Voice of the Lost

CHAPTER EIGHT

The woman was perhaps forty. She stood very upright in the centre of the room, arms folded. The room was obviously a cell, despite its luxuries, but the woman’s stance was as imperious as an Empress in her throne room.

After a pause, Cor-Ibis said: "Princess Sendel?"

"As you see, Keridahl," the woman replied, coldly. She surveyed their small band, eyes disdainful in a thoroughly Decian face: bronze skin, high cheekbones and a hawk nose. Her composure was formidable, though it cracked when she discovered Islantar at Ileaha’s elbow. She eyed the boy in surprise, then turned back to Cor-Ibis. "This is not a counter strike."

"Not precisely, Highness," Cor-Ibis replied, ever-courteous. "Your brother’s forces were defeated, and he struck at us with a gate as he fled, transporting us here. We have eluded capture, thus far."

"Have you indeed?" The princess strode out of the cell and looked around impatiently, unperturbed by the corpse which lay on the floor. "A quick and decisive battle, it must have been. Well, you need not fear that I will raise the alarm. I objected to Xarus' latest scheme, and rightly so, it sounds to me. He saw fit to confine me here. Expanding Decia’s borders is one thing; throwing everything into a fool’s obsession with the past is another. How many Decian born did he waste against Athere’s walls?"

"There were very few survivors," Cor-Ibis replied.

"And he has slunk back to lick his wounds? Your abduction would be, what, an attempt at revenge or a clutch for bargaining chips?" The princess did not hide her disgust. "Defeat is not a thing Xarus has ever been able to accept. He will not treat you kindly if you are captured."

"No." Cor-Ibis glanced at Ileaha, indicating that she should check the other rooms. "Three of our party have been captured, and we must continue to seek them out. Please accept our protection, if you wish it."

Princess Sendel looked amused. "You may accept mine, Keridahl. There are those still loyal to me in Falcon Black, and I have no interest in prolonging hostilities with Palladium."

As Cor-Ibis negotiated polite obligation with the princess, Kel ar Haedrin opened another of the rooms off the corridor, revealing a Decian youth of about sixteen. His fine tailoring was crumpled, and he eyed the small band of Ibisians with disbelief. One hand strayed to his side, instinctively seeking an absent sword, but Princess Sendel forestalled any confrontation, turning from Cor-Ibis to eye the young man disdainfully.

"You, here?" she asked. "What became of your ambition to stride through the ashes of Athere?"

The youth glanced at Ileaha’s bared sword, held far too close for any enemy’s comfort. A shift of his coppery features revealed a distinct resemblance to Princess Sendel. Her son, Medair guessed.

"It remains," he said, with grim resolve. "I will see the rightful heir on the Silver Throne."

"Yet you are here," the princess repeated.

"My heart might be with my uncle’s cause, Madam, but my duty lies with you," said the youth. "I could not fight at his side while he had you imprisoned."

"Vastly pretty," said Princess Sendel, contemptuously. "Fortune favours you, Thessan. This affecting sentiment appears to have saved your life."

"There is no-one else here, Keridahl," Kel ar Haedrin said in an undertone, as Thessan stared at the princess.

"What do you mean?" he demanded. "Where is the King?"

"Would that I knew." Princess Sendel gathered up her skirts, out of the path of the thin line of blood advancing from the guard’s body. "We will find him, shall we? And ask of his war, of his splendid victories?"

"Princess, we must search for our companions," Cor-Ibis said, ignoring the exchange. "Can you suggest where they might be held?"

"The cliff cells, most likely," Princess Sendel said, earning a scandalised look from her son.

"Mother, you can’t aid the enemy!" he said, shifting uneasily between Ileaha and Kel ar Haedrin. His gaze settled on Cor-Ibis. "Why are you here, White Snake?" he spat. "Have you run from Decia’s soldiers to try and strike at Falcon Black?"

"At this moment, I seek only three of my own," Cor-Ibis said, mildly. "Ileaha, if you would be so good?"

