Nightrunners 03 - Traitor's Moon (52 page)

Seregil considered all this, then shook his head, the words he was about to speak already bitter ashes in his mouth. "There's a chance he's telling the truth."

"I
saw
him! And you've seen the marks on them both."

"The marks on her neck aren't right. There should be bruises, finger marks, but there aren't."

"Damn it, Seregil, I know what I saw!"

Seregil ran a hand back through his hair and sighed. "You know what you think you saw. How did Klia's face look when you first reached her? Was it pale or dark?"

"Pale."

"Damn. There's no bruising on her neck, and the bones here—" He touched a finger to his larynx. "They're undamaged. If she was being strangled, her face would have been dark. I'm not saying he's innocent, just that he didn't choke her. You've got to let go of that, or you'll be no use to me at all."

"But those scratches on her neck?"

"There's blood under her nails, but not his. She did that to herself, clawing at her throat in panic. It's a common reaction to choking. Or poison."

"Poison? We all ate from the same bowls. I shared a wineskin with her myself. It still comes back to Emiel doing something to her down by the water."

"So it would seem. Are you certain no one else was there with them?"

"The ground was so soft in places mice had left tracks. If there'd been anyone else down there in the past two days, I'd have seen signs of them."

"Then let's hope Braknil finds something for us to hang an accusation on, although Emiel doesn't strike me as the type to leave empty poison flasks in his pockets. In the meantime, we've got to be careful what we say."

Alec sank his head into his hands. "Beka's right. We failed. Hell, how could I have been so stupid? An archery contest!"

Kheeta opened the door and looked in. "Alec, Mydri needs you. You're to come right away."

Four riders of Rhylin's decuria were on guard at the bath-chamber door. Beka and Rhylin stood just inside. A scene of quiet chaos lay beyond, but at first all Alec could focus on was the sight of Thero and Seregil's two sisters at work over Klia.

The princess was wrapped in a clean linen robe and lay on a pallet next to one of the small sunken tubs, which had been converted into a fire pit. An iron tripod had been set over the flames, supporting a large, steaming kettle. Thero knelt motionless beside her, eyes closed, holding one of her hands between his.

Mydri was supervising half a dozen servants around the room.

"Is the infusion steeped yet?" she called to a woman working over a nearby brazier. "Morsa, Kerian, finish with that dhima and get it heated!" This last was directed at several men who were struggling to stretch a thick felt cover over a wooden frame.

Kneeling beside Klia, Alec listened to the faint, steady whistle of breath in her throat. Her face had taken on a bluish pallor, and the dark circles around her eyes had deepened alarmingly.

"Look at this," said Seregil, lifting Klia's free hand. The flesh beneath her fingernails had turned a dusky blue. Her bare feet showed the same discoloration up to the ankles, and were icy to the touch.

"She shows signs of poisoning," Mydri said doubtfully, "yet it's like none I've ever seen. None of the usual remedies alleviate her stupor, but still she lives."

Alec looked at Thero again. The wizard was sweating and drawn. "What's he doing?"

"I tried a divining trance," Thero said without opening his eyes. "Some magic blocked my vision, which suggests that whoever did this covered his tracks. Now I'm just lending her strength. Magyana and I did the same for her mother."

The woman at the brazier brought over a cup and began patiently spooning its contents between Klia's lips, a few drops at a time. The

workmen finished with the dhima and lifted it to cover Klia, the woman, and the makeshift fire pit.

"From the time you first met with Klia this morning, what did you see her eat?" Mydri asked Alec.

"Almost nothing before we left," Alec replied. "She complained of being wine sick."

"So Beka said, but she did eat later. Just list it off. Whatever you saw the whole day."

"A little bread, an apple. I picked some wintergreen leaves for her in the woods to settle her stomach. I think she nibbled a bit of that. And I'm sure that's what it was. I tasted it myself to be sure.

