The Pattern Scars (21 page)

I remembered, in my newest cell—a tiny room with no windows and a door made of oak that shuddered when it closed. There was nothing to do here except remember.

I remembered how Teldaru had frowned at Haldrin and said, “I don’t know what you mean. Who
is
this girl?” And then, when the king explained, how Teldaru said, “She must be mad.”

“She doesn’t look mad.” The king searched my face, which had gone as numb as the rest of me.

“Hal.” Teldaru looked regretful. (
Teldaru
, I thought, over and over, the word a heartbeat under my own.) He was absolutely clean-shaven. No tiny red-gold hairs to catch the sun or scratch along my forehead. “You’ve seen it before: people unable to bear the weight of their own power. People who desire the Otherworld but cannot stand its glow.”

I laughed. It was more of a cackle, and it would not help me—except that Haldrin, still gazing at me, said, “Yes, I’ve seen such people. But she’s different. She . . .”
He will do it
, I thought as he looked at me.
He will understand. He wants to
.

“What is your name?” he asked me.

I turned to Teldaru. “Why don’t
you
tell him?” I said, then laughed again at his regretfully shaking head and his regretfully uncomprehending eyes.

“He knows,” I said to the king. “I didn’t know his, but he always knew mine. I am Nola. I am also Mistress Hasty Seer and Mistress Overcurious Seer and . . .”
A broken breath, nearly a sob—and no, I
must not
cry.

“Nola,” said the king.

I heard things, from my cell. Muffled footsteps and voices; laughter and shouting.

It’s the opposite of the house
, I thought as I stared up at the ceiling plaster.
There I had space and it was full of things, but empty of people. Empty rooms and an empty garden beyond them. Here I have nothing but a pallet and a chair and a lantern, but the world is right on the other side of my door. I can hear it. I can smell it, onions and bread and meat—Laedon’s kitchen—or was Laedon also a lie?

“Nola,” the king said again. “Teldaru will take care of you.”

“No.” I sounded quite reasonable now, which was strange, since there was a knot of screaming in my chest.

“Yes.” Teldaru took a step toward me. Borl barked, once. “You are an Otherseer. You are unwell. I will find somewhere quiet and private and I will tend to you.”

“Is there anyone we can tell?” Haldrin said. “Any family in the city?”

I saw: it was so simple, the way out. “Yes,” I said quickly, “Bardrem—he lives at the brothel where I—”

“Good.” Teldaru nodded briskly. “We will find him and tell him where you are.” He smiled at me—concerned, reassuring.

“No you won’t,” I said, even more quickly, so that Haldrin would hear at least some of my words, “you’ll
say
you’ve looked for him and then you’ll say you couldn’t find him, or maybe that you found him and he didn’t care, and everyone will believe you because—”

“You see?” Teldaru’s voice was louder than mine. He lifted both hands, shrugged, quirked his brows again, at the king. “She is raving. But she is lucky that her madness led her here, for there would be nothing but misery for her in the city. She is lucky, too, that she is young. Young and strong.”

I could not look away from him. (
Teldaru Teldaru Teldaru
said my pulse.)

“Come with me now . . . Nola.” He said my name like a question, as if he might have got it wrong. “We will begin by finding you a more appropriate dress. And some food.”

“I’m not hungry,” I said. “And why don’t you like my dress? You gave it to me.”

I thought,
I could reach up and unhook the lantern and smash it against the wall
. I imagined flames catching on the bedclothes and mattress and on my clothes as well, beginning with the hem of my plain brown skirt. They would have to open my door then. They would pull me out, coughing and blistering—or, even better, Borl would pull me out with his jaws clenched around my flesh or my belt, and Teldaru would say, “Well done, Borl” and pick me up and carry me to another locked room where I would have no light at all.

How long had it been? A day, two? The door had opened several times (keys jingling, bolts sliding)—on him, of course, bringing trays of food that smelled wonderful but tasted like dust. He did not speak to me. He stared at me as I picked at my food (I’d rather not have eaten at all, but after a few days I needed to), and took the corner bucket out to dump its contents somewhere. I blushed, the first few times he did this, but after awhile it was just another thing he did, silently and swiftly.

The first time he spoke, Haldrin was with him. I did not know what time it was, of course, but I was sleeping, and woke to the rattle and slide of the lock and bolt. When I saw the king I struggled to sit up, holding bedclothes around my shoulders, even though I was dressed.

“Nola.” The king sat on the chair, pulled close. His tunic was very fine: a deep red stitched with golden thread and studded, at its hem, with tiny circles of copper. The lantern light plucked at him, and his shine made me blink. “How are you?”

“She is—” Teldaru began, but Haldrin stopped him with a glance and a, “She will tell me herself.”

Teldaru’s scowl was enough; I took a deep breath and said, “I am much better.” Sweetly, lightly, as if there were no darkness, no bucket in the corner, no Teldaru standing against the closed door.

The king smiled. “I am glad to hear it.”

“Yes,” I said. It was difficult to think quickly and speak slowly. “And because I feel so much better, I am wondering when I will be permitted to go outside.”

