Stonewiser: The Heart of the Stone, page 40
“Why the whispering?” the Prime Hand said. “There are no secrets between allies and friends.”
The Shield inched away from Sariah. “What did the speaker have to say?”
“He wants to see me. More talk. More ranting. More threats. Let's be done with this so that I may go to him. This wiser child will go a long way to appease the situation.”
The witch was staking her claim. Horatio was torn between them.
“Come, child.” The Prime Hand took Mia's arm and, when the child refused, grabbed her with considerable force. Mia roared and bit the mistress's hand. The Prime Hand cuffed her hard on the face. “You rabid little bitch.”
“Stop it!” Sariah gathered Mia in her arms. Mia was shaking, alternating between furious growling and hysterical crying. She had never been hit like that.
Horatio's terse command ended the commotion. “The child will stay with Sariah.”
“But I brought the child to the Guild,” Zaadam protested.
Mia growled. “You said I was going home. You lied.”
“By breaking right, the child belongs to Sariah.”
Meliahs be blessed. Horatio had made the right choice and although Mia would join in the perilous path Sariah followed at the moment, she wouldn't belong to the Guild just yet. She tried to calm the upset child, but a very unsettled Mia escaped from her arms. Sariah had to chase after her.
“You'll regret your decision.” The Prime Hand couldn't contain her indignation.
Zaadam followed the mistress. “What about me?”
“Perhaps the Shield will have use for you in the gate's whorehouse,” a furious mistress spat.
“My prospects. Ruined?” A haunted look overtook Zaadam's face, but her glower fell on Sariah exclusively. “They hate you, you know. The New Blood. Just like I do. We were fine until you came. They know you're a traitor. They won't mind my actions here today. In fact, they might praise me for it.”
It all happened too fast. Zaadam was on her with a knife in her hand. The mistress froze at the door. The Shield was moving too slow. The blade was coming down too fast. Sariah saw her own end, a rotfish claw to the gut.
Mia reared and issued her best bear's roar. A lightless bolt shot out from her palms. The dark flow struck Zaadam, bounced to the Shield's trestle table and then to the mantle, before Mia lost her balance and stumbled backwards on the floor. Zaadam's scream kept coming from her throat even as she lay paralyzed, blackened and smoldering, dying on the floor.
“The goddess spare us!” Mistress Grimly's nails dug in the door's thick wood.
The Shield stood in total disbelief. The blackened table snapped, crumbled and collapsed. The carbonized mantle shattered in three pieces.
“Wow.” Mia's voice crackled like a merry fire. “That felt good.”
FORTY-FIVE
“IS UNCLE KAEL dead?”
“No, Mianina.” Not yet, Sariah felt like saying. She sensed herself sinking into despair. Kael was insensible, hardly breathing anymore, and that he did badly.
“He looks dead.” The girl examined Kael's ashen face. “But he isn't as black as that other woman I made dead.”
Sariah didn't correct Mia. Making dead was a terrible notion, but it sounded better than killing. “You know you can't do that again, Mianina.”
“I know. It's a bad thing. But she lied. And she made me angry. It felt good. In my hands. In my head. In here.” She poked at her chest.
Death didn't belong in her clear eyes, or on her round baby face, surrounded by the freshly washed blond fuzz that was all that remained of her beautiful curls. With her hair razed short, she looked almost as pitiful as a child pledge.
“It makes me angry that those bad, bad people have done this to Uncle Kael.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “I want to do it again.”
“You can't.” Sariah cupped the girl's fists in her hands. “It's dangerous.”
“It's gathering. I can feel it.” Mia's body was shaking with her new power's indignation.
Sariah exchanged worried looks with Malord. “You've got to control it, Mia. Think, what would your Mamma say?”
“She'd say we have to be kind to everybody. But if I weren't listening, you'd say that some people are better made dead.”
