Clear the streets first. But do nothing to this woman. We need her alive. Lord Khandarr’s orders.”
Guards appeared with a litter. Nicol Joannis motioned them forward. As they carefully shifted Khandarr onto the litter, his throat gave a convulsive twitch. He turned his head toward Valara and met her gaze—one penetrating look—before Joannis signaled the guards to take him away.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HOURS LATER, VALARA Baussay sat in the corner of her cell, knees drawn up to her chest. Her stomach had contracted into a hard painful knot. The guards had not brought supper, nor had they returned her slop bucket. A small grate in one corner would do, but she wished the men outside her cell would look away, just for a few moments.
They wouldn’t of course. These were the second pair to take the watch. They were awake, alert, and angry. She heard them discussing what punishment Joannis or Khandarr would order for her. If they meant to frighten her, they had succeeded.
I trusted too soon. I promised too much.
She had expected Veraene to welcome Dzavek’s enemy. She had hoped they would negotiate with her. Whatever the cost, in money, in concessions, she would have promised it. Once back in Morennioù, she could have renegotiated the terms of their alliance.
They don’t want an ally. They want a hostage. And why not? I would do the same.
The hour bells rang—six clear soft tones. Midnight. Five more hours until dawn. Khandarr would return tomorrow. She was sure of that. Any competent mage-healer could restore the man’s wits. Khandarr himself could do the rest. Once he had recovered, he would bind her with magic and rip the truth from her throat. She had to escape before then.
You tried once. You failed.
Then I must try again.
She had panicked before, that was all. The spells guarding this prison were strong and complex, but she had made a delicate examination of them over the past several weeks. Only the bars and floor stones were steeped in magic. Unless she misread the signs, she could escape to Autrevelye before her magic triggered the prison’s spells. She had been too slow before, too befuddled from the magic Karasek had used to drug her.
She counted to ten to steady her nerves. Her heartbeat slowed as her gaze turned inward.
Ei rûf ane gôtter. Ane Lir unde Toc. Ei rûf ane gôtter. Ane Lir unde Toc.
Magic coursed over her skin. She no longer saw the torchlight or prison walls, no longer felt the stone floor beneath her. She was rising slowly through a viscous ocean. Far above, she saw a vast empty cavern, where shadowy hills rolled and surged toward the horizon. Higher still, a glittering band of lights streamed through the sky. The void between lives, which lay upon the edge of magic.
Noandnoandno.
A force struck her chest. The current scattered. She was falling, falling, falling through darkness while monsters shrilled and the ocean roared.
“—thought that blessed magic was supposed to stop—”
“—if we hadn’t watched—”
One of the Osterling guards hauled Valara up from the floor and pinned her against the wall. The other flung a bucketful of water over her. She coughed and sputtered and cursed.
“Good enough,” the first guard said. He drew a knife and laid it against Valara’s throat. “I’ll stay with her. You go for the governor. He said to report anything.”
Valara struggled to speak. Not Joannis, she wanted to cry. Tell Joannis and you tell Khandarr. It was Khandarr she feared. Khandarr would rob her of the emerald and turn its magic against Morennioù. She knew it.
She had to summon the magic again. She had to call the spells laid down in the prison stones. It might give her a chance to escape. Ei rûf ane gôtter …
… ei rûf ane Lir unde Toc unde strôm unde mir.
The words rang in her skull like the great bells of the Morennioù castle. An unknown signature overwhelmed hers, and the scent of magic rolled through the air. A brilliant light exploded in the cell. Valara’s sight blurred into white and then shadows. Magic drenched her, and her skin burned. Pure magic—she would have one taste, and then it would consume her.
… a river of shadows. An inhuman voice. A burst of light. Nothingness …
She knew nothing except darkness at first. Moments trickled away, unnumbered. Then a change to the blankness surrounding her. It was like emerging from a deathlike sleep. Or even death itself, she thought. Perhaps a newly reborn soul had one moment of awareness such as this