By Darkness Hid (32 page)

The name on the top of the letter caught her eye:
Sir Luas Nathak, Lord of Sitna.
A chill raked her body. Lord Nathak? That man had pined for her mother’s hand for years following Father’s death. Vrell hated men who sought a wife when they already had one. It was the deepest form of cruelty and selfishness. Worse was the fact that Lord Nathak only wanted control of Carm. Apparently, he had advised his ward, Prince Gidon, to accomplish what he could not.

Lord Nathak’s eerie mask and disfigurement did not help his reputation. Nor did his behavior since her mother’s refusal. He had used threats to try to get his way. He had even resorted to force once, but Mother’s guards had been quick and thorough.

In Vrell’s mind, the man was pure evil. And his ward was worse. She walked around to the other side of the desk to read the letter.

My Good Sir Luas,

Thank you for accepting my invitation to meet. I look forward to your coming visit.

Macoun Hadar

Vrell frowned and glanced at the stack of scrolls. Why did her master want to meet with Lord Nathak? She closed her eyes but sensed no sign of Master Hadar’s cold-walled mind. So she set down her cup and reached for the scroll on the top of the stack. She unrolled it and read.

Master Hadar,

I will be travelling in the second party, sending our king ahead with his attendants and knights. Watch over him as he prepares to meet with the Council. All is going according to plan.

Luas

Plan? What could these two men be plotting with Prince Gidon? Vrell shivered. The prince was coming to Mahanaim? Did that mean his coming-of-age celebration was at an end? Had he chosen a bride?

She lifted another scroll, but a coldness pressed in on her mind. Master Hadar was near. She quickly returned everything to its original position and hurried to the center window. The warmth of the sun, and the drink now back in her hand, calmed her thumping heart as the door squeaked open. She turned to see Carlani scooting inside.

“The master requires your presence.”

Vrell set her mug on the sideboard and joined Carlani at the door. “Where is he?”

Carlani nodded across the antechamber to the second door, the one that led to the empty stone chamber. Vrell’s lips parted. What would her master be doing in such a cold and empty room? He’d been so near while she’d read his letters?

Carlani inched his way across the antechamber, knocked twice on the door, and pushed it open. He raised his hand, urging Vrell to enter first. As she swept past, he whispered, “I’m not allowed to enter this room.”

Carlani closed the door behind her, and Vrell fought the chill that tickled her spine. She turned to see Master Hadar sitting on a small stool, eyes closed. The room was empty, like a dungeon cell, but cleaner and without a cot or privy bucket.

A second stool sat empty beside Master Hadar. A lantern on the floor by his feet splashed golden flecks of light over his dark robes. She watched, fidgeting with the hem of her satin tunic. With the exception of his steadily rising and falling chest, and the occasional flicker of his eyelids, he remained motionless.

Vrell swallowed and began the mundane task of counting the bricks along the outer wall. She counted to sixty-three before her master spoke.

“This is my quiet room.” He motioned to the stool beside him. “Bloodvoicing is best done in a room like this. No distractions.”

Vrell sat on the squat stool, its lowness and her short height put her shoulder at Master Hadar’s elbow. Something red glistened between his gnarled fingers: a ruby cabochon belt buckle. A jewel that exorbitant could only belong to royalty. She pointed at it. “Whose is that?”

Macoun opened his palm, displaying the cabochon under Vrell’s nose. “This belongs to Prince Gidon Hadar.”

Vrell shuddered. “Surely His Royal Highness would miss such a jewel?”

“On the contrary, boy. Prince Gidon has more jewels than he can keep track of, especially red ones. Besides, Lord Nathak of Sitna sent this to me. He’s the young prince’s caretaker. Do you know the story of how this came to be?”

“Aye.” Vrell couldn’t imagine a soul in Er’Rets who did not. Though she despised Prince Gidon she wouldn’t wish that kind of sorrow on anyone. Vrell herself had lost one parent, but to lose both at such a young age, without having known either…so sad. Even more so to be raised by such a horrible man. It explained a great deal about Prince Gidon’s callous reputation. Having those two in charge did not bode well for the future of Er’Rets.

