Poison Study (15 page)

  Perched on the edge of the hard, wooden chair facing his desk, I felt a feather of fear brush my stomach. I laced my fingers tight together to keep my face impassive.

  “Valek has informed me that you had an incident last night. I’m concerned that another attempt on your life will jeopardize our exercise.” The Commander’s golden eyes regarded me as he sipped his tea. “You have presented Valek with a puzzle, and he has assured me that keeping you alive will aid in a speedy resolution. Convince me that you’ll be able to play fugitive without getting yourself killed. According to Valek, you failed to recognize him even after he bumped into you.”

  My mouth opened, but I closed it as I considered his words. A hastily explained or illogical argument would not sway the Commander. Also, I had been given an easy out. Why should I risk my neck for his exercise? I wasn’t a skilled spy; I hadn’t been able to identify Valek even when I knew he was following me. But then again it was my neck the murderous assailants were after. If I didn’t try to draw them out on my own terms, they’d pick the time and location. I weighed the argument in my head, feeling as though I was forever on a tightrope, unable to decide which way led to the perfect dismount. Walking back and forth until some outside force came along to push me one way or the other.

  “I’m new to the hunt-and-chase game,” I told the Commander. “For someone untrained, trying to spot a tail in a noisy, crowded festival is a difficult task. It’s like asking a child to run when she has just learned how to walk. In the woods, alone and trying to avoid everyone, picking up a tail will be easier and within my abilities.” I stopped. No response from the Commander, so I continued, “If we can lure this magician out, maybe we can discover why she wants to kill me.”

  The Commander sat as still as a frog that watched and waited for a fly to come closer.

  I played my last card. “And Valek has assured me he will be following.”

  My use of the Commander’s word was not lost on him.

  “We will proceed as planned. I don’t expect you to get far, so I doubt we’ll see this magician.” He said the word magician as if it left a foul taste in his mouth. “I do expect you to keep quiet about this entire affair. Consider it an order. You’re dismissed.”

  “Yes, Sir.” I left his office.

  I spent the remainder of the day collecting and borrowing provisions for the exercise, which was scheduled to begin the next morning at dawn. I visited Dilana’s workroom and the smithy. Just mentioning Valek’s name produced remarkable results from the blacksmiths, who hurried to procure the items I said Valek needed.

  Dilana would have given me anything I requested. She seemed disappointed that I only wanted to borrow a leather backpack.

  “Keep it,” she had said. “No one has claimed it. It’s been underfoot since I started.”

  I kept her company as she mended uniforms, told me the latest gossip and fussed about how I needed to eat more.

  My last stop was the kitchen. With the hope of finding Rand alone, I waited until after the staff had cleaned up dinner. He was standing at a counter, working on menus. Each week’s menus had to be approved by the Commander before Rand could give them to Liza, who made sure the required food and ingredients were available.

  “You look better than I feel,” Rand said in a soft tone. He held his head like a full cup of water, moving slowly as if to avoid spilling over. “I don’t have anything for you to taste today. I haven’t had the energy.”

  “That’s okay.” I noted his white face and the dark smudges under his eyes. “I won’t keep you. I just need to borrow some things.”

  Interested, Rand almost returned to his jovial self. “Like what?”

  “Bread. And some of that glue you invented. Medic Mommy used it to seal a cut on my arm. It’s wonderful stuff.”

  “The glue! One of my best recipes yet! Did she tell you how I discovered it? I was trying to make an edible adhesive for this mammoth, ten-layer wedding cake and-”

  “Rand,” I interrupted, “I would love to hear the story, and you must promise to tell me another time. But we’re both short on sleep.”

  “Oh, yes. You’re right.” He pointed to a stack of loaves and said, “Take what you need.”

  While I collected bread, he rummaged around in a drawer, then handed me a jar of white glue.

  “It’s not permanent. The glue will stick for about a week then it loses its grip. Anything else?”

