Poison Study (26 page)

  “What about him?”

  “Has he been meeting with anyone strange this week?”

  “Strange?”

  “Someone you don’t know or an adviser from another Military District?”

  “Not that I’ve seen. Why?”

  Valek paused again. I could see his mental wheels turning as he considered whether or not to trust me. “Commander Ambrose has agreed to admit a Sitian delegation.”

  “That’s bad?” I asked, confused.

  “He hates southerners! They’ve requested a meeting with him every year since the takeover. And for the last fifteen years, the Commander has replied with a single word: no. Now they’re due to arrive in a week.” Valek’s pacing increased. “Ever since you became the food taster and that Criollo showed up, the Commander has been acting different. I couldn’t put my finger on it before, it was just a nagging feeling, but now I have two particular incidents.”

  “The change in his successor and now the southern delegation?”

  “Exactly.”

  I had no response. My experience with the Commander had been the complete opposite of what I had expected from a military dictator. He considered other opinions, was firm, decisive and fair. His power was obvious; every command was instantaneously obeyed. He lived the spartan life that he endorsed. There was no fear in his advisers and high-ranking officers, just an unflappable loyalty and immense respect. The only horror story since the takeover that I’d heard was about Rand’s mother. Of course, the assassinations before were infamous.

  Valek stopped and took a deep breath. “I’ve misdirected some Criollo to our suite. I want you to eat a piece whenever he does. But you’re not to tell anyone, not even the Commander. That’s an order.”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied automatically, but my mind reeled over his calling the suite “ours.” Did I hear that right? I wondered.

  “Keep your meeting with Margg tonight. I’ll be there.”

  “Should I tell Margg’s contact about the southern delegation?”

  “No. Use the change of the Commander’s successor. It’s already floating around as a rumor, so you’ll just confirm it.” Valek strode from the room.

  In case someone would discover our training room, I hid the practice weapons, removed all visible traces of our presence and locked the door. On my way to the baths, my thoughts dwelled on the meeting tonight. Distracted, I walked by an open doorway. An oddity. In this section of the castle, most of the doors led to storerooms and were kept locked.

  Movement blurred to my left. Hands grabbed my arm and yanked me inside. The door slammed shut. Complete darkness descended. I was flung face-first against a stone wall. The air in my lungs whooshed out from the impact. I turned. My back to the wall, I gasped for breath.

  “Stay put,” a male voice growled.

  I aimed a front kick toward the voice but met air. Laughter taunted. A candle was uncovered. The weak yellow glow reflected off a long silver blade. Terrified, I traced the knife to the hand, then along the arm, and up to the face. Nix.

Chapter Twenty-One

  “W hy?” Nix placed the candle among the cobwebs lacing the tabletop. “Why am I always the smartest one?” He stepped closer.

  I kicked again, but he blocked it with ease.

  “Why haven’t my attempts to discourage you worked?” In the flicker of the candlelight he moved. The edge of his knife pressed against my throat. “Maybe I need to be more obvious?”

  The smells of boiled cabbage and body odor penetrated my nose. Keeping my body still, I asked in the most neutral and unfrightened voice I could manage, “What’s your problem?”

  “My problem is that no one sees you as a threat. But I’m smarter than Ari, Janco and Maren. I’m even smarter than Valek. Aren’t I?” When I failed to respond, Nix added pressure to the knife. “Aren’t I?”

  A thin line of pain burned across my neck. “Yes,” I replied. In the air behind Nix, Reyad’s ghost coalesced out of the dust motes, sporting a smug smile.

  “My boss wants you to stop training. I’m not allowed to kill you. Pity.” Nix stroked my face with his free hand. “I’m here to warn you off.”

  “Parffet? Why would he care?” As I tried to distract him, my mind frantically shuffled through my brief sessions with Ari on knife defense. Damn, I thought, why hadn’t I paid more attention?

  “He doesn’t care. The only thing dull-witted Parffet cares about is getting promoted. But General Brazell has a keen interest in your new hobby.” Nix thrust his free hand between my legs, and leaned his body against mine.