Obediently, Ileaha gripped Thessan’s arm and propelled him firmly back toward the cell.

"Wait!" he protested. "At least tell me how the battle progresses! Have Athere’s walls been breached yet?"

"No." Medair spoke quietly. "The war is over, the battle lost. Athere stands. I sounded the Horn of Farak and Decia no longer has an army."

Thessan flinched, incredulity warring with fury as he stared at her. Then he surged forward and spat. Moisture flecked Medair’s cheek even as Ileaha quickly pulled him back, then closed and locked the door.

"Medair– " Ileaha began, but Medair shook her head.

"That is something I cannot hide from," she said, wiping her face with tired deliberation. She could feel Cor-Ibis at her back, not touching her, but close by. "My choice cost their lives."

"Medair an Rynstar." Princess Sendel eyed Medair with lively interest, but not the hatred displayed by her son. "None of the tales of your rebirth suggested you would side with the Ibisians."

"With Palladium," Medair corrected. She was slowly finding it easier to accept that decision, or futile to continue to argue against herself, since it was beyond her power to change. Her Emperor had not given her absolution, had not provided the certainty of right and wrong, but hind-sight was offering her no better choice, much as she would be hated for it. She turned slightly, so that she could see Cor-Ibis' expressionless face. "I could not watch Athere fall."

"You should find Xarus' protégé, the one he thinks belongs on Palladium’s throne," the princess said. Dark Decian eyes studied Medair. "But perhaps that issue is dead, now."

"Perhaps," Medair said. Killing the supposed descendant of her Emperor, rightful heir or not, was another thing she could not think too hard on, until it was time to face it.

There was little of subterfuge in Princess Sendel’s progress. She marched off down the corridor and collared the first person she encountered, a man whose arms were full of silver candlesticks. He seemed more afraid of Sendel than the Ibisians cautiously following the princess.

"Where is my brother?" the princess asked, as the man dropped most of the candlesticks on the floor. He gulped, looked left and right, then said weakly: "The King is dead."

Princess Sendel received the news with no sign of grief or pleasure. "Are you certain?" she asked, stepping forward to further overwhelm the man.

"Yes, Highness." The man licked his lips, eyes darting to Ileaha’s bared sword. "Commander Vorclase received a wend-whisper, not a decem ago. The message said that everyone was dead, that the King was dead, the entire army. Everyone."

"Vorclase?"

"H-he said we were to carry out the King’s standing orders," the man said, eyes dropping to the pile of candlesticks in a manner which suggested they had nothing to do with anyone’s orders. Sendel didn’t seem to notice.

"The Four spare me from loyal men," she said, and turned to Cor-Ibis. "This changes matters, somewhat."

"Yes. Your Majesty."

Islantar spoke before Cor-Ibis could say more.

"If King Xarus died on the battlefield," the Kierash said. "Who summoned the gate which brought us here?"

Estarion had no issue, which meant Sendel was now Queen. She made short work of taking control, simply commandeering everyone they encountered. No-one resisted, despite her Ibisian escort. Vorclase had apparently vanished after passing on the news, failing to leave anyone in command. Sendel rolled over the few remaining castle inhabitants as inexorably as the Conflagration.

Abruptly, in the middle of ordering a search for Vorclase, Sendel stopped and turned to Cor-Ibis. "We had best see about these friends of yours," she said. "It occurs to me that Xarus' standing orders for the treatment of captives may not be benefiting them."

By this time, she had collected quite an entourage, but still led them personally, back down the stairs, passing the door they had used to enter Falcon Black. The guard Ileaha had overcome was probably still behind it. They entered the barracks without opposition, ignored the half-constructed shell of the silver giant and strode through empty rooms.

The cliff cells were precisely that: tiny chambers chipped into stone, high up one side of the rock the castle stood upon. They were rough and cramped, and a cold wind gusted through the crude barred windows. There was not even room for pallets, and their occupants were sitting with their knees up against their chins and their hands in blockish manacles. Only the Mersian Herald and the other kaschen. Avahn was not there.

