Healer's Touch (30 page)

Marius looked around the room. Perhaps they should wait for this Vora to return. He hated the thought of further delay, but other than going to the docks and looking for Sardossian ships, he had no better ideas. If Jauld had abducted her, would he have taken her personal effects as well? “Which bed is yours?” he asked Rory.

Rory picked his way through the mess toward two makeshift blanket nests. He indicated one of them. “Here.”

Marius walked over and joined him. The blankets on the floor were spotless. Despite living in squalor, Isolda somehow managed to keep herself and Rory clean. That had to be a prodigious amount of work. Looking through the packs beside each nest of blankets, he found her clothes, neatly folded within. He recognized each outfit and realized for the first time that she only owned four of them, three of which were here. The other she was presumably wearing. He knew she wasn’t the sort of woman who cared a lot about clothes, and he wasn’t the sort of man who cared about them either. Nonetheless, he was seized with the desire to buy her a whole new wardrobe—anything she wanted. “Are any of your things missing?” he asked.

Rory shook his head.

It tugged at his heart to see their tiny space and how little they had. “You’ve lived here for four years?”

“Four and a half,” said Rory.

Three gods. He had to save them from this—first from Jauld, and then from this desperate poverty. He had paid Isolda enough at the surgery that she ought to have been able to afford an apartment for herself and Rory, but then she’d always talked about saving for Rory’s education. Perhaps she lived here by choice, even though she could afford better, so that she could save more of her money. Maybe she was closer to buying Rory a university education than he had thought. But then she’d walked away from her job at the surgery. How was she supporting herself now?

If he could find her, he would help her. Whether she agreed to marry him or not, she deserved better than this, and so did Rory.

His heart was heavy as he returned to the room where the confrontation had taken place. Drusus was still looking around and splashing through the flooded part of the room. “Where did he knock her down?” Drusus asked Rory.

Rory walked out into the flooded section. “Here.”

Drusus went to the spot and swept through the water with his hands. With a grunt of frustration, he straightened. “I can’t find a gods-cursed thing.”

“A man in the back room says there’s a woman named Vora who followed Jauld when he took Isolda.”

Drusus’s brows rose. “That’s a good lead.”

“We could wait for her to come back,” offered Marius. “Or we could go to the docks and look for Sardossian ships.”

“Can you tell just by looking which ones are Sardossian?” asked Drusus.

“I don’t know,” said Marius. “But there can’t be that many of them, can there?”

“Caz will know which ones are Sardossian,” said Rory.

“Who’s Caz?” asked Marius.

“Mother’s friend. He works at the docks and got her the bookkeeping job. He knows everything about the ships in the harbor.”

Marius blinked. “Isolda has a bookkeeping job?”

“I know where Caz lives,” said Rory. “It’s not far. I can take you right to him.”

That sounded better than waiting around for a woman he didn’t know, and who might not show up at all. “Good. Take us there.”

Chapter 31

Marius was jealous of Caz the moment he laid eyes on him. Rory had said this man was Isolda’s friend. How close a friend, exactly? Caz was a handsome fellow, tall and fit. He’d apparently found Isolda a bookkeeping job. And yet Marius had never once heard Isolda mention his name. Could this man be part of the reason she’d walked away from the marriage proposal?

Caz lived in the Riat Underground, in an ancient inn called the Pilgrim. Rory cautioned them to wait outside while he fetched Caz; the residents would be sleeping and wouldn’t appreciate a gaggle of visitors. Now the big Sardossian stood in the tunnels with them, outside the inn, blinking bleary-eyed as Rory, in a rapid whisper, caught him up on the evening’s events.

“She’s missing?” Marius heard Caz say, with a glance around the tunnels as if he might spot her lurking somewhere. Then, after more explanation from Rory, “I thought the man waiting inside her home was supposed to be Marius.”

Marius stepped forward. “That’s me.”

Caz gave him an appraising look. “You’re the man she always talks about. You weren’t the one waiting for her at her home?”

The man she always talks about
—Marius liked that description of himself. “No. She never told me where she lived. The man waiting for her was Jauld, her former husband from Sardos. He knocked her down—so I’m told—and when he pulled out a pistol, Rory ran to find me. When I arrived on the scene, both of them were gone. We think she’s in his power and he’s taken her somewhere, probably onto a Sardossian ship.”

