Bloodwitch (13 page)

“Except for the ineptitude of my stable marshal, we’re fine here,” Mistress Jeshickah replied. She knelt next to the witch, pinioned his wrists again, and then pulled him to his feet. As she did so, I saw her previously injured knee start to buckle; she shifted her weight to compensate.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Mistress?” I dared to ask, remembering how my blood had run hot when I had seen the knife in her back.

She tossed her head in much the same way the horses do when irritated. “Even magic does not slay us easily,” she replied. But her skin looked paler than usual. “Jaguar, clean up this mess. I don’t want the blood to attract rats.”

MISTRESS JESHICKAH SWEPT
past us, pausing only to touch my hair with her free hand in a gesture of acknowledgment. After she left, I stood where I was for several moments, overwhelmed by my own churning emotions. Fear had become fury, then relief, and now … I didn’t even
know
.

Felix hadn’t moved except to drop his head so his gaze rested on the floor, where blood had fallen into the fresh straw.

I had seen Lady Brina’s and Lord Daryl’s tempers in the greenhouse, but Mistress Jeshickah hadn’t seemed furious. She had been perfectly calm, just as she had been when the witch attacked her, as if she were attending to one more duty.

“Up,” Jaguar said to Felix, who winced as Jaguar hauled him to his feet. “Are the horses safe?”

“Some of them may have panicked during the fight. I should check on—”

“
You
will do no such thing,” Jaguar interrupted. “Who here is capable of doing your job?”

Felix pointed out another slave, who had been silently on his knees ever since Lady Brina had arrived.

“Fine. You, you’re taking over as stable marshal until Mistress Jeshickah makes other arrangements.” The selected slave immediately stood and began his rounds, as if nothing else had happened. As if the previous stable marshal were not still bleeding into the straw.

Jaguar dropped Felix, and he hit the ground hard, seeming to make no effort to protect himself from the fall. Then Jaguar looked at me. He must have seen my pale face and the unspoken questions in my mind, because he said to Felix, “I think Vance is concerned that Mistress Jeshickah’s response may have been excessive. What do you think, Felix?”

Felix shuddered, still on the ground. “I disobeyed a clear order regarding how Mistress Jeshickah’s stables must be managed, and in doing so directly enabled an assassination attempt that endangered not only my charges but Mistress Jeshickah herself. There is no possible response that I would consider excessive.”

“Come here, Vance,” Jaguar urged, “and tell me if you agree.”

I crept closer, my own anger at Felix’s carelessness warring
with my reaction to the blood on his chest. My only experience of blood had been Calysta’s, rotten and buzzing with flies. My breath came shallowly; I never wanted to smell that horror again.

“It’s just a little blood,” Jaguar said, apparently amused. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

I forced myself to his side. Despite my fears I couldn’t smell the blood at all over the aroma of the stables themselves. Unlike the congealed sludge that Calysta’s blood had become, the trails on Felix’s chest were bright red, seeping slowly. My eyes locked on those crimson streams, no longer aware of
Felix
or
Jaguar
, or even
Vance
.

Someone, something was whispering at the back of my mind. If I could only hear what it was saying …

The blood wasn’t as hot as I had expected. It was—

What was I doing?

I wrenched my hand back from Felix’s chest and my head up, prepared for Jaguar to demand an explanation, but saw his calm, contemplative face instead. “Do you think
I
am going to object to a little blood fascination?”

He had a point.

Before I could argue, he added, “Felix doesn’t mind, either. Go with your instincts, little bloodwitch.”

Perhaps I should have, but I had never considered the
name
of the magic I supposedly had. The word
blood
had only made me think of Calysta. I had never considered that, by avoiding it, I might be avoiding my own power.

I tried to summon back the little voice. What had it wanted me to do?

All I could think about was Malachi’s warning:
What will you do when they decide you’re not useful enough and toss you in one of these gray cells?
If I couldn’t master my magic, was this what I would become? A slave who had failed to fulfill my one obligation?

I touched the blood on Felix’s chest again, then glanced up at his face nervously. He was watching me calmly, no hint of fear, judgment, or pain in his gaze.

What was I supposed to do now?

Nothing; no response. Whatever instinct or power had been guiding me was gone now.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Jaguar, dropping my hand with a sigh.

“We’ve learned something, anyway,” he answered. “More experiments may be in order.”

I tensed, fearing what those experiments might mean. More people hurt? More failure? I wasn’t sure which scared me more.

“Vance, help Felix to the infirmary. I doubt Jeshickah will want him back in the stables, but I’m sure we can find use for him somewhere once he’s well again. I’m going to double-check all the horses and feed before I go,” Jaguar said, his tone all business once more, as if the strange interlude with the blood had never happened. “Come by my
rooms tonight—no, I should make myself available tonight in case Jeshickah needs help with her new acquisition. Tomorrow morning, just before sunrise, would be better. There’s something I want to test.”

Test
. I wasn’t sure I liked that word. I nodded, though Jaguar had already turned away to join the new stable marshal as he checked on the horses.

As I approached, Felix pushed himself to his feet. I caught him as he swayed; his face was gray and his lips had a blue tinge. For a moment he hung on to my arm as if it were a life raft, but then his grip relaxed and he managed to stand unassisted. He had seemed so calm and composed earlier that it had been easy to ignore the fact that he was obviously severely injured.

“This way,” I said.

