By Darkness Hid (39 page)

The room seemed to grow colder. Achan lay back on his stone bed, closed his eyes, and pictured the allown tree on the edge of the SiderosRiver. In his mind, the wind blew the leaves about. He saw Gren’s chestnut hair billowing around her rosy face.

Gren.

The valet’s voice jerked Achan away from his longing. “He. Him. There.”

Achan opened his eyes to see the carrot-topped valet pointing at Sparrow.

“He’s the one who shut my hand in the door!” the valet whined.

“Did you, Vrell?” the old man’s voice hummed as if each word he spoke tasted delicious. Achan had heard his voice before. In his mind.

The man looked twice as old as Poril. He had the same spotted skin, but he was thinner and shorter and had bulging eyes like Jaira’s little dog. A thick grey cloak billowed around him. Now that was the kind of cloak Gren needed.

“Aye, master,” Sparrow said. “He tried to give a tonic to the prisoner, but I think it is poisonous. If the valet would like to bring the ingredients down and prepare the brew in my presence, I could confirm whether it is safe.”

The old man held out a claw-like hand and the valet handed him the vial.

“The prisoner is ill,” the valet said. “He must take his tonic daily and has missed four doses in this mishap. If my master’s orders continue to be ignored, I fear for the prisoner’s life.”

The old man pried the cork free. He stuck his pinky finger inside and touched it to his tongue. His face wrinkled, and he spat on the floor three times. “This is no regular tonic,” he hissed. “Why does the prisoner take this?”

The valet shrugged. “He’s ill.”

“On whose authority?”

“Lord Nathak’s, sir.”

The old man yelled, “Out!”

“Lord Nathak shall hear of this,” the valet said before scurrying away.

“See that he does,” the old man said to himself.

“What is it, master?” Sparrow asked.

“Silencer.” The old man turned toward Achan. His cadaverous, ashen eyes drilled into him.

The coldness penetrated Achan’s mind. He glanced away and shivered.

The old man mumbled, “Lord Nathak has gone to a great deal of trouble to hide this young man’s gift. I must discover why.” He worked the cork back into the vial and turned to the guards. “Let no one inside—Lord Nathak, especially.”

The old man and the guards left.

After a while, Sparrow said as if to himself, “I shall try to follow. My master is too strong to enter, but I might be able to jump through him.”

The boy may as well have been speaking Poroo. “What are you talking about?”

Sparrow ignored him and pulled something small out of his pocket.

“What you got there?” Achan asked.

Sparrow held up a scrap of cloth. “It is easier to connect with someone if you have something personal.”

“And you collect fabric scraps?”

“I cut it from my master’s pillow.”

Well, that made perfect sense. Achan jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m gonna use the bucket.”

Sparrow flushed. He turned to face the corner, clutching the fabric against his chest.

Strange boy, Vrell Sparrow.

Achan made good time with the bucket and perched on the bed to watch Sparrow’s performance. He toyed with the idea of trying to hear Sparrow’s thoughts but decided against it. He didn’t want to mess up whatever the boy was trying to do.

But Sparrow just sat there, boring Achan into a stupor. So Achan crouched behind him on the floor and placed one finger on the hem of his silky grey tunic. Cloth apparently formed some kind of connection. If so, and if what Sparrow said was true—that Achan was strong—maybe he could hear Sparrow’s thoughts.

Achan closed his eyes and pictured Sparrow. Short Sparrow, with a gut like an old man. Blushing Sparrow, who’d blend in better wearing a skirt. Greasy-haired Sparrow, who bossed about guards and valets, despite his lowly station. Achan liked this boy. He pictured himself tiptoeing into Sparrow’s head and looking under a pile of brains.

Then Achan was walking down a corridor, his back stiff and hunched. He pushed open a heavy door and entered a room filled with warm sunlight. Lord Nathak sat at a desk in front of a large window. Goosebumps raised on Achan’s arms as he reveled in the room’s heat.

