Poison (5 page)

The man looked at him in surprise. Being a member of the royal household, and the Voice, Noire was fully within his rights to travel alone, but it seemed stupid to him to waste an entire trip across the enormous river on one person. Bowing again, the oarsman helped Noire into the boat then briskly began loading more people, until twenty in all were settled.

Sitting down next to the other oarsmen, the head oarsman called the order to move and the boat made its way across the river, slowly at first, but then with more speed. Noire smiled politely at the others on the boat, but then turned away to watch the scenery, not eager to be caught up in conversation.

He could feel the stares like insects on his skin, though. After three years as the Royal Voice and six years living in the city and the palace, he should have been used to it. If it was not his mixed heritage drawing looks, it was his position.

When they finally reached the other side of the river half an hour later, Noire pressed coins into the head oarsman's hand and then quickly climbed out of the boat, shifting as he hit dry land and hastening away. If he kept pushing himself, he would reach the halfway point a little after dark. He would rest for a few hours, then push on and get there in two days rather than the usual three.

He knew no one would expect him to push himself that hard, but he had heard the worry in Gael's voice. No one else ever did, he'd learned that quickly. He didn't know how they missed it, or the way Gael's green eyes were always dark with worry.

That was the other reason he tried not to be hurt by Gael's insistence on secrecy. Gael worried for him and didn't want him to die. Noire wasn't convinced secrecy was the best way to go, but he understood the power of dreams, how tightly they held on.

Huffing, he tried to change the direction of his thoughts as he ran along the roads. He dashed and weaved easily through the various pedestrians, horses, and carts clogging the road.

A few hours later, he left the main road behind and kept running down a narrower, quieter road that would eventually end at the private estate of Lady Elianne Poulx, the White Eagle. At seventy-three, she was older than most of the other White Beasts. Noire hoped she was all right and just completely mired in whatever was wrong at her estate. The Triad would be crushed if she was dead, and Noire did not dare think about how it would jeopardize the ceremony.

He pushed himself just a little harder, not stopping until he finally reached the traveler's post that signaled the halfway point. Noire went immediately inside and collapsed before the fireplace in the dining hall.

Someone laughed softly and murmured something about food and drink, and Noire managed to growl a soft thanks. He closed his eyes, resting until the food arrived. A few hours rest, and then he would be on his way again.

*~*~*

He knew something was wrong just walking up the long driveway. Noire had visited the White Eagle's private estate several times, delivering messages to her or her relatives. Though technically his only job was to deliver messages to and for the Triad, the White Beasts were allowed to make use of his services for private matters provided he was not otherwise occupied.

Always there were people about when he visited. Lady Elianne adored company, preferred always to have something going on at all times. Even if she herself was ensconced in her parlor, there were family and guests riding horses, playing games, or throwing parties. Rain or shine, spring or winter, there was always something going at Lady Elianne's Estate.

So why was it quieter than a temple holding a funeral ceremony? Noire climbed the steps to the front door and knocked loudly. When no one came to the door, when he did not hear even a peep on the other side, Noire pounded on the door, making his hand hurt, and then stepped back and shouted, "Open in the name of the Triad, by order of the Royal Voice!"

Silence fell, and then Noire heard footsteps running toward the door, heard someone hit it followed by the heavy, thudding click of the tumblers turning as the door was unlocked. The door swung open to display a harried looking servant in rumpled clothes, her hair barely still in a bun with long strands of it falling around her face. It looked as though she had been crying. She dropped to her knees in the doorway. "Begging your pardon, Voice."

"Nothing to pardon," Noire said. "Rise and tell me what is amiss in the household of the White Eagle."

"We can't find her!" the woman exclaimed. "Everyone is in the woods trying to find her. She went to her temple a few days ago and took Philippe with her. We thought nothing of it, but two days ago someone went to see her because they'd been gone longer than usual—" She burst into tears. "Philippe is dead, and we cannot find her! Everyone is in the woods looking—" She broke down entirely, unable to get out more words.

