Sword of Shadows (12 page)

He bent down next to her, ran his fingers over her hair. “What would you give me, Mistress Adiana, in exchange for their freedom? The hiding place of Maga Eolyn, perhaps?”

“I…” Adiana faltered. She had left this life behind, hadn’t she? Years ago, when her father’s steward rescued her from the taverns. She had left it all behind, forgotten it, and after a long journey, she had found her freedom, her peace. Here, with Eolyn in the highlands of Moehn.

Renate was right. It was but a momentary truce.

“Prince Mechnes,” she said quietly. “I…I know things. I worked on the piers of Selkynsen as a girl, during a time when I had no other choice. I can please you, if that’s what you want. You and all your men. That’s what I can offer. Indeed, it’s all I have. Set the girls free. Take me in their stead.”

For a long while, Mechnes said nothing. When at last she gathered the courage to lift her face, his expression caught her by surprise; it was thoughtful, almost compassionate.

Prince Mechnes drew a breath and stood.

“I see this thing you offer would mean a great sacrifice for you, Mistress Adiana. It moves me to witness such generosity.”

Hope flickered like a weak flame in her heart.

“But I do not negotiate with prisoners.”

The guards grasped Adiana’s arms and jerked her to her feet, sending another shaft of pain through her ribs.

“Clean her up,” Prince Mechnes said. “I would see this one again, perhaps before the night has ended.”

Chapter Eleven

Ghemena awoke cramped
and shivering, huddled against Tasha and Catarina. Outside she heard the shouts of men broken by occasional laughter, heavy footsteps, and the whinny of horses. Her tongue felt like it was covered with sand, and her arms were numb from being bound. She tried to move her hands, but found a sickly sensation of nothingness where her fingers should have been.

Sitting up, Ghemena looked around the bare tent, illuminated by a thin shaft of light streaming through a break in the canvas.

Catarina and Tasha slept, bodies curled side by side on the hard dirt floor, faces swollen from the tears they had shed. With a sinking heart, Ghemena realized Mistress Adiana was not with them.

Did they kill her, too?

Tasha whimpered and stirred. She lifted her head, tangled dark tresses hanging in her rounded face, and stared with bleary eyes at their grim surroundings.

“Where’s Mistress Adiana?” she asked.

A painful lump settled in Ghemena’s throat. She bit her lip, working arms and wrists against each other, trying to get the blood to return to her fingers.

Tasha moaned and hid her face against Catarina’s shoulder. “This was supposed to be a dream. I was going to wake up, and have it all be a bad dream.”

“We’ve no time to cry,” Ghemena said sharply. “We have to get out of here as fast as we can.”

Tasha dragged herself away from Catarina and sat up. She pointed to her bound arms with her chin. “How are we supposed to escape tied up like this? And where would we go if we did? You saw the town last night. Nothing’s left of it, and those horrible men are everywhere.”

“I have a way to find Maga Eolyn, but I have to free my hands first.” A burning sensation moved through her palms, followed by the prick of a thousand pins on her fingers. Ghemena knew this was a good sign.

“What way?” Tasha asked.

“A magic way. She showed it to me before she left. I’m going find her and tell her what’s happened, and then she’ll come to rescue you.”

“You mean we can’t go with you?” Tasha glanced nervously at Catarina. “Don’t leave us alone here. Please.”

“I don’t think it’ll work with more than one of us.”

“Why not?”

“Maga Eolyn never said anything about taking more than one.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not possible.”

“No,” Ghemena conceded doubtfully. “I guess we can try.”

“Promise me you’ll try, Ghemena.” Tasha’s eyes were wide with fear. “Promise me you won’t leave without us.”

Ghemena looked at her friend. Tasha had always been the quiet one, happy in the company of her friends, forever trying to make peace between Ghemena and Catarina.

“We’re sisters,” Ghemena said. “We must be loyal to each other, right?”

Tasha nodded.

“So you see, I won’t leave you alone. I can’t.”

A hesitant smile brightened Tasha’s face. “How does the spell work?”

“Well first, I have to get my hands free.” Ghemena scooted around on her rump to show Tasha her back. “Can you see the knots? Maybe you can chew through them.”

Tasha wrinkled her freckled nose. “Chew through them? What kind of an idea is that?”

“Well, I don’t have a knife. Do you?”

