White Blood (30 page)

She slid Barilan to the seat of the chair without waking him and went to the door. The initial heavy dullness of the spell was just beginning to wane a bit, but she could muster none of the pleasure or enthusiasm she should have felt. “Yes?”

“I brought Madam Siwell, just like you asked. Go on in, quick. Kempich will be back soon. I’ll tap when I manage to get rid of him again.”

A cloaked and hooded figure slipped in. Tior eased the door shut, and the figure threw back its hood to reveal Siwell’s angular features. “Dear Maryn, I came as soon as I heard. Are you all right?”

She threw her arms around Maryn in a fierce embrace. Maryn could only stand, unresponsive.

“Maryn? What’s the matter? They haven’t hurt you, have they? Tior said you were terribly upset; that you could barely manage to ask for help…” Siwell held Maryn out at arm’s length, and looked closely at her face. “What’s Carlich done to you?”

The compulsion spell forced Maryn to shake off her grip. “I’m sorry. You must be mistaken. I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong.” She turned toward the fire. Underneath she fought with all her strength to say something, anything, that would give Siwell a hint of the real situation. But it was still too soon for her efforts to prevail against the power of the magic.

“You’re sure? Carlich hasn’t harmed you?”

“Prince Carlich has been very kind to me. Now, please, go.”

“If you’re really all right…” Siwell took a step back. Then her voice hardened. “Wait. There’s something wrong here. He’s worked some spell on you, hasn’t he?”

Maryn shook her head, miserable inside. How could she let Siwell know her suspicions were correct? She kept shaking her head, unable to do anything else. The spell even prevented tears from forming in her eyes.

Siwell cocked her head, studying Maryn with a worried frown. Hope stirred in Maryn’s heart. Siwell knew Maryn. She must realize Maryn’s response was not at all what she would expect from the girl she’d helped give birth.

Maryn whipped her head from side to side so hard she felt dizzy. She’d tried this tactic before, with Vinhor and Tennelan, only they hadn’t been paying attention. But surely Siwell would notice.

“Prince Carlich would never put a spell on me. Never, never, never!” Maryn threw all her passion into her voice. Nothing in the compulsion spell or Carlich’s orders prevented her from defending the prince, or praising him, even in wildly over;-;enthusiastic tones. “He’s a great sorcerer! He’s going to become king of Milecha, and I’m going to help him. I totally and completely and fully and utterly without reservation support him. I don’t need help, from you or anyone else. Go away and leave me alone!” Maryn panted, staring at Siwell, willing her to understand.

The midwife stared back, her mouth open in shock at Maryn’s performance, her forehead drawn into baffled creases. “What in the world?” She blinked a few times, then her eyes widened. “Oh, dear Holy One, that’s just what he’s done. He’s ensorcelled you to speak only good of him. I’d heard he’d studied Hampsian gestural magic, I knew it was capable of some nasty stuff, but this…”

It was a joy to speak words that flowed easily within the spell’s constraints, knowing Siwell would realize what she meant. “He has not! He has not used gestural magic to put me under a spell. He has not compelled me to do exactly what he says. He has not renewed it every few hours since we left Loempno. He did not kidnap Barilan and me!”

As Maryn spoke, comprehension flooded Siwell’s expression. She gave Maryn a wry smile of approval, though her eyes remained clouded with concern. “So that’s how it is. I understand. Now, can I counteract it? He’s very good; I doubt I’ll be able to undo his spell completely. But it can’t be that strong, or how did you manage to ask Tior to fetch me? Ah, it must fade over time—every few hours, you said?”

The portion of Maryn’s mind controlled by the spell felt confused and panicked. An urge began to grow to seek out Carlich and warn him that the spell was not working as it should. She might not be able to keep tricking the magic much longer. “No! There is no spell! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Tior cracked the door open and stuck his head in. “Quiet!” he hissed. “Kempich’s coming down the hall. He’ll hear you if you keep shouting like that!” The door closed.

Maryn resisted the growing impulse to rush out and call for Carlich, but she feared it would soon overwhelm her. She kept her voice low. “Siwell, you have to go away. Please, hurry…”

Siwell set her mouth. “We’ll get you free of it in just a moment, my dear. I don’t have much training in blood work besides healing and cleansing, but I’ll see what I can do.” She unsheathed her small steel sorcery knife and sliced into her finger.

