Of Kings and Killers (Elder Empire Sea #3) - WIll Wight Page 0,71

body convey obvious defeat. “I will obey.” She reached out for one of the clean syringes that Petal had left beside Andel. “Excuse me; I have to give him his medicine on the hour. Do you know how you will get the package to the…head office…once I bring it to you?”

Jerri partially filled the syringe from the vial of sedative that Petal had left out for Andel.

Goss twitched, the key shaking in his hand. “They’ll tell me!”

Jerri nodded along, sticking the syringe into the next vial along. This was a new recipe for a paralysis potion, meant to be ingested, that Petal had been trying to perfect for months. “Good. That’s good. I can get the package, you know. No problem. By this time tomorrow night, I’ll have it, and I’ll bring it straight to you.”

The next vial was labeled, in Petal’s hand, “EXPERIMENTAL – DANGEROUS.”

It went into the mix.

Goss was nodding spastically. “Good, good, good, good, good. Yes. I think—I think I…”

Jerri casually turned and stuck the needle into his thigh. She pressed the plunger.

“It’s okay,” she said soothingly. “Don’t worry about it.”

In his normal state, Goss could have easily avoided her. He would probably have pushed her off. But he was half a thread away from snapping, so she had time to finish the entire syringe, pull it out, and wipe it down with a cloth before he finally gasped.

“You…what did you do?”

Jyrine started washing out the syringe.

With both hands, Goss stuck out the key, muttering something with a tongue that sounded like it was growing thicker by the second. Ice began to form at his feet, and the room darkened.

Jerri’s earring flickered green, and she tossed an emerald spark at the key.

It didn’t take much damage to ruin the delicate Elder artifact; only a little burn and the light and warmth of the room returned. Goss gaped at her like a fish, but that could have been because the site of the injection on his thigh had swelled to the size of a grapefruit.

“Come here, Mister Goss,” Jerri said.

He made a choking sound and lunged for her.

If she wasn’t a Soulbound, she would have been in danger. If not from Goss himself, then from the noise he would inevitably make upon attacking her.

Instead, she reached up and grabbed his neck, unleashing just a little of her power into his throat.

It was impossible for her to control her Vessel so precisely without time, focus, and contact. Even with those things, it was difficult to inject fire into something that had its own Intent.

But this didn’t take much.

Goss tried to scream, but with his throat fused shut, he made little progress. He couldn’t even flail his limbs; they had already gone dead. In only a few more seconds, the cocktail of potions completed its work, and he collapsed.

A green-tinged fluid had started leaking from his thigh. Jerri pressed her palms against a nascent headache.

Now she not only had to clean up the syringe and put it back where it was, she had to return a grown man’s limp body to his bunk. Without waking anyone.

It was going to be a long night.

The next morning, they found Goss dead. Petal offered to examine the body, but she clearly didn’t relish the idea, and no one wanted to make her do it.

Once they found the wound on his thigh, the cause of death had been clear anyway.

The Elders had claimed another victim.

Chapter Fourteen

Don’t use anything as bait that you don’t want eaten.

—Loreli the Strategist

(modern paraphrase)

present day

Calder stood on a wide balcony with Imperial Guards standing to either side of him, looking out over a crowd of ten thousand people packed into a massive courtyard. The Emperor’s Stage was a three-story building at the entrance to the Imperial Palace from which the Emperor or his representatives could address the gathered citizens of the Capital.

For years, he had dreamed of standing in this position.

But in those dreams, the people hadn’t been screaming at him and waving news-sheets that accused him of worshiping the Great Elders.

He wore the silver Steward’s crown and loose, layered green clothes from the Emperor’s wardrobe. His sword was buckled on his hip; the Emperor had never worn a weapon belt, but one of the Palace attendants had made it work, making the equipment look surprisingly natural.

He was a mix of old and new, presenting himself as someone who could rule the Empire without pretending to be the former Emperor.

No one who had used this platform had wanted to carry