Dark Jenny (25 page)

Between him and the table, I had little room to move. I stood with my back against the door and said, “There’s nothing you can do for her, is there?”

“No,” he said as he thumbed through a thick, battered book of drawings and strange scripts. “Once shatternight gets into the blood, that’s it. If she’d swallowed it, there might be something I could do, but this way … no.”

I nodded. “At least it’s not a heavy dose.”

His head snapped up and he glared at me. “A heavy dose would be quick and merciful. How long did it take your knight to die?”

“A couple of minutes.”

“This will keep her in agony for hours, maybe days. You think that’s better?”

I knew his anger wasn’t really directed at me. “She’s not in agony now.”

“No. She’s in shock, and the poison is still spreading. But the pain will start soon.” He used a feather to mark his place in the book, then looked down at a large mortar filled with brownish powder. He stroked his long beard, deep in thought.

The confines of the place did not help me stay calm. “There has to be
something
we can do,” I insisted.

“I can hasten her end.”

“No. She’s crucial to stopping what’s going on at Nodlon.”

He looked at me, his eyes perfectly clear for the first time. “What
is
going on at Nodlon?”

I hadn’t verbalized my idea yet, and I figured at this point Kern had earned my trust. So I said, “Originally a simple plan to make the queen look bad. She’s got enemies, as I’m sure you know. And because of your switch on their wedding day, a lot of people think she and Elliot Spears are cuckolding King Marcus.”

“Cuckold,”
Kern said with a chuckle. “Always liked that word. Sounds like
cock hold,
which is what it usually is. A woman gets a hold on a man’s cock, literally and symbolically.”

“Yeah, well, the Knights of the Double Tarn think Queen Jennifer has a hold on Elliot’s spear, which makes them distrust her. Someone wants to capitalize on that, so they made it look like she tried to kill Thomas Gillian as a warning to the other knights to stop gossiping.”

Kern nodded. “All that makes sense. But you haven’t told me
why
.”

“I’d hoped you would figure it out for yourself, you know,” I shot back. “You’re a smart one, I can tell.”

He said nothing.

“When I met Queen Jennifer,” I continued, “she compared herself to a ring setting and said Marcus was the jewel. It’s hard to make a jewel look bad on its own, but you can put it in a bad setting and it’ll look cheap and tawdry.
That’s
why she was framed. But it only halfway worked because I was there. The Double Tarn knights believe the queen’s responsible, but the nobles think
I
did it. They’re too shrewd to go against the queen when there’s a handy scapegoat dropped right in their laps. So whoever’s behind it has to make another move.”
If they haven’t already,
I thought as I recalled the dust cloud.

“Whoever’s behind it,” Kern repeated. “And just who is that?”

“I’m not sure yet. One person can’t be doing all the dirty work, but Bob Kay insists it’s still the work of one hand.”

“Megan Drake, just like I told you,” Kern said. “Bob’s always had a thing for her. Not a romantic one, but he sees her behind every misfortune. He probably thinks she makes all the bad weather. And he may be right, she’s a brilliant young woman.”

“Young? I thought she was older than Marcus.”

“Everyone’s young to me. And, yes, she’s a couple of years older, so she’d be … let me think … around thirty-five by now.”

“What does she look like?”

“Average. You wouldn’t look at her twice if you met her. Probably wouldn’t remember her the next time you saw her.”

“And she’s in exile?”

“Oh, yes. And every knight memorizes her portrait because in Grand Bruan, she’s to be killed on sight.”

“That’s harsh for a princess, isn’t it?”

“It’s not harsh for a traitor.”

I nodded. Everything was pulling together, except for one final element: motive. “Bob says she hates Marcus because his father raped their mother. Is that true?”

“That he did it? Yes.”

“But is it why she hates Marcus?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

It was one more evasive answer than my patience could stand. I slammed my right hand on the table so hard all the glassware jumped. “I’m asking you,” I said quietly.

Kern tried to hold my gaze, but couldn’t. He picked up a pestle and began to grind the powder in the mortar. “If I tell you, you can’t—”

“No strings. This island has yanked my chain enough, and I’m about to yank back.”

He looked down and his long white hair fell to either side of his face as he spoke. “Has anyone mentioned a man named Kindermord to you?”

