As soon as the three were safely back on Eriis, he collapsed to his knees and vomited. There was blood on his face and tunic, and he was slow to rise.
It was only when Rhuun took Jaa’s hand and put it on the knife, still pinned to Lelet’s chest, that she took action.
“Leef, pull up the rugs. Here and here. Make room for her. There, now, my boy, set her down, slow and gentle.”
He placed Lelet down so that she was nestled in the warm sand of Eriis. Her head rolled back, showing the white crescents of her eyes. He could hear her voice in his head. I look a fright! Fix my face, won’t you, darling? He wanted to close her lids, but he was afraid to touch her.
Jaa knelt beside Lelet. “The dirt on the blade is already polluting her blood. I cannot reverse it, but I think I know how to stop it going any further. But first, the knife.” She turned to Rhuun as if she could see the terror on his face. “You must not panic. Her blood will be spilled. There’s nothing for it. It is my hope that the blood that spills will be that which is tainted. After, I think I have a way to save her life. This will be hard. Say you are ready.”
Rhuun felt Ilaan’s hand on his shoulder and took Lelet’s unhurt hand in his own. “Go ahead.”
She pulled on the knife, which slid easily through Lelet’s hand, and carefully handed it to Leef. Th
e blade was just metal. All the green poison was now in her blood. Jaa was correct. The flow of blood—at first black and tarry then red and bright—flowed in astonishing volume from Lelet’s hand and breast.
She will surely die, if not from the poison then from this. No one can lose this much blood and live. She’s going to die.
Ilaan couldn’t hear his thoughts but could feel Rhuun shaking and gripped his shoulder. “Trust Mother Jaa,” Ilaan said. “And trust Lelet. She’s as strong as any demon. You know that.”
He might have thought that once, but now, as her blood first stained the sand she laid on and then turned it to red mud, he wasn’t so sure. Finally, the flow slowed and then stopped. The ring of dirty, wet sand extended past Lelet’s still, limp form in a circle wider than she was tall. Rhuun realized he was sitting in the bloody slush and struggled to control his nausea.
She was somehow still breathing. That was the most important thing.
Jaa took a clean, wet cloth and gently wiped Lelet’s breast and her hand, revealing a network of black threads that looked like they’d been drawn with the finest ink upon her moon-white skin.
“You see, this is the poison left behind. Now, to stop it from progressing.” She lifted a handful of clean, dry sand and poured it on Lelet’s chest. Then she turned to Ilaan. “You have the hottest fire and the best eye. Seal the wound.”
Ilaan leaned forward, taking a deep breath. The blood on his face wasn’t Lelet’s. “Beast, I’m going to do my best to not make this worse. Are we good?”
Rhuun nodded. His throat was as dry as the sand outside the city walls. He couldn’t speak.
“And her hand? The same?” Ilaan asked.
Jaa nodded.
“Slow and easy,” Ilaan muttered. “Just like it’s nothing at all. Just like I do every day.” He pointed his finger and first directed the pinpoint beam of light onto the damp sand at his knees. The bloody ground boiled for an instant and then fused into cloudy brownish glass. “Right. Here we go. I’ll do her hand first. Beast, hold her steady.”
The River King Page 17
