On the Meldon Plain (The Fourline Trilogy Book 2) (26 page)

The thought of Mudug holding negotiations with the Nala to discuss terms under which he’d provide them children made Nat’s stomach twist. “Maybe we’ll find something in the Chemist’s quarters that will tell us what it was doing here.” Nat glanced at the creature. “It sure seemed surprised to see me,” she said in hushed voice, realizing now that the Nala had looked as if it’d recognized her before it’d attacked.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s dead.” Soris placed a reassuring hand on the small of Nat’s back. “Remember, nothing foolish. Especially not now.” His voice was light, but his face was creased with worry.

She glanced from him to the Nala’s body. “Nothing foolish,” she agreed and eased the closet doors shut with her foot before returning to the adjacent room.

Andris was listening intently to Annin as he fastened the silver buttons on the vest of one of the stolen guard uniforms. He lifted his head when Nat and Soris walked through the archway.

“Passage entry is sealed, and the room’s cleaned up the best we could manage,” Soris said.

“Good. Annin is certain there are no more Nala nearby.” Andris gave him a questioning look, and Soris nodded in agreement. “We have to assume it was here either at Mudug’s or the Chemist’s request. Which means the most likely location for a meeting with them would be—”

“Somewhere in the castle but away from prying eyes.” Nat looked out the window. The sight of the long stone building occupying the courtyard brought back a flood of memories. “Do you think they’d meet here or in the Chemist’s quarters?” She turned to Andris.

“More likely the quarters.” He eyed the gouges in the walls. “I can’t see Mudug or the Chemist wanting to meet with a Nala in here. It’s probable that the Chemist would relocate Emilia if his rooms were being used as a meeting place with that thing.” He glanced in the direction of the adjoining room.

“He wouldn’t risk moving her,” Benedict piped up. “Too many chances that someone might see her.”

“Let’s hope you’re right, Hermit. We stick to our original plan, except we’ll depart through a different tunnel.”

“And I’d like to know how that creature came to use a secret tunnel.” Benedict’s eyes narrowed. He turned and glared at Annin, then Soris.

“Do you really think we told a Nala about the passages?” Soris took two long steps and was in Benedict’s face. “We saved you back there. You understand that? I could have easily let that Nala take you down before Natalie killed it.”

Benedict dropped the curtain. “Makes no difference. This all smells like a trap to me.” He gave Soris a stony look and walked to the far end of the room, away from Soris and Annin.

“Keep your focus,” Andris growled at them. “Annin says there’s access to another tunnel off the northeast entrance to the courtyard. She’ll secure the opening. Soris, you provide watch and cover. The three of us”—he glanced at Nat and Benedict—“will make our way through each room of his quarters.” His voice was heavy. “Everyone follows my lead. Even if we don’t find Emilia, make your way to Annin and wait in the Sisters’ passage until all of us arrive.” He lifted the curtain. When he turned to Benedict, Nat saw a doubtful expression on Andris’ face. “Ready, Hermit?”

Benedict adjusted his wig. “I will fulfill my oath to protect the queen regardless of the danger these duozi pose.”

“Worry about the guards, not me, old man.” Annin pulled her hood over her head. She cracked open the heavy carved door. Andris motioned from the window, and she slid into the courtyard behind a thick cluster of juniper bushes. She skirted the edge of the courtyard and disappeared behind the long building composing the Chemist’s quarters.

“Stay out of sight until we’ve dealt with the guards,” Andris whispered to Nat. Benedict pulled two packets of sleeping resin from his pocket and handed one to him. “If we can’t knock them out with the resin, take them down,” he ordered Soris.

Soris loaded an arrow into his crossbow. Andris and Benedict stepped out the door and strode toward the front of the building.

“Ready?” Soris whispered to her.

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” She gave him a humorless smile.

“No,” he admitted, “but it makes me feel better if I ask. Out you go.” He nudged her with his boot and Nat crawled into the bushes. She pushed the fingerlike needles aside to get a better view. The morning light touched the opposite end of the courtyard, where the Chemist’s garden spread out like a wave of green. She scanned the far wall, looking for Annin, but saw nothing. In the shadow of the building, Benedict straightened his robe.
It all rides on him,
Nat thought nervously. One slip, one misplaced word, and the mission, and likely their lives, would be over.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

“Do you have any notion how long I’ve been standing here?” Benedict’s voice rang through the courtyard. Two guards stepped out from under the wide overhang fronting the Chemist’s quarters.

“Your Chemistness.” The guards looked surprised. “We didn’t expect you back so soon, sir.”

Nat let out a sigh of relief. The Chemist was gone—hopefully for a long time. One guard gave Andris a sidelong glance. Andris kept his head low. The guards stood in uncomfortable silence while Benedict paced in front of them.
What is he waiting for?
Nat watched him with a growing sense of unease. She glanced at Soris’ hiding spot. The tip of his crossbow was barely visible among the low branches of the flowering tree.

“Hands,” Benedict ordered abruptly, his voice sharp and commanding. The guards looked at each other in confusion. “Put out your hands, you fools.”

