The Pearls (28 page)

“Let that question be put to Lady Avitria.”

“Elandra's
jinja
should have sensed the use of magic. What good are the creatures if they don't do their job?”

“Even a
jinja
can be fooled. These enemies were clever, Excellency. Her
jinja
tried to protect the empress, but it was tricked, deflected.” The Magria frowned. “It managed to slay Avitria's blue
jinja
, which was not a
jinja
at all.”

“What was it?”

“A
desticrir
. A small woods demon.”

Again he stared at her in shock. “How—”

“Come, Excellency,” the Magria said impatiently. “Surely you know that not all creatures of shadow have perished yet.”

The cold, cutting contempt in her voice made him think of his father. “Yes, I know,” he said, controlling his temper. “But I do not expect to be told that a demon has been living in the palace for months undetected. And don't tell me to ask Lady Avitria about this, too!”

“Avitria acquired it from another woman. Although it wore a disguising spell, Avitria must have recognized what it was immediately and put it to use. How it came to be here is another matter, which perhaps your agents will want to trace. You are surrounded by numerous plots, Excellency. This attack on the empress is but one of them.” The Magria stared at him. “And the one on your sister is another.”

“Then you know about Lea.”

“Oh yes,” the Magria assured him. “And you have been wise not to go in search of her, despite strong temptation.”

He brushed the compliment aside. “Who has her, Magria? Who threatens her with harm?”

The Magria opened her fist, and a tiny serpent with an emerald glittering in its mouth slithered across her wrist and up her sleeve to her shoulder. It vanished in her hair. “The answer you seek is not easy to provide.”

“A pox on your riddles and mysteries! Where is she? Who has abducted her? How much danger surrounds her? Where am I to ride to gain her rescue?”

“Ride?” For a moment the Magria looked alarmed. “You must not leave your throne unguarded, Excellency. I thought you understood that.”

“As soon as I know where to find her,” he said grimly, “I shall take action.”

“But not you personally. Your enemies seek to draw you away from the center of your power, away from the emerald throne. Resist. I urge you most strongly. War is coming to your empire.”

Caelan frowned. She was not telling him anything he didn't already know. “Right now, this is not about my empire. It's about my wife and sister. Their safety.”

“You have forgotten the second part of your destiny, Light Bringer.”

He sighed, in no mood for prophecy. “I've seen the end of Kostimon, Beloth, and Mael. Isn't that enough destruction?”

“You have begun your destined task. You must finish it.”

“Later. Now, I want—”

“Does it matter what any of us want?” she asked sharply. “Is not what we
are
more important?”

“For the last time, I ask you to tell me where to find Lea. Who has taken her?”

“Several enemies converge on her, Excellency.”

“Then it's as I thought. The Vindicants will take her from—”

“Perhaps. The readings are…difficult.” The Magria's gaze searched his before she lowered her eyes. “You will not like what I have to say.”

Believing she was going to foretell Lea's death, he felt dread sink through him like a stone. Suddenly he wished he hadn't asked, but of course he had to know. Steeling himself, he said, “I must have the truth. Tell me.”

“You will be betrayed, Excellency.”

“By Hervan? Is the captain responsible for Lea's situation?”

“No,
you
will be betrayed. By one you hold dear.”

“What are you saying?” For a moment intense anger swept him. “Not Elandra! In Gault's name—”

“No,” the Magria said, her gaze steady on his. “The empress is faithful in all respects.”

“Who, then? Why do you—” He frowned, shaking his head. “Lea is the one in trouble,” he said carefully, as though explaining the matter to a simpleton. “She would never do anything against me.”

“Are you so certain?”

“Completely! She's incapable of doing wrong.”

“People are capable of many things, Excellency. People do change.”

“But not my sister, my—
no!
” Furious, he swung around for the door.

“Excellency,” the Magria said quietly, her voice penetrating his anger. “Please, wait.”