“Lord Nathak depends upon my gift to look over the prince,” Master Hadar said. “It helps to have another set of eyes when rumors of assassination blow like the wind.”

If the prince wanted fewer enemies, he should try being more kind. Once he took the throne, the attempts on his life would no doubt increase. With a scepter in his hand, Prince Gidon would dole out one horrifying order after another. Vrell hoped to be safe at home by then.

Master Hadar nudged her shoulder and held out the cabochon. “Take it.”

Vrell opened her hand, and her master dropped the heavy, smooth stone. She fingered it. It was lovely. An oval ruby set in engraved gold. So much artistry and money to hold up the prince’s trousers. What a waste.

“Seek him.”

Vrell’s jaw dropped. She looked up at her master with wide eyes. “Seek the prince’s mind? Surely that cannot be acceptable?”

“For a prince to be truly protected, much privacy is sacrificed. Trust me, this man cares not what anyone thinks of his actions. He won’t feel violated. He won’t even know. Besides, you might fail. This is a difficult task, seeking one you’ve never met. Concentrate.”

Vrell swallowed the truth, hoping it did not show on her face. She
had
met the prince before, more times than she liked. She sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes.

She sought his narrow face, his dark hair…and something rattled. A heaviness closed in on her mind. Grass, horses, and the faint smell of lavender gripped her senses. A purring rose around her, spasmodic—snoring. A light breeze rippled red curtains around the sleeping prince. Muted voices…laughter…the clomping of hooves along dirt.

Like a feather caught in a gust of wind, Vrell whipped out of the curtains and floated into a soldier’s mind. Everyone around this young man rode a horse, yet he trudged along on foot in a cloud of dust, caked from head to toe. His cape was tossed up over his shoulders, covering his nose and mouth to keep from breathing the filthy air. His cheap boots hurt his feet. His heart overflowed with grief. He did not want to be here. He hated Prince Gidon.

What is your name?
Vrell asked him.

The soldier tensed and drew up his walls, spitting Vrell out.

She flew into the air and into a black cloud. Her head nodded forward with a jerk, and she opened her eyes. She gasped, shocked at the fatigue gripping her bones. She looked up to find Master Hadar looking down on her hungrily.

“Well?”

“He travels, asleep in his litter.” She held the stone out to her master, anxious to be rid of this draining connection with Prince Gidon and his soldier.

Master Hadar’s jowls gathered into a devious smile as he accepted the stone. “Excellent! How quickly you succeeded. Delightful, the vigor of youth.” He reached under his stool and pulled out a straw basket filled with small items. He tossed the cabochon in as if it were a mere pebble. “You’ll practice with these. Try another. Tell me what you see. Take your time. We have all day.”

Wary of taxing herself further, Vrell accepted the basket and studied the objects inside, careful not to touch any. There were dozens of swatches of cloth, a few ribbons, a turquoise bracelet, several brooches. Had these things all been pilfered from their owners? Would she have to resort to thievery to become proficient in bloodvoicing? And what about her energy? How would she last all day if one look at Prince Gidon drained her so? Or had it been his soldier who had drained her?

A lock of auburn hair in the basket caught her eye. She dug it out from under a swatch of leather, consumed by the color and curl. She lifted it to her nose, but it only smelled of the straw and metal surrounding it.

“A romantic, are you?” Master Hadar raised the skin above his eye where an eyebrow should be. “Go on then.”

Vrell closed her eyes, gripped the silky hair, and thought of its russet color.

A familiar laugh grew in her mind. The subtle scent of grape blossoms brought a gasp to her lips. It was Mother!

A warm breeze flittered across her mother’s face, blowing her auburn hair about. Honeybees buzzed around her. Someone held her arm. A friend.

It’s been a warm spring,
Mother said.
We’ve had an incredible crop. Lost nothing so far. But once the grapes set, we’ll have to put out bird nets.

Lady Coraline’s voice came loud, as though spoken in Vrell’s ear.
Bird nets?

To keep them from eating the grapes
, Mother said.
Orioles and cardinals are the worst. I cannot blame them—the grapes are very sweet. Everything will have to be netted.

Is that difficult?

