Mirror Sight (68 page)

“Miss Goodgrave?” Lorine. It was Lorine.

“Who—who is this man?” Karigan asked.

“A mender,” Lorine replied. “His name is Marcus. You were hit very hard, and he healed you with—”

“I am a true healer,” the man said. “I can channel etherea through my hands to heal. The blow cracked your collar bone, but I knitted it back together.”

It all started to come back to Karigan. The courtyard, the confrontation with Amberhill. She tried to rise, but the world started to fade out again.

“Easy,” the mender said, pushing her back into her seat. “You can undo all the good work I’ve done if you don’t take care. Perhaps you would like some water?”

Lorine appeared before Karigan and pressed a glass into her hand. When she lifted it to drink, her hand dragged on something and there was the clink of metal. Her other hand, she realized. Her wrists were manacled. When had those been put on?

Prisoner.

She drank deeply trying to gather her wits, and when she paused, she eyed Lorine who looked none the worse for her time at the palace. She wore no restraints, no manacles.

“Lorine,” she asked, “you are all right?”

“Yes, miss. We have not been harmed.”

“Arhys is . . . ?”

Lorine nodded. “She is having lessons with some of the palace children right now.”

“Let me see into your eyes,” the mender told Karigan. She saw a brand on his forearm and realized he was a slave.

A pinpoint of light formed magically between the tips of his thumb and forefinger, and he aimed it into her eyes. “Easy,” he said in a soothing voice. “The light will not hurt you. I just need to see how your eyes react to it.”

She did not feel threatened by him, so she obeyed, and he grunted with approval at what he saw.

“All is well,” he told her. “I will leave word with the guards that they are to inform me if you should become ill, but I do not think there will be a problem.” With that, he collected a case that must hold his instruments and let himself out of the room. Beyond the door, she saw a flicker of red that must be guards.

She felt for her brooch. It was there, hidden by its spell. Next, she checked her pocket. Her moonstone was missing. She’d been searched. She gazed about. The room she occupied was well-furnished. She sat upon a plush sofa. There was art on the walls, and doors leading to other rooms. If not for the knowledge of where she truly was, she would have guessed she was in some country manse. If not for the manacles on her wrists, she might have found it comfortable.

Lorine sat down beside her. “Oh, Miss Goodgrave! How did you come to be here? Did Dr. Silk bring you, or that horrid Mr. Starling?”

“No. I came with . . .” And when she remembered Luke was dead and probably Cade, too, she could speak no more.

“M
iss Goodgrave?” Lorine shook Karigan’s arm. Chains clinked. “Miss Goodgrave, please, what is it?”

Karigan barely heard her. Her vision had narrowed, grown dark. She could not grasp the loss.

“I—I came with Luke and Cade,” she said finally. It was too much to tell Lorine everything, all the events that had led to her being there. “Luke is dead and . . .”

Lorine clapped her hands to her mouth and paled. Karigan had not been the only one who loved Cade.

“Nooo!” Lorine wailed. “It can’t be true—it can’t!”

While Lorine was able to express her grief, Karigan could not seem to. She was broken, unable to speak, act.

The door to the room opened, and a pair of guards barged in. Even distraught, Lorine had the presence of mind to veil her face. Karigan had no veil, nor did she care. The guards roughly pulled her to her feet and without another word, pushed her out of the room. The door was slammed behind her, cutting off Lorine’s sobs.

The details of the corridors the guards dragged Karigan down were lost to her. She did not see others who passed by. She was trapped inside herself. She thought they passed a fountain with the statue of a dragon in it, and only noticed because it reminded her of something, but she let it go. Nothing else mattered.

Eventually they entered a darkened room, and the guards forced her into a chair. It was unmistakably an office with bookcases and a massive desk, and sitting on the other side of that desk was Dr. Silk gazing at her through those specs of his. She should want to kill him, she thought, for any part he might have played in Cade’s death, but it was hard enough just to sit upright and not fold into a fetal position. She was cold ashes, not fire.

Dr. Silk waved the guards out and then stared at her, alternately gazing at something lying on his desk.

“You are she,” he said at last.

Karigan stirred. “What?”

“You are Miss Goodgrave,” he said, “or whatever your real name may be. Do you remember the image-trapper at my dinner party?” He lifted a framed picture, tilting it so she could see. “The image of you is still oddly transparent, but less so now.”

Karigan blinked, focused. It was her in black and white and layers of gray. Her posture was stiff and unnatural, the expression on her face dead of emotion. She could have been looking in a mirror, for the image reflected how she felt at this very moment. But Dr. Silk was right—she could see the backdrop through her face as though she had used her fading ability at the time of the image-trapping.
Cade is gone.
The thought had nothing to do with the picture or Dr. Silk sitting there on the other side of the desk. It came unbidden.

Dr. Silk set the portrait aside and folded his black-gloved hands on the desk. “What is your real name?”

“Does it matter?” Nothing mattered, not with Cade gone.

“It does to me. That you acknowledge you are not a Goodgrave is a positive beginning.”

“Ask your emperor. He knows who I am.” She glanced listlessly at his shelves. They were much neater than the professor’s had been, but there were similar artifacts; a rusted helmet, a skull, rolled maps.

“The emperor is currently indisposed.” A muscle twitched in his cheek.

“Seeing me was too much for Amberhill, was it?”

