Shadow War Part 19

An unearthly howl lifted behind her. The hairs on her arms p.r.i.c.kled, and she felt herself shrink inside with fear. The armies of h.e.l.l were coming closer. She dared not glance back.

"Choose!" the serpent said. "Quickly."

The ruby she did not want. She hesitated over the others, not understanding the significance they represented.

The howl came again, louder and closer. One of the dragons swept over her, and she felt the hot scorch of its flaming breath.

Without further hesitation, she reached out and plucked up the topaz.

There was a tremendous explosive sound around her- blinding light and deafening noise. The world went white, then black, and once again she was falling.

Chapter Ten.

In the honeycomb of chambers beneath the temple of the Penestricans, the night had pa.s.sed and dawn lay near. The candles were burning low with tired flickers. The chanting had stopped hours ago. All was silent, and in that silence anxiety stretched so strong it nearly became a sound itself.

The Lady Elandra lay on a slab of stone, straight and stiff, with her hands folded across her stomach. Robed in simple white, her unbound hair spread out beneath her, she remained unconscious and still. Her breathing was so slight she might have been dead. Her pale face was drawn, and a frown knotted her brows.

On one side of her stood two of the sisters, looking frightened and anxious. On the other side stood Anas, almost as pale as Elandra. And at Elandra's feet stood the Ma-gria, her old face very grim indeed.

With angry eyes, she swept the faces of the others. "This has been badly handled from the start," she said, her gaze stopping on Anas. "I told you to be kind to her. Have you grown so efficient, so cold, so brutal, Anas, that you have forgotten how to be gentle? Have you forgotten the meaning of kindness?"

Anas looked mulish and upset. "You blame me for this?"

Denial was always a clumsy line of defense. It showed how rattled Anas was.

"You pushed her into the memories," the Magria said. "You pushed her too far."

"The memories are an important part of the cleansing process," Anas said half angrily, defending herself like a child. "I did not know she would go past them. We screened her before, when she was with us. She exhibited no abilities to have visions then."

"But she has had one now," the Magria said. She sighed, feeling every year of her age. It had taken all her strength to pull Elandra back. Even now, as she thought of what she had seen through Elandra's vision, she shuddered. It was fearsome indeed, as clear and vivid as any of Ma-gria's own visions, and all too likely to come true.

"The child was not prepared for this. She has had no training. She could not protect herself."

"But you brought her back," Anas said, insisting as though she wanted comfort.

But there was no comfort to be handed out. The Magria looked at her deputy unsparingly. "Yes," she said. "But whether she has returned with her reason intact is something we do not yet know. Whether she can survive the shock is another question beyond it."

"The coronation is in three hours," Anas said. "The guard of escort is already waiting outside the temple."

"Do not speak to me of time!" the Magria snapped. "Do you think I can simply put my hand on her forehead and revive her to her senses? Do you think she is likely to recover in time to be crowned?"

"But-"

"I told you not to do this, and you disobeyed me," the Magria said, too angry now to soften her tone.

"The purification ceremony must be difficult-"

"Why? The girl did not require it. She is no threat to us."

"She will be if he gives her the throne," Anas said sharply. "You saw how much she has changed already. She must be taught to need us."

Disappointment caught the Magria in the throat like a knife. She had trained Anas with such hopes, but Anas continued to fall short. Another candidate to succeed her must be sought, and there was no time for that now either. Not with events shaping themselves so quickly.

"You are wrong," the Magria said flatly.

For the first time Anas looked uncertain. She opened her mouth to say more, but the Magria lifted her hand.

"You are no longer deputy," she said in a harsh, toneless voice. "If you cannot realize what your mistake has cost us in terms of time and trust, then you are incapable of judging what needs to be done to salvage this situation. We have lost this child."

"She still lives," Anas said, white-faced and shaken.

"Go."

Anas started to protest again, but the Magria glared at her and curled her fists. She was angry, so angry she could barely trust herself not to strike.

As though finally seeing this, Anas bowed her head and crept from the room.

The other two sisters exchanged frightened glances. "Excellency," one said, "may we a.s.sist you in-"

"No. I must do this myself. There can be no more mistakes."