“The name’s come up a few times. Who is he?”

Kern’s voice was numb, flat, and matter-of-fact. What he told me was horrifying, and disgusting, and made perfect sense. It was the motive that explained everything. He concluded, “Choosing the lesser evil is still choosing evil.”

We stood in silence. The weight of his revelation demanded that moment of respect. At last I said, “An army was headed to Nodlon. Medraft was in Astolat ahead of it. That means I have to get Jenny to Nodlon fast.”

“Why? What can she do?”

“She’s the wild card. I don’t think the murderer even knows she exists. With her, I can show that the queen is innocent of treason.”

“Won’t Elliot prove that?”

“By strength of arms, yes. But I’ll prove it for real.”

“And prove the king a fool.”

I shook my head. “No. All I have to do is show that Spears has a wife who looks like the queen, which means Jennifer had no motive for killing Patrice, or trying to kill Gillian.”

That was all true. But an equally big motivation was so that she could see Elliot one last time before she died. It might make up a little for my failing to protect her. At least I could tell myself that I did
something
.

Kern looked at me steadily. “It’s unlikely she’ll make it there alive. Even if you left right now.”

“We
are
leaving right now, or at least as soon as possible. And she’ll make it. I just need some Cameron Kern magic.”

“Magic,” he practically spat. “You mean those deceptions of the ordinary and the obvious that morons
call
magic.”

“Whatever they are, I believe you can use them to help me. And her.”

A scream of bone-deep agony, even muffled by walls and distance, made us both jump. Kern said, “I can’t save her. Do you know how shatternight works? It dissolves the nerves, from the tips up. So the longer it works, the more painful it gets. It’s like boiling inside. If it reaches the big nerves, the ones in the spine…” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine enduring it.”

“What
can
you do?”

He opened the book, removed the feather place-marker, and turned some more pages. “I can
almost
kill her. I can mix something that will slow down her body’s processes, which will also slow the shatternight. She’ll appear dead to all intents and purposes, but when you give her the antidote, she’ll wake up. Unfortunately, she’ll be no better off, and her life will run out then just as it would now. But it would give you time to get to Nodlon.”

Another groan reached us. There was a knock on the shed door and a distraught Amelia said, “Cammy? She’s hurting so bad, I don’t know what to do.”

“Just hang on,” the old man said. “I’m mixing something right now.” To me he said, “I’ll also give you something to send her on her way, if you think it’s the right time.”

“That’s not my call, it’s hers.”

“She may not be able to make it.”

“I still can’t make it for her.”

“Then I hope you like watching pain.”

I clenched my fists. Then it suddenly registered that I
could
clench my fists. I looked down at my right hand, and while it was still black-and-blue, the swelling was totally gone. I’d even pounded the table with it and felt no pain. I held it up to the light. “The hell?” I whispered.

“You broke your cast. Need a new one?”

I was still puzzled. “No, I … guess I don’t.”

“You know, that’s one thing those moon priestesses can do that I could never figure out. They can make a bone knit in a fraction of the time it should take. They call it magic. But there’s no such thing, is there?”

The weight of this final revelation made me suddenly very tired. I leaned back against the door and closed my eyes. So there it was: I’d known no one when I came to Grand Bruan, and it appeared that was still true.

chapter

TWENTY-FIVE

In a little while Kern held up two small bottles. One was open, the other corked and sealed with wax. The liquid inside the open one was clear, the other deep forest green. He said, “You wanted magic? I give you the power to raise the dead.”

I said nothing. I was way past irony.

He shook the bottles so the liquid in them sparkled. “I’ll give this to her now,” he said about the clear one. “The other is for when you want her to come out of it.”

I took the sealed bottle and put it in my jacket’s inner pocket. The nice thing about expensive clothes was that they were loaded with little compartments like that. “And you’re sure this will work?”

He glared at me in annoyance. “Fuck, no. I’ve never done this before. I don’t have a goddamned lifetime’s accumulation of apothecarian knowledge.”

“I was just asking.”

“Well, you got your answer, didn’t you?” he muttered as he put away the various ingredients. He’d been through a lot, too, I reminded myself.