  “Um. Yes.” I hesitated, reluctant to make my last request, which was my main reason for wanting to be alone with Rand.

  “What?”

  “I need a knife.”

  His head jerked. I could see a spark behind his eyes as the memory of how I had killed Reyad flashed through his mind. I saw the gears in his head turning as he weighed our fledgling friendship against this unusual request.

  I fully expected him to question me as to why I needed a knife. Instead he asked, “Which one?”

  “The scariest-looking one you’ve got.”

Chapter Fourteen

  T he next morning, I headed out the south gate just as the sun crested the Soul Mountains. Soon a glorious sweep of sunlight rushed over the valley, indicating the start of the Commander’s exercise. My heart pulsed with excitement and fear. A strange combination of feelings, but they fueled my steps. I scarcely felt the weight of my backpack.

  I had worried that the items contained in my knapsack could be considered cheating. After much thought, I decided that a prisoner intent on escaping from the dungeon would save some of her bread rations, smuggle a weapon from the guard room and steal the other items from the blacksmiths. And if I was stretching things a bit, then so what. No one had told me I must flee with nothing.

  My determination to “escape” had increased since the plan had first been proposed. The money was merely a bonus at this point. I wanted to prove the Commander wrong. The Commander, who thought I wouldn’t get far, who had been concerned my death would jeopardize his exercise.

  Before leaving the castle complex, I had stopped for a moment to view the main building in the daylight. My first impression was that a child had built the palace with his toy blocks. The base of the castle was rectangular. It supported various upper levels of squares, triangles and cylinders built atop one another in a haphazard fashion. The only attempts at symmetry were the magnificent towers at each corner of the castle. Streaked with brilliantly colored glass windows, the four towers stretched toward the sky.

  The castle’s unusual geometric design intrigued me, and I would have liked to view it from other angles, but Valek had instructed me to leave the complex at dawn as I only had an hour’s head start. Then, the soldiers and dogs in pursuit would try to discover which gate I had exited, tracking me from there. Valek had taken one of my uniform shirts in order to give the dogs my scent. I had asked him who would taste the Commander’s food while I was gone, and he’d given me some vague reply about having others trained in the art of poisoning who were too valuable to be used on a regular basis. Unlike me.

  My southern route was an obvious direction, but I didn’t plan to maintain it for long. I hoped the soldiers would assume I was headed straight for the border. The castle complex was in Military District 6 and quite close to the southern lands, wedged between MD-7 to the west and MD-5 to the east. The dead King, who had built the complex, had preferred the milder weather.

  Alternating between jogging and walking, it wasn’t long before I entered Snake Forest, avoiding Castletown. While studying some of Valek’s maps the previous night, I had noticed that the forest surrounded Castletown on three sides. The northern district of the town faced the castle. Snake Forest also spread out to the east and west like a thin belt of green.

  At the official southern border, Commander Ambrose’s soldiers had cleared a hundred-foot-wide swath from the Soul Mountains in the east all the way to the Sunset Ocean in the west. Since the takeover it was a crime for anyone, Ixian or Sitian, to cross this line.

  I jogged through the forest, making a conspicuous trail. Breaking branches and stomping footprints in the dirt, I remained southbound until I reached a small stream. My hour head start was almost up. I knelt by the stream’s bank and reached into the water. Pulling out a handful of mud, I let the water drain through my fingers. I hunched over the stream and smeared the wet sediment on my face and neck. Since I had pulled my hair into a bun, I rubbed mud on my ears and the back of my neck. I hoped the men would guess I had knelt here for a drink. After stamping footprints near the stream’s bank to mislead my pursuers into thinking I had walked into the water, I traced my route back until I found a perfect tree.

  About six feet from my path, a Velvatt’s smooth trunk rose high into the air. The first sturdy branch off the main trunk stretched fifteen feet above my head. Trying not to disturb the ground surrounding my scent path, I removed my backpack and pulled out one of the items I had borrowed from the blacksmiths. It was a small metal grappling hook. I tied it to the end of a long thin rope coiled inside my bag.