The Magria steeled her heart, although already she was grieving for Anas, whom she had loved like a daughter. I was proud of her, was proud of her, she thought wearily to herself. she thought wearily to herself. I indulged her too much, overlooked too much. I have myself to blame as much as her. I indulged her too much, overlooked too much. I have myself to blame as much as her.

"Go with Anas," the Magria said. "Do not talk of this to the others. I must guide Anas later when this matter is back under control. For now, stay with her. Do not let her out of your sight. Comfort her if she will permit it."

Reluctantly, the two sisters filed out.

Alone with the empress, the Magria sighed and buried her face in her hands for an unguarded moment of despair.

The sisterhood had grown so weak, and the Vindicants seemed stronger than ever. It had been Vindicant poison that had gotten past their safeguards to strike at this girl. There would be other attempts, and the Magria did not know if the sisters would be vigilant enough to thwart them.

And now this precious child had been seriously mishandled. It was an appalling blunder, but even worse was the vision of a released Beloth marching across the world again. The Magria herself had not foreseen that.

In her earlier visions she had seen that Elandra would marry the emperor but that she would turn to the man who would succeed Kostimon. One of the choices had been Tirhin. The other man was unknown. These men would war against each other, and Elandra would go to the victor to help found a new dynasty. Now it seemed the Magria's interpretation had been wrong. Elandra had not chosen either Tirhin or the unknown.

Gently the Magria pried the topaz gem from Elandra's fingers. The girl-so stubborn, so headstrong, so surprising-had chosen herself. Just as Kostimon-in an astonis.h.i.+ng twist of contrariness-had chosen her.

None of this had lain in the visions.

The girl could not rule alone. The idea was impossible. Kostimon must know that. He must have some ploy in mind, but what? Did he realize that this child with her long eyelashes, mahogany hair, and Albain chin had the steel of kings in her? Did he understand what he had unleashed? Did he care? Or was he simply planning to create as much chaos as possible in his final days?

The Magria shook her head. Truly she had never felt as blind and helpless as she did now, with no inkling of how to judge the events taking place.

She took Elandra's cold, still hand between hers. "We are falling into darkness," she whispered. "Kostimon has given the shadow G.o.ds the means to unchain themselves. You have foreseen their return. You alone have divined our way of escape. What is it, little one? What is it?"

But Elandra lay still and wan, lost as yet to all of them.

Chapter Eleven.

In Agel's study, Caelan stood a moment longer after the woman left, his mind awash with her beauty. He had never seen anyone like her before. She was exotic, unusual. Slanting cheekbones, almond eyes fringed with incredibly long lashes, a voluptuous mouth, hair like darkened copper. She smelled of sandalwood and cinnabar, clean and inviting. Tall and slender, richly gowned beneath her cloak, she came from another world far from his, a forbidden world he would never enter. He felt a little stunned by her, like a man who had stood too long in the sun.

She had been quick and clever, too slippery to convince. He did not believe she was truly the empress as she had claimed. Despite Agel's collaboration, Caelan thought she was probably an attendant, a lady highborn and very adept at deception. But she was too young to be empress; she was younger than he. Besides, for all her cleverness, she had not acted like a wife. She seemed confused whenever the emperor was mentioned. She had stammered stupid things about rules that kept her from seeing the man.

Wives were not kept from their husbands. That was nonsense.

But if she was only a lady of the court, then no matter what she had said or half promised, she could not really help him.

Hopelessness swept over Caelan. He sighed and felt weariness sink through his bones.

"Run," the woman had advised him.

He could barely walk, and yet he knew her suggestion came from genuine concern. He had no future here. Even if the prince still lay deeply unconscious and knew nothing of Caelan's attempt to betray him, Caelan could not return. He had taken the prince home, but that ended his service. Already he had torn the prince's coat of arms from his sleeve and hurled it into a roadside ditch.

Where, then, did he go? Did he slip out again through the side gate of the palace, winked on his way by the sentry who had won such a fortune on him? Did he hide himself in the city, waiting for the bounty hunters to sniff him out? Did he set out along a road? Did he take pa.s.sage on a s.h.i.+p? No sea captain would allow him aboard as a pa.s.senger, looking like he did.