We went back into the cottage. Amelia sat on the bed beside Jenny and held her hand. The stitched wound no longer oozed blood, but Jenny was still bathed in sweat, and her knuckles were white where she gripped Amelia’s hand.

The tall girl stood and pried herself free from Jenny’s grip. Kern knelt beside the bed, touched Jenny’s forehead and neck, then leaned down to listen to her breathing.

Amelia sniffled next to me. I would’ve put my arm around her shoulders to comfort her, but I couldn’t gracefully reach that high.

“Jenny,” Kern said softly. “Can you hear me?”

She opened her eyes and looked wildly around, terror in her face like a little girl’s. I’d never felt so helpless in my life. She said, “My fingers and toes feel like they’re burning.”

“I know,” Kern said. “It’s the poison from the knife that cut you.”

“Am I going to die?” she whimpered. “Please, tell me.”

“I can’t say for certain,” Kern said. “But … probably.”

Her eyes welled with tears. “How soon?” she asked in a tiny voice.

He forced himself to meet her gaze. “I don’t know. But not long.”

She turned her head and cried silently into her pillow. Amelia, also crying, sat on the opposite side of the bed and stroked her hair.

Abruptly Jenny tried to sit up. “I have to see Elliot one last time. Can you send for him?”

“I’ve got a better idea,” I said. “I’ll take you to him.”

She looked at me with the hope of a man in the desert wondering if the oasis is a mirage. “You will? You promise?”

“I promise.” For her sake I managed a no-big-deal smile, as if I took dying women to find their husbands every day and twice on holidays.

Kern handed Amelia the bottle. To Jenny he said, “Drink this. It’ll help you sleep. Amelia will stay with you. And when you wake up, you’ll be with Elliot.”

Amelia put the bottle to Jenny’s lips and she drank it in one swallow. Almost at once her face visibly relaxed, and her heaving chest began to slow down. Her eyes slowly closed.

“I’ll get her dressed,” Amelia said. “You men wait somewhere else.”

Kern nodded toward the door and I followed him out once more, this time into the sitting room. He lit his pipe and took several furious puffs, pacing in the small space like a bull in an outhouse. Once again I found myself backed up to the closed door. Through it I heard Hoel’s continued cries of pain and outrage.

“That little peckerhead son of a bitch Agravaine,” Kern snarled, his words accompanied by blasts of smoke. “They say poison is a woman’s way, did you know that? That’s probably why he used it. Kill them with their own weapon of choice. Even a total stranger.”

“He thought she was the queen,” I said. “He didn’t know about the switch.”

Kern looked up at the ceiling and blew a thin, narrow column of smoke at it. “It didn’t matter. For Dave, if a woman wasn’t on her back or her knees, she was out of line. He killed his own mother, did you know that? Caught her in bed with another man.”

“Another man besides her husband, or besides Agravaine?”

Kern touched his nose to say I’d caught the crucial detail.

“Did he kill her with poison, too?”

“No, he chopped her head off. Medraft used his influence to keep him from hanging for it.” Kern laughed coldly. “It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

I felt the poetic justice of what I’d done to him. “He won’t be hurting any more women.”

Kern looked at me from the corner of his eye. “No, and he won’t give you any more information, either. Think maybe you acted too rashly?”

The roomful of smoke was beginning to mellow me out, and I didn’t want that. “I’ll regret things when I’m your age. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go talk to the survivor for a moment.”

Hoel stopped moaning and glared up at me as I emerged from the cottage. The sun had moved past its zenith, and he was not in the shade. His sweaty skin was pale from blood loss, and his exposed hands were purple. His sword, still stuck in the earth between his legs, reflected a vertical bar of light on his face.

I ignored him, walked a few steps away, and took a long, deep breath. Partly it was to clear out the giggleweed, partly to annoy Hoel. It did both.

“I can’t feel my fingers, you asshole,” he hissed, recovering a bit of his soldier’s bravado. “Loosen the goddamn knots. I’m not telling you squat until you do.”

I took in the scene of pastoral carnage. The two dead men lay where they’d fallen. A crow perched on Agravaine’s chest and pecked at the stump of his neck. The remaining pair of military horses grazed placidly alongside the ones from my wagon. Where the grass was taller, it waved in the gentle breeze.