Chapter Six
I’m exhausted by the time Elianna finally thinks I’ve taken in the bare minimum knowledge to fool anyone who pokes at my false identity as a poisoner.
“And this succulent that only grows in the Desert of Sharnon is deadly and always fatal when boiled in milk,” I recite, holding the small vial of ladle-shaped leaves as far from me as possible. “Are you sure the cork stopper is safe enough?”
She takes the jar from me, fixes it into a slot in a bandolier-like case, and fastens its clasps. “Yes. At worst, if you touch the leaves with bare skin, you may blister. We should sleep now.”
I blink at the transition before my tired mind catches up. “Yes. Please. May I at least take this book with me to study along the way? I’ve read An Encyclopedic Guide to Poisons of Altarra a few times before, but not when my life depended on knowing its contents.”
“Of course. Do you have any questions?”
“Any?” I want to know how direct I can be.
“Any.” Her gold eyes glow, and I wonder what magic that signifies, but I don’t want to waste a question asking. Instead, I go straight for the heart of the matter.
“Why aren’t you coming with us?”
The sorcerer looks at her shoes. At her hands, clasped in her lap. Everywhere but at me.
I keep waiting.
Finally, she blows out a breath. “I can’t. The Guild … We’re not welcome in many of the places where you’ll have to travel.”
“Neither are those with Gray Mind,” I say. My words shatter against my small store of courage like shards of pottery on stone when the truth I hadn’t thought of before hits me. “In fact, I can be killed or captured if anyone sees my brand.”
I rise and start to pace, clutching my wrist. “What is the king thinking? What were you thinking? I’ll be marked for death or permanent servitude the moment I step out of Pyrrh. Why choose someone with such a disadvantage?”
She spreads her hands and gives me a helpless look. “Because you fit, Soli. The amulet—the goddess—chose you. And I was right. I was,” she repeats, as if trying to convince herself it was okay to risk lives.
To risk Lil’s life.
To cause Lil’s death.
The amulet lies heavy against my chest beneath my fine new shirt. “You were right. But did you think beyond that?”
“I—No. Not far enough.” Her voice is as bleak as my future. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Soli.”
She leans over and grabs a small piece of parchment off a table, then carefully inks a word and hands it to me.
Persevere.
My throat is dry as dust, but I twist the parchment into a coil and braid it into my hair. “Persevere. I suppose I may as well, since I have no other options.”
“You should try on your clothes.”
Almost numbly, I pull the bag closer and draw out garments I’d be thrilled to wear if circumstances were different. Butter-soft brown leather pants. Three colorful shirts. All are too large, but the sorcerer says I may gain weight on the journey, now that I’ll have enough to eat.
When I ask about a snugly fitted leather vest, she says it’s to go over my shirt “for protection.”
“Against what?”
“Stabbing, I suppose,” she says absently, sorting through vials of foul-looking liquid.
Naturally.
Burning, poisoning, stabbing.
Unspeakable evil defending the keys.
So many ways to die, so little time.
Another servant arrives with a pair of boots that fit better than any I’ve ever owned and a pile of scarlet velvet that turns out to be a thick cloak, which should be useful to keep me warm on the journey.
Somehow, though, it seems wrong to think of such a luxurious garment in practical terms. The scarlet is the bright red of a currant—my mother’s pet name for me.
The bright red of the Freeholders’ insignia.
The bright red of freshly drawn blood.
At least the stain on this fine cloak won’t be noticeable if I’m stabbed to death, corset or not.
I close my eyes to shove the bleak thoughts aside but can’t resist resting my cheek against the soft cloak, distracted by the luxurious feel.
But then a wave of self-disgust swamps me.
I’m enjoying new clothes, when Lil is dead and Trick is in the dungeon.
I shove the cloak away, tasting shame like rusted metal in the back of my throat.
I’m being geared up to wear the false skin of someone brave, but Lil’s memory is in the room with me, a dark thing twining around and through me—a shade of the restless dead, a draugr digging into me with its clawlike fingernails.