Meliahs help her. With the blast, the child seemed to have lost the urges as Sariah knew them and replaced them with the mysterious drive to kill and a good measure of sound wits. How had the child obtained such deadly abilities? Maybe Mia had utilized her incipient sight copyist etching skills and fused those instinctively with some of her breakers’ imbedded traits. Meliahs only knew which of her own foul traits had contributed to Mia's power to kill, but perhaps a remnant of Zemi, an intrusion liable to kill, was responsible for Mia's ability to make dead.
“I've got to do it.” Mia hopped in place. “I have to.”
“We can't make dead people because they make us angry. Do you understand?”
The child nodded, but she was trembling with the effort to restrain herself, and little pustules were breaking out on her palms, oozing something dark and foreboding.
“It's coming.” Mia's eyes rolled wildly. “Can't stop it.”
“Meliahs help us.” Sariah clutched the child's wrists at either side of her body. “Stand back, Malord. Point at the floor, Mianina. Try to keep your arms still. Let it out if you can't hold it anymore.”
Mia curled her fingers, flickered her wrists, and screamed. The dark flow blasted from her palms like steam from a boiling kettle. Sariah held on to Mia. The power roared through the little body like the rot's belch. The heat singed the tip of Sariah's boots and enveloped them in a cloud of hot vapors and smoke.
“Ooooooh.” Mia sighed, relieved. Her body relaxed in Sariah's arms. Two plumes of smoke rose from the scorched floor beneath the girl's palms. “That's better.”
Sariah forced herself to breathe. What kind of creature had she created?
“Are you well?” It was Mia asking. Her innocent face was wrinkled with concern. “Did I do bad again?”
“No, no, Mianina.” Sariah hugged her. “You did good. You had to do what you did, but you didn't hurt anybody and that's good.” Meliahs help her. She missed Torana. She would've known what to say. “We'll have to be a little bit more … careful with the furniture. This could be very dangerous on a deck. But you did good.” Two blackened holes flanked Mia where the smoldering carpet had been burnt to ashes and the stone floor was stained with soot from the blast.
“Maybe I can do it in the fireplace the next time?”
“The next time?” Sariah wiped the sweat from her forehead. “The fireplace is good.”
The door crashed open and the Shield entered the room. “By the dung of Meliahs’ mongrels, what happened here?”
Mia hid behind Sariah's skirts.
“No need to lose your temper.” Sariah motioned for Horatio to keep calm. “It was an accident.”
“Outside,” the Shield barked.
She followed the Shield to the hallway, away from the door and the guards.
Abruptly, he braced his arms at either side of Sariah and trapped her between his body and the wall. “There's a New Blood deck at the gates. They're asking for you.”
Sariah had to think fast. “Those are my wares. I'll go fetch them. I'll take the child too. She can go back to her family.”
“I can't let you do that.”
“It would be smart of you.”
“She'll stay until I'm sure you'll deliver on all of your promises. And you'll make sure she stays away from my warriors. If she uses that foul witchery of hers, she'll be killed and our deal will be off.”
“I can try, but I can't promise.”
“I warn you. Keep that … thing under control.”
“She's not a thing, she's a child. And I don't know how to control her power.”
“Learn fast. She's staying. She scares the wits out of the Prime Hand. I like that.”
“It would be a nice gesture, Horatio.”
He leaned over, until his mouth hovered over hers, waiting. “How nice?” He leaned even closer, tickling her lips with his when he whispered. “Well?”
Would Horatio let Mia go if she acquiesced to his wishes?
“I'll stay with Mia and Kael.” Malord scooted out into the hallway. “You go and meet the deck.”
The intimacy of the moment was thankfully broken. The Shield took a step away from Sariah, and then another. His gray eyes turned to ice.
“I won't leave Kael,” Sariah said. “It won't be long now.”
“The Prime Hand said it could be days,” Malord said.
“He can't stand it much longer.”
“Neither can you,” Malord said. “Go. Get the matter of the stones resolved.” So we can get out of this damn place. He didn't say that aloud, but he was thinking it for sure.
“Thank you, Malord.” The sooner she did this, the sooner she could return to Kael. “Call me if the mixture changes.”