“Sir?” they said in unison.

“Do as I say!” Benedict lurched forward on his good leg and wobbled when his other foot hit the ground. He grasped one of the soldier’s hands and wiped the sleeping resin across his palm. “Someone’s raided my store of riven.” His voice rose an octave. “Riven reacts to this chemical component.” The soldier eyed the tan-colored smear marring his hand. “I’ll know immediately if you’ve touched my supply.” He dropped the stupefied man’s hand. Nat watched in awe as the guards remained motionless and completely cowed by Benedict. The plan was working.

“Check that one,” Benedict snarled and cast a suspicious look at the other ashen-faced guard. Andris stalked toward him.

“I promise you, sir, we . . .” His voice faltered and his eyes widened as the first guard swayed, then fell face-first onto the lush green grass. The guard’s brows drew together as he looked at the unconscious soldier.

“I thought as much! An immediate reaction.” Benedict glared menacingly at the second guard.

“Sir, I don’t know anything about missing riven.” He backed away from Andris and held his open hands in front of his chest. Andris feigned a stop, then lunged for his knees, knocking him down. They rolled on the ground, crushing a patch of ornamental grass and small boxwood bushes.

Nat saw a blur of motion out of the corner of her eye. Soris raced toward the center of the courtyard and lifted his crossbow to his shoulder. The arrow flew just as Andris rolled on top of the guard. The tip grazed Andris’ hip and planted squarely in the guard’s buttocks. Soris released another arrow, and it penetrated deep into the guard’s side. His scream was low and gurgling. Andris clamped his hand over the guard’s nose and mouth, smothering the writhing man. His cries died down.

“He shot at his own brother!” Benedict yelled. Nat looked about in confusion. He lifted his shaking hand toward Soris. “I told you! I told you they were not to be trusted.” He stumbled away from Soris. His eyes held a look of crazed fear. He tripped over his long robe and landed on the ground.

“It was an accident,” Nat said in a hushed voice, but Benedict took no notice. He scrambled to his feet and disappeared behind the Chemist’s quarters. Nat hesitated, wondering if she should go after him, then heard Andris’ low grunt of pain. She ran to where Soris was helping Andris to his feet. Soris pressed his hand against the bleeding gash in Andris’ hip.

“Find Emilia,” Andris said to Nat through gritted teeth.

Nat nodded quickly and raced toward the Chemist’s quarters, leaving Soris with his brother.

The door of the Chemist’s laboratory creaked open. The smell of death rolled over her before she even saw the bloodied cloth draped over a figure on the exam table where Soris had lain months before. A cloying, sickly smell hung heavy in the air. Nat stumbled into the room and clutched her hand over her nose. Her heart thudded inside her chest as she approached the draped form. Bottles and vials filled with cloudy liquids lay strewn across a table next to the body.

Nat inched closer to the table and pinched the folds of the stained cloth with her fingers. Slowly, she peeled away the drape. A gray-faced man with eyes frozen in terror lay under the cloth. Nat felt his cold neck under his pointed beard.
No pulse.
She steeled herself and rolled the cloth farther down his sunken chest, relieved she wasn’t looking at Emilia’s corpse but needing to know what had caused the man’s death. A series of punctures dotted the skin above his heart. A pale blue tint covered his skin.

Nat dropped the cloth and directed her attention to the table and a single bottle containing a blue liquid. “Nala Venom” was written on the bottle’s label in a flourished hand. She bolted from the room.

Soris glanced over his shoulder at Nat as he carried the dead guard toward the Sisters’ accommodations. Nat shook her head to indicate she hadn’t found anything. Soris quickened his pace. The soldier’s arms bounced against his legs.

“Anything?” Nat jumped at the sound of Andris’ voice. He steadied himself against the building’s middle door and grimaced. Dried poisonous plants hung from the beams above his head.

“A body, but not the one we are looking for,” she said and took a deep, shaky breath.
If she isn’t in here . . .
Nat pushed the thought away and grasped the cold doorknob. It refused to turn.

Andris moved slightly to the side and drew his sword. “Kick it,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

Nat stepped back and planted a front kick near the knob. The wood around the lock splintered, and the door crashed open.

Andris plunged into the room ahead of Nat. “She’s not here.” He scanned the cluttered room. “Check the last room, then we leave.”

Nat didn’t budge. The books, the table with the map, all the furniture, everything she’d seen before was still there, but no Emilia. “She was here before,” she said, trying to reassure herself that she hadn’t led them into this disaster for nothing.

Soris slid past Andris and skirted a pile of books to reach Nat. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, Natalie. She’s not here,” he said.

“Move to the next room,” Andris ordered. “We’re pushing our luck as it is.” He turned to leave. Blood seeped through the makeshift bandage pressed against the wound in his hip.

Nat stared at the corner, where a window let in the weak morning light.
The window.
She squinted.
The window doesn’t end at the corner.
She stepped over a broken chair and touched the edge of the window, feeling a crack where it met the wall. “Soris, help me,” she said.