“Soldier’s Hell.” Caz furrowed his brow. “What Sardossian ships do we have in port right now? The
Amaranthe
, the
Gallant
...that one with the brown sails...that other one with the name I can’t remember...” He ticked them off on his fingers.

“Do you know which one he might have taken her to?” asked Marius.

“I’d just be guessing,” said Caz. “We should go there and look. Though I don’t imagine the sailors will be eager to allow us on board—especially if they’re the ones concealing her.”

Marius tried to envision how Jauld would have smuggled Isolda onto a ship. She wouldn’t have gone willingly. Either he’d forced her to cooperate or he’d carried her on board unconscious. It was likely the scene would have drawn some attention and someone at the docks would have seen them. But even if someone had seen and remembered Isolda, it was now late at night. Any witnesses were likely to be in their beds. “Will you take us to the ships?”

“Of course.”

Marius felt his shoulders drop—he hadn’t realized he was carrying so much tension.

Behind him, a distant splash echoed through the tunnels. Turning, he peered into the darkness as footsteps thudded on the dirt floor. Whoever approached was winded and panting heavily. Drusus stepped quietly in front of him, resting his hand on his sword hilt.

The runner entered the half-light of the nearest glow, and Marius saw that she was a woman. As she reached them, she staggered to a halt, bending over and pressing her hands against her knees. “Caz,” she managed to say.

“Vora.” Caz hurried up to her. “Did you see where Isolda went?”

“Jauld took her onto the ship
Frolic
.”

“Is that the one with the brown sails?” asked Caz.

“Not sure,” said Vora.

“I think it is,” said Caz.

“I can take you there.”

“Rest a moment,” said Marius. “Catch your wind.” Anxious as he was to find Isolda, he could see that Vora was on the verge of total exhaustion, and his healing magic had no answer for that.

“If we go slow,” panted Vora, “I can take you there now.”

∞

As Marius made his way through the harbor district to the docks, he felt more optimistic. He was in good company. Vora had seen where Jauld had taken Isolda, and Caz knew the docks and the ships in port—furthermore, he looked like he’d be good in a fight. That made three of them who could hold their own if the situation turned ugly, including Marius himself, whose healing magic could be handy in a pinch.

The harbor at night looked otherworldly. Every ship was lit up. Glows mounted on the masts and spars delineated their forms against the inky black of the ocean. Some shone white, others green and orange and red.

“I thought so,” said Caz, as Vora directed them to turn left, onto Pier Eight. “It
is
the one with the brown sails.”

Marius couldn’t see any sails at all in this darkness, only light-glows.

“There may be resistance when we try to board,” Drusus said softly to Marius.

“I’m expecting it,” said Marius. In his mind, he’d been turning over the option of going to Lucien for another writ. He wasn’t worried about bothering the emperor again, even in the middle of the night—this situation was urgent enough to justify it—but the trip to and from the palace would take several hours. If he let the ship out of his sight for that long, he might lose it.

Caz dropped back beside them. “I think I can get us on board without a fight.”

“How?” asked Drusus.

“I unloaded the
Frolic
when it came into port,” said Caz. “And I helped load it yesterday. It’s carrying wine. I can tell them there’s a problem with the paperwork and we think we gave them the wrong crates—say, we loaded Orryash wine instead of Evory. They’ll be anxious to correct the error before setting sail.”

“A good plan, if awkward in its timing,” said Drusus.

“Are the wine crates in more than one location?” Marius could imagine their being allowed on board to check on the wine, but not to wander all over the ship.

“Three gods,” came Vora’s faint voice from ahead of them. “I don’t see it anymore.”

Marius ran up to her, followed by Drusus. “What do you mean? You don’t see what?”

“The ship is gone.” Vora pointed. “Look.”

“Soldier’s Hell,” said Caz. “She’s right. The
Frolic
has gone to sea.”

Gone?
Marius felt he was back in the Riat Underground, with the concrete walls closing around him. He’d missed her? If Isolda was on her way to Sardos, he might never see her again. “How can that be? You saw Jauld put Isolda on the ship.”

