The Lotus Effect (Rise Of The Ardent) (6 page)

I felt for the two; my presence was obviously making them uneasy, but I was desperate to get some answers. I looked earnestly at the man. “Please . . . Mitchell isn’t it? Mitch?”
 

The old male custodian looked at me pointedly. “No. Ma’lady, my name is Oliver.”

“Oh.” I cleared my throat. “I apologize. For never asking . . . it’s just, I need your help. Please.”

Oliver bit at his lip in thought, his bushy mustache moving like the legs of a spider as he considered my request. “It’s not safe to be seen in your presence Ma’lady Emerson,” he said, averting his eyes away from me.

I took a cautious step forward. “I know, and I’m very sorry. I’ll be on my way as soon as you can give me any information of the whereabouts of Mrs. Fawnsworth—I’m afraid that something terrible might have happened to her.”

A change came over the custodian’s demeanor. His shoulders stiffened and I saw a flash of what might be fear or, just as easily, anger, in his eyes. “We know you’re looking for her. For all our sakes, Ma’lady, stop.” He spoke without care to his status or mine. It startled me . . . but not so much as it startled his female counterpart. She stifled a cry and began to pace back and forth in the room like a trapped animal. Noticing me looking at her, she panicked and rushed past, making me shift close to the doorframe in her escape. She scurried down the hall as if I was stricken with a deadly contagion. Oliver watched her retreat and frowned. His aged eyes full of sympathy.

He addressed himself once more to me with a courage I envied. He sighed, knowing I wouldn’t be satisfied until I got the information that I needed. “She’s terrified Ma’lady, and she has good reason to be. The more people you get involved in this, the more heartache and grief there will be to follow.”

I nodded. It was my fault they were afraid. If the Council could not directly hurt me due to the Barrage Code, they were going to beat me down behind closed doors.

They were going to hurt the ones I loved.

“I know. I cannot say anything to ease your fears. I will do everything and anything in my power to try and find Mrs. Fawnsworth. Your name will never surface. Just
please
, help me do this one good thing,” I pleaded, my eyes threatening to fill with unshed tears.

He assessed me, his face full of resignation. I wasn’t sure if he was going to respond, but he soon sighed, looked past me to check for prying eyes, and pulled me further into the room.

“They took her away last night while we all slept. She didn’t put up a fight. She almost expected it after . . .”

“After what I did at the Coronation,” I stated bluntly.

He nodded.

I could feel his callused hands as they clutched at my wrists.

“Rumor is they took her to the Wall to cast her out.” His eyes were sharp, wide, and full of many conflicting emotions, despair being the uppermost.

I swallowed. It was even worse than I’d feared, but something wasn’t adding up. Scottie, being the pompous arse that he was, had divulged too much information about her disappearance in his attempt to get a rise out of me.

I stared at Oliver’s wrinkled face and bushy eyebrows which seemed even craggier in the shadows of the room. “Someone had mentioned that she would be . . .” I found it difficult to continue, “she would be involved in some form of
hanging
?”

He scoffed at my insolence. “How else do you s’pose they cast people into the Outlands? They catapult them over? They just open a door for them?”

He calmed himself to a whisper, taking a moment to remember his place. “The guards lower them by rope, but not without getting their share of excitement from the situation. They dangle them upside down, sometimes for hours, before they get into any rush to let them go. Most of the time they do just that. Let them go. Dropping them to their deaths.”

My hand slipped over my mouth in horror.

He paused, looking at me with sad eyes. “It’s better if you just forget about your Mrs. Fawnsworth.” I could tell he was finding it difficult to restrain his resentment towards me.

“You were close to her?” I asked tentatively, touching him on the shoulder and feeling the guilt bubble inside me.

He nodded. “We were all close to her. She brought us together when we felt as though we were only looked upon as a worthless tool to the Council. We weren’t merely servants anymore; we were a family of our own.”

I swallowed again, my mouth suddenly very dry. “Well then, point me in the right direction.” I struggled to keep my voice at a whisper. “She’s going to
die
out there if you don’t.” My voice cracked on the words.

He lowered his head in shame. “You’ll cause even more trouble if you go snoopin’ about. It’s better to let things lie as they are.”

I saw that the admission caused him much pain. How could he stand there and not help her? Commit her to death? Mrs. Fawnsworth, a friend, family even to many of the other servants.

Family to me.

With both hands, I grabbed at his collar. “I don’t believe you. You’re braver than you think,” I said stiffly this time, refusing to back down. “Give me a direction. That’s all I need.”

He sobered and stood a little taller after that. “If you get caught, and they find out we helped in any way, we will all face the same fate. It was Mrs. Fawnsworth’s wish for us not to come after her.”

“You’d honestly listen to Mrs. Fawnsworth? That stubborn old goat?” I released his neckline, my hand falling to my side again.

“Fine.” He said suddenly and with a sigh. “Last I heard was that she was taken to the East Wall, through Sector 7.”

I blanched. Sector 7 was being managed by Mr. Briggins and was known to be the most dangerous to traverse through.
No wonder Scottie knew so much about this.

My anger flared anew at the thought of both Scottie and his father being involved in Mrs. Fawnsworth’s disappearance. Nothing took place in Sector 7 without Mr. Briggins’s awareness.

And to think he thought so highly of me . . .
I thought dryly.

Sighing, I nodded my thanks to the custodian, feeling remorseful that I never attempted to get to know the servants. They seemed a better lot than even my own family.

