Every Battle Lord's Nightmare (21 page)

            “Do that again, lady!” a male voice from the crowd called out. Several agreed with him as the vendor jerked the blade from the target and handed it to her. From the flush on his face, he knew he’d been duped.

            “Here go you. And here’s your money.”

            Atty accepted the coin and dagger, but the crowd grew noisier.

            “Let her do it again! Make it harder!”

            “Yeah! Give her a right challenge!”

            Paxton leaned down to whisper in her ear as the vendor deliberated. “He’s made those targets out of hard wood.”

            “Yep. My guess is hickory or oak. I’d suspected as much, which was why I threw it so hard.”

            The vendor raised his hands to quiet the crowd. “All right! All right! Let’s see what the little lady can do.” He pointed to the other targets spaced at further intervals. The last one was a good fifty yards away. “Which one would you like to try for?”

            “What does she get if she hits it again?” another voice called out.

            “If she can hit that farthest target, I’ll pay her another coin!” the vendor replied.

            “Hey, that far away, you’d better pay her
two
coins!”

            “Yeah! Two coins!”

            Others took up the chant. “Two coins! Two coins! Two coins! Two coins!”

            “Okay! Enough!” the vendor acknowledged, his temper barely held in check. “Two coins if she can hit the last target!” He turned to give her a pasted-on smile. “And she can use her own dagger again if she so wishes.”

            Paxton leaned down once more. “Something’s up if he’s letting you use the ballock again.”

            She nodded. “Let’s find out what he’s hiding.”

            It would take her throwing with as much force as she could muster to make that distance with any kind of accuracy, much less have the ballock stick, but that didn’t bother her as much as wondering why the man continued to wear a smug look on his face.

            Unbuttoning her coat, she shrugged out of it to give her arm more freedom to throw. Everyone noticed her extended belly, and the buzz grew louder. Atty peered at the picture of the bird painted on the target. It made sense to put the larger targets closer, and the smaller ones farther away. What she couldn’t figure out was why the man was already certain she would fail.

            In the event he planned to yell or try to distract her, she turned her back to the target and stared at the ballock in her hand. Drawing on her inner strength, she calmed herself, then whipped around and threw the dagger as hard as she could. The blade hit the target with a resounding clang.

            The target was painted on metal made to look like wood.

            The crowd roared in protest and charged the vendor. Two men jumped over the small fence bordering the game and raced for the far target. One man stopped to examine it, yelling out what they already knew.

            “It’s iron!”

            Paxton pulled Atty out of the way as the crowd surged forward. Amid the protest, the other man who had jumped the fence approached Atty. Paxton stepped forward to protect her, when the man held out the ballock. He smiled, revealing the fact that he had two sets of lips.

            “I knew it was you, Battle Lady,” he murmured. “I am honored to meet you.”

            “Thank you.” She took the blade and re-sheathed it.

            Paxton grabbed her arm. “I think we’re done here. The vendor’s learned his lesson, so why don’t we head back to camp?”

            “Good idea.”

            They hurried away before Highcliff’s soldiers arrived to quell the melee.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Shut

            Thrasher was checking Yulen’s pulse when Atty entered the tent. Before she could ask, the physician whispered, “I was just about to send for you. It went better than I expected. His breathing’s become easier, and he’s resting now.”

            She gave a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

            Paxton strode over to the doctor and extracted the napkin from his pocket, handing it to the man.

            “What’s this?” Thrasher unwrapped it, revealing the piece of meat.

            “We think it’s tainted,” Atty explained. “We noticed the vendor at the faire deliberately selling from two different grills, depending on whether his clientele was Normal or Mutah.”

            Thrasher sniffed it. “It doesn’t smell odd to me, but that doesn’t mean the meat can’t be bad.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Atty, but I don’t have any equipment with me, or the means to test this to see if you’re right. But from what you’re telling me, I’d say you made a good call. You didn’t eat any of this, did you?”

            “No. It’s a good thing I noticed what the guy was doing before I took a bite.”