“It’d take me days to chew through those chords, and I’d have no teeth left at the end of it.”

“Tasha, just do it. Please.”

Tasha scowled, but she eased over toward Ghemena, then fell heavy onto her side behind the girl’s back.

“Ow!” Ghemena winced. “You’re supposed to bite the chords, not my wrists!”

“Well it all looks the same in the dark. Hold still, will you? You’re only making it harder.”

A sudden flood of light interrupted their efforts. Tasha gasped and Ghemena looked up, squinting, at three figures silhouetted in the tent entrance.

“By the graces of Mikata, what is this?” The voice was lilting and feminine. As Ghemena’s eyes adjusted, she saw the slight figure of a woman not much older than Mariel, clothed in a simple rose colored dress. She had fine brown skin and hair the color of wheat, neatly braided and coiled. Her expression was kind, with a knowing smile and large eyes set in an oval face. “Our little mice are trying to escape!”

The men behind her stepped forward, bent low, and cut loose the girls’ bindings. Ghemena rubbed her wrists as they hauled Catarina out of her sleep. The drowsy girl whimpered, looked around with a troubled frown, and began to weep.

“Oh come, my love.” The woman approached Catarina, knelt and gathered the girl in her arms. “I know it was a difficult night for all of you, but that’s over now. You’ll have a new life from this day forward, and a very pretty one at that.” She took Catarina’s small chin in hand and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “My name is Pashnari, and I have special orders from Prince Mechnes. You’re to be cleaned up, given food and new clothes. The San’iloman will arrive soon, and she would make you her own.”

“What’s a San’iloman?” Catarina sniffled and wiped her nose on her tattered cloak.

“She’s the Queen of all the Syrnte, and soon of all Moisehén. And you,” Pashnari touched Catarina’s nose with the tip of her finger, “will be her lady-in-waiting.”

“Me? A lady?” Catarina’s eyes were wide and hopeful. Ghemena had never thought her more stupid than in that moment.

“Where is Mistress Adiana?” Ghemena demanded.

Pashnari’s eyes pinned her quick as a hawk’s, that sweet smile fixed upon her face. “Mistress Adiana? Who is that?”

“She’s our music teacher,” said Tasha. “She came with us last night, but the soldiers took her somewhere else.”

“I see.” Uncertainty flickered through Pashnari’s expression. She shrugged and gave a light shake of her head. “I will ask after her, but you must understand I am a mere servant here. I am not always privy to the fate of Prince Mechnes’s prisoners.”

“Liar!” Ghemena sprang at Pashnari with clenched fists, planning to beat that pretty face until it bled, but one of the guards caught the girl and held her fast. She tried kicked his shins instead. “You know where she is! You just aren’t telling us.”

Pashnari withdrew from Catarina and approached Ghemena. She ran her fingers over the girl’s disheveled hair, then took a fistful and yanked it back, making Ghemena cry out. “I do not lie, little one. You will find the Syrnte do not tolerate ill-behaved children. Be still, or I will have you bound and thrown to the fires of Mikata, whether the San’iloman approves or not.”

Ghemena ceased her thrashing, her fury checked not by Pashnari’s tone, but by the thought of having her hands bound again.

“That’s better.” Pashnari released Ghemena’s hair and turned to Tasha and Catarina. She spread her arms wide in a welcoming gesture. “Come then, all of you. We’ve a grand day ahead of us.”

Catarina accepted Pashnari’s hand and clung to her side as they walked. Ghemena and Tasha followed a step behind, herded by the guards, fingers interlaced and eyes wide as they surveyed the camp.

Ghemena had never seen so many men in one place. Her ears rang with the pounding of hammers, the clatter of wood, stone, and metal. The air smelled of sweat and horses, of charred wood and smoke.

“Why are you here?” Ghemena asked.

Pashnari looked over her shoulder. “To bring peace to Moisehén.”

“We were at peace until you came. Why are you really here?”

The servant responded with laughter, clear and high-pitched. “Because the San’iloman is your rightful queen.”

“That’s not true,” Ghemena said. “Taesara is our rightful queen.”

Tasha elbowed her in the ribs.

“Don’t make her mad again,” she whispered. “There’s something mean about that woman. I think she
likes
hurting you.”

Pashnari stopped and turned around.

Ghemena and Tasha froze beneath her needled gaze.