I started towards the door.

“Ma’lady?” Oliver called out to me. I stared over my shoulder at him. “You’re braver than you think too. Give her what we could not: A fightin’ chance.”

Chapter 6

The Wall ~ Crimes of Ruthlessness

 
“
One must dare to become great. Success isn’t a result of spontaneous combustion . . . . You must set yourself on fire.
”

The words of the ancient Glasow tome from my family’s personal library filled me with courage as I kept a brisk pace through the stillness of the streets beyond the Estate, my head hanging low beneath the hood.

No matter how I garbed myself: dark trousers, long hooded cloak—I still felt rather obvious in my attempt to blend in. I waited until nightfall in preparation to make my way through the darkened streets past the gates of Sector 7. I hated to sit idle for so long, but there was no chance of sneaking out during the daylight hours. I had too hoped the clouds would give me sufficient coverage, though to my ill luck they drifted by intermittently and were patchy at best.

Hovering behind a grimy street corner, I waited for the next batch of fog to drift by. I tugged at the front of my hood, hoping to further conceal my face, and ran my fingers over my belt to make sure my knife—a kitchen knife, of all weapons—was still secured in its place. My hands trembled uncontrollably as I did so. I shook them discreetly by my side, trying to dispel the nerves.

I must be completely mad.

I’d never even seen the Wall in Sector 7 before. The only other time I had visited was with my parents, who arrived conveniently equipped with nothing short of a small army. We were escorted quickly inside the Sector’s own version of the Estate, with little opportunity for sightseeing . . . or time to scope out possible hideouts for circumstances like this.

I stood tense as a coil, ready to spring as I watched my breath steam outwards into the crispness of the night. This particular section of Sector 7 was eerily quiet—which did not help dispel the paranoia flowing throughout my already chilled veins.

So far, no one else had been roaming the streets at this hour. Though, as I moved to step into the cover of the next cloud, I couldn’t ignore the dreadful feeling that someone was watching me. The same shrill note of warning—the one I had sensed the night of my Coronation—crawled up the skin of my neck, sending the tiny hairs standing.

Even if I was being observed, I couldn’t stop now. Mrs. Fawnsworth needed me. It was my fault she was in this mess; now, I was her only hope out of it again. Even those who were closest to her dared not trespass against the Council.
What will it hurt to have one more strike added against my own death warrant? The papers have already been inscribed; I might as well make the details interesting.

Much like hopping from one dry stone to another of a puddle ridden street, I carefully placed each boot onto the cobblestones as I passed from one moving cloud to another, making my way closer to the guard sanctioned station of the East Wall.

Taking my chances, I made a run for it as the nearest approaching cloud passed within a few feet of the Fort, sliding just in time to hide in the darkened nook that was hidden beneath the steps. I grunted as my side hit the stone, but I quickly pushed myself onto my hands, my boots crunching noisily on the gravel as I got to my feet. I crouched low in the darkness behind the stairs, my heart beating so rapidly its rhythm thudded loudly behind my ears.

—A metal can was suddenly kicked across the stone: a hollow scrapping. Startled, I reached for my knife as I heard the muffled voices of two guards making their rounds down the stairwell behind me.

Again, I listened. I could tell they were laughing. Laughing about something along the lines of ‘The stank wasn’t worth the show,’ and ‘Who knew target practice and pissing could be so much fun? Let’s just hope they drop the witch before her stench permanently sets in.’

My insides twisted at their words.
Please no
.

I snuck a quick peek around the brick, hoping to better gauge their location. The pair bobbled into each other as they continued walking, suggesting they had taken to the bottle. Most of the guards along the Walls were overpaid and under-disciplined. Apparently, they were also rewarded for treating civilians like trash.
 

My nerves suddenly vanished, replaced with a furious rage. I wanted to hurt them. I wanted to make them bleed.
 

How dare they?
How
DARE
they? Those . . .
animals
. Laughing at her pain . . . .

A red fury coursed through my veins, forcing me to my feet.

At the moment I cared nothing for any past or future choices. I lay prone against the cold stone of the stairs, ignoring the hard concrete that bit into the tender skin of my back. I waited until the guards had their backs turned, hoping the element of surprise and their drunkenness would aid me—despite my blood boiling, I knew I’d never have a chance against two full grown men in a fair setting. But I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to try.

Gripping the handle of the knife tightly, I planned to go after the tall one on the right first. Then . . . then I’d deal with the other one once an opportunity presented itself.

Sensing that the opportune moment to attack had finally come, I stepped from my hiding only to find a hand grabbing at my mouth. I was roughly seized from behind, just as the knife was pried from my fingers.

I tried to scream in my rage, but found that my mouth was still muted by my attacker’s hand. My boots scraped across the stone—I was being dragged backwards.
 
 

Whoever it was, he was strong, and undeniably male. I made myself as heavy as I could, trying to dislodge myself out of his grasp, but he ignored my desperate attempts to defend myself like a mother dealing with an unruly child. Despite my thrashing, he somehow managed to drag me even further into the dark alcove beside the Fort.

Knowing this was the last place I wanted to be—I kicked out with all my might, slinging my body forward and away. I came back, slamming into his chest again—but my efforts were all in vain.
Dammit
! My mind reeled a carousel of curses as my attacker practically carried me off the ground as he held my arms with one hand and my mouth with the other.