Lord Nathak spoke without looking up. “Why have you kept my valet from the squire?”

Achan’s arm held up the vial and spoke in the old man’s voice. “He tries to poison the boy.”

Achan held his breath. He was the old man. Amazing!

Lord Nathak sighed. “You and I both know what you hold in your hand is not poison.”

“Then tell me what game you play, Lord Nathak. His gift is the strongest I’ve ever felt. Why do you wish it hidden? If you want my help, you must convince me of the cause I aid.”

Lord Nathak tugged at the ties of his mask where they ran under his chin. “He disturbs the prince. His bloodvoice is untamable.”

“I can tame anyone—given the chance.”

“The prince despises him and does not wish him trained.”

“Then why make him a squire? It’s against Council law anyway, so why do it?”

“I did not make him a squire. Sir Gavin Lukos did. I merely made use of his training.”

“If the prince despises him, why not have him killed?”

“I am not a murderer.”

Achan heard Master Hadar snort. “I sense a different truth from you, Lord Nathak. You may be able to close your mind, but you cannot hide everything.” The old man hummed. “Is he who I think he is?”

Lord Nathak leaned back in his chair. “What he
is
is my property. Prince Gidon has ordered him punished. I will not have him calling out for a rescue.”

“Does he even know how to—”

Sparrow’s voice seemed to scream in Achan’s head. “What are you doing?”

Achan wheezed as if coming out of the water after nearly drowning. He blinked rapidly until Sparrow’s round face came into focus. He shuddered. “That was incredible!”

Sparrow’s forehead wrinkled. “What was?”

Achan rubbed the chill from his arms. The warmth of Lord Nathak’s chamber had vanished. “They’re going to beat me.” He grinned. “Shocking, isn’t it?”

Sparrow set the back of his hand against Achan’s forehead.

Achan batted it away and clambered to his feet. “You didn’t see? Or hear?”

“Hear what?”

“I followed you. I touched your tunic and concentrated and, bam!” Achan slapped his hands together. “I was the old man in Lord Nathak’s chamber. A warm and spacious chamber, I might add. Do you think I’ll ever get a warm and spacious chamber?”

Sparrow’s eyes popped wide. “You jumped?”

Achan shrugged and sat down on his bed.

“I could see nothing. What did they say?”

Achan repeated the conversation.

Sparrow got to his feet. “This is astonishing. I have never been able to enter my master’s mind, yet you used my connection for yourself and got further than I ever have. I did not sense you at all. Are you weary?”

“Should I be?”

Sparrow sat next to Achan on the stone bed. “Oh, Achan. No wonder they all want you. The power you have is magnificent…and dangerous. You must be careful.”

Achan smirked. “Sparrow…”

“Do you not see? I cannot enter my master’s mind, but you did. And through a jumped connection at that! Achan, you could enter any mind in Er’Rets.”

Achan didn’t know why he’d want to do that, but he was glad he wasn’t afraid of the bloodvoices anymore. They had suddenly become a new plaything.

“Have you ever heard a different kind of voice?” he asked. “One that warms you from the inside and seems to know exactly what is happening in every moment of your life?”

Sparrow frowned, then opened his mouth to speak, but the door burst open and the two guards stormed inside. One carried a whip and a set of iron shackles.

Achan didn’t like the looks of either. He stood and tried to look threatening. “You could have knocked first.”

Sparrow scrambled into the corner.

The guards seized Achan by his arms. Pain shot through his injured shoulder. Goosebumps rose on his arms at the sudden chill that wafted though his cell.

“What are you doing?” Sparrow asked.

“This one tried to kill the prince,” a guard said, clamping an iron cuff to Achan’s wrist.

Sparrow wedged between the guards. “That is ridiculous. He
saved
the prince. I saw it happen.”

“You know not what you say, Vrell.” The old man stepped into the cell again, with Lord Nathak and the valet at his heels.