Noire closed the front door and hugged her tightly before leading her to the kitchen. "Why has no one contacted the Triad to tell them of this?"

"Too busy trying to find her, and we don't know what happened, or so his lordship said," the woman replied.

"Compose a note at once and send it to Prince Gael," Noire said. "Where do I go to find this temple?"

Sniffling, the woman stood up and hurried over to the back door. Opening it, she pointed. "Down that path. When it forks, take it into the woods rather than toward the pond. The temple is about an hour's walk in; you won't be able to miss it."

Noire was off before she'd finished speaking, pushing away his exhaustion as he shifted and took off down the path at a run. He vanished into the dark woods, moving easily through the trees, taking shortcuts along the winding, twisting path until he nearly ran right into the temple.

It was old, he saw immediately. The wear on the stones, the style of it, the temple could easily have been built before the Great Loss. It was small, set back in a clearing barely big enough to hold it, and could only be reached by a little stone bridge that crossed a trickling stream. Noire remained in his panther form as he padded across the bridge and crept up the steps into the temple.

Blood was the first smell to hit him, followed immediately by death. The body of the servant Philippe had been removed, but no one had cleaned up after the body. He smelled something else, something that nagged ... but then it was gone, and he could not catch it again.

Shaking himself, Noire prowled deeper into the room, exploring every crevice in search of clues. Who would attempt to murder the White Eagle? She was one of the nicest of the Beasts and well-liked by everyone. When Noire had been new and green and scared to death, she had helped him settle.

There were two or three Beasts he could see people wanting to kill, if only in a fit of temper, but Lady Elianne? Noire growled and padded over to the stains in the middle of the room, annoyed they had moved the body. It might have given some clue that the others missed. Grimacing at the smell, he nevertheless pressed closer to it ... and caught a whiff of something that did not fit. A musty smell, like stale air.

Growling again, Noire shifted back to his human form and used his fingers to explore the floor in a way paws would not permit. There—grooves. He followed the path of the hairline grooves until he had mapped out the square that was clearly a trap door of some sort. But how to get it open?

The sound of footsteps drew his attention, and Noire looked up as Lord Yann, Lady Elianne's son, stormed into the room. "Who in the—Voice, my apologies. What are you doing here?"

"The better question, my lord, is why you have ignored the letters sent to you by his highness, and why have you neglected to inform the Triad of this terrible development?"

Yann immediately bowed his head and shoulders in apology and submission. "It was a grievous error. We have been searching so frantically, and the nature of the matter was so strange, that we have been loath to stop to communicate."

"What happened?" Noire asked. "Tell me everything."

Nodding, Yann ran hands through his already disheveled hair. He was the very image of his mother, tall and thin, hints of his raven form in the wispiness of his hair and the sharpness of his face. He had dark blond hair and bright green eyes, as though someone had taken his mother and added splashes of color. Noire wondered if his children were out in the woods or still scattered at their own homes. "My mother comes here every so often to meditate. Mostly, she hates it. You know how she is, always wanting something going on. But sometimes, she does need her quiet. So she takes Philippe for safety and comes out here to meditate for a day or so. The longest I have known her to be gone is three days. Still, she is older now and getting more and more tired, especially with the stress of the approaching ceremony. I did not think much of it when she was gone four days. However, when she did not return the evening of the fifth, I came to see that all was well. I smelled the blood immediately; Philippe had been dead two days. I can find no sign of my mother. It's as though she was never here."

"I think there's a chance she's beneath us," Noire said, and he beckoned Yann close, taking his hand and guiding it to the fine grooves.

 "Philippe died protecting her?"

"Maybe," Noire said quietly. "But there's no obvious way to open it, and the secret of it is hidden away with her grace."

Yann swore. "I wish she had at least told me of it." He raked his hand through his hair again. "Honestly, I know secrecy is the nature of the Beasts, but I ... "

Noire said nothing because he privately agreed. The secrecy of the Beasts—of the Triad—grated. Deeply. But there was little to nothing the rest of them could do about it. "There must be a way, because she is not foolish enough to just lock herself up with no way for anyone to get to her. The Beasts are many things, but careless is not one of them."

