Prisoner (20 page)

"Because I am trying to make sense of the stupidity that seems to run rampant in Kria. A king should not hate his generals, nor the generals their king. It does not make for a peaceful country. Salharan generals are regarded as heroes." In truth they were puppets, but the common people didn't know that. The Seven Star weren't that stupid: countries needed heroes.

Burkhard turned away and resumed walking. "If you insist on regarding us as stupid, I have nothing to say to you." Beraht muttered under his breath in Salharan, but otherwise kept his thoughts to himself—for the moment, anyway.

Iah woke up muffling a cry. It had become reflexive. He reached up to touch the bandages covering his face and shuddered. Would the nightmares ever stop? He didn't know which was worse: the dreams of happier times when he could see, or reliving the moment when his eyes had been ripped out.

He'd screamed and screamed. Most of the journey after that was nothing, but a jumbled recollection of sounds and smells. Nothing had ever been so terrifying, not even his first battle. After that he had not slept more than a handful of hours in a week.

The room was chilly. The fire had likely died to embers. Iah huddled back down under the blankets and wished he could go back to sleep.

Back home, he'd always gotten up and read by candlelight, or gone for a walk. Occasionally, Esta would have the same problem, and they would sneak down to the kitchen to raid it for sweets and, still in their night clothes, sit in the library reading aloud to each other.

He buried his face in the pillow. What would he do now? Lay and torment himself with waking nightmares? Torture himself with memories? He would never see again. Why could his mind not accept that?

Something touched his shoulder, and Iah jumped. "What's wrong?" Sol asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

Iah tensed and shrugged the hand away as he sat up. This was not the time to be taken in by that summer-breeze voice. He'd just do or say something stupid. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Nightmares?" Sol asked, ever patient. Only with Tawn did he ever seem to lose his tireless calm. Iah nodded and hoped Sol couldn't see it in the dark. The hand touched his shoulder again. "They will fade with time."

"I hope so." The words slipped out before he could catch them.

Cold air bit his skin as the mattress and blankets shifted, and he heard Sol climb out of bed and move around the room. "Where are you going?"

"Would you like to go for a walk?" Sol asked. "I've been meaning to show you around the palace. We're awake; we may as well do it. It will also be a good opportunity for me to determine the best way for us to accidentally encounter von Adolwulf and Beraht. I have a few ideas, but it's hard to test their merits during the day."

Iah laughed softly. "Does your mind ever stop working?"

"No," Sol said with a sigh. "It's the only reason I'm still alive."

Somehow Iah doubted that. He'd heard the women as they'd traveled. Though the picture was not as clear as he would have liked, Iah remembered a handsome man. Not by Illussor standards, which favored a softer, more elegant appearance, but for a Salharan, Iah had thought he wasn't bad.

He'd had silver hair and unnatural gold eyes made brighter by the gray Salharan uniform. Before they'd been dragged into the fight, Iah remembered thinking Sol had a vaguely melancholy air.

Iah wondered what he would have done if he had encountered him in direct combat and been struck by that voice like a summer breeze. Most likely he would have been dead. There was no doubt in his mind that voice was a large part of Sol's success and survival. "Why not? Though we will have a hard time explaining our midnight traipsing should we come across anyone else."

Sol gave an amused snort. "I think not. The favored sport of winter is bedroom switching. Believe me, no one wants to admit to seeing anyone because no one wishes to be seen."

"I see," Iah said and laughed. "Then by all means, let us go for a walk." Though he still hoped they encountered no one. His Krian had come a long way since his first lessons, but he still would not fool a native unless he could convince them he was dimwitted. Which likely wouldn't be hard, unfortunately; he felt all too dimwitted most days.

He slid out of the bed, shivering, and climbed quickly into the tunic and shirt he'd stripped off before going to sleep. His boots were next, and he combed absently through his sleep-mussed hair.