Her voice rose in an incantation. It took all Maryn’s strength to remain still and not flee to fetch Carlich. The blood sparked in Siwell’s hands. The midwife turned her palms outward, and a burst of light washed over Maryn. Energy poured into her mind and muscles. She stood up straighter, lifting her chin and putting back shoulders she hadn’t realized were hunched. It felt as if the crushing weight she’d been carrying had suddenly become much lighter. No, she’d become stronger, able to lift with casual ease the burden that used to bow her down. She felt powerful, competent, able to accomplish any task, no matter how challenging. The contrast with the helpless terror of her captivity was so great it made her giddy.

Siwell dropped her hands as she spoke the last words of the spell, the sparks fading. “Better?”

“Yes!” Maryn threw her arms around Siwell. “Oh, thank you!” The midwife returned her fierce embrace. Maryn stepped back, drawing a deep breath and evaluating the state of her mind. The desire to run to Carlich was still there, but reduced to no more than a nagging itch, easily ignored. She could think and speak as freely as when the spell was nearly gone. “What did you do?”

“Just a little spell to strengthen your courage and resolve. I use it when women are worn out by a long difficult labor. So you were under a spell?”

“Yes. I can fight it off, now. Prince Carlich’s been using sorcery on me all this time to make me do what he tells me.”

Siwell’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because I know the truth! Because I saw him kill Prince Marolan, and try to kill Princess Voerell, and kidnap Barilan. He’ll do anything to make himself king. Just now he tried to make me—” Her throat closed on the horror, and she couldn’t finish.

“Oh, my dear.” Siwell put an arm around her shoulder. “I feared as much. We’ve got to get you away from him. I know people who’ll listen to your story and be able to spread the word that Carlich’s lying. But we have to make sure you’re safe first.”

Maryn leaned against Siwell’s strong support. As the first flush of exuberance at her new freedom waned, the reality of her situation reasserted itself. Even without the compulsion spell, Carlich still had tremendous power over her. “How? I’m always guarded. They say it’s for Barilan’s protection, but it’s really to keep me from escaping.”

“That could be difficult.” Siwell paced to the hearth, gazing at Barilan where he slumbered in the chair. “There are guards all around the building. Tior got me past them by saying one of the guests summoned a midwife to deal with her female troubles. I have to be seen leaving alone, or they’ll start asking questions.”

Maryn fought panic at the thought of Siwell leaving her behind, still a prisoner. “Maybe Tior will be able to figure out some way to get Barilan and me out. I can tell him everything, now. Once he knows about Carlich, surely he’ll help us escape.”

“I hope he can, but we have to face the possibility he won’t be able to. Even at best it might take him several days to arrange something.” Siwell came back over to Maryn and put a hand on her arm. “You’ll need to remain fortified against Carlich’s compulsion until then. I can teach you the spell I used; it’s not difficult.” She led Maryn to the seating area by the hearth.

Maryn checked Barilan; he was still deeply asleep, nestled against the chair’s padded arm. Siwell took a seat on the settee and drew Maryn down beside her. Maryn listened intently as the midwife recited the incantation, elated to think that she would finally have a tool that could free her from Carlich’s control. She repeated back the syllables, throwing all her energy into committing them to memory. Over and over Siwell drilled her in the stanzas of the spell.

Eventually Siwell sat back, satisfied. “You have it. Just don’t forget. This spell fades over time, the same way the compulsion spell does. Whenever you feel Carlich’s spell weakening and know it’s close to time for him to renew it, work this magic. Do you have a knife, or something sharp?”

“No, but I can get one, or make something.” Maryn thought of the fine silver utensils the servants always brought with her meal.

“Good. And if it comes down to it, you can always use your teeth or fingernails. This spell only requires a drop or two to work, so don’t go draining yourself to no purpose. And be sure to make the cut somewhere Carlich won’t easily see it.”

“All right.” Maryn’s head spun with all she needed to remember.

“Be patient. Pretend Carlich’s spell is still in effect. Once Tior gets you out, come to my home. I’ll leave the back unlocked so even if I’m not there you can go in and hide while you wait for me. We’ll get you out of the city and Barilan back to his mother. The poor princess; she must be worried sick about him.”

