The Silvered (43 page)

She dropped to the floor, mouth to the crack under the door.
Harmless.
Only Kirstin, she sighed to herself, as she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, could go from heartbreaking mess to making enemies so quickly. None of the others had spoken to the guards. None of the others had insulted their weaponry. She didn’t even want to think about why, among her limited vocabulary, Kirstin knew the Imperial word for
sloppy
.

While she waited for Kirstin to return, Danika used the comb to tug her hair into some kind of order, although she had a feeling she’d left it too long and it was now sticking up in an irredeemable spiky mess. Both Kirstin with her thick, dark waves, and Jesine with her auburn curls, had hair more suited to the short style of the Mage-pack After a moment’s reflection, she took a deep breath, hooked a few teeth under the net, and pulled.

She was still dry heaving into the commode when her door opened. She straightened and wiped her mouth on a corner of the robe as a new guard came into the room. He beckoned, the gesture
already familiar. By the time she reached the hall, Danika’d decided to call him Mouth-breather and his partner, Hairy-knuckles. It seemed Mole-under-ear and Bruised-thumb had been assigned exclusively to water room duty.

They took her back into the vestibule and through the door in the opposite wall.

It led to a large, high-ceilinged room. Danika’s gaze skipped over the table set with five places, over the guards standing along two walls, and locked on the other four women of her Mage-pack. They stood a little apart from each other. Not talking. Not touching. Waiting.

Danika spread her arms.

The next few minutes were a frenzy of touch and tears. Everyone’s cheeks were wet, and Annalyse was still crying when they finally pulled a little apart. Kirstin wasn’t the only one with new bruises, but none of them were badly hurt and, more importantly, they were together.

Although too conscious of the guards to say much.

Kirstin swept a disdainful gaze along the walls. “I’ve never really liked those households that keep too many footmen,” she sighed. “It’s pretentious.”

Jesine shot Danika a look that clearly stated,
“She’s back.”

Danika smiled and, when no one objected to Kirstin’s declaration, added, “They’re well trained, though. Seen but not heard.”

“Only the best,” Jesine agreed, and directed her smile at the line of uniformed men. Jesine was beautiful. Unless they were guarded only by men who solely enjoyed men, that had to have caused a reaction—even in the plain, deep yellow dress that she’d somehow managed to make look better than the identical piece of clothing worn by all of the others.

Danika and Kirstin were in blue, Annalyse in green, Stina in brown, Jesine in yellow. They’d been color coded to match their mage marks, a style that went in and out of fashion in Aydori, usually among the young and the not terribly powerful.

“Who came up with the theory that simple and comfortable has to be unattractive?” Stina pulled a bit of heavy brown cotton away from her body and sighed with exaggerated frustration. “A little embroidery would have killed them?”

Annalyse stared at her for a long moment, then sputtered with laughter.

“That’s my chick.” She put her arm around the younger woman’s shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. “Don’t give them the gift of your grieving.”

As Stina clearly had Annalyse in hand, Danika turned her attention back to Jesine and Kirstin, hoping Kirstin hadn’t made it
all
the way back to her old self. Fighting among themselves would help only Leopald.

“I’m better,” Kirstin was saying. “The pain from trying to remove the net has faded, I promise.” The white lines still marked her fingers, but she pulled them from Jesine’s grip a little impatiently. “They don’t hurt. I just couldn’t cope for a while, so I went away. I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

She sounded sincere, but Danika couldn’t shake the feeling that when it came to Kirstin, nothing was that simple. Unfortunately, her stomach chose that moment to growl.

Annalyse giggled and covered her mouth when it started to get out of control. “What do we do about the food, Lady…I mean, Danika?”

They all had to be hungry.

“We eat.”

“Is it safe?”

She didn’t blame Kirstin for being suspicious. “Yes, it’s safe. We’ve had the stick. This is the carrot.”

The porridge had grown cold, but that didn’t matter. There was honey to put on it and butter and cream. There were large, fluffy biscuits warm in a napkin cocoon, with more honey and butter and jam to put on them. There was no tea, but there was water that didn’t taste of rust.