He glared over his shoulder. “Why should I? If
slander
is all you can give me—”

“The visions do not lie.”

“This one is
wrong
.”

Anger burned in the Magria's blue eyes. She reached into her sleeves with both hands and threw a pair of serpents on the floor between them. At once the snakes began crawling, and it was all Caelan could do to stand his ground and not back away.

His protector came forward, but Caelan stopped the man with a gesture.

The Magria pointed at the writhing snakes. “See what I have seen, Excellency, and judge for yourself. If you dare!”

T
he
sun was sinking low, its fiery rays blazing through the trees and turning the surface of the stream molten gold. Lea sat on the ground, hugging her knees tightly and feeling cramped from the small confines of her cage. With the sun going down, the air had grown cool. Shivering, she strained to catch some sound, yet all she heard was the wind quaking the trees. A shower of golden leaves fell suddenly, startling her. She watched them tumble into the stream and be carried away.

By now, the battle should be over, she thought, unable to stop worrying. She refused to hope, for no matter who won there would be death and
na-quai
, the destruction of spirit.

For the third time since the commander had caged her here, she put out her hand to touch the stakes. This time, no magic repulsed her fingers.

Unable to believe it, she touched a stake again. There was no hindrance. The spell had ended.

Shadrael is dead,
she thought.

A little pang went through her, one she chose not to examine. She yanked the stake from the ground. It came easily from the soft dirt, and she flung it away before pulling out another and another, until she could squeeze out of the circle and run.

Without hesitation, she headed for the stream, her breath loud and ragged in her ears. She stumbled several times until, muttering, she gathered her long skirts up in one hand and slapped angrily at her tears with the other. She was
not
going to cry, she told herself sternly. She was
not
going to be a fool.

At all costs she intended to avoid the camp for—no matter what might have happened to the commander—some of his men might yet return. She splashed across the stream for the second time that day, intent on getting away. If the Crimsons came searching for her, she could leave her hiding place and rejoin them.

The approaching sound of galloping hoofbeats made her freeze in her tracks, her heart thumping uncertainly.
Who?
she wondered. Lifting her arms, she cast forth her senses. “Oh, kind spirits of the air, guide me in this,” she whispered. “Who comes to me?”

The wind blew harder, whipping around her and sending her hair tangling across her face. As she dragged her tresses back, she caught a scent of something charred and musty…the unmistakable stink of the Hidden Ways.

Not Shadrael,
she thought. If it should be Fomo or one of the others…fear flashed through her. “No!” she breathed, and ran for her life.

Crossing the bank of gravel, she reached the bottom of the nearby hill and plunged into the gully cut into its base. Brush snagged her hair and clothing, but she kept going until she tripped on a root, stumbled, and fell. Jolted hard, she managed to keep from crying out and scrambled forward on her hands and knees to collapse at last in a small depression behind a thick bush. She curled up small and still, her heart hammering hard.

The hoofbeats were louder now, coming toward the stream. Holding her breath, Lea sank lower into the leaves and made sure her bedraggled skirts covered her red boots. The dust she'd stirred up tickled her nose, but she fought not to sneeze. Like a mouse, she dared make not the slightest movement in hopes that she would blend into the cover.

Her straining eyes glimpsed red among the trees beyond the stream, just before a horse and rider emerged into the open. Although the sun was sinking low, it was not yet dusk, and she could see the man clearly. Her eyes widened in astonishment, for Captain Hervan's distinctive manner of sitting a horse could not be mistaken. With his left arm bound in a sling, his short cloak swinging from his shoulders, his long helmet plume blowing behind him in the breeze, he reined up his horse and looked all around before he slowly approached the enclosure of tall stakes that had held her prisoner. Looking at the tracks she'd left in the dirt, he turned his head and stared at the woods.

He seemed to be looking right at her.

Lea did not move. She did not jump from her hiding place, call out to him, or wave. At first she was astonished at herself, yet some instinct kept her cautious. She felt danger around her, danger of a kind unknown to her.