"Come," Sol said softly, tucking Iah's hand into his elbow. He led the way slowly, allowing Iah to count paces and indicating turns and other changes as they went. His mind reeled with the new information, but Iah stowed it fiercely away. Should something go wrong, he would have to know his way as much as possible. He did not want to dwell on what the worst could be.

They walked on, and the near-perfect silence of the palace was eerie. Even trapped in his room all day, Iah heard thousands of sounds, and there were at least as many smells. Steel, blood, sweat, so many different foods, snow and ice, fire and smoke.

Now they all seemed dulled, and he could hear hardly a sound. Perhaps it was not a good night for people to be about. His head jerked up as he caught a whisper of sound. "What was that?" he said, slowing to a halt.

"What was what?" Sol asked.

"I heard something," Iah said and reflexively turned to follow the sound.

Sol pulled him back. "Wall," he said. Iah felt his cheeks heat and ducked his head. "This way," Sol said calmly. "Three paces from the last turn. Two doors: the left leads to the north wing, and the right leads to the practice yards."

"Right," Iah said.

Sol led the way right. "You're right," he said a moment later. "I can hear it too now. Someone is in the yard." They continued walking. The smells of sweat and dirt, laced with the tang of blood and metal grew stronger. It was the smell of a great many people, though Iah could hear there was only one at the moment.

Lips brushed his ear. "Von Adolwulf," Sol breathed. "Be quiet." Iah nodded and pulled away so that Sol did not feel him shiver. He strained to hear the man in the courtyard below, but he heard only the rush of a sword cutting air and boots on hard-packed dirt.

The Wolf himself. Iah shook his head. His waking world was stranger than any dream.

Sol tugged at his hand, pulling him away and back to the main hallway. "Come," Sol said. "If he is here—" A trace of excitement laced his ever-calm voice.

"You want to go to his room," Iah said. "Is that a good idea?"

"It is an opportunity we cannot ignore. Come, cousin." He could hear the laughter as Sol said the last.

"Yes, cousin." Iah replied. Sol laughed softly and increased their pace as he led the way through what seemed a maze of hallways and rooms. His hand was warm and rough with calluses. Iah held tight.

"Here we are," Sol said several minutes later. "Unless von Adolwulf has moved recently, which I doubt."

Iah felt his heart speed up as a familiar ache spread through his mind. Like the pain that came when a numb limb began to regain feeling, it was a sharp, stinging tingle in his mind. He could still do it. It almost made him want to sob with relief. His feet moved before his mind could catch up, hands coming up to meet the door that blocked his way and kept him from the Breaker on the other side of it. He turned his head toward where he could hear Sol. "
It's him
," he whispered, then realized he'd spoken Illussor.

Sol nodded and spoke Krian. "Good. Let's go." They turned to leave, but Sol faltered to a stop. Iah felt and heard it as Sol was yanked away, heard his muffled cry of pain.

"Well, well." The Wolf's voice was deep and rough. Cold like a winter breeze through the last of autumn's leaves. "What have we here?"

"Lord General," Sol said desperately in Krian, "I apologize for disturbing you."

"Save it,"
Dieter replied. "
Tell me what you're doing
." Iah froze—the Wolf was speaking in Illussor.
Fluent
Illussor. Dieter laughed.
"I do believe I've caught a couple of spies."

Iah heard Sol hit the ground with a pained grunt. He tried to back away as heavy footsteps approached him. Then he was all but lifted into the air and shoved into a wall. Iah swore. He wasn't even going to try to speak.
"You're Illussor,"
Dieter said. Iah began to twist and fight as fingers began to rip away the bandages. Dieter slammed him against the wall again. Iah's head cracked against stone, and he held still.

"Tits of the Winter Princess—" Dieter said, slipping back into Krian, and let him go. "Who did this?"

Iah did not reply. He started to shake as the cold air struck where his eyes had once been.

"A Salharan," Sol said. Dieter threw Iah aside. He landed hard on top of Sol, who wrapped a steadying arm around Iah's shoulders as he tried maneuvering them from the floor. But Sol was yanked away again.

