“Maybe.” But we had no conflict with Perest-Avana that would seem to justify a twenty year espionage. And though I didn’t say it, on a personal level I had seen the reverence with which Marco spoke about Warrior-Guilder Aven. His loyalty to her, and the debt he felt he owed her for giving him a home and a place here, seemed absolute. I would have said he loved Sjona more fiercely than many native to it. But, again, I could not trust my impressions of people’s loyalties.
I left Eliska, turning over the facts in my head as I walked.
I wanted to watch both Marco and Eliska but realized, my feet turning leaden, that I would need help to follow them both. And I couldn’t ask Hadrea to do me a favor, after this morning. I still didn’t know which of Tain’s servants were trustworthy, even if I were willing to endanger an innocent party by setting them to watch a murderer who now knew we were searching for them. Of course, some of them would at least need to believe he was dead and that we had to maintain the ruse of his health. That he was alive but incapacitated would have to be kept from them all.
I couldn’t sleep at my own apartments and check regularly on Tain, nor did I relish the prospect of being there without my uncle and sister. The thought of facing Hadrea, being confronted by her anger and hurt and my own shame and guilt, tightened the ball of stress inside me even more.
But only Salvea waited in Tain’s rooms, head bent over the restless sleeping Chancellor. She told me Hadrea had taken Davi to bed, her tone without rancor; clearly her daughter had not shared our altercation.
“The Chancellor’s hallucinations are growing worse, but that may be because he is growing stronger,” she told me as she stood and stretched. “His thrashing is more powerful and his voice louder.”
I thanked her and took her seat. “Go and get some sleep,” I said.
She kissed me on the forehead as she left, a Darfri gesture notable for its rare intimacy, and her kindness and affection only made me feel a fraud. Just find the traitor, I told myself, dragging some cushions in from the sitting room and constructing a rough pallet on the floor. Then it won’t matter anymore. Nothing will matter anymore.
With that reassuring thought, I lay down to rest.
Though my body craved it, my mind avoided sleep. I forced my eyes shut while my brain chased itself in ever-painful circles. Images tumbled through my head, still the worst being Kalina’s head in a bag, so real I could almost feel the texture of the material, the blood dripping through its base. I counted in sets, trying to use the patterns to disrupt the loop of bad thoughts. But it was no good; something about the images tickled my brain, as though it danced on the edge of a memory. Had I missed some clue, some part of the puzzle? I didn’t know what could be found in a head in a bag except trauma and a reminder that both sides of this war were capable of atrocities. Maybe it was just another sign that I would lose my control and purpose without my family. After all, I reminded myself, poking at the wound like a fool, I was alone in the world now.
After a while it grew too much and I was forced to stand and pace, counting steps and squeezes of my hands and breaths to calm down. Eventually, my head quieted and my body won the war, first causing me to stumble and then to collapse on the pallet. I fell at an awkward angle but couldn’t summon the energy to shift. At last, I slept.
Atrapis
DESCRIPTION: Dull green herb with small yellow flowers and fine black seeds, very common. All parts, especially seeds and flowers, are poisonous in large doses. Useful as a blood-borne antidote to poisons that slow heart rate (such as bluehood), and in surgery to decrease salivation. Formerly used as a recreational drug.
SYMPTOMS: Blurred vision, loss of balance, dilated pupils, reaction to light, dry mouth, and potentially extreme confusion, dissociative hallucinations, and excitation, especially among the elderly.
PROOFING CUES: Has biting, crisp taste and noticeably dries mouth. Smell is sharp and tart.
22
Kalina
The harsh cry of a firebird jolted me awake. I blinked up at the sky, catching a glimpse of the scarlet underwing of the big bird of prey as it wheeled overhead, suddenly conscious of the dozens of things that should have kept me awake and hadn’t: the rickety, jolting passage of the cart in which I rode, my head lolling at an awkward angle, the brightness of the sky.
My left side prickled painfully as I straightened. It took a moment to orient myself and realize the oku had continued to plod on down the road as I’d slept. The cart had only been intended as a chance to rest my legs and lungs so I could continue on foot again, but apparently the stress of the night had beaten my resolve.
Ravenous, I fumbled in my pack for supplies and extracted some fish jerky. Not for the first time, I cursed myself for the meager quantities in my pack. My foraging attempts had made plain that while I had an excellent understanding of which plants not to eat, I had none concerning those that were safe, let alone pleasant. Jovan doubtless had memorized entire books on native plants and would probably be able to make a sumptuous meal from roots and moss. I almost smiled, but the thought of my brother was too painful. What had he thought when he’d found my letter? He’d think I’m dead. His whole family and his best friend, all dead.
Shaking my head, I distracted myself from melodramatic dwelling by trying to determine our location. The sun was low and the homogeneous scenery gave me no clue how far we’d traveled. I pulled up the beast and climbed out, leading it off the road. The wheels caught quickly in gnarled plants and, despite my tugging, it was soon apparent my new friend would be no good off-road.
Panting, resting my forearms on the placid animal, I looked back at the road and then at the difficult path over the wilds. The choice knotted my stomach. I’d make better time and could preserve my energy with the wagon, but it would mean trusting my safety to the road.
“I’m sorry, girl,” I said to the oku. “You’ll have to find your own way home.” I patted the beast and then, breathing deeply, set off across the hills.
Dumbcane
DESCRIPTION: Species of giant grass with strong, supple canes suitable for drying for building material. Grows rows of fine, clear, needle-shaped crystals, which are poisonous on piercing the skin. Crushed crystals removed from cane in production are poisonous if ingested (not soluble).
SYMPTOMS: Intense burning irritation, immobility of the tongue, mouth, and throat; swelling can block breathing if severe enough.
PROOFING CUES: Tingling in tongue and lips, faint astringent smell reminiscent of urine, gritty texture in most foods.
23
Jovan
Vivid dreams stripped my sleep of restfulness. When I awoke to Tain’s babbling and thrashing my skin dripped with sweat and my palms bore little crescent marks from my fingernails. My muscles felt tense, as if I’d run a race rather than slept for hours. This was my fourth night of sleeping here by Tain’s bed. Four long, cold days, while the rebels had exercised their patience and in which I’d learned nothing new about Eliska or Marco, and exchanged nothing but awkward silence with Hadrea. I avoided her as diligently as she did me. I tried not to think about Kalina but it was hard when I’d never felt so lonely in my life.
I tried to rub the images from my dreams away from my eyes. Yet again, I’d been haunted by brown sacks and arrow-flecked corpses. The dreams left me sick and anxious, knowing I was missing something important, but unable to understand their significance.