            A sound at the door flap drew their attention. Twoson stuck his head inside and looked around. “Good. You’re here.” Quickly, he entered and parked himself on the nearest bolster. “How’s he doing?” he asked first, indicating the battle lord.

            “The intubating helped,” Thrasher informed him. “I was able to remove a lot of the fluid that had built up in his lungs. He’s resting comfortably now.”

            “What ‘cha got for us, Twoson?” Paxton asked.

            “Maybe we should take this outside, so we don’t wake him?” the Mutah suggested.

            Atty reached over and placed a hand on her husband’s chest. Feeling the gentle, rhythmic rise and fall was the greatest thing in the world. “He’s in a deep, healing sleep. We won’t wake him.”

            Thrasher nodded. “I gave him enough somnolent to keep him under for a few hours.”

            Atty turned to the council man. “We know there are other Mutah here. We saw some at the faire.”

            Twoson nodded. “I met four other Mutah representatives. Two of the men I’ve met in the past. The other two are from compounds farther to the west that I’ve never heard of. Altogether, they brought with them less than twenty others. As far as I know, they’re the sum total who chose to attend.”

            Atty paused to think. “I know I must have seen more than that out in the faire.”

            “Maybe the others are from this compound,” Paxton suggested.

            “Maybe so. But even with just five Mutah compounds represented, at least there’s a chance this summit might produce some viable treaties,” Atty murmured. “We can only hope.”

            Twoson snorted. “You think?” He turned to Atty. “Do you know where the Mutah camps are located? In that next section over. Section D. Normals and Mutah have deliberately been segregated.”

            She raised an eyebrow. “I wonder why?”

            “Probably for the same reason there are armed guards lining the parapets all around this place,” Thrasher chimed in. “To prevent the two from clashing.” He glanced at each of them, ending at Atty. “I heard Yulen held a summit last year. Did he segregate Mutah and Normals?”

            “No, but Alta Novis isn’t built to contain them separately.”

            “Some of them camped as far from the Mutah as they could,” Paxton admitted. “But it was purely a voluntary decision on their part.”

            “What about guards?” Thrashed asked.

            “Yulen doubled the guards for the duration of the summit,” Atty explained. “Yeah, there were a few skirmishes. Mostly between individuals. It was to be expected. But on the whole, everyone behaved themselves. Maybe… I know this place is giving me the creeps, but it’s probably how Highcliff believes things should be handled.”

            “Well, I have worse news to depart,” the Mutah councilman announced. “Those camps are facing major health issues as we speak.” He glanced at Thrasher. “I was coming to let you know. See if there was anything you could do to help them.”

            “What kind of health issues?”

            “Stuff like what the battle lord has, for one thing. Sneezing, fever. And dysentery. Lots of diarrhea and vomiting. Every camp’s infected.”

            “Could be from the food being served at the faire,” Paxton suggested.

            Twoson noticed the doctor examining the piece of meat. “What do you have there?”

            Atty jumped in, a fearful thought uppermost in her mind. “Twoson, please tell me you didn’t eat at the faire!”

            “No. I was asked to join Verg Tillits at his campfire when I was in the next section. Why? What happened?”

            Thrasher held out the piece of meat. “Atty and Paxton noticed how the vendors served Mutah from one grill, and Normals from another. They brought this back with them for me to test, to see if it might be tainted, but I explained I have no way to check it.”

            “Here.” Twoson held out a hand. “Let me.”

            Curious, Atty watched as the doctor gave Twoson the meat. The big Mutah held it under his nose and took a deep whiff. “Well?”

            He made a face. “I smell deceit.”

            “What do you mean?” Paxton asked. “Is it tainted?”

            “The meat? No. But I get a faint chemical odor. I think it’s been coated with something.”

