Guardians of the Desert (Children of the Desert) (36 page)

Deiq stood silently, his hands resting on the railing of the balcony, staring over the darkened city. Eredion stood beside him, equally quiet, patiently waiting; the two men understood each other well enough that no words were needed.

They had stood like this for hours now. Courtiers seeking a private spot for gossip and intimacy came and went, most of them rather soon after their first glimpse of the two men. Servants announced the dinner hour and left without a reply.

“
S’e
?” a light voice said behind them. A thin, dark-haired girl, her face heavily bruised, stood in the torchlit archway.

“I’m looking for La—Lord Alyea. Do you know where she is? I was told you might know.”

Eredion made a quick restraining motion, stilling the retort in Deiq’s mouth. He studied the girl with visible curiosity and said, “You’d be Wian, wouldn’t you? Her former servant.”

The girl looked startled and not at all pleased with being recognized so easily.

“Yes,
s’e
,” she said at last, then put a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry—my lord.”

“She spoke to me about you,” Eredion said. “She was rather upset by discovering you’d been the one to get her damn near whipped to death.”

Remembering the feel of those vicious scars under his hand, Deiq growled under his breath and took a step forward. Eredion put out a hand, touching Deiq’s arm with his fingertips.

It’s not your place
, the desert lord said.
Alyea has the right, not you.

Deiq swallowed back a building rage, admitting to himself that Eredion was right, and stayed where he was; but bent a hard glare on the girl all the same.

She made a faint choking noise, her color fading, and dropped her gaze. “I know. I was wrong. I want to apologize to her, and warn her. It’s important, my lords; I really need to see her tonight.”

“Warn her of what?” Eredion said, frowning.

The girl hesitated, looking uncertain and flustered.

“She’s already told me of your involvement with my nephew,” Eredion said roughly. “Is that what the warning’s about? Something to do with the asinine mess he left behind?”

Wian covered her mouth with her hands, wincing back a step, then straightened.

“Yes, my lord,” she said with surprising poise. Deiq regarded her with more respect; she had courage. “I’m afraid . . . I heard rumors, this evening. I think . . . I think that the people Pieas used to spend time with are intending to hurt her. If she spoke to you about me, then you know . . . I spent some time with them myself.”

She blinked and glanced away for a moment, shivering a little. Deiq narrowed his eyes, his respect fading rapidly; the words were true enough, but her emotions ran cold contrast to the
desperate
act.

“They’re very angry right now. It’s why I ran away and begged sanctuary from the king. They would have killed me. And the rumors I heard—I think, since I’m gone, they’re going to try to hurt La—Lord Alyea.”

Watching her face closely, Deiq saw the faintest flicker of cunning: the slip over the title had been deliberate, aimed at garnering more sympathy.

She went on, wide-eyed pathos drenching every word: “They’re very cruel, my lords. They wouldn’t care that she’s important.”

“She’s also dangerous,” Deiq said sharply, out of patience with her stupid games. “If they try laying a hand on her, she’s liable to rip it off. So be more concerned for your former friends than for her!”

Wian backed up a step, her hands fisted at her sides now. “I’d be
glad
if she killed them,” she said with sudden, genuine passion. “I’d
dance
on their graves. But, my lord, these men are dangerous, too. Please don’t dismiss the threat!”

Deiq felt a growl building in the back of his throat again. If not for this
tharr
, Alyea never would have been put in any danger in the first place; the whipping had been the beginning of a chain of events that had put Alyea where she stood today. And if Pieas’s friends put so much as a
scratch
on Alyea—

“We’ll relay your concern when we see her,” Eredion said sharply. “Good night, Wian!”

Wian bobbed a curtsey and left, seeming rather smaller than before, as though anguish and guilt had drawn her into a tighter package.

Eredion snapped a finger against Deiq’s shoulder. “Stop it,” he ordered. “It’s not your damned business to get upset over this, Deiq. It’s Alyea’s prerogative to kill the girl, or dish out revenge.”

Deiq turned away and stared out over the city again, rattling his fingers on the railing and trying to cool his temper. Eredion stood beside him, still and silent and suddenly thoughtful.

“I’ve been a
fool
,” Eredion said at last.

“Nothing new there,” Deiq observed pettily.

Eredion didn’t rise to the bait. “I just remembered a report I read a while ago—I set Micru to following Pieas a few times.”

Deiq shot him a sideways glance, his mouth pursing in reluctant amusement. “Dangerous,” he commented.

“Not really,” Eredion said. “Micru is damn good at his job.”

“I meant using Micru like that, right under Oruen’s nose.”

“Oh, hells, Micru managed to get through Ninnic and Mezarak without being discovered as a plant; even Rosin never figured it out. Oruen only knows now because Alyea spilled it.”

“That was stupid.”

“Yes. Never mind—listen. Pieas was a lackey for the people Wian just mentioned. He brought things through the Horn for them. Drugs, mostly. Including dasta. I kept an eye on the people he ran with; they are a dangerous bunch. At least one of them knows the old lore, and understands how to deal with desert lords.”