I walked close beside him, ready to catch him if he fell or offer an arm to support him if he needed it. He never complained, but he took each step with exacting care, as if the ground might suddenly shift beneath him.

When we reached the infirmary, I pushed the door open and caught Felix’s arm as he stumbled crossing the threshold. His skin was cool to the touch now; I wiped my hand on my pants instinctively once he had steadied himself again and I could let go.

My nose wrinkled at the sharp smell of herbs, which were set out on tables, hanging from the ceiling, and
bubbling in pots on a stove. Human slaves hustled soundlessly around the room, their brows furrowed in concentration. The only voice I heard was that of one of the older healers, who was instructing a young boy in how to prepare a poultice designed to stave off blood poisoning.

She looked up from her work, saw Felix, and said to her charge, “Finish that. We’re going to need it.”

To me she said, “Are there any particular instructions, sir?”

I shook my head, not understanding the question. “Help him,” I said.

“Yes, sir.”

She took Felix’s arm and guided him to a low stool. Neither of them spoke as she took a small dagger and cut down the side of his shirt, pulling the bloody garment away. Where the blood had stuck the fabric to his skin, it let loose with a squelching noise. Next, she grabbed a pair of tweezers from the nearby table and began to matter-of-factly pluck loose threads and bits of fabric from the wounds. I had to look away as her ministrations caused more blood to gush from Felix’s chest, but then I looked back, wondering how he could stay so still and silent through it all.

“The wounds are severe,” the healer said, “and injuries suffered in the stables are prone to infection. Is he needed immediately?”

“No,” I answered, remembering what Jaguar had said.

“In that case, may he stay here for a day or two?” she
asked. “If we can stave off fever, he should recover sufficiently to return to his regular duties.”

“Do what you think is best,” I said, backing away. I wished I had left earlier.
She
was the healer. Why was she deferring to me?

“Yes, sir,” the healer said again.

I took another step back and ran into another slave, who had just darted into the room behind me. I had never realized how busy this place was.

It was time for me to get out of the way. Felix had been taken care of, and I was exhausted. I returned to my room with my mind swirling.

I couldn’t get the image of Felix out of my head, but if
he
said Mistress Jeshickah’s reaction was fair, why was I questioning it? At least here he was getting medical attention. How did I know he wouldn’t have been treated worse outside? Malachi and Calysta had both described being frightened, starving, freezing in that world, but the slaves all around me here were well fed, well clothed, and healthy … except when they weren’t, when they were in the infirmary.

Midnight wasn’t a utopia—that was clear even to me—but I had no evidence that it was worse than the alternatives.

From these contemplations I slid into brutal dreams.

Snakes with crimson eyes like the serpiente princess in the marketplace swarmed from the ground, biting at my legs with needlelike fangs. When I tried to run, I was assaulted from the air.
Falcon talons as sharp as knives savaged my arms as I threw them up to protect my face
.

Blinded by blood, I stumbled and fell. The birds of prey snatched at the snakes, bringing them into the sky for the kill. Venom and hot blood fell like rain, scalding my skin, filling my mouth and nose until it was impossible to breathe
.

I sat up in bed, trembling and sure that very little time had passed. It was too early to meet Jaguar.

I walked brazenly through the east wing, ignoring the vampire who had warned me to stay away. The slaves I spoke with responded politely, but all seemed anxious to return to their duties once given permission. In the south wing I overheard snippets of conversations that fell silent as soon as I was noticed. If I had been one of them, they probably would have continued, but instead they were as mindful of me as I had always been of Lady Brina.

No wonder she thought of me as a slave. That was how I had presented myself.

I knocked on Jaguar’s door hours early. If he was helping Mistress Jeshickah, I reasoned, he simply wouldn’t answer. If he was free, however, maybe he could help me with my tangled thoughts.

It was not Jaguar who opened the door but a girl who looked a bit younger than I was, with dark brown hair, dark amber skin, and green-hazel eyes that didn’t seem to quite focus on me.

Her head tilted as if she were listening to something very quiet, and she asked, “Can I help you?”

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Vance. I need to speak to—” I broke off as I remembered that Mistress Jeshickah had talked to Taro about another quetzal when I was still living in the greenhouse. “Are you Celeste?”

“Yes?” she replied, her voice questioning.

The dress she was wearing was one I had come to know well. The material was finer, shades of cream and brown instead of faded black, but it was the same style as those worn by all the female slaves. Around her throat was a collar dyed a deep jade green with a fine gold buckle.

“You’re a slave?” I asked.

Her expression never changed, but her body tensed. “Can I help you?” she asked again.

I shook my head. “How long have you been here? Where did you grow up?” The questions came pouring out. Why was she here, wearing a slave’s collar, while I was …

I
was
free, wasn’t I?

“I was born here.” She added nothing more.

Born here
. Like Malachi, who had also been a slave until Farrell Obsidian rescued him. Like me? They treated me well, but was that because I was free and respected, or because legends said a quetzal would not survive imprisonment? What better way to keep a bird content than never to let him see the bars of his cage?

“Master Jaguar isn’t available at the moment,” she added when I didn’t respond.

“That’s fine,” I answered. “I can—I’ll come back later.”

“Very well, sir.” She closed the door.

Am I a slave? They called me “sir.” What am I?

Survive, and I will get you out
, Malachi had promised. I had told him I didn’t need to be saved, but what if he was right? Lady Brina obviously assumed I was property. What if Jaguar’s “test” proved I really
couldn’t
ever use my magic? What would happen to me then?