Yes. It takes the workers several weeks to cover all the crops.

The smell is enchanting. All these years, and I still haven’t gotten used to the fishy smell of—

The sun blazed overhead. Vrell was not with her mother anymore. She was back with Prince Gidon’s caravan. And the young soldier. He tossed his cape up over his shoulders again to let his skin breathe. He wore far too many layers for such a journey on foot. His linen shirt clung to his chest with sweat.

Why had he pulled her away from Mother?
What do you want?
she asked the him.

The soldier tensed, but this time he spoke back.
What do I want? It’s you who are in my head. I didn’t invite you.

Yes, you did. Stop pulling me here.

Vrell tried to leave, to focus again on Mother and Lady Coraline, but she hit something hard. Her eyes flashed open and she wheezed.

She found herself lying on her back on the cold floor of the chamber. She tried to lift her head but couldn’t. She opened her hand, and the lock of hair fell to the floor. Good. She still had some control of her limbs.

Master Hadar peered down from his stool, the golden glow of the lantern casting black fissures over his lumpy skin. “What did you see?”

Vrell closed her eyes and tried not to show her alarm. Why did Master Hadar have a lock of her mother’s hair? Was he spying on her? And why hadn’t she tried to communicate to Mother when she’d had the chance? She breathed deeply until the pressure faded from her mind. When she opened her eyes again, she met her master’s hollowed eye sockets. They were wide, watching.

“I couldn’t see…” She took a deep breath, half exhausted, half exaggerating her state. “Why does this weaken me so?”

“Perhaps you’ve not practiced enough. There are ways to get stronger. I’ll teach you everything in good time. Let us stop for breakfast. Food gives strength as well, and you’ve not eaten, have you?”

Vrell shook her head.

Master Hadar rose and swept to the door. “Breakfast then.” He left her lying on the floor.

She stared at the timber ceiling and shivered.

How dangerous this bloodvoicing business was. Not only did it weaken her, she had almost given away her identity. Master Hadar could not sense her thoughts, but she supposed he might be able to jump through her to Mother. Maybe it was best that she hadn’t had time to try to send her a message.

And what of that soldier? Who was he? How could he pull her mind into his without meaning to? Clearly he knew nothing of his own power. Could he be the one called
Achan,
whom Master Hadar thought was a boy? Surely one so powerful wouldn’t be relegated to walking in the dust while so many horses and wagons were available with the prince’s entourage.

It was nice to know the crop at home was good. Carmine would eat well for the next year unless a storm came, which was doubtful now that they were well into spring.

Vrell’s energy returned quickly, and she joined Master Hadar and Carlani for breakfast. The master had business afterward and sent her away. With relief, she went outside the keep.

The courtyard was bustling with activity. Vrell wove between people, horses, and wagons, looking at the things for sale. She was thankful she had the bag of coins from Lord Orthrop. She purchased small linen cloth and a sage tooth scrub so that she could clean her teeth. She also bought a small antler bone comb. She could hardly wait for the cleansing she would give herself that night.

She came to Dâthos’s temple. The round structure, surrounded in regal pillars, was beautiful, but it gave Vrell a chill. Vendors had set up booths on all sides selling gold, silver, and bronze cups in all shapes and sizes. People plunked down a lot of coins to give temple offerings to gods who were false. Guards stood at the entrance, keeping the peasants, slaves, and strays from entering. Such lowly worshippers left offerings around the outside of the temple instead.

Vrell walked on. She enjoyed the feel of the breeze, but it was not the same as the haunting smells from home. Mahanaim was a port city, and as such it smelled of fish and the rancid saltwater that filled the canals. Vrell bided her time, browsing the carts of merchants selling furs, fabrics, wooden bowls and cups, tools, and weapons.

She paused at the local smith’s workshop and watched from a distance as he pounded red-hot iron into a long shape. She stepped closer, enthralled by the flying sparks.

The smith’s apprentice was a short, husky boy in his early teens. The youth filed another blade. He glanced up through sweaty dark blond hair, meeting Vrell’s gaze with a bored expression before turning back to his work.

Vrell stepped closer. “Do you sell any swords, sir?”