You let me die, she cries out, her voice rasping through the shadows. You let me die, and now you play at make-believe.
I start to shove everything back into the valise, but I notice a small fabric pouch in the bottom. When I pull it out, I almost laugh—or maybe cry—with gratitude.
Because it’s mine.
My pouch. The one I painstakingly sewed several years ago.
My wooden snow leopard is inside, along with the parchment scraps—words for my braid—I’ve collected.
And a few pages I purloined from a cherished book about Captain Wynona Wavedancer, when the Sisters ordered the old copies burned to make room for a new set.
The only things I own that I would have missed.
I hold the pouch up to catch Elianna’s attention. “How? I left this at the library.”
She shrugs. “Kaelen said he’d arrange to gather your things.”
Kaelen did this for me?
I don’t know how to think about any of it, so I put it out of my mind and carefully thread the pouch onto the belt that came with the valise. I won’t take the chance of losing it again.
It occurs to me I’m only a ten-minute walk but also leagues and leagues away from my pallet in the library. I wonder how I’ll ever go back to that life when this is over.
If this is ever over.
If I survive.
Elianna leans forward, clasping her hands together so tightly it must hurt. “Soli. There’s something I want—need—to tell you. Tell somebody, because it’s eating at me. It’s a huge secret, so please keep it in confidence.”
She waits in silence, and I shrug. Who would I tell? “Yes. I will.”
“If I came with you, I wouldn’t be much help.”
That doesn’t make any sense. She’s a Guild sorcerer, with the markings to prove her high level of mastery. She was assigned to a king.
“Why—”
But her eyes shutter, and I can see from her body language that she regrets telling me … whatever she told me.
“Nothing. Never mind. It’s moot, isn’t it?
” She turns to bank the fire and doesn’t speak again as she readies herself for sleep.
I change into the ankle-length sleeping gown that was in the valise, even while wondering at the odd assortment of things.
Will we be staying at fine inns? Who would ever see my nightclothes?
But I say nothing. Elianna pulls out a trundle bed for me, and we both pretend to sleep for an hour or two while I fall further and further into spinning visions of all the horrible deaths that are waiting for me on the journey ahead.
By the time the temple bells strike midnight, the time of monsters—that dark, liminal space between the day just gone and the one to come—I have to hold a hand over my mouth to keep from begging Artemisen to protect me.
I’m the one meant to rescue her, no matter if the mere idea sounds like fantasy.
Or blasphemy.
Even if she spoke to me. And through me.
Trying to understand the motivations of a goddess may make my skull explode. Instead, I concentrate on each breath and try to push the thoughts of my impending demise out of my mind.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Finally, maybe an hour later, I hear Elianna’s breathing smooth out into sleep. Suddenly, the possibility—the wild, slim possibility—of escape flashes into my mind. I could take my new clothes and my poisons, sneak out of the palace, and leave Pallanhold forever. Maybe become a poisoner in truth.
Or a librarian. One who doesn’t hurt people. One who shares knowledge with everyone, not just a privileged few. My true dream, after all these years of secretly reading everything I could get my hands on. My heart pounds in rhythm with my aching head at the thought.
I sit straight up in the little bed, staring at the closed but unbolted door. Because the sound isn’t my heart or head pounding. It’s boots thundering through the corridors, followed closely by people shouting.
“Lady Elianna!” I grab her shoulder and shake it. “What’s happening? Who—”
The door crashes open, and Kaelen races into the room, his sword in hand. “Get up and dressed. Now. We’re starting our quest tonight.”
“But we have three days,” I say, not understanding.
Elianna sits up with a groggy “What?”
“You, too, sorcerer,” the prince commands, sheathing his sword. He yanks the blankets off me and grabs my arm to pull me up to my feet.
“What do you mean, her, too?” I pull away from Kaelen and reach for my new clothes, ready on the end of my bed. “What’s happening?”
“The Zhagarn have infiltrated the castle. They’re after the amulet. We need to leave. Now!”