"We must find it," Yann said, and they both stood up to begin searching the rest of the temple for any clues.

There was a frustrating lack of clues. Like most of the old temples, the inside was stark, nothing but plain marble walls carved with images of the gods and pictures that conveyed various important stories and prayers. A small, low table held a bowl of water and several candles in gleaming silver holders.

Noire bit back the curses he wanted to voice. If the White Eagle had been trapped below for two days there was no telling her condition. There had to be a way to get to her!

The sound of footsteps drew his attention, and Noire spun around to face the door—and sighed in relief when Freddie walked through the door. "Your highness! That was remarkably fast."

"We got the maid's note, and I came here immediately," Freddie replied. "Tell me everything."

Yann repeated everything he had told Noire, and when he was done, Noire explained their suspicions about the trap door. "I would wager that it can only be opened by Beasts—or the Triad of course," Freddie said when they had finished. Crossing the room, she knelt and placed her hand in the center of the space they'd indicated.

The square of marble shimmered, and then rose slightly, a handhold appearing that had not been there before. Yann grabbed it and pulled the door open. Noire looked, but saw only darkness. He grabbed the edge and swung down. He drew a breath, then let go—and grunted when he landed on hard-packed ground after a brief but heart-stopping fall. "Lady Elianne?" he called out.

"Is she there?" Yann demanded. "I am coming down." Noire barely got out of the way in time as Yann leapt down to join him. "Where is she?"

Above them, Freddie snorted in exasperation. Noire felt the brush of magic, and then a light flared above them, revealing a pale, wrinkled woman hunched unconscious in the corner.

"Mother!" Yann cried out and ran toward her. His voice held a tremble when he said, "She's alive, but barely, I think." Carefully scooping her up, he carried her to the trapdoor and stared helplessly up at it.

"There's a ladder here," Noire said, spying it in another corner. He set it up and after a great of fumbling, shifting, and swearing, they finally managed to get Lady Elianne up out of the secret room.

Freddie laid her out on the temple floor, eyes shimmering while she examined Elianne. She frowned as she finished and drew back. "We will need Gael to confirm it, but ... I think she was poisoned. Whatever happened here, she did not get away in time. We need to get her back to the palace. Yann, can you fly?"

"Yes, highness."

"Noire, you will ride with me to ensure she does not fall."

Noire did not bother to reply, just lifted Elianne up in his arms and settled her over Freddie's back after Freddie shifted. He mounted behind her, focusing on the crisis and not the fact that he was on the Pegasus' back.

Sometimes, he found it hard to believe his life.

Freddie left the temple and, after giving Noire a brief warning, launched herself into the air and flew away at unbelievable speed back to the palace.

They arrived in less than an hour, landing in the private courtyard. Gael immediately rushed toward them and helped Noire get Elianne down. Dismounting, Noire said, "Lord Yann will be behind us. He is frantic with worry."

"As he should be," Gael said, then turned and carried Elianne into the palace. Noire followed after him, but drew to a halt when he saw where they were headed:  through the golden doors into the Sanctuary, the glass-domed room that contained the Sacred Oak. Only the Triad was permitted into the Sanctuary unless they bid others join them.

Freddie looked back over her shoulder when she realized Noire had fallen back. "Come on, Voice. If this is as dire as we fear, then you will be needed. It is best you stay well-apprised."

"Yes, highness," Noire said and raced to keep up with them.

They paused as they reached the doors, and Gael spoke to one of the guards. "Lord Yann will be arriving in the private courtyard. When he arrives, take him to the queen's solar and bid him speak to no one. Stay with him to ensure it."

"Yes, highness," the guard said, and he swept a deep bow before striding off to carry out the orders.

Freddie stepped up to the golden doors and said a handful of soft words in Ancient. Something clicked, and the door parted. Pulling them open, Freddie led the way inside.