Lunatic (23 page)

"We use this as bait, then go to the Black Forest into a Shataiki lair and recover a certain charm," Johnis said. "With that, and your summoning ceremony, we can gain control of the entire horde of Shataiki for four days. Nothing can stop them once they've flown. It will be perfect. You will see."

Sucrow slapped the fruit away. It rolled across the ground, a single maggot landing on the desk, several more falling out when the fruit struck. Silvie almost gagged.

"And what makes you think these Shataiki are more than legend, boy?"

Johnis leaned close. Very close. "I think we both know that's a fool's question."

They stared each other down for several minutes before Johnis straightened. Sucrow chortled and went back to his work.

"You're the fool, boy, to come waltzing in here with rotten fruit and a child's notion of controlling Shataiki."

Johnis retrieved his fruit and slapped the desk. "I alone have the location of the Black Forest, and I alone have the bait. You'll never find the place without me."

Sucrow picked up a maggot from the desk, inspected it. Then squished it between his fingers. "You have nothing but empty words. Now go."

"Sucrow, you must listen-"

"Guards! Escort these children back outside and inform them that if they're caught trespassing again, they'll be executed."

Four muscular temple guards entered, two through the side door that likely led to the library, and two from the front. They grabbed Silvie by the wrists and began dragging her out.

The other two had Johnis. He kept protesting, but no one would listen.

Silvie cursed the priest as they were taken down the halls. Out on the patio, toward the steps.

"Let me alone," Johnis growled. Silvie snapped her head around. The voice wasn't Johnis's. It was lower, more sinister. His eyes had a cast to them she couldn't describe.

The guards were stunned too.

Johnis jerked free. Lowered into a crouch. Readied for a fight. The guard holding Silvie had let go.

Shaeda.

She didn't like her little pet threatened.

A chill wound around Silvie's spine.

Johnis lunged.

Silvie grabbed his arm. "Don't. They'll kill us."

Johnis ground his teeth, fists balled, muscles in his arms tightening. His eyes were dull, narrowed to slits, and very dark against his flaking, mosaic skin. He broke free of her and snarled.

"Follow us and it'll be the last thing you do," he warned the guards. Johnis grabbed Silvie's arms and marched off. Left Sucrow's men standing there gawking.

"What was that?" she asked when they were away.

He didn't answer.

"Johnis."

He was wrestling Shaeda again.

Finally his head cleared. Clarity came into his eyes.

Johnis's mistress had spoken.

He looked at her. "We'll have to find another way to convince Sucrow. The fruit he'll blow off as coincidental. We need more."

He grabbed her by the hand and hurried into the trees.

Silvie yelped. "Where are we going?"

"To get the amulet. We need to get supplies and some horses. I'll explain on the way."

SUCROW WAITED UNTIL THE TWO YOUTHS WERE OUT OF HIS sight and the door shut before reaching into his desk.

The boy had said far more than he likely comprehended. And he knew what the boy wanted, what he needed.

Josef had the means, but he would require a particular ritual to bring his plan to fruition. A ritual only a priest ofTeeleh would know.

He retrieved parchment and pen and a small, leather-bound book tied with gold twine that contained a series of legends and incantations. His guest had made him suspicious of an old tale that few remembered.

Sucrow flipped through the book to a dog-eared page and read it again. His frown deepened.

That fruit the boy carried wasn't supposed to exist.

It was a harach, supposedly from a purple-leafed tree that simply did not grow anywhere in the world. Only a precious few even knew the tale. Rumors, scarcely whispered stories from a tightlipped, waning number of priests who devoted themselves to ancient practices and to the winged serpent.

Leedhan magic. The entities.

Vampire lore.

The amulet wasn't supposed to exist.

"But if it did," he mused, "if it did, it really could mean the end of the world as we know it. This truly can become a world without albinos."

But what else would it mean?

With trembling fingers he scanned the pages, looking for the location of ancient things. A simple ritual would gain him access.

Teeleh would not be pleased if these abominations gained control of his following. If this amulet of Josef's really was the same, he could control the world. Surely Teeleh would prefer his own trusted priest to hold that Shataiki's bane. Not some fool who would enslave him.

This meant he didn't need said fool running around unsupervised. Josef and his lover needed to be under Sucrow's control.

"Yes," he muttered. "That would do it." He needed to send Warryn to catch up to the couple he'd too quickly dismissed and have them go after the amulet together.

Upon their return he would deal with them and take the Leedhan magic for himself. And then the girl would make a nice addition to his rituals. She was extra baggage, anyway. The boy would be more compliant locked in a dungeon.

Or dead.

Sucrow called to his apprentice in the library next door. "Come. I have a message for Warryn. A special assignment." Sucrow wrote on a parchment, rolled it up, then sealed it.

The skinny youth bowed upon his approach. "Furthermore," Sucrow instructed, "I want to know where the lair is."

"It is done." The servant's hand closed on the scroll.

Sucrow grabbed his wrist and gripped it with his long, sharp nails until the youth's flesh tore and began to bleed. "Do not let them leave the city."

here are we going, General?" Darsal asked, fighting the butt of his knife against her spine.

"Keep moving." Marak ignored her questions, marched her to the north end of the lake. Ignored the diseased flesh and the Circle pendant that made her look so much like the woman he'd almost married.