Haldrin looked over his shoulder at Teldaru again. “She has not been out?”

Teldaru shook his head. “She is not ready. The reason she has improved at all is that she’s been inside, protected from upheaval and excitement.”

“I’m fine now.” My voice was climbing. “I am. I would like to go out, please. My king.”

“She really should not.” Teldaru was still speaking evenly. That regretful expression—but his black eyes were on me, and I felt them like weight, like cold. “She is right: she has improved. And when I am certain that she is strong enough, she will leave this room. But not before then.” He lowered his voice, murmured, “And Hal, you cannot want to risk her standing in the courtyard screaming about . . . well. You cannot want this.”

No
, I thought as Haldrin turned back to me.
Please.

“Also,” Teldaru continued, “I have selfish reasons for wishing her truly well. I believe she is a strong Otherseer, and I will have much to teach her, when she is ready. And isn’t this what you want, Nola?” He smiled; the wolf with jewelled teeth. “Isn’t this really what you’ve always wanted?”

I sat. I was squeezing the sheets so tightly that I could not feel my fingers.

“Very well.” The king rose. The chair scraped along the flagstones. “But only a little longer, Daru, yes? We don’t want to weaken her in a different way by keeping her from sunlight, and from other people.”

They left together. The bolt slammed home.

Teldaru returned alone not long after.

I pressed my back against the wall and wrapped my arms around my pulled-up legs. I prepared to watch him watch me from across the room as he usually did—but he took three long strides and was there with me, kneeling on the edge of my pallet.

“I couldn’t do this before,” he said, softly. “Couldn’t come near you, speak to you. I knew that if I did, I would kill you.” He took a strand of my hair, rubbed it between his fingers. Hooked it gently behind my ear. “And I did want to kill you, Nola. Especially when I first saw you in Haldrin’s study and realized what you had done. But I commanded myself to wait. To be calm. Because you will serve me even better, now, than you would have before.”

“I will not,” I said, my voice low and steady.

He seemed not to have heard me. “How did you do it? How did you get out of the house?”

I smiled at him; showed him my teeth and my narrowed, gleaming eyes. I said nothing.

He shrugged. “It does not matter. You are mine.”

“I am not,” I said, and he threw his head back and shouted a laugh.

“Oh, Nola! Mistress Defiant Seer. It will be such a pleasure to break you.”

He leaned forward. There was nowhere for me to go; I twisted my upper body, ground my cheek against the wall. He grasped my chin and pulled it slowly around. I was facing him and he was closer, the dark water of his eyes moving, moving. Closer yet—and his mouth was on mine, warm and sweet. I felt a brush of teeth and tongue against my own closed lips. I thought of Bardrem kissing me beneath the courtyard tree.
Carrots
, I thought desperately,
and porridge; he tasted like that. He,
Bardrem
, so thin and bony
—but it was just a memory, weak and slippery and gone.

“Nola.” Teldaru’s lips slid along mine, and down to the hollow of my throat. He must have been able to feel my blood throbbing there, beneath, giving me away as my rigid arms and neck did not. “Dearest girl.” I felt his teeth and his breath and they tickled and I
had
to squirm, had to moan a little, as if I were some other girl without will. I felt him smile. He drew back slowly, traced my mouth with his thumbs. My mouth was wet and my skin was hot—probably glowing with heat, though my insides were so cold.

He rose and looked down at me. He was not smiling any more. “It begins tomorrow,” he said, and turned away.

He brought a mirror and a knife. So much gold: the mirror and its filigree rim; the knife’s hilt; the sleeves and hem of his tunic. His hair.

“So will I be playing Laedon, and you me?” I spoke lightly (I’d been practising) and held out my arm, turned so that its pale, smooth inside was toward him. My veins branched, green and swollen-looking; I could almost feel them, aching as my chest was.

He was silent for a long time—so long that my arm began to tremble. I lowered it.
Idiot girl,
I thought.
Idiot,
idiot
; be quiet now, and wait like he does
.

“I have stories to tell you.” His voice was gentle. My flesh rose in goosebumps, as if he had touched me. “Like our lessons at the house—only these will be far more diverting for both of us.” He ran his finger over the filigree and gazed at me. I said nothing, this time, though I wanted to. “I won’t listen!” I wanted to cry, and I swore to myself that this was true, that I would somehow have the strength to deafen myself to his words. “Just do whatever you intend to do!”—another shout that never left my throat. “Just hurt me and be done with it. . . .”

“The first story is about girls.” He grinned. I wondered, wildly, if I would be able to use the even, glinting surfaces of his teeth to Othersee. “All stories are, I suppose. But these girls . . . Sisters. A princess and a seer.” He turned the knife over and it made a quiet clinking sound against the mirror. “Zemiya and Neluja. Strange, savage names, no? Like your Yigranzi’s. Dark-skinned island girls, like your Yigranzi.” Another smile, this one slower. “I left just a little of her; did you like that? Just enough for lingering and pain. But those others, now. Those sisters from Belakao.”