“Lord Nathak.” Achan panted slightly as he waved his good arm around to keep the guard from securing the second cuff. He was finished with trying to get on anyone’s good side. “I was just noticing how something smelled, and here you are.”

Lord Nathak sighed. “The older you grow, the bolder you become. It does not suit a stray who hopes for a secure future.”

“I hadn’t realized there was such a thing in your service, my lord.”

Sparrow spoke. “Master, he should be allowed to appear before the Council, where I will testify as a witness to his heroism. I saw him save the prince, when all his other protectors were gone.”

The guards forced Achan onto the stone bed. The loose straw poked and scratched, and he arched his back to keep his wounds from being aggravated. Lord Nathak stepped forward holding a ceramic funnel and a large wooden mug. One of the guards squeezed Achan’s cheeks until his jaw opened.

Pig snout.

Sparrow’s sorrowful voice pleaded, “Master, please. This is barbaric.”

Lord Nathak wedged the funnel between Achan’s teeth and dumped the mug’s contents.

Achan gagged but had no choice but to swallow the bitter goo. His teeth grated against the funnel, his eyes watered, and a tear ran down his cheek.

The valet handed Lord Nathak another mug, and he poured it into the funnel. Achan tried to swallow quickly this time, but the overwhelming mentha taste tingled his throat. He coughed, which only made swallowing harder.

The liquids trickled into Achan’s stomach, and a fog drifted over his mind. He was both outraged and relieved. He’d finally accepted the voices as his, but they had nearly driven him mad. He lost control of trying to close off his mind. The voices screamed now, as if they had been waiting for an opportunity to speak and could feel the tonic pushing them out.

Do not go!

Who are you?

Come back!

Achan, wait!
Sir Gavin said.
Stay open!

Before Achan could reply to Sir Gavin, Lord Nathak removed the funnel and the guards yanked Achan to his feet. They looped the chains in his shackles through two iron rings high on the dank, mildewed wall.

Achan ran his tongue over his teeth, seeking to clear his mouth of all flavor. His mind felt numbed, but he wasn’t bereft of his senses. “What exactly have I done to deserve this, my lord?”

“You led the Crown Prince into the Evenwall,” Lord Nathak said, tapping his fingernails against the ceramic funnel, “thus endangering his life. Yet you were sworn to protect him. You will receive ten lashes for this blunder.”

Achan stood facing the stone wall, the shackles holding him in place. “Ten? Oh, that’s not so bad. You do realize my taking him into the Evenwall saved his life. And, in case you missed it, I took
three
arrows for His Royal Plague. The one in my back is particularly painf—Aagh!”

Achan screamed as a guard jerked the chains up the wall, raising his arms above his head and stretching his sore shoulder. His chest slammed against cold, slimy stone. Achan shivered and glanced at the beefy guard who held the chains. “Do you mind? I’m trying to have a conversation.”

Lord Nathak motioned to the other guard. “Only ten. And go easy.”

Go easy?

The other guard stepped forward clutching the whip.

20

“Hold still,” Vrell scolded. The spicy smell of cloves mixed with calendula numbed her sinuses—a blessing in Achan’s rank cell.

Achan lay prostrate on his horrible stone bed, his face buried in the crook of his arm, straw poking out from under him. “It hurts!”

“I can see that.” Vrell scooped ointment with two fingers and ran it over a lesion on Achan’s back. His muscles tensed, but the ointment had already made a difference in the newest wounds on his back. She still couldn’t believe how scarred it was. She could not imagine Achan committing a crime that deserved such punishment.

It’s cold,
Achan bloodvoiced.

Sorry.
She scooped up another glob of ointment and rubbed it between her hands before tending the next gash. She gasped. “You can hear my thoughts, now? Despite the tonic?”

“Aye. Your little fruit did the trick.”

Vrell smiled. She had remembered Jax’s advice and had taken a sack of karpos fruit from the kitchens and given it to Achan when he’d awakened after the scourging.