Authors: Carol Berg
Transformation (27 page)
The sword. And Dmitri living and dying in his head to trigger his change. The plan was exquisite. “He would not touch it,” I said.
“His father begged him, but Aleksander drew away and said he could not wield a sword ever again, because he could never shed his guilt for Lord Dmitri.” She lifted the vase of roses, then set it down firmly and began pacing the room again. “The Emperor was beside himself. He demanded that a physician be called, but someone said there was a better solution.”
There. Now we had come to it. “Let me guess. It was the Khelid who said it.”
The lady halted her steps and frowned at me. “It was indeed. How did you know?”
“Please go on, my lady.” I forced my words calm, even as dread gnawed at my gut.
“Lord Kastavan is a kind and wise man, a great confidant of the Emperor. He said that his people were quite skilled at healing disorders of the mind. He offered to take Aleksander into his care and do everything possible to cure this illness.”
“Stars of night,” I said. “The Emperor didn’t agree?”
“But of course he did. What other hope is there? He almost embraced Lord Kastavan in gratitude. The Emperor will proclaim to the Empire that Aleksander is devastated by the death of Lord Dmitri and has vowed that he will not be anointed until he has avenged the murder. The emissary Korelyi leaves for Parnifour with Aleksander at first light. From there they will take him to Khelidar.”
As fire exploding in a drought-ravaged forest, so did understanding burst upon me. They had him. Gods of light and darkness, I knew what they planned. And Aleksander would not see it.... It was almost impossible to keep my voice even. “And what did the Prince say to this?”
The lady closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her mouth for a moment. Only when she had mastered herself did she speak again. “At first he didn’t hear it. Not until Lord Korelyi tried to lead him away. Then Aleksander pushed him aside and asked what in the name of the gods he was doing. The Emperor told him again how he was going to Khelidar, but that he would only be held there until he was healed of his illness. Aleksander flew into a rage. He tried to kill Korelyi, screaming about enchantments and demons and beasts. He cried out for a sword, but they had already taken his weapons away, so he tried to choke the Khelid with his own hands. It took five men to subdue him. Sovari bound him ... weeping as he did so, for Aleksander called on him to remember how he had sworn to protect his prince with his life. And then Korelyi forced Aleksander to drink something he said would quiet him, so he would not harm himself. I’ve never seen the Emperor so shaken. The Empress could not watch it.”
“Where have they put him, my lady? We can’t let the Khelid take him.” I wanted to shake the words out of her, not from any fault of her telling, but from the urgency that consumed me.
“He’s mad, Seyonne. You could not doubt it, if you had seen and heard all this. If the Khelid can help him ...”
I would have given much to keep the lady out of it, but I needed help. Aleksander’s peril was far beyond mortal danger. The Khelid were going to force him to host a demon—if I was right, the Gai Kyallet himself, the most powerful of their kind, the one who could draw the others to his will. It would rip the fabric of Aleksander’s being ... destroy not only the feadnach, but every shred of reason, of honor, of decency. He would try to hold out, and that would make it worse. Eventually he would yield and become what they wanted, and if he were anointed Emperor, the worst bits of the Derzhi Empire would be a child’s sweet bed story in comparison. I could not afford to protect anyone if I was to save him. “My lady, what do you know of rai-kirah?”
I paced the flower-scented room for an hour. The disapproving man in the blue pantaloons, Lydia’s bodyguard Feddyk, brought in meat and bread and fruit and set them on the table for me, as his mistress had commanded him. Though it was luxurious fare for a slave, I could scarcely taste it for my fear. I was not used to waiting behind while women went to scout a battle for me.
“You cannot go,” the lady had said to me. “They’ve heard your name too much already today. I’ll discover what we need to know, if I must take the Emperor to bed to learn it.”
I had implicit trust in her political and social wisdom, but none of that would prepare her for the intrigues of demons. Lydia was a kind and gracious woman, and I would not see her come to harm. So it was with a great release of guilt that I saw her come back through the outer door at last.