He was already next to her, prying his fused fingers above her hands into the small crack. A hidden door groaned open under the pressure.

Light from the window fell upon Emilia.

She sat upright on a high wooden pallet covered with a filthy gray blanket, her head tilted against the wall behind her. Her black hair hung in greasy tendrils around her head, and she wore a ragged brown shift that barely covered her legs. She opened her blue-gray eyes and looked at Soris. She jerked her legs protectively away from him. Bruises covered her bare calves.

“Blessed Rim.” Andris drew in a breath and brushed past Nat. He dropped next to the pallet. “Emilia,” he whispered. Her eyes darted between the brothers. Nat thought she looked as if she were a cornered animal deciding when to strike.

“What do you want?” Emilia’s voice trembled and she clutched the soiled blanket.

“Emilia, it’s me, Andris. Don’t you recognize me?” He pulled off the guard’s hat. He reached for the thin chain that bound her ankle to a metal ring on the floor.

“Don’t touch my cord,” she warned. Her eyes expressed only fear and not the slightest recognition.

“We’re here to free you.” Andris reached for his dagger to pry the chain apart. Soris took a step forward to help him.

“Stay away from me, creature.” Her voice teetered on the edge of hysteria. Soris stepped back.

“Emilia, that’s Soris, he won’t hurt you.” Andris calmly pleaded with her and inched forward.

She blinked and grasped a length of chain between her hands. “I said stay away!” The chain slashed through the air, striking Andris’ forearm.

“Do you have any of Benedict’s resin left?” Nat asked under her breath. Andris clutched his arm and looked utterly shaken as he stared at Emilia. “Resin, Andris,” she said again in a hushed request. He pulled a crumpled packet from the folds of the uniform and placed it in her hand without taking his eyes off Emilia. Nat held the packet so it was out of Emilia’s line of sight and slowly moved to the edge of the pallet.

“Not a lot of light comes through here,” Nat said, trying to keep her voice even. Emilia’s blue-gray eyes flashed with suspicion. Nat cautiously sat down and looked out the window, averting her gaze. Even with her back turned, she could feel tension radiating off the woman. Nat swallowed, thinking back to Sister Rory and her suspicions of what the Chemist might have done to her. If she didn’t recognize Andris or Soris, then maybe Rory was right, maybe memories of the people she loved were gone.

“It’s cramped in here, too,” Nat observed, still keeping her back to Emilia and the resin packet hidden from view. Soris lingered protectively in the doorway next to Andris, but Nat shot them a look of warning, and they both backed away.

“I suppose it is,” Emilia said as if noticing her surroundings for the first time.

“What’s your name?” Nat asked, wondering if she even remembered who she was. She edged a little closer.

“My name is . . .” Her voice died.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember,” Nat said reassuringly as she faced Emilia. The chain drooped between her hands.

“He makes me forget,” she said in a distant voice. She sniffed and her eyes came back into focus. “But you . . . You smell familiar.” She reached for Nat’s arm. Nat’s sleeve fell back, revealing her vine and spear markings. Emilia paused and traced her fingers over the tiny spears. “No birds, I hate the birds,” she said absently as she looked at Nat’s markings. She buried her nose in the fabric of Nat’s tunic. She clambered onto her bony knees and smelled Nat’s hair. “You smell like rudit.” A small light came into her eyes.

“Does that remind you of something?” Nat asked. Her heart pounded. She remembered the story about Andris hiding rudit in Gordon’s kit before her coronation. She carefully moved the packet of resin close to Emilia’s arm.

“It does!” she exclaimed. “It reminds me of . . .” She looked down at the tan smear on her forearm. “What have you done?”

“Nothing bad, I promise. Tell me what you remember about rudit.” Nat looked into her eyes.

“The smell makes me . . . It makes me happy.” Emilia sniffed Nat’s hair again. After a few moments, her lids drooped and closed.

“Andris, Soris!” Nat called out and laid Emilia gently on the blanket. Andris limped across the floor and dropped to her side. He thrust his knife blade into a chain link near Emilia’s ankle. Soris pulled the chain taut and the link broke, then he lifted her into his arms. Bruises and abrasions covered every inch of her exposed skin.

“Get her to the passage, we’ll cover,” Andris ordered with his eyes fixed on Emilia.

They crossed the room and paused briefly at the door. Nat poked her head outside. Nothing moved in the courtyard.

Soris closed his eyes a moment. “Annin’s still near,” he whispered reassuringly.

Andris took Soris’ crossbow and they exited the room. Nat shut the broken door behind them the best she could. Bits of the dried plants suspended from the beams of the overhang showered onto their heads. Soris dashed past the third door set into the long building, Emilia’s arm dangling near his thigh. They disappeared into the Chemist’s garden.

Andris motioned for Nat to follow Soris. She sprinted toward the garden and crouched among the purplish vines winding up a trellis and waited for Andris to catch up. Soris vanished behind a boxy door set into the castle wall.
Annin better be there,
she thought. Andris grasped her shoulder and jerked her to the ground just as a drawling voice filled the air.