The two men were different and, yet, alike, each intense and prepared to fight for their people. She had loved them both, but with Cade, there had been no barriers between them as there were between king and messenger.
Not going to touch him? Nyssa said. Your great unrequited love? What does it matter? You’ve already betrayed Cade, what’s a little more betrayal?
Go away. Karigan just wanted to sleep and forget the world for a while, but Nyssa only insinuated herself deeper into her mind, cloaking every thought in shadow, obscuring even the king beside her, until only darkness filled her vision.
You are broken, Nyssa told her, and the lash fell again.
SEEING THROUGH THE GREENIE’S EYES
Grandmother sat before the fire in the great hall knotting red yarn around a single strand of brown hair. She’d been so infuriated by the escape of King Zachary and the deaths of so many of her people in the process, that she’d dared not use the art until now. It had been bad enough the Greenie and her friend had managed to escape. And then the king? Her great prize? Working with the art while enraged would have led to disaster, but now that her strong emotions had settled, she could focus and work her intentions into the knots.
Since looking in on Karigan G’ladheon had worked well the last time she had done it, she decided to try this time looking through her eyes. The red yarn represented intensity, her strong desire for the spell to work.
Lala dropped onto the bench beside her and kicked her feet back and forth so that they scuffed the floor. She’d been moody since the escape of Arvyn, whoever he really was. Someone more important than an itinerant musician, it would seem. Lala knew only that Arvyn had been kind and patient with her, and she liked the music. After his departure, she had smashed the lute he left behind and fed the pieces to the fire.
“Quiet, child,” Grandmother said. “You know I must focus or the spell will go awry. Either sit and watch quietly, or go out and play with the other children.”
“They don’t want me around anymore.”
“What? Why not?”
Lala shrugged.
Grandmother could guess. Lala wasn’t like other children. She had never really fit in. Among other things, she had a talent for the art, which could make others uncomfortable. Perhaps they actually feared her. Grandmother knew that feeling well, for all that her people respected her.
“What are you doing?” Lala asked.
“I want to see through the Greenie’s eyes, to see what I can learn.”
“You think she’s still alive?”
“I do.”
“Damn. I told her friend she’d die.”
“Lala, language, please.”
“Sorry, Mum.”
Grandmother nodded. Just as well Lala did not play with the other children if she was picking up bad habits like swearing. “We don’t want the Greenie dead just yet, so it is good she did not die of her wounds.” Nyssa had been very good at what she did, and would have taken the Greenie to the edge, had Immerez not intervened. That was another sore point—Nyssa had been taken from them, she with her skills that were so difficult to replace. Grandmother grieved her death anew.
Lala, as if detecting her sorrow, touched her wrist. Grandmother patted her hand. The responsibility for all the failures—the escapes and deaths—rested on Terrik’s shoulders. How could he have permitted the king to escape when they’d just experienced the escape of the Greenie and her friend? The loss of so high profile a prisoner as the king was a blow. She had intended him to be the symbol she would use to crush the spirit of the Sacoridians.
Terrik was now imprisoned in an underground box where he’d have time to consider his failures and pray, and he’d be further punished when she was ready, in a way that he would do the most good for his people and God.
She’d replaced Terrik with Immerez, who had a much stronger military background. He’d already enhanced their defenses and improved discipline, which was very important, he told her, because the escaped prisoners now had inside intelligence about the keep’s complement and layout. They’d know its vulnerabilities and exploit them. There were Sacoridian troops in the north, he said, that the king could mobilize relatively quickly, as such things went.
She knew he was right. It was maddening how little information she’d gleaned from the king while he’d been wrapped in her knots, but she’d seen enough of his mind to know that Immerez was correct. The king would attack simply to release her slaves and deal a blow to Second Empire. That one was strong-minded, had resisted her. If only she’d had more time, but she hadn’t wanted to rush it. She had not been, however, entirely unsuccessful in her efforts. She’d learned, for instance, the very interesting information that his wife was carrying twins.
Perhaps I’ll knit them baby blankets, she thought with no small amount of amusement.
She had also had the foresight to set a few spells upon him that would, in time, bring him much grief, no matter how far away from her immediate influence he might be.
She needed to put aside thoughts of the king to concentrate on her project with the Aeon Iire, this current working of the art a diversion. The brown hair was almost completely wound into the bulky knots of yarn.
“Put another log on the fire,” she instructed Lala. “Let us have the fire hot and bright.”
As Lala obeyed, Grandmother tied the final knot. The hair was barely a glimmer amid the yarn. Using more than one hair would give her a better connection, but she’d used most of what had been taken for her great working. She wanted to keep the few that remained for any unforeseen need that might arise.