“He is held in the west tower. The Khelid have told the Emperor that they must confine him until their departure, closely guarded lest he attempt his own life.”
“And they have no suspicion. ...”
“It was the Empress who told me. I convinced her attendants that I needed to comfort her ... as a daughter ... and receive her mother’s comfort in return. Lady Jenya has indulged Aleksander shamefully and is overwrought at his downfall, but she is no simpering court lady. When I suggested that Aleksander’s caretakers might not be accustomed to giving a Derzhi prince his rightful comforts, she insisted on seeing him. I was not allowed to go, and I didn’t think it wise to press, but she told me enough when she returned. She says that Korelyi accompanied her on her visit, and that the two Khelid magicians guard the stair. Lord Kastavan is with the Emperor, preparing his proclamation.”
She told me all this scarcely taking a breath. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. Her pointed chin was resolute, as it had been since I told her of the Khelid and the demons. Lydia was no simpering court lady, either.
Now it was up to me. I just had to figure out how to get Aleksander out of a well-guarded tower and down to the copse behind the washhouse, where—if Durgan had done as he promised—a horse would be waiting to carry the Prince to safety. “You’ve done exactly right, my lady. I’ll do everything I can for him.” I rose to leave her.
“But wait, I’ve not told you all. The Empress was most distressed at what she saw. They had no pillows and only coarse sheets where the Prince was sleeping. And, though the Emperor’s servants had taken his jewels away to keep them safe, Aleksander was still dressed in his dakrah clothes. I offered to carry a message to Aleksander’s chambers ... and get a slave to take traveling clothes and linens for his comfort. The Empress was very grateful.”
“Lady,” I said, smiling. “I have never met a more accomplished conspirator. You put the legendary Derzhi spymasters to shame.” I bowed to her and turned to go.
“I should go with you,” she said, hurrying after me until I paused at her door. “You might need an ally, a protectress.”
“You’ve done more than enough. From this moment you must never be seen with me. Never must your name be mentioned in the same breath as mine. Forget that we ever met. If anyone should ask, tell them that you sent a servant to the Prince’s chambers, so you don’t know which slave was dispatched.”
Only reluctantly did she agree. “Go with Athos’ blessing, Seyonne. You must send me word of the Prince’s safety ... and your own. I’ll not rest until I hear it. If you ever have need of anything—anything at all—send a message to Hazzire at my house in Avenkhar. Say it is ‘from the lady’s foreign friend,’ and he’ll get it to me.”
“I would like to believe the Prince is worthy of your kindness, Lady.”
“Save him, Seyonne, and we’ll find out.”
Chapter 18
I was loaded with such a pile of pillows and silk sheets, soft towels and royal clothing that no one could see my face, so I felt fortunate not to trip and break my neck on the steep, curving tower stair. I had even picked up a letter that had come for Aleksander, to make sure I had a good enough excuse to see him. My guess was that no noble visitor or gentleman attendant would be allowed inside the room without an escort, but no one fears a slave. Indeed the two Khelid magicians made only a cursory inspection of my load, especially once I tried to give them all of it to take inside the room themselves.
“I’ve heard the Prince is mad,” I said, making sure my voice quavered in terror, a disconcertingly easy deception. “He beats me enough in ordinary times. Won’t you take his things to him? There’s clothes to dress him in for his journey, pillows for his comfort—”
The Khelid laughed, and the echoes of their twisted music clawed at my soul. I couldn’t make myself look at them. “We’re not here for slave’s work. If you want him to have his comforts, you will have to stir yourself to do it. But I’m sure he can do without for tonight, if you’re too squeamish.”
“Oh, no, sir. The Empress commanded it, so it must be done. There’s someone inside, then? To protect me? The Empress said it.”
“You will have to take your chances with the mad Prince all alone. Lord Korelyi has retired for the night.”
I had seen the pale-eyed Khelid leave and was relieved to hear he was not expected back.
“You won’t lock me in there with a madman?”