Danika caught Annalyse’s gaze and nodded, ever so slightly, toward the pitcher.

The younger woman reached for it and frowned over at Stina who’d kicked her under the table. Her green-flecked eyes widened as she realized what was expected of her. She lifted the pitcher with shaking hands and took a deep breath, braced for pain as she poured the first glass. “Oh. It doesn’t…look like there’s anything but water,”
she amended hurriedly, cheeks flushed. “I’d very much love a cup of tea.”

“So would I.” Reaching across the table, Danika squeezed her hand. Annalyse clearly hadn’t used any low-level mage-craft since being netted but had still been willing to try and purify the water. How could Leopald hold them with such women as these?

“This is a banana.” Jesine waved a long yellow fruit. “Sirin and I…”

Sirin Hagen was Ryder’s third cousin, silver-furred like Jaspyr and at forty, eighteen years older than Jesine. Danika had seen them together, and it was clear Sirin’s nose had known what it was about. Ryder had sent Sirin and Kirstin’s husband Neils to the front with the 2nd. Annalyse’s husband Geoffrey was Hunt Pack and Torvin Menkyzck, Stina’s husband was a senior officer. Tomas had said the Hunt Pack was dead. Annalyse was a widow at twenty. Stina at thirty-seven, her three children left in Aydori without a father.

But they couldn’t all be dead. Looking around the table, Danika saw every woman there thinking,
He can’t be dead.

“Sirin and I,” Jesine repeated defiantly, “had them on that trade trip Ryder sent him on to Abyek last spring. You eat them like this.” She peeled the thick skin down, pushed her chair away from the table, and slid the end of the fruit into the perfect circle of plush lips.

Not one of the guards made a sound, but over half of them shifted in place.

Annalyse turned her giggle into a cough and hid it in a napkin.

“It’s an interesting sort of prison.” Stina pushed back from the table, one hand gently stroking circles over her stomach. “Someone has put a lot of thought into it. We’ve seen the worst, we’ve seen the best, and they can control us by sliding us up and down the scale depending on how we behave.”

“Shut up,” Kirstin snapped.

“The voice this morning, it spoke Aydori.” Annalyse twisted the napkin with both hands. “Are they listening to us?”

“Count on it.”

“Then I imagine,” Stina said calmly, “that they’ll be pleased we understand what’s going on. It’ll save them a lot of time.”

“And we will be model prisoners.” Danika cut off Kirstin’s response.
“We have more than ourselves to think about.” She dropped her hand to mirror Stina’s and glared at Kirstin, exhaling.
Lull to false security!

Escape!

Absolutely.

Kirstin’s cheeks were dark as she dropped her head, but Danika knew her well enough to recognize it as anger not embarrassment. She swept a gaze around the table, breathing
Lull to false security
directly at each woman, aware that Kirstin would hear it each time. The reemphasis couldn’t hurt. From the outside, it would seem that she was demanding compliance with her call to be model prisoners and as she was, in a way, she had no fear of discovery.

The sound of trumpets filled the room. Danika barely stopped herself from searching for speakers in the ceiling and kicked Kirstin under the table when her chin started to rise. Credit where credit was due, Kirstin wasn’t stupid and she followed Danika’s lead, searching
around
for the source of the noise rather than up.

No need to let their watchers know they’d found the speakers in their rooms.

The guards snapped to attention.

Danika had seen more military reviews over the last year than in the rest of her life combined, but she’d never seen anyone come to attention with such fervent precision.

High on the inside wall, a double section of wallboard swung open to lie flat, exposing a small chamber lined in flowing panels of Imperial purple fabric. The chamber contained only a single high-backed chair positioned close enough to the edge of the wall that when the man sitting in it shifted his foot where it was resting on what looked like a roll of carpet, the toe of one highly polished boot jutted out into the room. Above the boots, he wore cream-colored pantaloons, and a dark coat cut in a military style, gold cord looped over and around one shoulder, gold buttons gleaming. He wasn’t a large man, but, as far as the angle allowed, Danika thought he filled out both pantaloons and coat without resorting to padding. He had thick brown hair, eyes so blue they seemed mage marked, and his full lips were surprisingly red against his pale skin. His age was common knowledge, even in Aydori, and he looked to be a full decade younger than his thirty-four years.