She was walking ahead of the Shield at a quick pace when they met Mistress Grimly coming up the stairs. She was surprised to see the Prime Hand's robe torn at the hem and a smudge of dirt on her face.
“What happened?”
“Arron has declared me a traitor to the Guild. He maintains that at least two Council members support his position. The man fights for more than a broken lease. He won't stand aside and watch me claim the twin stones. He wants that glory for himself.”
“And you don't?”
“Arron feeds his army tales of treason. He tells them that the Shield has made a secret agreement with the New Blood to invade the Goodlands. The fools believe him. They believe him over me.”
It was obvious that Mistress Grimly's authority had not been challenged before. The Prime Hand was as shocked as she was outraged.
“I won't be forcefully deposed, so be prepared, Main Shield. Arron has no right to overcome my mandate. You'll do well to cast your lot with me, Sariah.”
“If Kael lives, and if you deliver on my price, you'll have what I promised,” Sariah said. “Beyond that, I want no involvement with you. In the Guild, one mistress is equal to the next. One master is just as bad as another.”
Sariah left the Prime Hand behind and marched on to the ramparts with a chuckling Shield in tow. The fortress was abuzz with the preparations for war. The guards patrolled the walls with new zest. Their helmets and shields gleamed, impeccably polished. In the bailey, the archers gathered to collect their apportioned arrows from the armory and a host of warriors sharpened their swords and pikes.
“Arron's a bigger fool than I thought. Look at that lot.” Horatio pointed at the camp outside the wall. “They're ignorant peasants armed with sticks and scythes. We'll cut them down like sick dogs.”
“Isn't that the keep's guard over there?” The orderly encampment was set apart from the rest of Arron's chaotic camp. “I understand they are quite good.”
“They're a minority in Arron's force,” the Shield said. “They'll be trampled and scattered by the rest.”
“Are they building catapults?” Sariah's heart sank at the sight of the weapons.
“They're putting them together. Never mind that.” The Shield stopped over the gates facing the Barren Flats. “There's your deck.”
“Are you sure you don't want to release the child?”
“Are you sure you want to follow your present course? It's a pitiful waste of your person.” In all fairness to Horatio Maliver, he didn't give up easily. “You know what I think? Kael is a fortunate New Blood. He might know the location of the seventh pair of twin stones and the place where my son lives, but you care for him.”
It was an outright accusation. He waited for her to deny it. Incredulity flashed in his stare when she didn't. He shook his head. “What are the chances that a filthy New Blood would be graced with a Goodlander's affection, let alone a wiser lover? Meliahs must favor the fortunate bastard.”
“Fortunate?” Sariah had had it. “Fortunate to endure five days strapped to your quartering block? Fortunate to see his father chopped to pieces and his sister blinded? Fortunate, as he is right now, soaking in acid poison in the distant hope of surviving you? Horatio Maliver, you wouldn't know the meaning of good fortune if it dropped in your filthy lap.”
Sariah stormed down the stairs to the gates, glad to be away from the Shield. The last days had demanded supreme efforts from her. She was tired, frustrated and on edge. As if that wasn't enough, now she had to face Metelaus.
Meliahs help her. She needed Metelaus's reproach like she needed a swim with the eels.
Sariah donned the weave she had tossed by the gates a few days before and waded out to Aya's deck. She was glad to see Lazar on the deck, a little pale but on his feet, greeting her with his brilliant smile. Metelaus wasn't so kind.
“Stonewiser Sariah, you defied me,” he said, frowning deeply. “You defiled the ways of the New Blood. You'll be punished.”
“Fine, Metelaus, hang me, cut me, burn me, punish me in whatever way satisfies your honor, but don't delay me now, not when I have Kael wilting in an acid soak, half-dying and insensible and ready to give up from the misery.”
“He lives?” Metelaus's mouth hung open.
“I won't give you false hope. He's very ill. And I have worse news for you. What do you know of Mia lately?”
“That she's with the Treys?”
“She's in there.”
Metelaus jerked back as if he'd been speared in the gut.