"Where are we going, Marak?" Rona's voice echoed. He remembered taking her here. She'd brought a meal from the market, and her long braid bounced as she ran to greet him. Loose tendrils had fallen around her eyes and cheeks, and she'd flung her arms wide. He'd caught her up in his arms ...

Darsal broke free and faced him. "What's going on, General?"

Jordan's pendant still hung around her neck. She'd tried twice to return it, but he'd been so frustrated with her he'd never taken it.

His uneasiness grew.

"You don't have to do it, Marak, "he heard Jordan protest in his head. "You don't have to give in to Sucrow. And you don't have to stay Qurong's general. You can leave. You can come live with us. No one's going to force you to drown. Come live with us. "

Jordan was an idealistic fool. No one just walked away from Qurong. And Sucrow was right. He'd had no business making promises to albinos. They were dead. And it was Marak's job to keep them dead.

But his little brother's face wouldn't leave his mind.

"Stop asking me questions and march." Marak gave her a push. Not hard, just enough to make her move.

No one was in sight. There was a thick grove of trees off the beaten path, on the north end of the lake, that would afford them some privacy. He didn't want company. He just wanted to kill the diseased albino and be rid of at least one problem.

"Tell me what's going on," she demanded.

Curse the wench. She was going to be difficult, wasn't she? The gnawing in his stomach grew. "Go, albino."

Her arms crossed.

Teeleh's breath, she was Rona again.

Enough of this lunacy.

"Fine. Here's as good as any." He drew his sword. "Get on your knees."

Darsal's wide brown eyes drank him in again. She stepped back, but didn't scream. "Why should I?"

Teeleh, Elyon, anyone help him.

"I said kneel." His heart started to pound against his chest. She wasn't screaming; she didn't try to run. She had Rona's backbone. Marak's skin crawled.

She didn't kneel. Marak pushed her to her knees. "Hands on the ground." He held her by the collar as she put her palms on the grass. The pendant dangled.

Marak stepped to the side. The minute he let go, she sprang up. He grabbed her arm. Darsal fought loose and punched him, sent him backward. He righted himself and tackled her.

Teeleh's breath, she was strong.

Darsal kicked free. They grappled for several minutes.

Finally he snatched her leg chain and yanked her feet out from under her. Marak pinned her facedown and tied her wrists. He hated himself for it, but what was he supposed to do?

"Don't be difficult," he snapped. "It has to be done."

Darsal quit struggling. She turned her face to the side. Jordan's pendant stuck to her skin. "Says who? You're a general, for Elyon's sake!"

He stood. "I'm under orders, albino. That's all you need to know."

"My name is Darsal."

He placed his sword at her neck. Raised it.

Marak, I love you, " he heard Rona plead. "Why are you doing this? Don't throw me off, please!"

"Marak ..."

He tensed.

'Jordan and I aren't sick. You are. "

"I'm not the one whose skin's been eaten right off-"

Jordan grabbed his hand, turned the inside of his arm outward, and rubbed hard at his skin. The morst smeared, and his flesh cracked and flaked onto his fingers and palms. "Then what is this, Marak?"

He jerked away. It was fine until you did that!"

"Until I revealed the truth!"

"For the love of Elyon, Marak..."

"Silence!"

He couldn't do this if she kept saying his name, if she kept making him think of his brother and Rona. There was no option.

Qurong ordered him to submit to Sucrow. Sucrow ordered him to kill this albino.

Darsal worked her way to her knees. She went to one knee, then into a crouch. Now standing at attention with her hands behind her back, she waited.

The wench looked him right in the eye, pendant suspended from her throat.

Jordan's defiance and Ronas gaze stared at him. Waited for the blow.

A buzzing flitted like a dozen hummingbird wings in his head.

Looking at this woman, he could see only Rona, only the woman he'd loved and cast aside because she'd become albino. The woman his brother married because he refused.

He had to.

Marak brought up his sword. Moved to strike. The seconds felt like forever.

He lowered the blade. Then raised it again.

Slung it into the dirt along with a scream that tore at his throat and lungs.

Quiet. For better or worse, Marak could not kill her.

He clenched his teeth and swore. Slid his blade back into his scabbard, his stomach twisted in knots.

She was Rona. And now he had to deal with her. Deal with this albino and all the trouble that came with her.

His hand touched her shoulder. They both jerked away. Darsal stared up at him, eyes and mouth wide. Marak could only stand there.

Finally he cleared his throat. "Let me untie your hands."

"ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?" SILUIE SOUNDED LIKE SHE WAS TALKing underwater.

"She's wearing me out. I'm exhausted."

The dark presence seemed to wrap around his mind, sinking invisible claws into his brain. He could almost taste something coppery and salty on his tongue and lips. The siren song in his head grew louder. Louder.

"I am with you, my Johnisss ... I and all my power, if you will but yield entirely ... "

What did that mean?

"What do you mean?"

"I mean ... I mean it's like ..."

Johnis fell quiet. Admitting he wasn't entirely acting of his own will wasn't really something he wanted Silvie to know. But she seemed to already notice anyway. She wasn't stupid.

The siren song heightened. With it came the impulse to destroy everything in his path. To conquer.

"Johnis." Silvie's hand snatched at his arm.

Shaeda wanted him to give her total control. Yearned to share power with him. The pull intensified with every step. Drove him back into the southern desert. Drove him on like a wayward steer.