  For a terrified second, I froze. Panic erased all techniques of self-defense from my mind. A soft buzzing began to grow inside my head, but I stifled it, pushed it away, and it transformed into a simple musical scale of notes. Calm flowed. The necessary defense moves appeared before my eyes.

  I moaned and rocked my hips, widening my stance.

  Nix smiled with delight. “You’re just the whore I thought you’d be. Now, remember, you’re to be punished.” His upper thigh replaced his hand. He began to tug at my belt.

  I rubbed my knee between his legs then rammed it straight up into his groin. Grunting, Nix doubled over. I grabbed his blade with both hands to prevent it from biting farther into my throat. Ari’s practical voice, “Better to cut your hands than your neck,” echoed in my head even as I winced at the sharp pain. Focusing on the knife, I pushed the weapon from me. Nix stumbled back.

  “Bitch!” He snarled and pulled his arm back to swing the knife.

  As the blade swept toward me, I stepped in close to his body, so when I turned, my right shoulder brushed his chest. Using the edges of my opened hands, I struck his upper and lower arm. The combined force of my strike and his swing made Nix’s arm go limp. The weapon clattered to the floor.

  Grabbing his arm, I twisted it until the heel of his hand pointed toward the ceiling. Then I pivoted, placing my right shoulder under his elbow. With all my might, I yanked his hand down. I heard a loud crack followed by a scream as Nix’s arm broke. Spinning around to face him, I punched him twice in the nose. Blood gushed out. While he was off balance, I kicked his kneecap, breaking it. Nix crumpled to the ground.

  I danced around him, kicking him in the ribs. My blood hummed and sizzled. His weak attempts to block me only fueled my frenzy. In that state of mind, I might have killed him.

  Reyad’s ghost cheered me on. “That’s it, Yelena,” he urged. “Kill another man, and it’s the noose for sure.”

  Somehow, his words reached the rational part of my mind, and I stopped, breathing hard. Nix was still. I knelt beside him and felt for a pulse. A strong throb met my fingertips. The relief that coursed through me vanished when Nix clutched my elbow.

  I yelped and punched him in the face. His grip relaxed, and I pulled my arm free. Snatching the knife from the floor, I took Janco’s often-repeated advice for self-defense: “Hit and git.” I ran. But this time fear didn’t follow me. I ran with imaginary scarlet wings flowing behind me.

  Moving fast to ward off the shakes that threatened to overpower me, I reached the baths. They were empty at this time of day, so I hid Nix’s knife under one of the towel tables. I checked the extent of my wounds in the mirror. The cut on my neck had stopped bleeding. But two deep gashes on my palms looked serious enough to require the medic’s attention. There was also a wild, unrecognizable shine to my eyes, as if I had turned feral. I bared my teeth and thought, Now who’s the rat? Pondering my next move, I wavered. The Commander expected me to taste his dinner, but I couldn’t bleed all over his food. My initial surge of energy from the fight with Nix was waning. A wave of dizziness swelled. I headed toward the infirmary, hoping to reach it before I passed out.

  Medic Mommy gave me a quick appraisal. She pointed to an examining table. I perched on the edge and held my hands out for inspection.

  “How…” she started.

  “Broken glass,” I said.

  She nodded, lips pressed tight in thought. “I’ll get my medkit.”

  I stretched out on the bed when she returned with her metal tray full of instruments. A jar of Rand’s glue seemed out of place among the medical supplies, like a child’s toy surrounded by adult paraphernalia. My hands had started to throb, and I dreaded the medic’s ministrations. I turned my head in time to see Valek burst into the infirmary. Just what I needed, I thought, sighing. This had turned out to be one hell of a bad day.

  “What happened?” Valek demanded.

  I glanced at the medic.

  She took my right hand and began to clean my wound. “Broken glass leaves jagged lacerations. These clean slices are obviously from a knife. I’m required to report it.”

  The medic had reported me to Valek and he wasn’t going to leave without an answer. With resignation I focused on him, hoping to distract myself from the pain in my hands. “I was attacked.”