A ripple nearby in the ground warned her that an earth spirit had come. Not daring to turn her head, she shifted her eyes to one side to peer down at it.

“Beware,”
it said in her mind.
“Danger. Be still.”

Even as the warning pushed through her thoughts, she heard the sound of another horse, approaching very fast.

The urge to shout a warning to Hervan filled her throat, yet she choked it back. Ashamed and confused, she blinked her stinging eyes and made no sound.

Hervan needed no warning, however, for he'd obviously heard the approaching horse. He spun his mount around to face whoever was coming, and drew his sword awkwardly in readiness.

Run,
Lea thought urgently.
You're hurt. You cannot fight.

And then her senses felt the brush of
sevaisin
, involuntary and unmistakable. A swift rush went through her, and her eyes widened in surprise.

The commander—a grim, unmistakable figure in black armor—burst from the trees, bearing down on Hervan. He was riding a cavalry mount instead of his own black horse, and he'd lost his helmet. Blood streaked his face. When he saw Hervan waiting for him, he let out a hoarse, savage cry and spurred his lathered horse even faster.

Hervan kicked his mount forward. The two men galloped straight for each other, both shouting at the top of their voices. Just as it seemed to Lea that they would crash headlong, Hervan leaned over very low from the saddle in a feat of daring horsemanship and whacked the flat of his blade against the throat of the commander's mount. Shying sideways, the horse bucked in a twisting corkscrew move that jerked the commander off balance.

Even so, he stayed in the saddle, his horsemanship obviously equal to the captain's. He even managed to parry Hervan's fierce blow.

The clang of steel echoed loudly, covering Lea's involuntary gasp. Hervan was almost standing in his stirrups, his reins loose on his horse's neck as he hammered blow after blow at the commander, who had still not fully recovered his balance on his shying horse.

Then unexpectedly the commander kicked free of his stirrups and jumped to the ground, landing heavily and awkwardly, going to his knees. His horse dodged away with a kick that missed him. With a whoop Hervan spurred his mount right at the commander.

The horse reared up and leaped in a maneuver Lea had seen demonstrated on the palace grounds, its forefeet striking out with lethal force.

She shot to her feet. “No!” she screamed. “Shadrael!”

Miraculously, he scrambled aside before a hoof could smash his skull to pieces, and slashed at the horse's belly. Thinking he was going to stab the animal, Lea screamed again, but he'd only cut the saddle girth.

Hervan went flying through the air and hit the ground hard. Tumbling over, the captain groaned and lay still.

Aghast, Lea pushed her way through the brush, running now to reach the men. As she drew near, she could hear the commander gasping for air. He stood near Hervan, bent double with his hands braced on his knees, his sword still clutched in one hand. The captain writhed a moment as though he would rise, then collapsed again. He was still groaning piteously.

Her heart wrung by them both, Lea came up just as Shadrael straightened. His black eyes were like bottomless holes in the pallor of his face. Seemingly unaware of her presence, he lifted his sword as though to finish Hervan. The captain, his handsome face gray and twisted with pain, raised a feeble hand in surrender.

The violence in the air was a tangible, horrible thing. Lea felt as though she were drowning in it.

Ignoring Hervan's gesture, the commander prepared to strike.

Sickened, remembering how he'd sent Tylik's head rolling with a single blow, Lea cried out, “Stop! Stop it now! He asks for mercy.”

Shadrael slowly lowered his weapon. When he turned to stare at her, for one terrifying moment there was no recognition in his dark eyes.

Lea's heart felt squeezed by an awful pressure. “Please, please,” she whispered.

Blinking, Shadrael seemed to regain his wits. “I cannot grant him mercy,” he said, his voice raw. He swiped absently at the blood and sweat running down his face. “Cannot.”

