Baroness of Blood

TWENTY-SIX

As Ilsabet was being received at Lord Ruven's estate, Peto was just getting up from a long nap. The attacks of dizziness over the last few days had vanished, leaving him with a lingering headache. He'd done little through the morning but watch the work on the walls while listening to some of the landowners from the area discussing their methods for raising healthy sheep.

It was hardly the sort of morning he'd spend in Sundell, but these were country people, in touch with the land and its creatures. Besides, all he was required to do was nod from time to time and occasionally add what little he knew about the breeding and feeding of sheep. This gave him plenty of opportunity to watch Lekai sleeping peacefully on his lap.

As soon as Ilsabet had left on her journey, a dark cloud seemed to lift from around the castle. Peto spent more hours with his son, helping the servants bathe the boy, rocking him to sleep. As he did, he sometimes imagined Marishka standing beside them, looking down on them both. Once, her presence seemed so real that tears came to his eyes. This should have been their son; she should have been his wife.

Though it was a cowardly move, he'd decided to go home tomorrow and take his son with him, raising him there, away from the influence of his mother and the barbaric superstitions of Kislova. When the boy was old enough, he could return here and take his mother's place-father and son ruling their lands together.

Peto's bags were already packed. Lekai's things would be assembled quickly just before they left so there would be no chance that Ilsabet would be alerted to what he intended to do.

But he could not go without leaving some sort of explanation. Reluctantly, he handed his son to his nursemaid and went inside, where he took out quill, ink, and paper. He thought for some time before picking up the quill and beginning: Dearest Ilsabet,

It is difficult to tell you why I am leaving with our son. There are many reasons; hopefully not all of them valid. The first is political. There cannot be two rulers in the same land. Now that I am here, it seems all the nobles come to me for advice and aid, and because I am used to ruling, I let them. This is hardly what you or I planned. I want you to rule this land until our son is able to do so, and you can rule it only alone.

The second reason stems from fear. Too many people have died in this castle, and there are rumors of plague. I will not subject our son to it.

The third is personal, and the problem may be entirely mine. I have tried but I cannot lay my suspicions to rest. Lord Jorani tells me… An attack of nausea and dizziness more terrible than before made him shudder and drop the quill. He tipped over the inkwell. As he tried to stand, his knees gave way, and he fell, heaving on the floor like a sick child.

"Gidden!" he called, amazed how soft his voice was.

Lieutenant Shaul had just been coming to see the baron when he heard the weak cry. He and Qidden pulled Peto to his feet and laid him in his bed. While Shaul saw to the baron, Gidden turned his attention to the mess. The floor could wait. The ink, however, had spread on the desk and ruined the baron's letter. Gidden pulled the quill out of the small puddle and began to clean it off. As he did, he felt faint, and sat down quickly in Peto's chair, his hands gripping the carved arms as he tried to keep his body from shaking.

"You're almost as sick as the baron," Shaul said, frowning. "Baron, what should I do?" he asked.

"Lord Jorani… send for him," Peto replied.

"Stand guard," Shaul said to the soldiers outside.

He ran up the tower stairs, then pounded on Jorani's locked door for some time before Jorani opened it. The room was well lit, and Jorani's clothes smelled of lamp oil but Shaul had little time to wonder what the man had been doing. He explained about the attack. Even before he finished, Jorani was rushing down the winding stairs so quickly that Shaul had difficulty keeping up.

In the short time Shaul had been gone, the baron had gotten much worse. His eyes were shut, his breathing labored. Gidden had recovered a bit and was bathing the baron's head with cool water. Shaul moved the servant back to the chair so Jorani could sit close to the baron.

"Tell me what happened," Jorani said.

Peto took a long time to reply. When he did, his voice was weak, his words disjointed. The story was clear enough that when he'd finished, Jorani walked to the desk and studied it a moment. "Take that basin and fill it with hot water. Bring a washrag and some soap," he said to Shaul.

Shaul rushed to obey but as he waited for the basin to fill, he stayed close to the door, watching what went on in the baron's chamber.

Jorani crouched beside Gidden, questioning him in a soft tone. As he did, he stared at the quill, which he finally picked up by the tip, wrapped in a piece of parchment, and placed in his pocket. The fact that he'd waited until Shaul was gone made Shaul suspicious. When he returned with the basin, Jorani bathed the hands of master and servant, then washed Peto's face as well.

"I'll return in a moment with something to make them both feel better," Jorani said.

"Should I send word to the healer?" Shaul asked.

"No… not yet. Stay with your master."

Shaul ignored the orders. After whispering his plans to the baron, he followed Jorani to his chambers.

The tower door was closed, but not bolted. Though Shaul had seen Jorani go up the narrow stairs, he wasn't in his tower room. The hawks screeched a warning but Shaul ignored them. He looked for another door from the room, then saw that the carpet was turned under at one corner. He tried to lift the heavy rug, but it was attached to the floor. He pulled, and the trapdoor opened just as Jorani was coming up the narrow stairs.

"What's down there?" Shaul questioned.