"Keridahl." Herald N’Taive looked worn and hungry, but otherwise unaffected by her capture. She quickly took in the sight of Ileaha and Kel ar Haedrin still armed amidst the Decian escort, then bowed her head politely to Sendel. "They took Kerin Avahn through there," she said, indicating a solid door at the end of the row of cells.

The new Queen looked at Cor-Ibis. "Kerin Avahn? You seem over-burdened by heirs on this venture, Keridahl." She gestured to one of her followers to free the Herald and the kaschen, and another to open the end door. "My brother called this the steeping room," the Queen continued, and her eyes were grim. "I will give you this comfort, Keridahl. Xarus required them alive for the next stage of this process."

After such encouraging words, Medair could only stare toward the room in horror. Cor-Ibis and Ileaha had both moved quickly forward and disappeared beyond, and Medair followed as if on leading-strings.

It smelled of herbs, and a fresh, strong breeze gusted in through the windows. The room was full of benches and sinks, vats and glassware. Avahn was in the centre, shut within a box formed entirely of glass. He was naked, unconscious, and almost completely submerged in a virulent blue gel. Only his face unsubmerged, his head supported by a small block beneath his neck.

"Open it." Ileaha’s voice cracked with horror. Not waiting for help, she tried to wrench the lid off the box and it shifted slightly, obviously heavy. A wave of odour escaped into the room. More herbs, with an acrid underlay which burnt the nose. Cor-Ibis came to Ileaha’s aid and together they lifted the lid away, and lowered it to one side. The scent immediately thickened and Medair’s eyes filled with tears, as if she were cutting onions. She tried to breathe shallowly, imagining what it must be like for Avahn, completely immersed in the noxious stuff.

"Find my brother’s assistants," the Queen ordered, sending a few of her entourage scuttling. "And fetch water." Her nose wrinkled in distaste. "Xarus kept a few close to help him with his experiments. They may know how to undo this."

"This is not an enchantment," Cor-Ibis said, touching Avahn’s forehead carefully. "Some kind of drug?"

Ileaha, her face pinched, simply hauled Avahn out of the box and deposited him on one of the benches. She began to cough, her eyes streaming, and turned away to gasp for air. "Some kind of poison." She was liberally smeared with the blue gel.

Against the background of Sendel’s no-nonsense commands, Ileaha, Medair and Cor-Ibis rubbed Avahn clean and sluiced him off. He did not so much as stir. He was breathing, if shallowly, but his temperature was high and he quickly began to stream with sweat. Even from her brief unshielded exposure Ileaha found that she could no longer feel her hands and felt nauseated, but she did not seem to sicken further. Estarion’s assistants could not be found.

"They will be located," Queen Sendel said, standing in the doorway as Kel ar Haedrin and one of the kaschen replaced the glass lid in the hopes of cutting down the fumes. "Vorclase, too, will be fetched back. Our doctors may be able to do something, if any escaped conscription. Until then–" She shook her head. "I have much to do. Accept my hospitality, Keridahl, and when there is less confusion, we will treat for Decia’s future."

Cor-Ibis hesitated, and Medair guessed that he was not happy to have Islantar guesting in Decian territory, even at such a juncture.

"You doubt?" Sendel asked, not surprised. "We have no army. Our allies gave as many men as they could spare. To threaten you, let alone your collection of heirs, would only invite retribution, and no kidnap plot could rescue us from that. At this point Keridahl, to save Decia from Palladian retaliation, I would happily accept truth spell or even geas. You will not take harm from me, and I will take every measure I can to ensure that my word is kept by those I command."

There was a short pause, then Cor-Ibis nodded. "We will come to some arrangement," he said.

Sendel did not seem offended. "Wise of you."

"We must discover who brought us here," Cor-Ibis continued. "The question of what created those gates is of highest importance. I am uneasy."

"More searching," Sendel said, not visibly impressed. "We will turn out the caves beneath the castle, if it seems necessary. But first, let us break bread, and gather our strength."