One last flurry of trumpets, then: “His Imperial Majesty, Leopald. By the light of the Sun and the strength of his people, Exalted Ruler of the Kresentian Empire, Commander in Truth of the Imperial army, Supreme Protector of the Holy Church of the One True Sun.”

That was new. The Prelate had always been the Church of the Sun’s highest office.

Smiling, eyes shining, Leopald leaned forward. “I know, the sixth mage hasn’t arrived yet, has she, but I couldn’t wait. I needed to see you. You’ll just have to tell her everything when she arrives tomorrow, or the next day at the latest. You know how Soothsayers are. It’s so hard to get an exact time out of them.”

Danika was reminded how professors sounded when students they were mentoring did something clever. Friendly and proprietary sounded dangerously similar. And she
still
had no idea who this sixth mage could be. For all his smiles, she very much doubted Leopald would tell her if she asked.

“It’s unfortunate that you’re not all capable of understanding Imperial, but I’m sure that those of you who are will explain to the rest when I’m done. You’re fascinating, all of you, actual high-level mages, and I wish I could trust you enough to discover what you’re capable of, as our records concerning mages could definitely use updating, but, regretfully, no.” He sounded as though he did honestly regret the lost opportunity for study. “Let me explain why you’re here. When wild and mage together come, one in six or six in one. Empires rise or empires fall, the unborn child begins it all. Soothsayers, obviously.” His smile was a friendly request to share a common reaction to such ridiculous poetry. “There were also a lot of numbers, eventually determined to refer to time and location, but that needn’t concern you. The prophecy suggests that one of your offspring will bring the empire down, so, for purely nationalistic reasons, I should have you killed before you whelp. Now, I would honestly hate to have to do that because that same prophecy also suggests that one of your offspring will make the empire greater than it is. That interpretation argues for your lives. As it happens…” Sitting back, he crossed his feet at the ankle, leaving them still propped on the rolled carpet. “…one doesn’t rule the world’s greatest empire by leaving things to chance, does one? If I control the offspring of the prophecy, I control the effect they have on the empire.
It’s simple really. If your offspring is a beast, it will be a favored pet and trained to kill at my command. Eventually, if things go well, I’ll have the last of the abominations under my control. If your offspring is a mage, it will learn to use its powers to my benefit. They’ll live useful lives, unable to move against me or the empire.” Leopald had a strong, reassuring voice. He spoke as though what he said was so obviously inarguable that any reasonable person would have to agree with him. “But what of you, the bearers of these offspring? Neutered as you are by ancient technology, you’ll live quietly here until your offspring are whelped. Fed. Exercised. Kept clean. All your needs seen to. However, a bitch can whelp in any kennel and, as you’ve discovered, there are less pleasant places prepared for you.” Still smiling, he uncrossed his legs and kicked the roll of carpet at his feet.

No. Not a carpet.

A wolf’s head and front paws flopped down over the wall.

No. Not a wolf.

“I was amazed by how long he lived, even given the silver knives. He changed twice after they had the skin off him, you know, and then continued to twitch for some time.”

Danika could hear Kirstin and Jesine throwing up. Stina’s heavy breathing. Annalyse sobbing. But she was Alpha. She straightened her back, clenched her teeth, and swore that Leopald would die before any of the children were born.

The smell of cooking meat pulled Mirian up out of a dream of flying. She opened her eyes, blinked several times to little effect, and finally had to grind the heels of her hands against the lids to bring the rock overhead into focus. Rolling onto her side, she peered out of the overhang at a brilliantly sunny day, at the ground beyond that rose and fell in such a random pattern it looked as though it had been stirred by a giant hand, and—although she had to squint to bring it into focus—in the shelter of a flat rock rising nearly half her height into the sky, at a smokeless fire with a carcass roasting over it on a skewer of green wood.