"Nothing that concerns you," Jorani replied. "Now move out of my way. We have to hurry if we're going to save the baron."

"Or kill him," Shaul retorted, looking past Jorani to the books just visible in the dim light, the vials, the scales and oil burner on the table. "You apparently have the means to do it."

"I didn't touch your master."

"Of course not, you didn't have to. Now give me the baron's quill."

"I need it to identify the poison," Jorani said.

"You don't leave this room until I have it," Shaul retorted.

Jorani handed it over. "Now stand aside," he said.

Shaul did. "He'd best make a full recovery," he said as he followed Jorani to the baron's room.

In the time they'd been gone, Gidden died. He lay with his hands still gripping the chair arms, his head in the ink puddle. Peto's condition had worsened. Now barely conscious, he lay with his eyes half open, his breathing labored. Jorani opened a vial of some wicked-smelling liquid and passed it under the baron's nose. Peto's eyes watered. He coughed and tried to speak.

"I'm going to give you something to drink," Jorani said. "Try to swallow it all."

"W-What?" Peto managed to say.

"It will help you fight off whatever's killing you."

"Whatever poison," Shaul added, his hand on the hilt of his sword. If the baron hadn't asked for Jorani's help, Shaul would have already dispensed the justice the man deserved.

"He's most likely right, but until I know for certain, I just want to keep you alive." Jorani poured a spoonful from a second vial. It smelled just as disgusting as the first. Nonetheless, the baron managed to swallow a bit, cough, take more.

Some color returned to Peto's face, but that was all. As Shaul watched hopefully, Jorani gave him another spoonful of the elixir. Again, Peto coughed and tried to speak. The exertion seemed to wear him out, and his eyes closed. Though Jorani called him, Peto did not respond.

The little bottle was still half full. "Give him more," Peto said.

"I can't. Too much will kill him."

"Then I will," Shaul declared. He reached for the bottle, but Jorani flung it across the room. It broke on the hearth, the liquid soaking quickly into the porous rocks.

"You'll regret this," Shau! said and called to the guard outside. "Take Lord Jorani to the dungeons. Make sure he's shackled and guarded."

"You can't to this," Jorani said.

"I can, and you'll stay there until the baron recovers, or Baroness Ilsabet orders your release."

"You're sending word to her?"

Shaul couldn't tell if Jorani was surprised or relieved. "Of course. She's the baron's wife, and ruler of this land. I'll send a message immediately."

"If she isn't at the Seer's cave, try Ruven's estate," Jorani suggested. He moved closer to Shaul and whispered, "And, Lieutenant, I suggest you keep what you've learned a secret. My room is protected. Anyone who enters there without my leave will die."

"I'll make sure no one goes there," Shaul replied.

"I hope so," Jorani said, then led the way down the stairs, the guards behind him.

Jorani sat in his cell, it and all the dank spaces around it so familiar to him. Though his feet were shackled to the wall, he could have easily picked the lock and fled through the passage, but not as long as one of the Sundell guards sat outside watching his every move.

There were no tricks he dared try, nothing he could do but hope Ilsabet came home soon.

Ilsabet was dining with Lord Ruven and his wife, Lady Alasyn, when the messenger arrived from Nimbus Castle. Ilsabet had expected to receive word of Peto's tragic attack, but hardly so soon, so her shock was more real than contrived. How could she have judged the potency of her poison so badly? Had Peto some habit of brushing the quill against his lips? She'd watched him work; he'd given no sign of it.

Her face grew pale. She seemed ready to faint as she handed the letter over to Ruven. To his credit, Ruven gave no hint of what he'd read. Instead, he ordered the servants to leave them, then shared the note to his wife.

Alasyn read it, then took Ilsabet's hand.

"Peto poisoned… and Lord Jorani imprisoned. No, I can't believe he's guilty. I have to go immediately and get to the bottom of this," Ilsabet said. She tried to stand but lost her footing and fell back into her chair.

"Not today, I think," Alasyn said. "Perhaps tomorrow. You can hardly travel in a state of shock. Now come. I'll help you to your room."

"I'll go this afternoon if I can use your coach and team. I'll travel through the night. The moon's going to be nearly full."

"Are you sure? You've had a shock," Alasyn said.

"Peto is ruler of two lands and there is no one to act in his place. I have to go."

As Ilsabet expected, the reminder was perfect. While she rested, Ruven arranged everything.

Night came. The moon rose. A single shaft of silver fell through a crack in the old tower wall of Nimbus Castle. The cold light touched the hanging globe that held the spider. The creature had Iain in its web for years, eating every day, thanks to its keeper's diligence. Now, after three days with no food, it was hungry. Old memories of hunts revived it. It unfolded its legs and traveled through the thick matted webbing, moving like an invalid at first, gaining strength by the time it reached the lip of the globe. It paused there as if sniffing the currents of air, let out a thin line of deadly thread, and began its descent to the damp floor.

A roach, big enough to crush the spider's delicate body, ran into the web. An instant later, it lay paralyzed while the spider crawled atop of it. Seeking the soft spot on the roach's stomach, it began to feast.