“We are commanded to keep the room locked. If we should get distracted, you might have to stay with him until he wakes.”
“Oh, no, my lords. The Prince detests me. I dare not be inside when he wakes ... and to touch his body, when I am not his body slave ... prepared ... you know, so as not to be truly a man. It’s worth my life to touch him.” It was unnervingly easy to put on the person of a craven coward.
The demon-infested pair unlocked the door, then kicked me through it so hard that pillows and towels went flying. “But then your life is not worth a gnawed bone, is it? Perhaps we should give the Prince a knife so he can ‘prepare’ you to be his body slave himself.” They took great good humor from this thought. They would leave me with Aleksander a goodly time, I guessed. I hoped it would be time enough.
The small room was lit only by cold moonlight slipping through a tiny, barred window. No possibility a man could fit through it. One alternative gone. There was nothing within the bare stone walls save a small table with a brass wine pitcher and a cup, and the low, narrow bed. Aleksander, still in his embroidered white satin, was laid out like a royal corpse, hands straight at his sides. His dull eyes were open and fixed, as if no one had done him the courtesy to close them when he died, and I took a moment to make sure there was still the pulse of life in his veins. Only when you took a closer look did you see the leather straps binding him to the bed at wrists and ankles, chest and neck.
I rummaged in the pile of linens and ripped open the pillow where I had hidden the Prince’s short sword. I sliced away his leather bindings, then filled the mug with wine and knelt beside the bed.
“Your Highness, can you hear me? It’s Seyonne. I’ve come to get you away.”
He did not stir, not even to blink. I brushed his eyelids closed then shifted my senses to examine the spells that bound him. It was as I thought. The demons were very confident. I shifted back quickly to silence the demon music.
“My lord, they’ve put only a simple spell on you and given you a sleeping draught to make you drowsy. You feel yourself paralyzed, but you are not. You can convince your body to move, but it will take a great effort of will. You must want to do it.” I dribbled a few droplets of wine on his lips. “Taste and feel the wine I just gave you. Focus your mind on it. Think of it washing through you, cleansing away this foul enchantment, diluting the sleeping draught until it can have no influence on you.” I coaxed and wheedled, giving him more wine, trying every image I could devise, but ten minutes passed with no sign of movement. I began to change his clothes and slip the silk sheets underneath him, lest someone poke their nose into the room to see how I progressed. My pleading and bargaining came to no avail. I soon believed it was a matter of will—lack of it. I needed a harsher tactic.
“My lord, you did not kill your uncle. Of course you are not blameless. You sent him away and toyed with him. You were careless and foolish, thinking only of your own comfort and pleasure as you have ever done. You will never be able to rid yourself of this burden, nor should you. But it was the demons who wanted him dead. Not you. It was the demons who set bandits on him. They take special pleasure in killing with cold, as they suffer from it so themselves. They left him to die, my lord, to bleed slowly and to freeze, and if you wish to make right this great wrong, you must not let them profit from it. Killing Lord Dmitri was the only way they could convince your father to let them have you.” I pulled away his pearl-studded tunic and slipped a plain loose shirt of soft linen over his head and arms. “You can move if you wish. If you do not, they will take you to Khelidar and make a demon out of you. Neither your body nor your soul will be your own any longer—and you will have to huddle in a dark corner of your mind and watch it happen. Perhaps you desire this, thinking it fitting punishment for your sins. But can you not guess what the demons plan for you? You will kill your father, and the demon will rule your Derzhi Empire.”
I was out of words. If he couldn’t or wouldn’t walk, then somehow I was going to have to carry him out. As I tugged the riding breeches over his feet and up to his waist, I was planning how Durgan might be able to obtain one of Giezek’s blue vials to put the Khelid guards to sleep. My heart set up a clamor when a cold hand clamped around my arm.
“This is all your fault, you know.” His hoarse voice was scarcely above a whisper.
I whirled about to see the heavy-lidded amber eyes open, though bleak and dulled with drugs and enchantment and grief. “I didn’t ask you to buy me,” I said.
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