Deiq stood still for a moment, absorbing that, then said, under his breath, “And she hasn’t come back yet.”

“If they’re the ones sent that note, thinking you nothing but a merchant, and Alyea nothing more than a stupid young noblewoman sharing your bed—looking to twist you into taking Pieas’s place—and then realized what they really have in their hands—”

“
Fuck
,” Deiq said, and sprinted after the servant girl, Eredion close on his heels.

Alyea blinked, groggy, and tried to remember what had gone wrong. Walking out of that room, leaving three dead men behind, confident that she could handle the two remaining men, especially her cousin—

Only there hadn’t been two, and Kam hadn’t even been in the room. There had been a lot more than two: more than ten. She hadn’t had time to count, because in the ensuing scuffle, someone had managed to get around behind her; at least she hadn’t been hit this time. Instead, her attacker dropped a black hood over her head, the cloth heavily perfumed with a sweet-sick odor that swayed her knees out from under her before she knew what was happening.

And now she was awake again, but not tied up this time. She was stretched out on a fairly comfortable bed, and naked. She sat up, wondering if she’d been rescued after all while unconscious. Movement required a tremendous effort; she had to fight against a strange lassitude.

Cheerful blue curtains with a white diamond pattern fluttered in the night breeze coming through an open window. She’d seen those curtains, or that pattern, somewhere before; but the memory wouldn’t come clear. Her mind felt hazed, thoughts slogging through a thick mire.

A lantern on a bedside table provided light enough to see that a man sat in a small chair across the room, watching her. She took in his dark hair, tanned skin, sturdy build; noted he wore good quality linen clothing in dark colors: then focused on his sharp-featured face.

The expression there said quite clearly that she hadn’t been rescued at all. Fear gave way to a fierce anger; she rolled to her feet—and collapsed to the floor. He didn’t move.

“You’re not going to be moving so well for a while, darling,” he said, voice clipped and harsh. “Side effect of the sleepy we used on you. It mucks up your muscles a bit.” He paused. “If you like the floor, I’ll leave you there,” he added. “You rather I help you back up to bed? You’ll wind up there soon enough anyway, you know.”

She told him to do something anatomically impossible.

He just grinned at her. “No, I don’t think so,” he said. “Although I’ll keep that in mind as an idea for you. It’s quite an intriguing concept. But me? No. Far too many broken bones involved. And unlike you, I won’t heal them overnight.”

She fought to stand, and managed to lurch to her knees, grabbing the edge of the bed for support.

“Now, here’s the situation, darling,” the man said. “There’s something I want. I believe you already understand that. You killed my best carrier, which puts a certain obligation on you to replace him in some fashion. I’d hoped to use you to turn Deiq of Stass into our service; you’re the first woman we’ve heard of him taking up with for any length of time in quite a few years. And he’d be even more useful than Pieas was. But he seems to regard you as expendable, and I don’t believe you have any other useful contacts we could bend into the position we require.”

His smile made her stomach turn.

“Won’t,” she croaked.

“Oh, darling, I haven’t even finished explaining the situation yet,” he said, shaking his head. “I think you’ll reconsider, when I have. You see, the original plan changed when I found out that you’re a desert lord. I know quite a lot about desert lords. Especially about their weaknesses. And how fast they heal. I can hand out quite a lot more pain to you than I could an ordinary human, and for a much longer time.”

She tried to stand; couldn’t move a muscle. “
Won’t,
” she said. “Just kill me.”

“Oh, no, no,” the man said. “No, that’s silly. And no fun at all.”

“Go
fuck
yourself.”

He sighed theatrically. “Perhaps you need to understand with more clarity,” he said, then raised his voice. “Tevin!”

The door opened; a broad-shouldered, grey-haired man with a heavily pocked face came in, carrying a large wooden chest. He set it on the floor near the bed, then looked down at Alyea with a smirk that chilled her blood.

“You ready for me?” he asked.

“Almost,” the man in the chair said. “Be patient for another few moments, please. Start planning out what you’re going to do, while I finish explaining.”

Alyea’s blood went from chill to ice at the look that crossed Tevin’s face.
I’m a desert lord
, she reminded herself frantically.
I can control my muscles. I can stand up. I can order my body to do what I want it to do. . .
.

She managed to get one foot under her, but couldn’t move the other; sat in a weird, slumping half-kneel, glaring at her captors. The two men watched her with a kind of shared fascination.

“Oh, darling, I’m enjoying this, I really am,” the man in the chair said. “You’re remarkable. Now, I hope you’re as smart as you are courageous. Listen closely, dear. Tevin is going to hurt you. Quite a lot, I’m afraid. He doesn’t always know what he’s doing, once he gets excited. But all you have to do, to stop the pain, is to say, ‘help me’. That’s all. And I’ll pull him off you, and send him away, and we’ll have a little talk about how you can help
me
. Very, very simple. All you do is say ‘help me’. All you do is ask me to stop him. I’ll even let you refuse to help me a few times afterward, to give you a nice break and let you heal a bit. But he’s going to be more and more difficult to stop, and at some point he’ll stop listening even to me. And at that point I really don’t know if you’ll survive for long.”