  With my head start gone, a sudden image of guards and dogs exploding from the castle flashed through my mind. Hastily I threw the hook up to the branch. It missed. I caught it on the way down. Frantic, I threw the hook again. Missed. I calmed my raging pulse and focused on the task. The hook snagged the branch. Confident the hook was secure, I tied the extra line around my waist so it wouldn’t drag and put on my backpack. Grabbing the rope with both hands, I pulled my weight off the ground and wrapped my legs around the slack.

  It had been a long time since I had climbed this way. All the way up the rope, my arm, shoulder and back muscles complained over my year-long inactivity. Once I reached the top, I straddled the branch and repacked the rope and hook in my backpack.

  A strong breeze blew from the west. Wanting to stay down-wind of the dogs, I spent the next half hour climbing east through the trees until I was well away from my original path. For once, my small size and acrobatic abilities proved a benefit.

  When I came across a Cheketo tree, I found a secure nook near the trunk and unslung my backpack. The Cheketo’s leaf was the biggest that grew in the Snake Forest. Its circular-shaped green leaf, spotted with brown, was perfect for my needs. I sat still for a minute, listening for sounds of pursuit. Birds chirped and insects buzzed; I heard the quick rustling of leaves as a deer moved. I detected the faint baying of dogs, but it might have been just my imagination. There was no sign of Valek. But knowing him, he had to be close behind.

  Taking Rand’s glue from my pack, I stripped leaves off the tree. When I had enough, I removed my shirt and glued the leaves onto it. Feeling self-conscious in just my sleeveless undershirt, I worked fast.

  I covered the shirt, then my pants, boots and backpack with leaves. Finally, I glued a large leaf onto my hair and two smaller ones onto the backs of my hands, leaving my fingers free to move. Rand’s warning that the glue only held for a week passed through my mind, and I smiled as I envisioned his reaction when he saw me walking around the castle with leaves attached to my head and hands.

  I didn’t have a mirror, but I hoped I had camouflaged my entire body in green and brown. I wasn’t concerned with the small black patches that might show through; it was the bright red of my uniform shirt that would immediately give me away.

  Too nervous to stay in one place for long, I continued to climb east as fast and quiet as I could. My eastern direction wandered. Since I was unwilling to let my scent touch the ground, I had to detour either north or south on occasion. My grappling hook and rope were employed many times as I used them to bring branches within reach, or to swing from tree to tree. My muscles protested the abuse, but I ignored them. Laughing to myself whenever I overcame a difficult hurdle, I enjoyed the pure freedom of traveling above the ground. I grinned as I sweated through the entire morning. Eventually I knew I would have to head south again because that was the only place a fugitive could find safety and asylum.

  Sitia welcomed the refugees from Ixia. Their government had had an open relationship with the King, trading exotic spices, fabrics and foods for metals, precious stones and coal. When the Commander ceased trade, Ixia lost mainly luxury items while Sitia’s resources became limited. Worry that Sitia would try to conquer the north for needed resources had dissipated when the Sitian geologists discovered that their Emerald Mountains, a continuation of the northern Soul Mountains, were rich in ores and minerals. Now, it seemed, Sitia was content to keep a wary eye on the north.

  Soon my climb through the trees intersected a well-used path in the forest. I saw deep wagon ruts in the hard-packed dirt. The road was probably a part of the main east-west trading route, which turned north for a few miles to detour around Lake Keyra before resuming its easterly direction. The lake was just over the border of MD-5.

  Settling on a sturdy branch within sight of the path, I leaned back on the tree’s trunk, rested and ate my lunch while deciding where to go next. After a while, the soothing noises from the forest almost lulled me to sleep.

  “See anything?” A male voice beneath me disrupted the quiet.

  Startled, I grabbed the branch to keep from falling. Caught, I froze in shock.

  “No. All clear,” another man’s voice replied from a distance. His tone was rough with annoyance.