“It was here,” said Vora. “And now it’s gone.”

“A ship cannot leave so quickly!”

“It was a small ship,” said Caz.

“But—didn’t it just get here?” His skin prickled. How could this have happened?

“It didn’t just get here,” said Caz. “We unloaded it last week and loaded the wine yesterday.”

“Maybe it took Jauld a while to find the Riat Underground,” said Drusus. “Maybe he waited until the last minute to snatch Isolda.”

Marius’s breaths came fast as he stared out into the harbor. Jauld had stolen the woman he loved, and he was going to pay for that crime. “It doesn’t matter how it happened. We’re going to follow them—and for that, we need a warship.”

∞

Isolda awoke with her head pounding and couldn’t figure out where she was. She was moving—swaying back and forth. Within some sort of a sling? No, she was lying in a hammock suspended from the ceiling. The room she was in was small, dark, and sealed. A bit of moonlight filtered in through a round window. A porthole! She must be on a ship.

Apprehension knotted her stomach. If she was on a ship, where was she going, and why? She wriggled out of the hammock, wincing as her throbbing head took offense.

Standing on her own feet, she realized the floor was tilted, and she was still swaying. She tottered drunkenly to the porthole. Yes, she was definitely on a ship—and it was moving. The waterline wasn’t far below her, and her impression was that the ship was neither large nor small but medium in size. Several miles in the distance, a shoreline skimmed by, silhouetted in the moonlight. She did not recognize any of its features.

Feeling a little steadier on her feet, she went to the cabin door and tried the handle. It was locked. She jiggled it experimentally. The handle and door felt flimsy. Could she break it? Someone like Drusus or Marius could probably rip it off the door frame, but she wasn’t sure her own strength was up to the task.

Drusus. Marius. Something flitted about the edges of her memory.

Jauld.
The memories struck her with such force she leaned over and almost retched. He’d found her in the Riat Underground. He’d told her he was still her husband. He’d threatened Rory with a gun. And then he’d hit her on the head.

Had he put her on a ship to Sardos?

Infused with new strength, she yanked on the door handle, trying to force it. She felt it give, just a little—but more like the handle was going to break under the pressure than open the door. She released it.
Think, Isolda
.

If she got out of this cabin, what would she do next? She could hardly jump overboard and swim. Was there a boat on board that she could steal? The shoreline looked near enough that she could row to it.

Perhaps she was thinking about this the wrong way. Maybe instead of trying to get off the ship, she should find the captain and tell him what had happened. Would he be on her side? If he was, would he turn the ship around?

Someone knocked at the door, and she jumped.

Could that be Jauld?

The knock was quiet, almost respectful. Perhaps he was trying not to wake anyone.

She looked around for a weapon, wanting something in her hand for this confrontation.

A key rattled in the lock, and before she could find anything hard or heavy, the door opened. She whirled to face the intruder.

It wasn’t Jauld, but Chari.

Isolda blinked. Chari had aged visibly since Isolda had left Sardos, and in some ways the changes were agreeable. Chari had been a teenager when she’d married Jauld. Now she was in her early twenties. Her body had filled out, and she looked more matronly. The angles of her face showed a new maturity, but also fatigue. Motherhood did that to a woman. “Get out,” Isolda spat.

Chari, ignoring her command, eased herself into the room and shut the cabin door. “I need to talk to you.”

Isolda eyed the door. It was unlocked. If she shoved Chari out of the way, she could escape her prison. Although she still didn’t know what she’d do once she was out.

“I know you hate me,” said Chari. “But please, set that aside for a moment. I think we can help each other.”

Isolda’s eyes narrowed. That sounded suspicious. “Why are you even on this ship?”

“Jauld doesn’t trust me on my own. I tried to run away last year.”

“Why would you run away?”

Chari swallowed. “I had a second child—another son. And only one of my boys can be Jauld’s heir.”

Isolda stifled a laugh. Chari was now in the position Isolda had been in five years ago, seeing a second male child born and wondering if he would dethrone the first. But in Chari’s situation, she could not possibly win. No matter which of her boys Jauld chose as heir, one of them would be disinherited and left to the army recruiters.