“I suppose.” Maryn was sure Voerell was, at least in an abstract way. But the princess had always been so careful to keep an emotional distance between herself and her son. She’d often gone a week between visits to the nursery; the few days Barilan had been gone weren’t that different. His absence couldn’t be as hard on Voerell as it would have been on Maryn.

Maryn looked over at Barilan, sprawled on the other chair. “There’s something else.” She swallowed. Much as she hated to admit what she’d almost done, Siwell was the only one who might be able to help her. “Prince Carlich and Priest Vinhor tried to have me work magic on Barilan.” Stammering, she explained about the soul exchange.

Siwell sat up straighter, eyes blazing. “How dare that man call himself a priest!” She shook her head, her expression softening. “My dear Maryn, what a cruel thing to ask of you. What happened?”

Maryn dropped her gaze. “I agreed to do the magic. I mean, I wanted it so much, to have Frilan alive again.” She glanced up. Siwell’s expression held only compassion, but Maryn could all too easily imagine it changing to cold judgment. She looked down again. “But then…when it came to the point, I just…couldn’t.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Maryn rushed on. “I told them I’d done it. I’m sure they believed me. Even so, they were going to check him for the Kingship again to be certain. I managed to put them off. But in the morning I won’t be able to stop them, and the crown will appear just like it did last time, and they’ll know I lied to them. Prince Carlich will be so angry…” Maryn faltered as she imagined his rage. “There’s got to be some way, some magic you can do to interfere with their scrying and make it look like it really is Frilan’s soul in Barilan’s body.”

Siwell frowned. “Theoretically it should be possible, but I’m afraid I don’t know any spell that might serve. That has to do with illusions, and inheritance magic, and that’s far outside my training. You’re sure you can’t stall again?”

Despite her disappointment and fear, Maryn smiled wanly. “I’ll try, but they won’t be scared off by fear of a messy diaper forever.”

Siwell chuckled, and rubbed at her eyes. “I don’t know…I’ll check with the sorcerers I know, but it will be hard to inquire without alerting them to why. There are a couple I think I can trust not to report me to Carlich. I’ll get word to you if I find out anything. Tior could carry a message…but you don’t read, do you? He could bring me back here…” But she sounded doubtful. “Until then, you’ll just have to do your best. Maybe they’ll be careless enough to forget, or lazy enough not to expend the effort.”

Carlich was neither careless nor lazy, Maryn knew, or at least not enough to let such an important matter pass. But if Siwell couldn’t help her, she’d just have to keep improvising ways to distract him until Tior found a way for them to escape.

A quiet rap sounded at the door. Maryn sprang to her feet. Siwell rose more slowly. “I’ll do what I can,” she told Maryn. “I just hope it’s enough. If Carlich were to discover your deception…you’ve been in his company for a good while now. Do you think he might have enough feeling for you to spare you?”

Maryn swallowed. Carlich did sometimes talk to her as if he considered her a companion, a confidant. But surely he was much too practical to let so tentative a connection interfere with his ambition. “No. I’m nothing to him. He’d kill me without a thought.” She shuddered. “He killed his own brother. Now that we’re in the town, he’d easily be able to find another woman to nurse Barilan. So he doesn’t even need me anymore.”

For that matter, why hadn’t Carlich killed her as soon as they reached Ralo? Wouldn’t he prefer to replace her with some woman who didn’t know about his crimes and didn’t have to be controlled by sorcery? He must consider keeping her available to confirm his story and bolster his claim that he’d rescued her and Barilan from Voerell valuable enough to justify whatever effort it took to control her.

Of course, now he thought she’d willingly gone over to his side, and had her own reason to keep his secrets. “As long as he believes I really did switch Barilan’s soul for Frilan’s, I should be safe. He promised to reward me.” She felt nauseated at the thought of accepting Carlich’s blood money. She’d do it, though, and pretend to be delighted, if that was the only way to protect herself and Barilan. “I just have to get away before he learns the truth.”

Siwell bit her lip, her face drawn. “All right. Only be careful. Don’t put yourself in danger.”

“I won’t.” Maryn’s promise wasn’t entirely sincere. She wasn’t brave enough to try anything really risky, but she would dare a lot more than Siwell would approve of to escape Carlich.

“Maybe Tior will know an easy way for you to get out.” Siwell’s tone was encouraging, but it lacked conviction. She went to the door and opened it for Tior.