"By the time we stopped for the midday meal she. seemed better. She shared part of a roast kutka with Beka and me, drank a little wine—" Alec closed his eyes, picturing the meal. "Nazien offered her cheese and bread. But I saw him eat from the same portions."

"The poisoning could have been accidental," said Mydri. "Did she eat anything wild besides the wintergreen? Berries, mushrooms? The scent of caramon buds is tempting, but they're dangerous even in small amounts."

Seregil shook his head. "She knows better than that."

The sound of retching came from inside the dhima and went on for several minutes. When it subsided the woman nursing Klia handed a basin out to Mydri. She inspected the contents closely, then passed it to another servant to carry away. "It appears you are correct, Alec."

"What about snakebite?" suggested Thero.

"There are no snakes in Aurenen, only dragons," Seregil said.

Mydri shrugged. "The sweating and purges should help. That and some strengthening magic are all we can do for now. She's survived this long. Perhaps this will pass."

"Perhaps?" Alec rasped.

Sergeant Mercalle entered hesitantly, dispatch pouch in hand. "Captain? I was about to send this when we got the news about Lord Torsin, so I held it for the Commander's return." She cast a mournful look at the dhima. "It's sealed and ready to go, but shouldn't someone write Queen Phoria about what's happened?"

Beka looked over at Seregil and the others. "Who do I take orders from now?"

"That would be you, Thero," said Seregil. "You're the last Skalan standing with any noble blood in him. The Iia'sidra certainly won't deal with me."

" Thero nodded gravely. "Very well. Send it as it is, Captain. We'll inform the queen of her sister's illness when we have determined the cause. It's unwise to risk spreading rumor without facts."

Mercalle saluted. "And the Haman, my lord?"

Thero looked to Seregil. "You're my adviser now. What do we do with them?"

"Hold Emiel, but let Nazien and the rest go back to their tupa under pledge of honor. Don't worry. He won't go anywhere, and if any of his people make a dash for it, we'll know who our poisoner is. Beka, station some of your people to keep an eye on them, but discreetly."

"I'll see to it myself," she assured him.

31

Deathwatch

A sense of foreboding enveloped the household. All through the night the servants went quietly on about their business, cooking food that went uneaten, turning down beds no one slept in. Lord Torsin lay forgotten for the moment.

Leaving Klia in Mydri's care, Seregil enlisted Alec, Thero, and Adzriel to go over every flask, knife, and piece of jewelry confiscated from the Haman. Neither sharp eyes nor magic turned up any evidence of poison.

"You said yourself they wouldn't keep anything that would give them away," Alec insisted. "I want to go back to that clearing. There wasn't time to look around properly before."

"If Klia touched the object that contained the poison, I could locate it," offered Thero.

"You're needed here," Seregil told him.

"Saaban has the gift," said Adzriel. "He knows the way to the clearing, as well. Shall I ask him to make arrangements?"

"If we leave before dawn, we'll be back by midday," Alec added.

"I suppose you'd better," said Seregil. "Where's Nyal, by the way?"

"I haven't seen him since you got back," said Thero. "Perhaps he's with Beka?"

"The one time I want the man and he's nowhere to be found," Seregil grumbled,

suddenly weary beyond words. "Fetch him. He may have heard something of use."

The night wore on. The three of them sat on the floor beside the dhima, listening to Mydri's soft songs of healing through the felt walls; now and then each took a turn inside.

Sitting by Klia, hair and clothes plastered damply against his skin, Seregil allowed his mind to wander back to the dhimas beneath the Nha'mahat and the rhui'auros's words to him there:
Smiles conceal knives.
The Haman had certainly been smiling when they rode out that morning.

He didn't know he was dozing until Mydri touched his arm.

"You should rest," she said, yawning herself.

Thero and Alec were asleep where they sat just outside the dhima. Seregil passed them silently and went to the window to cool his face. Looking out, he saw the dwindling moon disappearing behind the western towers.