“There will be no whispering in my presence,” Pashnari said.

Tasha swallowed hard. When she spoke it sounded as if she were squeezing her voice through a very tiny hole. “I’m sorry, Mistress Pashnari. I won’t do it again.”

Pashnari took them to a tent striped in colors of sand and burgundy. The inside was well furnished, and the girls were seated at a table spread with fruit, bread, sausage, and cheese. Pashnari bade them to eat all they wanted.

Tasha picked nervously at a piece of bread, while Catarina sat with her back straight, taking fruit in dainty, obedient bites. Ghemena kept her hands clenched at her sides, fighting the impulse to finger the silver web that lay hidden beneath her nightshift.

She looked from the girls to Pashnari, then glanced furtively at the guards who accompanied them. What Ghemena required was a moment alone, hidden from everyone, in order to spin the jewel and sing the incantation Maga Eolyn had taught her.

Trying to take Catarina and Tasha along would complicate matters, for she did not know if the medallion would carry more than one person, and if the spell failed on the first attempt, there might not be another opportunity. But try she must, for she had promised Tasha she would, and in truth she did not want to leave her friends alone with this unpleasant woman and these cruel men.

They had not been eating long when more servants brought in a large shallow basin that they filled with water and covered with blossoms of lily and primrose. Pashnari bade Catarina to leave the table and shed her soiled nightshift, which she did without protest.

The girl kept her eyes downcast as she stepped into the basin, where Pashnari scrubbed her pale skin with a soft sponge, cleaning arms, legs, back and tummy before pouring the perfumed water in clear streams through her blond tresses.

It was not until one of the servants wrapped a towel around Catarina’s shivering body, and Pashnari called Tasha to the wash basin, that Ghemena realized her plan for escape was about to crumble. If she undressed, they would discover the jewel and seize it. Perhaps they would even recognize its use, find Maga Eolyn, and kill her just like they had killed Renate.

Panicked, Ghemena pushed the chair back and stood, one hand pressed against her breastbone, where she felt the fine silver threads of the medallion beneath the thin folds of her linen gown.

“Child, you will sit until I call you,” Pashnari snapped.

Ghemena glanced at the woman, then at the guards on either side of the tent door.

“Tasha…” she began, but the sight of her friend standing in that pool of lilies, naked and vulnerable, stole away her words.

Ghemena blinked against the burning sensation in her eyes. A black shadow coiled around her heart, threatening to cut off her breath.

I have to go now.

It was the best way. The only way. Otherwise none of them would ever be rescued.

“I’m sorry, Tasha.”

With that, Ghemena sprang between the guards and rushed into the light of day. Feet pounding against the dirt, she dodged carts and leapt over discarded campfires, swerved around hobbled horses and ducked from the meaty grasp of shouting soldiers.

Her haphazard path brought her to the town wall, where she ran along the edge until she spotted a collapsed portion that she had scaled countless times with Markl. Rough stones scraped her hands and knees as she scrambled upward. At last, she reached the top, leapt, and landed breathless on the other side.

Ghemena had known every hiding place in the town of Moehn, but this landscape of blackened timber skeletons was unrecognizable. Where was she to go? How could she escape long enough to invoke the magic of the silver web?

Behind, she heard the throaty shouts of men and the sound of loose rocks giving way beneath heavy feet.

Gripped by fear, Ghemena charged down the remains of an alley, feet tripping over scattered stones and rubble. At last she found a wall still standing. She slipped behind it, taking shelter under a partial stairwell, and pulled the silver web from its hiding place.

Sunlight caught in the crystals, causing them to dance inside the web. The instrument hummed with magic. Focusing all her thoughts on Maga Eolyn, Ghemena spun the jewel on its axis.

Ehekaht¸
she murmured,
Elaeom enem.

The shout of a man nearby startled her out of the spell. Ghemena heard footsteps on the other side of the wall and bit her lip, uncertain whether to run or start the spell anew.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Eleaom enem, elaeom enem

“I have you now, you little wench.”

Ghemena’s eyes flew open. A man towered over her, a satisfied grin on his scarred face and a curved knife in his hand. The web spun between them, a fine silver orb that gathered all light, all form, all sensation toward a single tiny vortex.

Renoenem mae,
Ghemena begged the Gods as the guard reached toward her.
Ehukae.