Chapter 22 #2
She was tempted to sprint to the east tower and start healing Vorik right away, but the teak door opened.
Inside, Jemla and a white-haired man Syla didn’t know waited at a stout wood table.
A platter in the center held smoked salmon, crackers, cheese, fresh sliced apples, and was that a ramekin of hazelnut butter?
Her empty stomach growled vociferously.
“Come in, please, Your Highness.” Jemla bowed her to a chair in front of the food. “This is our temple leader, Huzloron. We’ll help you in any way we can, but we’re also wondering…” She spread her hand.
Huzloron finished for her. “Why are you here, Your Highness? Were you chased off Castle Island by assassins? Or captured by dragons? We saw the battle at sea yesterday and wondered what it was about.”
“I… yes. I was in that battle.” Hadn’t Fel told them about that? Maybe they wanted her version of the story. “Stormers have been trying to kill me. Regularly.”
They exchanged looks.
“We should warn you,” Jemla said, “that it’s not safe here. Oh, our island hasn’t been breached by dragons, but rider assassins are striking at…” Her gaze strayed to Syla’s hand.
“I heard.” Syla nodded toward Flaron, though he’d remained in the hallway outside.
“We were preparing a funeral pyre and time of mourning for Lyvenia when you arrived.”
“I’d like to attend that if possible, but I need to see…” Syla hesitated to identify Vorik, since everyone seemed to know of his reputation, but Flaron had spoken his name, so someone had already recognized his face.
“Your prisoner?” Jemla watched her intently.
Wondering if Syla believed him a prisoner? Or was being successfully tricked, as Fel had apparently implied?
“Captain Vorik, yes. He needs the attention of a healer.” Syla waved her hand to indicate her birthmark and power.
She didn’t want to imply the healers here weren’t talented, but if Lyvenia had been killed, they might not have anyone else with magic as well as suture skill and knowledge of herbs and potions.
“He’s dangerous, Your Highness. It’s better for him to remain weakened.”
“It’s our duty to heal the ill and injured.”
“Not him,” Jemla said. “He may very well be here to assassinate more of your kin.”
“He’s not. He’s joined a faction and has turned against his people.”
Jemla smiled sadly at her. Pityingly. “He is a handsome young man. I can see why you might find his words and smile appealing, but—”
“That’s not it. I’m not so young and naive that I would fall for something like that, but he’s saved me from the very assassins you’ve spoken of. More than once. With my own eyes, I’ve watched him fight the stormers—his own people—to protect me.”
This time, Jemla and Huzloron exchanged even longer looks.
Syla attempted to lower her hackles. She wouldn’t convince them. She would have to gain access to Vorik and heal him so that he could escape if he needed to—before the enforcers arrived. And she… she needed to avoid irritating the locals, lest they try to keep her from her path.
“Are Sergeant Fel and my Aunt Tibby—Tibaytha—all right? We’ve all had a rough couple of days.”
“I have no doubt.” This time, Jemla’s expression was more sympathetic than pitying. “I’m sorry for the great losses that you’ve suffered. The whole kingdom has suffered them, but, for you, they’re especially keen.”
Syla’s throat tightened, the emotions she’d been too busy to dwell upon threatening to arise at the sympathetic tone.
“Yes.” She didn’t trust her voice to say more.
“Do you want us to arrange a ship back to the capital, Your Highness?” Huzloron asked. “They must be missing you there. They’ll need guidance from the royal family, surely?”
“What they need is a working sky shielder.”
Huzloron and Jemla shared looks again.
“That’s why I brought my aunt with me,” Syla said, hurrying to explain before they assumed she wanted to take theirs.
“She’s an engineer, and I think she can study the working shielder here and learn from it.
There weren’t schematics with the one in the capital, you see.
They’ve never failed before, so it wasn’t something we had to worry about. ”
“You… believe the one on Castle Island can be repaired?” Huzloron asked. “We were led to believe it was destroyed.”
“I went to see it myself after the attack. There’s a faint hint of magic about it.
We believe it might be repairable.” Syla made herself meet each of their eyes so they wouldn’t suspect her of lying.
Technically, she wasn’t lying, though Tibby hadn’t held out much hope for repair.
Still, it might be possible. “I believe my aunt, by studying a working shielder, may be able to figure out how to repair ours.”
Yes, she did hope that. But she fully intended to take the Harvest Island one if needed. Castle Island had to be protected.
Syla swallowed around a lump, hating that she had to make decisions like this, decisions that would result in the deaths of some of her people.
“I didn’t realize there were engineers with knowledge of the ancient gods’ artifacts.” Jemla lifted her eyebrows, as if she didn’t know whether to be hopeful or suspicious.
“It’s not Tibby’s specialty, but she’s smart and versatile.” Syla tried not to recall Fel’s skepticism when he’d said, Doesn’t she fix tractors? Besides, Tibby did much more than that. “If anyone can repair a shielder, she can,” Syla added sturdily.
“I’m glad she’s well then,” Huzloron said, “and that our cooks insisted on giving heaping portions of our precious hazelnut butter to our guests.”
He smiled, looking a little encouraged by Syla’s words, and waved for her to sample the food. She did, but as delicious as it should have been, especially on her empty stomach, it went down like lead weights. She was being dishonest with kingdom subjects—her own people—and it disturbed her greatly.
“May I see Captain Vorik?” she asked when she’d eaten enough to satisfy her hunger.
The elders hesitated, and Syla braced herself for a rejection, but Jemla ultimately sighed. “As far as we know, you are now the heir to the kingdom. We haven’t the right to deny you.”
Syla didn’t feel deserving of the kingdom or anything else, but said, “Thank you. I appreciate your cooperation,” and was relieved when the guard in the hallway, per Jemla’s instructions, led her to the east tower.
Syla hoped she hadn’t waited too long, that Vorik wasn’t in great pain or in a worse condition than she’d last seen him. If he was still unconscious, the enforcers wouldn’t have any trouble taking him away for interrogation.