"You're not fooling anyone,"
Dieter said, this time speaking Salharan.
"Next time you choose to take a midnight stroll, make certain the arcen is well and truly gone from your polluted body. Your eyes hold a shine."
 Iah heard as Dieter threw Sol back down, wincing in sympathy.
"Stay away from my room, or you will find yourself where you do not want to be."

Sol picked them up off the floor.
"You're not—"

"What do I care?"
Dieter said. "
Do not touch what is mine. Now go, or I will cease to be tolerant."

Iah heard him vanish into his room then tugged hard at Sol's sleeve. "Let's go," he said in Krian.

"Yes," Sol agreed. He had the tone to his voice, like summer dampened by the first winds of autumn, that meant his mind was racing to adjust his schemes to account for the incident. They were back in their room within minutes, with no time spared for Iah to learn the way. "That was not expected." He sounded angry. "I was certain he had not heard or seen us."

Iah shrugged. "I told you we should not have done it."

"Yes," Sol conceded, "but I'm more troubled by his reaction."

Iah dropped his boots, which hit the floor with soft thumps. He bent to arrange them for the morning and stripped off his tunic and shirt. In undershirt and breeches, he counted paces to the desk and sat. From a drawer he pulled out fresh bandages.

Muttering to himself, Sol approached and took over the task of rewrapping Iah's eyes. "I am sorry."

"There is no need," Iah replied, though he did not relish that ever happening again. It had felt as though he'd been laid bare for all to see. He stood and climbed into bed, crawling to his side. Sleep now did not seem such elusive prey. "Sleep," he told Sol. "Fret about it in the morning."

Sol sighed. "You're right. I still cannot believe—" he descended into muttering as he readied for bed and slid under the blankets next to Iah. "I hope I did not just ruin our mission."

"I guess we'll see in the morning," Iah said peaceably. "Nothing we can do now unless you want to go and try to kill the Wolf."

"Forget it," Sol said. "He is about my age and not so much taller, and I am no featherweight, but he threw me around like a dog with a rabbit in its jaws. I do not envy Beraht his proximity." Iah felt him shift, and fingers touched his hand where it was curled into his pillow. "I apologize for quite possibly ruining everything."

Iah turned his hand to grasp Sol's. "You didn't. And even if you did, I'm sure you'll think of a way to fix it come morning. Trust the Goddess, or your stars. And thank you for taking me for a walk." With that, he withdrew his fingers and turned over, heart knocking against his ribs. "Good night," he whispered, asleep even as Sol replied.

*~*~*

Sol watched the sunrise. All night he'd been awake, and not a single solution had presented itself. Nor had sleep. He'd let eagerness get the better of him, and that single slip had ruined everything. How long before someone came for them?

Why in the stars' names had he never known the general was fluent in three languages? Sol let his head drop to thud against the stone of the window. He thought back through everything he'd observed during his winters in Kria or during the rare encounter on the battlefield. Nowhere could he find a missed indication that Dieter spoke anything more than Krian. It was known he had a handful of translators for Illussor and Salharan each.

It was no damn wonder the man infuriated everyone.

Why hadn't Dieter killed them? Sol lifted his head again. He was currently suspended. His trial was up before the court in another day or so. If he was fortunate, he would be cleared of all charges and reinstated. If not, he would be executed.

Sol frowned at the rising run. If the Kaiser really hated Dieter as much as it was said, then would he use this as a chance to kill him? Why not have simply killed him sooner? Sol's hands clenched into fists. What was he missing? There was something—

He just could not figure out what. The Scarlet General was easily the best of the four. If the people didn't fear falling beneath the Kaiser's wrath, Sol did not doubt Dieter would be extremely popular. He was a skilled soldier and a successful, seasoned general at only thirty-six. Even with the blemish from letting his men die so carelessly in an ambush, he was far superior to the older generals who had gone stale in their stations.