“You must. You must,” she said, going to her knees beside the hurt captain and clutching his good arm as he tried to roll over. “Captain Hervan, let me help you.”

Hervan's face was drawn and perspiring. The agony in his eyes wrung her tender heart, yet something in them gave her pause. He looked mad, obsessed. Ignoring her, he glared up at Shadrael. Warily, she allowed her hand to fall from Hervan's sleeve.

“Get back from him,” Shadrael said.

“Why? So you can kill him? He has surrendered to you. Let him be.”

“I need no prisoners.”

“But—”

“He has not given me his sword. For your own sake, Lea, get back from him!”

“I'll get the sword for you,” Lea said.

“No! Take care!”

Although it should have seemed bizarre for her abductor to be warning her against her rescuer, she did not have to be told there was something very wrong with Hervan. He was shuddering, his eyes burning with a haunted malevolence that alarmed her.

Before she could lose her nerve, she gently took the sword from Hervan's hand. To her relief, he did not resist. Even so, touching the weapon brought her into contact with its aura of bloody violence. Nearly dropping it in reflex, Lea eased herself away from Hervan and threw the sword into the water.

The captain laughed a little, never taking his gaze from Shadrael.

“There,” Lea said, brushing off her hands. “Help him sit up, please, so I can tend to his injury.”

“Don't touch him,” the commander said. “Can't you see he's gone mad? He'll turn on you when you least expect it.”

She frowned. “Captain Hervan! Olivel? Can you hear me? Do you know me?”

“Don't bother,” Shadrael said. “He's come through the Hidden Ways unprepared. What a fool!”

“We must help him,” Lea said. “I have none of the true healing arts, but perhaps a—”

“Nothing will help. I know the signs. Better to kill him and put him out of his misery.”

“No!” Lea cried. “If that's your idea of mercy—”

Another low, insane chuckle from Hervan silenced her.

She saw the two men glaring at each other with naked hatred. Shadrael looked alert and keen for more fighting. But never had she seen such a feral, savage expression on Hervan's face. Gone was the suave, charming young man who'd so exasperated her on her journey, and in his place crouched a—a beast.

In that instant she understood why soldiers in the army were so brutal and wicked, why they wasted their free time in stupid, dangerous games and depravity. It was the only way to hold the madness at bay, the madness wrought in them by traveling the Hidden Ways. How, she wondered, had Shadrael managed to retain the amount of humanity he had?

“Defiler!” Hervan snarled. “Seducer! Fiend! I'll have you yet!”

As he spoke, he threw a small jeweled dagger right at Shadrael's face. The commander ducked, plunging his sword into Hervan's throat. And there, at Lea's feet, the captain sank down, gurgling and gasping as his life ran out of him.

Some of the madness drained from his features. His eyes rolled up as though straining to take one final look at her shocked face, and he struggled to smile. “Lea…”

With her name on his lips, he died, his eyes still staring sightlessly at her.

She sensed the fleeting rush and chaos within her
jaiethal
as his soul departed, passing unsettled into
na-quai
. The swift destruction of his spirit told her that he'd died unsworn. Horrified, she took a step back and another before she lost her balance and sat down hard.

The commander straightened up with a grunt, absently cleaning his sword and sheathing it. Lines of weariness carved his face and his eyes were bleak. He seemed unaware of the new cut now bleeding down his cheek.

“Don't waste your grief on this one,” he said. “It takes some men that way, the first time through. They're useless afterward, like rabid dogs that have to be put down.”

Lea flinched. “Is this your idea of comfort? No one deserves such a death.”

Shadrael's expression turned grim. “Was he your lover? Is that why you care so much?”

She closed her eyes, too tired to go on fighting him. What did explanations matter now? Hervan—poor, misguided man—lay dead. She could not imagine what lengths of desperation had driven him to travel the Hidden Ways in pursuit of her…to
unswear
himself in order to do it. She'd not asked for such a sacrifice. She was not worth such devotion.