  “By who?” His tone sharp.

  I cut my eyes at the medic, and Valek understood.

  “Could you excuse us for a minute?” he asked her.

  She pursed her lips as if considering his request. Her authority overruled Valek’s for all medical situations.

  “Five minutes,” she ordered, and walked to her desk on the far side of the infirmary.

  “Who?” Valek repeated.

  “Nix, a guard in Parffet’s unit. Said he worked for Brazell and warned me to stop training.”

  “I’ll kill him.”

  The intensity of Valek’s voice shocked and alarmed me. “No, you won’t,” I said, trying to sound firm. “You’ll use him. He’s a link to Brazell.”

  His hard blue eyes found mine and held my gaze, probing deep. “Where did he attack you?”

  “A storeroom about four or five doors up from our training room.”

  “He’s probably long gone by now. I’ll send someone to the barracks.”

  “He won’t be there.”

  “Why not?” Valek gave me a look that reminded me of the Commander. His eyebrows were raised in an effort to suppress his emotions, inviting me to continue.

  “If he’s not in the storeroom, he won’t have gotten far. You might want to send a couple of men.”

  “I see.” Valek paused. “So your training has been progressing to your satisfaction?”

  “Better than expected.”

  Valek left the infirmary. Medic Mommy, the stoolie, returned to my side. Next time, I thought bitterly, I’ll heal myself and avoid being betrayed by the medic. I still had a jar of Rand’s glue in my backpack. How hard could it be to seal a couple of cuts?

  I chewed on my lower lip while she finished cleaning and sealing my cuts. Wrapping bandages tightly around my hands, she gave me instructions that would allow them to heal: no immersion in water for a day, no lifting or writing for a week. And that meant no training for a while, I thought.

  Valek’s men entered. They dumped Nix onto another examining table. The medic shot me a quizzical expression, then she bustled over to Nix’s groaning form, giving me the perfect opportunity to leave.

  I hurried to the Commander’s office, but Valek had beaten me there. He closed the door behind him as he joined me in the throne room.

  “I’ve taken care of dinner,” he said, guiding me back through the maze of desks. It was early evening, and only a handful of advisers were working.

  “Find Margg and cancel tonight’s meeting, then go back to our suite and get some rest,” he said.

  “Cancel? What for? It would look suspicious. I’ll wear gloves to cover the bandages. It’s cold enough at night; nobody will notice.” When he didn’t reply, I added, “I’m fine.”

  He smiled. “You should take a look at yourself in a mirror.” He hesitated, his face creasing in indecision. “All right. We’ll proceed as planned.”

  We stopped at the door to Valek’s office. “I have some work to finish. Rest and don’t worry. I’ll be close by tonight.” He inserted his key.

  “Valek?”

  “Yes.”

  “What will happen to Nix?”

  “We’ll patch him up, threaten him with years in the dungeon if he doesn’t cooperate, and when he’s done helping us, I’ll reassign him to MD-1. Good enough? Or should I kill him?”

  Military District 1 was the coldest, bleakest district in Ixia. The possibility of Nix falling prey to a snow cat brought a wicked grin to my face. “No. Reassignment’s good. If I had wanted him dead, I would have done it myself.”

  Valek straightened his spine, snapping me a look. A combination of surprise, amusement and wariness over my comment flashed across his face before he reined in his emotions and was once again my stone-faced Valek.

  I smiled my best Janco impression and headed down the hall. Resting would have to wait since I had a number of errands to run before the evening’s meeting. First, I needed a pair of gloves and a cloak. As the cooling season dwindled toward the cold season, the nights had turned sharp and brisk, coating everything in a blanket of ice so that the blades of grass sparkled like diamonds when touched by the morning sun.

  Thanking fate that Dilana was still in her sewing room, I chatted with her about the latest gossip before I made my request.

  “My goodness,” she said, sounding like a worried matron. “You don’t have any clothes for the cold!” She bustled about her stacks of uniforms. Her soft, honey-colored ringlets bounced with each movement. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?” she admonished.