            “Coating it would make more sense. Make it easier, too,” Thrasher noted. “If you coat the meat with something dangerous or toxic, then you’re more likely able to contaminate the person, even if they didn’t manage to finish eating it. It would also make it easier for the vendor to keep track of what he planned to sell to Normals and what he wanted to give to Mutah. That way he wouldn’t have to pack two separate portions of meat and have to remember what was what.” He took the meat back, rewrapped it, and stuffed it inside his satchel.

            Another head popped inside the tent. Paas’ face was red, and her eyes glittered. Atty grew alarmed at the woman’s expression. “Paas? What’s the matter?” Her first thought was that something had occurred with Mastin, when the woman entered the tent but remained near the entrance.

            “I’ve just discovered something you need to know,” the warrior woman told them. “I was walking the faire grounds, and I happened to see a woman standing on one of those ledges on the cliff face. She was just staring out over the grounds, when this big ugly cuss showed up and started beating on her. So I climbed up and made him stop. He hurried off to fetch one of the soldiers, but while he was gone I asked her why he abused her like that. She told me he owned her, and she deserved the beating because she’d disobeyed Highcliff’s command that no one leave their homes to attend the faire. No one.”        

            “What?” several of them exclaimed.

            “Highcliff has ordered every person in his compound to remain inside their quarters for the duration of the summit,” Paas said.

            “Why?” Paxton demanded.

            “What happened after she told you that?” Atty asked.

            “She went back to her place, and I came here to tell you before that big brute returned with some of Highcliff’s soldiers to arrest me.” Paas shook her head, her lips a thin line as she barely contained her anger. “Shit, she was just a girl! Maybe sixteen or seventeen at the most. And, get this. She was Mutah.”

            “Mutah?” Atty echoed.

            “What about the man who beat her? Was he Mutah, as well?” Thrasher inquired.

            “No. He was Normal. A deviant, but Normal. He easily outweighed her by a couple of hundred pounds, not to mention muscle strength.”

            “So Highcliff has Mutah at his compound doing the dirty work,” Paxton murmured, his tone revealing his own disgust.

            Paas nodded. “Not to mention bedding children. It nearly broke my heart to leave her there because I know that man is going to abuse her even more. I saw old bruises and marks on her. That man could easily kill her. She’s such a slip of a girl. Thin and sickly looking. And with these beautiful wing-like ears.”

            Atty felt a coldness race through her body, making her shudder at the possibility. “Ears?” she barely managed to mutter.

            Paas held up her hands on either side of her face and fanned them. “Gorgeous things. Transparent. Like butterfly wings.”

            “You… Did you…” Atty tried to keep her heart from hammering the air out of her lungs. “Did you get her name?”

            “Yeah. Keelor. Keelor Ferran.”

            Atty had no recollection of screaming the name, or the fact that she’d started to race from the tent until Paxton nearly tackled her at the door flap. At that same time, Mastin and Renken were returning and managed to block her path just as the second yelled for them to stop her.

            “No! No!
No!
Let me go! Let me
go!
” Atty struggled in their combined grasp. Tears blinded her as her mind raced. Logic and hope struggled with the impossibility that the woman with the winged ears was
her
Keelor. Her sweet little sister she’d believed had died years ago.

           
Keelor! Dear God, Keelor!

           
“Atty! Atty, stop fighting us! Come here!” Renken hissed in her ear. They practically dragged her back inside the tent where Mastin took a firm stance in front of her, forcing her to calm herself and face him.

            “I know what you were going to do, Atty,” he told her in that same voice Yulen used whenever he had to lay the law down to her. “If this is your Keelor, you can’t go off all half-cocked to try and save her. Not in this setting, and definitely not in your condition!”

            Atty gasped as she tried to wipe away the tears that wouldn’t stop flowing. Someone thrust a handkerchief in her hand, and she blew her nose. Behind her she could hear Paas asking why Atty had had such a strong reaction, and Paxton explained why.

            “I h-have to get her back. I have to get h-her away from that man before he damages her any further! She’s always been so fragile. So prone to sickness.” She glared at them as her breath hitched in her chest. “You can’t stop me! She’s my sister!”