Chapter 7 The Patient in Ward 13 #3
Aurienne stepped forward. “I’m developing a technique to help control seith haemorrhages. It’s still experimental. I can insert tiny occlusions into seith channels. In this case, I’ll block every channel that goes to her tācn. She won’t be able to use it.”
“Can many Haelan do this?” asked Tenet, her brows so high they disappeared under her helmet.
Aurienne understood her concern; the very notion of losing one’s seith was terrifying to anyone who had a tācn.
“Theoretically, any Haelan could,” said Aurienne.
“She’s being modest,” said Xanthe. “The answer is no. Aurienne can because her control of seith is as perfect as humanly possible.”
Aurienne asked if anyone had hlutoform on them. Prendergast discovered a half-used vial in his housecoat.
Soaking her hands in the antiseptic froth, Aurienne continued her impromptu lecture.
“It’s an effective method of interrupting seith flow using mechanical means, but it’s only temporary.
Lasts about seven days. One of my forthcoming projects involves reversibly blocking seith channels with microfluidic devices, so that treatment could be administered by others. Er—may I put my hand among the wards?”
“They won’t hurt you,” said Verity. “Proceed.”
Aurienne reached into the circle. Wards pulsed and crisscrossed against her hand, adding their dreamlike illumination to a situation that was already surreal. She knelt near Tristane and pressed her tācn to the woman’s bare forearm.
She had anticipated well-developed seith channels, as she would expect to find in anyone who had trained enough to earn a tācn.
What she discovered was far beyond that—an incredibly profuse, dense system, teeming with seith.
The sheer quantities of it were abnormal.
Compared to most people’s seith reserves, Tristane’s felt like a well—dark and deep, and with no discernible end.
Impressive. No wonder Tristane was so powerful. No wonder Mordaunt feared her.
Aurienne occluded the lumens of the delicate seith channels just below Tristane’s left wrist, blocking her use of her tācn.
Tristane’s tācn—so familiar to Aurienne, yet so strange on another’s hand—seemed to bare its teeth at her. It reminded her of what Mordaunt was: one of this group of killers; mercenary, mad, utterly devoid of conscience.
And yet it was because of Mordaunt that Tristane now lay, limp and helpless, here in the deepest dungeon of Swanstone. Whatever blood she had planned to spill remained unspilled thanks to him.
“There,” said Aurienne, withdrawing from contact with Tristane.
“A complete seith conduction block, to the best of my abilities. Her seith system is impressive, but it should be unusable now. In principle, she won’t be able to activate her tācn for at least a week.
There shouldn’t be any long-term damage to her seith system. ”
“Not that she deserves consideration in that respect,” sniffed Abercorn.
Aurienne stepped out of the warded circle.
The Haelan Order’s Heads had witnessed this procedure before, but the Wardens hadn’t—they hadn’t even known that such a thing was possible—and they eyed her with a new wariness.
She had just stripped the Fyren Order’s leader of her power with the touch of her hand.
They held themselves at a new distance from her as she passed.
The Wardens conferred briefly among themselves before addressing the Haelan leaders.
“This dungeon is only adequate for temporary holding,” said Verity. “While we convene the other Orders to the Stánrocc, we recommend moving Tristane to our headquarters at Tintagel Castle for holding and questioning.”
Xanthe turned to her fellow Heads. “Objections to this means of proceeding?”
“None,” said Abercorn. “Get this murderous lunatic out of here.”
“Agreed,” said Prendergast. “Good luck getting any information out of her, though. She’s a Fyren. She won’t inform on a client.”
“I can come to Tintagel to refresh the occlusions, if the Stánrocc doesn’t meet within the week, for the safety of the Wardens watching her,” said Aurienne.
Verity surprised Aurienne by giving her a deep bow. “We will arrange an escort, should that be necessary.” She turned to Prendergast. “I’ll speak to Dinadan to have more Wardens deployed here, as we discussed.”
“More Wardens?” asked Abercorn.
Prendergast nodded. “I was going to break the news to you both this morning. Breage and some nurses from Paeds are missing.”
“Missing? What do you mean, missing?”
“We can’t locate them.” Prendergast rubbed at his thin face. “Their families haven’t seen them in weeks.”
“Given this,” said Xanthe, with a disgusted jerk of the chin towards Tristane, “we must suspect foul play.”
The Heads of the Haelan Order came together into a cluster to carry on their grave talk. The Wardens discussed the logistics of Tristane’s transfer among themselves.
Aurienne rinsed her hands with the last of the hlutoform. Some instinct—some latent, never-before-triggered prey instinct—made her glance up.
Tristane was awake and looking straight at her.
One eye was green and the other was full of blood.