Could he admit defeat and give up when he was this close to the emperor? Or should he try again?

Aching and tired, he limped to the door and eased it open a crack.

The pa.s.sageway seemed clear. He stepped out, holding his breath, and headed down it. There had to be a way to reach the emperor. He would find it.

As he pa.s.sed the door to the infirmary, however, it swung open and Agel stepped out.

Astonished, Caelan stopped in his tracks. "You! What are you doing here? I thought you left."

Agel shook his head and pointed to the bulging pouch he carried over one shoulder. "I had preparations to make. And I could not leave you here in such terrible condition."

Caelan was not ready to forgive him. Kinsmen should stand together, no matter what their private differences were. He had seen behavior in Agel today that shamed him.

"All I need is a meal," Caelan said, knowing that what he really wanted was a soaking bath, a ma.s.sage, and several hours of sleep.

Agel nodded. "Let me tend you first. It won't take a moment, and then I will go to the prince."

Agel walked back into the study, and Caelan followed. His mind was too blurred with fatigue for him to wonder much why Agel had delayed leaving. In a way, Caelan found himself relieved. He needed his cousin's help. Perhaps Agel had finally calmed down enough to offer it.

"Sit there," Agel said, pointing at the stool.

Caelan obeyed and Agel took a small vial from his pouch. He handed it to Caelan.

"Drink this," he ordered.

Caelan sniffed it but detected nothing repulsive. "What is it?"

"Who is the healer here?" Agel said, as p.r.i.c.kly as ever. Then he smiled. "A restorative, you idiot. Drink it, and you will feel strong enough to eat the meal I have sent for."

Caelan swallowed the liquid in a swift gulp. It had no bitter aftertaste. Relieved, he handed over the empty vial.

"Thank you for waiting," he said. "I got nowhere with the woman."

"Can't you speak of her respectfully?" Agel said with irritation. "You are fortunate to still have your tongue. She was too lenient with you."

"Oh, come, I know she isn't the real empress, but only a handmaid," Caelan replied. "Enough pretense. I must have your help, if only to-"

An involuntary shudder pa.s.sed through him. He broke off his sentence and pa.s.sed his hand across his brow. It felt clammy.

Agel stepped closer to him, staring down at him as though from a very great height.

Alarmed, Caelan wondered why Agel was suddenly so tall and he was suddenly so very short, so very tiny, shrinking and shrinking, until he was only a speck, and then nothing at all.

When he awakened, he was lying on a braided run in the antechamber of Prince Tirhin's personal suite of rooms. Puzzled, Caelan took a while to sort through it. He did not understand what he was doing here, or why he was lying on the floor.

When he tried to sit up, every muscle in his body protested with a level of soreness that made him groan.

At once Agel appeared in the doorway that led to the bedchamber. "So you're finally awake," he said coldly. "It's about time. Get up and come in here."

Caelan opened his mouth to ask questions, but Agel had already vanished.

Frowning, Caelan slowly sat up, finding his wits by slow degrees, then levered himself to his feet. He had slept deeply, but he still felt muddled and groggy. A glance at the small window told him night had fallen outside, but how many hours had pa.s.sed? And how did he come to be back here in the prince's house?

Memories sifted back to him in pieces. He realized he had been drugged.

Agel's meddling angered him, but he wasn't ready to face the implications yet.

Limping with one hand pressed to his aching side, Caelan went first to the door that led outside. It was locked, and he could not budge the latch. Grimly he turned around and walked to the bedchamber.

He paused in the doorway, looking inside.

A single lamp burned near the bed, leaving most of the room in shadow.

Within the circle of light, the prince lay beneath a blanket, asleep or unconscious Caelan did not know. His face had a waxy sheen, far too pale. Agel stood beside him, holding the prince's wrist in his long fingers.

Disappointed and worried, Caelan drew in a sharp breath and walked on into the room.

Agel released his grip on Tirhin's wrist and turned to face Caelan.

"Is he better?" Caelan asked.