“Zaadam stole Mia under the pretense that you sent for her. She brought her to the Prime Hand as an offering. I'm sure you'll get a message to that effect from Torana's kin soon. I can't explain now, but I've managed to keep Mia with me and although she's the Shield's hostage, she's safe for the moment.”
“In there?” Metelaus could hardly speak. “Zaadam?”
“She's dead.” Sariah wasn't about to start explaining to Metelaus the strange power his child had developed. “Pay heed. Things are not going well. The Guild's Council is divided and Arron is besieging the Shield. Be vigilant, and be ready.”
“Why should I believe you?” Metelaus spat. “Why should I listen to you? When you revealed Setti's existence, you broke Ars's trust.”
So that was the worst of it, then. Bad enough even for a stone-hearted witch. Nowhere to go but forward. “I'm sorry for that too, but I'd rather lose trust than lose Kael a thousand times over. If we survive this ordeal, if I succeed in bringing Mia and Kael back to Ars, you're free to judge me as you like. You once told me that in the Domain, a man, or a woman for that matter, is free. Free when she is born, free to select her path, free to choose her death. That's what I did, Metelaus, and I won't apologize for it.”
She turned to Lazar. “Were you able to do all that I asked?”
“Four things you asked of me,” Lazar said. “You asked me to mend, and mend fast. Here I am. You asked for the opportunity to escape Metelaus. That you had. You asked me to send for Aya's deck. Here it is. You asked me to alert Alista that her secret might be revealed and to persuade her to hide and hide well. That I did and Alista and Setti are safe.”
Sariah squeezed his hands. “Thank you.”
“How did you know? Not even I knew about Setti.”
“Kael once told me that the heart knows leagues before the mind knows. I was desperate. Many familiar faces dwelt in the Shield's memory stone and one of them sparked a memory. I recognized the features that a young Horatio Maliver shares with Setti, the square face, the gray eyes. After that, everything else fit.”
Sariah rummaged through the stonewiser's deck, selecting all that she needed. She strapped the case with Aya's hanging on her back. She looked through the stones, picked some, and tossed them in a sack. She added a leather bound sheaf of engrossed vellum to the sack before taking her farewell from Lazar. She lowered herself to the water.
“Don't think to mock me, wiser.” Metelaus managed to recoup from the shock. “I swear. I'll punish you harshly. If you return without my daughter, I'll—”
“Save your anger for the fight, Metelaus. It's coming.”
His tone changed naught, but there was a softening in his eyes. “And when you return to Ars, and you are hereby commanded to return, you'll be obligated to train every suitor with a speckle of wiser-blood in the Domain.”
Sariah took pity on him and flashed him a quick smile. “If we survive, I'll train Mia gladly. Meanwhile, all I can promise you is that I'll protect her with my life.”
Sariah heard the commotion from the bottom of the stairs. Voices, shouts, grunts, screams. She heard the rush that accompanied Mia's flow and smelled the sulfur in the air. She sprinted to the chamber and found chaos unleashed. There were people everywhere. Dark slime splashed on the walls, drenched the carpet and dripped from the ceiling. A blackened corner of the room smoldered and the remains of a stool looked like a pile of dying embers.
“What's happening?” she shouted over the noise.
“The mixture turned,” Malord shouted back, holding a bewildered Mia away from the fray, cupping her little hands and protecting her with his half-body against a soldier's unsheathed sword.
“Back away.” Sariah decked the guard on the head with her sack of stones. He dropped his sword and collapsed on the ground. She hurled her wares to Malord and began to shove the other guards out of her way.
“He has quite the temper,” the Prime Hand was saying. “Now, pull.”
The Shield's guards pulled the ropes they had fastened under Kael's armpits and around his neck and heaved Kael from one tub, where the mixture had turned to iridescent black, to another tub filled with clear water and ice. Weak as he was, Kael fought the ropes. Slippery with black slime, he thrashed like a caught eel. He jerked and kicked and left a good deal of skin and blood on the way as the guards hauled him over the tub and dumped him in the icy water.
“Stop it, you're hurting him!” Sariah cried.