He tilted his head and stared at her with an expression she’d seen before; the detached amusement that had glittered in Rosin Weatherweaver’s gaze. It threatened to loosen her bladder. She felt tears rising in her eyes.

He said, “I know you think you’re unbreakable, darling; you’ve probably been told that a desert lord can’t be taken down by an ordinary person. But it
is
possible to break a desert lord in a remarkably short time, if you know what you’re doing. And I do. Please believe me. I do.”

His voice stayed mild, but the clipped words and harsh accent reminded her of a crow’s derisive caw.

“Hold her, Tevin.”

She tried to punch out at the big man as he approached, willed herself to kick, to spring, to claw,
anything
. But her body simply refused to listen; muscles remained limp and unresponsive. Tevin gathered her up from the floor and turned her around to face the man in the chair. He pinned her arms behind her, although it seemed hardly necessary; she couldn’t even stand without his support. She could barely hold up her head and look forward without her eyes crossing.

Tevin smelled of rosemary, garlic, and tomatoes; that had probably been his most recent meal. Alyea’s stomach rumbled loudly in response; she hovered between laughing at the incongruity of the moment and shrieking in unbridled terror.

The man in the chair stood and drew a small vial of dark liquid from a belt pouch. “You’re going to drink this,” he told her as he walked forward. “You can open your mouth and swallow, or Tevin can pry your jaw open. He might break it, though, he doesn’t always know his own strength.” He paused in front of her, waiting. “Open or force open? Your decision. I understand a broken jaw is tremendously painful. And it will make asking for help difficult.”

She drew a breath and caught his eye. He smiled at her, completely unaffected; she couldn’t even feel his mind.

“Oh, no, darling,” he said pleasantly. “I did say I was prepared, didn’t I? There’s a trick or two you don’t know about yet, involving drugs that help defend against a desert lord’s little whimsies. I’m loaded to the lips, dear, so you won’t get me that way. And so is Tevin, so don’t waste your time with him, either. Nobody else is going to come into this room until we’re through with you, and by then you won’t be in any shape to try imposing your will on a sick rat. Now open your mouth. Last time I’ll ask nicely.”

After a last useless struggle to force her body into any kind of defiance and achieving only a feeble twitch, she allowed her clenched jaw muscles to relax. Her mouth sagged open.

“And swallow properly, of course,” the man said, uncapping the vial. “You don’t want to spit this back in my face, you really don’t.” He tipped the dark liquid into her mouth.

Alyea half-considered spraying him with it anyway; but what other options did she really have? She swallowed the whole mouthful without protest. It tasted like rancid, thickly honeyed mint tea.

He smiled and touched the side of her face lightly, like a parent comforting a child.

“What you just swallowed,” he told her, “is called dasta tea, or dashaic. It’s a very concentrated syrup, which is usually diluted back out before we sell it up the coast; but for you, darling, I thought it best to leave it pure. Put her on the bed, Tevin. Time to get started.”

She landed on the bed clumsily, an unexpected warmth rushing through her body. The weakness in her muscles faded, replaced by a startling flush of strength. She rolled and sat up, glaring at them.

“Lovely,” the smaller man said, watching her closely. “It’s working faster than I expected.”

“I’m going to
kill
—” She paused, blinking.

There were suddenly two of him. No, three. And sweat trickled down her face and body as though the room had spun into a Bright Bay high summer.

“Uh. Gods.” She couldn’t move. Her muscles had gone flaccid again.

“Lovely,” the smaller man said. “See, dear, the thing with dasta is that it’s normally just used as an aphrodisiac; but it’s rather more than that, if you know how to apply it. In the pure dose, as in what I just fed you, it lowers all your defenses. It makes you hypersensitive to every little touch, every pinprick. You can’t escape into your own mind now, because you won’t be able to block anything external from your consciousness.”

“I’ve been raped before,” she said, grimly hanging on to clarity against a wave of dizziness. “You don’t scare me.”

“Oh, no, no,” the man said, appearing surprised. “You’re misunderstanding, dear.
That
isn’t the point at all, although it will doubtless be part of Tevin’s routine at some point. Oh—I see. I forgot to mention the relevant bit, which is that Tevin’s previous employer was Rosin Weatherweaver. And Tevin worked in the cellars of the Church Tower, ferreting out traitors and enemies of the king.”

The nausea in her stomach congealed to a freezing, empty horror.

“Ah,” the man said. “
Now
I think you understand.” He smiled. “Did you want to say anything, before we get started?”

With the last of her courage, she spat towards him; it fell far short, and he didn’t even flinch.

“Very well,” he said. “Go ahead, Tevin.”

The big man flipped open the box, revealing quite a lot of shiny, sharp metal items and thick leather straps; Alyea let out a low whimper, unable to help herself.

“Anytime you like, just say the word, darling,” the other man said, sounding bored. “This can stop any time at all. I’ll have a
lovely
meal waiting for you, too. All you have to do is ask.”

Alyea threw everything she had into trying to kick out at Tevin. The attempt only shifted her leg a fraction; and Tevin’s smile only widened.