Almost Illior's Moon,
he thought.
Or rather, Aura's Bow.
He was back among his people at last; it was time he started thinking like a 'faie.

"
You 're a child of Aura, a child of Illior,"
Lhial had told him. Aura Elustri, creator of the 'faie, mother of dragons. Illior Lightbearer, patron of wizards, madmen, and thieves. Light and darkness. Male and female. Wisdom and madness.

Different faces for all comers,
thought Seregil, smiling as he slipped out the window and set off for the stable yard.
Just like me.

The barracks were heavily guarded, but the long building itself was empty except for Kallas, Steb, and Mirn standing guard over their sullen prisoner. Emiel sat on a pallet in the corner furthest from the door. A clay lamp hanging overhead cast an uncertain light across the prisoner's face. Emiel didn't look up at Seregil's approach but sat staring put a tiny window under the eaves, watching the moon.

"Leave us," Seregil ordered the guards. When they hesitated, he added impatiently, "Lend me a sword, and stay by the door. I promise you, he won't get past me."

Steb gave Seregil his sword and moved off with the others.

Seregil walked slowly over to the prisoner.

"Here to murder another Haman, Exile?" Emiel asked, as calmly as if inquiring about the weather.

"I have one too many of your people on my conscience as it is." Seregil rested the blade point on the floor. This was the first time

since Nysander's death that he'd allowed himself to touch a sword; it felt awkward in his hand. "However, teth'sag is not murder, is it?"

The Haman's gaze did not waver. "To kill me here would be murder."

"But for you to kill my kinswoman, Klia a Idrilain, was that teth'sag?"

"She's dead?"

"Answer my question. If a Haman killed Klia a Idrilain, would it be teth'sag against Bokthersa? Against me?"

"No, the tie is too distant." Emiel rose to his feet and faced him. "Even if it weren't, I would never bring shame on my clan for the likes of you. You are dead to us, Exile, a ghost come to haunt a little while. You disturb the khi of my murdered kinsman with your presence, but you'll soon be gone. I can be patient."

"Patient as you were the night you and your friends met me in Haman tupa?"

Emiel returned to his contemplation of the moon, but Seregil heard him chuckle.

"Answer me this, then."

"I told you before, Exile, I have nothing to say to you."

Seregil gauged the man before him, then slid the sword away. It clattered and spun across the uneven boards, drawing startled looks from the guards.

"Stay there unless I call for you," Seregil told them, waving Steb and the others away. He moved closer to Emiel, stopping just inches away and lowering his voice. "The Haman are great bargainers. Here's an even trade for you. Answer my question and earn another taste of teth'sag. Right here. Right now."

Emiel turned away slightly, and Seregil mistook the move for a refusal. An instant later, he found himself flat on his back with blood in his mouth. Black spots danced in front of his eyes, and the entire left side of his head had gone numb where Emiel's fist had caught him.

Steb and the others were nearly on Emiel by the time Seregil had gathered his wits. "No! S'all right. Go 'way," he managed, staggering to his feet. The look the corporal gave him warned that he'd be explaining himself to Beka later. Or worse yet, to Alec, who'd probably offer to even up the two sides of his head for him. No time to worry about that now.

Emiel's arrogant sneer was firmly in place again. "So ask your question, Exile. Ask as many as you like. The price is the same for each."

"Fair enough," Seregil replied, feeling with his tongue for loose

teeth. "I know about the secret meeting Ulan i Sathil held a few nights back, and what he told you there. I know that you don't share your uncle's sympathy for Skala. How did he react when you told him what you'd learned?"

Emiel let out a derisive snort, then lashed out again, backhanding Seregil hard enough to make him stagger. "You're wasting that handsome face of yours on that? He was shocked, of course, and dismayed. Klia a Idrilain has great atui. So did her mother. This new queen of yours, though?" He shook his head. "Even my uncle wonders if we should wait another generation before lifting the Edict. So do many of the other khirnari."