It was difficult to gauge Silk’s expression with those specs concealing his eyes, but she saw him start in surprise. “My dear,” he said, “it would be wise of you to use care when speaking of the emperor.”

Karigan shrugged.

“Now, you can keep your name to yourself,” Dr. Silk said, “but in time we’ll have it from Mr. Harlowe.”

Karigan jerked upright. Her mouth dropped open, but once again she could not speak.

Dr. Silk leaned forward to study her. “You thought he was dead, didn’t you.”

Her heart pounded. Her head pounded. “He’s—alive?” She hated revealing herself this way to this man, but she could not help it.

Dr. Silk leaned back into his chair, a slight smile on his lips. “For now. I cannot say the same for Josston’s old carriage driver, however. My dear, now that you know Mr. Harlowe is alive, your answering of questions could make things much easier on him. You see, he is with an Inquisitor. Inquisitors are not gentle questioners, and they will use whatever methods they require to extract the information they seek. It can go badly for the one being questioned. Do you understand?”

Karigan licked her lips and nodded. Oh, yes, she understood. They were torturing Cade.

“Good. I had hoped you would cooperate, which would only lighten the burden on Mr. Harlowe.”

“I want to see him,” she said. “Prove to me he is alive, or I won’t answer any questions.”

“I am afraid you are not in a position to make demands. You will have to take me at my word. If you choose not to cooperate, we will get the answers out of Mr. Harlowe, and I guarantee he won’t find it a pleasant experience.”

Karigan considered her circumstances, the manacles on her wrists. She could leap across the desk and throttle Dr. Silk, manacles or no. He would not be expecting it, not from a female. But that wouldn’t help Cade, nor would she be able to overcome every guard in the palace. No doubt they would execute Cade as soon as they got whatever information they wanted from him. He had betrayed the empire. He had started an uprising in Mill City. They would make an example of him.

The only course she saw was to make an ally of Dr. Silk. There was no reason to hide her identity or where she was from, not anymore. She would gain his confidence and maybe make things easier on Cade. She would buy time to figure out what to do. She took a deep breath trying to gather her composure. “I assume you are a man of some influence in the empire,” Karigan said.

Dr. Silk preened. “I do have some influence. My father is second in power to the emperor. It is not openly acknowledged; it is understood in the emperor’s inner circle.”

“And you are an archeologist? Like the professor?”

He frowned. “I oversee all archeology throughout the empire. The professor was merely one of many who answer to me. I am the emperor’s special consul on antiquities and true history.”

Here was a man, Karigan thought, who was obscured by his father’s shadow, who wanted to be regarded as important on his own merit. “We both know,” she said, “that the empire’s true history is, in fact, false.”

“Those words are heresy.” But Dr. Silk was not angered by her statement. He looked intrigued. “What makes you believe such a thing?”

“Did you know I was born here?” Karigan asked. “Right in this very area, which was once known as Corsa, the province of L’Petrie. You see, I was born over two hundred years ago.” Dr Silk was a rapt listener. “I attended school in Selium, and then I went to Sacor City to serve King Zachary Hillander. You want to know my name? In my time, I am known as Rider Sir Karigan G’ladheon, a Green Rider of His Majesty’s Messenger Service.”

Dr. Silk paled, looked shaken. He gripped the armrests of his chair. She had caught him off guard. He must not have expected her to be so forthright, or maybe it had something to do with the information itself. She smiled to herself. Instead of feeling like she had given away a part of herself, announcing her name and title made her feel more powerful. She no longer had to hide.

“Well,” Dr. Silk said, visibly trying to regain equanimity, “that would certainly explain a few things.”

Karigan relaxed in her chair, her shackled hands resting on her lap. She had him now. If he was anything like the professor, he’d be overcome by his curiosity of the past. He would not even realize she had taken control of the situation.

“I have so many questions that I hardly know where to start,” Dr. Silk said, the eagerness in his voice confirming her thoughts.

“I would be happy to answer your questions,” Karigan replied. “There is no reason for me not to, except for the matter of Cade Harlowe.”

“I told you—”

“Hear me out, please. You told me you are a man of influence, and I’d wager you can influence how Mr. Harlowe is treated.”

“He is your lover,” Dr. Silk said with distaste. “Do not try to deny it.”

Imperial spies must have found out about it somehow. She tried to suppress a shudder of revulsion. “All right, I won’t deny it.” Her easy admission once again appeared to surprise him. The next part was not as easy to say. “We both know that Mr. Harlowe will be executed.” Not if she could help it, of course. “I will answer your questions, but I expect to have your personal assurance of his well being until . . . his execution.”

“Well—”

“Furthermore, I will want to see him one last time.” Before Dr. Silk could interrupt, she hastily continued, “I know you said I wouldn’t be able to see him, but I have something to offer in exchange.”

“Oh?” He could not seem to help himself but look intrigued. “And what would that be?”

“You know that Green Riders have special abilities, do you not?”

“Yes, I have heard this. The foundation stud of our enslaved true healers was a Green Rider, from before the emperor conquered your Sacoridia. We have carefully bred the line to maintain and enhance the healing ability.”

It was her turn to be shocked. He couldn’t mean Ben Simeon, could he? The only Green Rider known to fear horses? Poor Ben, enslaved and bred to produce more healers? She’d been cold ashes before when she thought Cade already dead, but now there were embers glowing within. They threatened to flare, but she subdued them. She needed Dr. Silk.

“You will tell me of your ability?” Dr. Silk asked eagerly.

“I will
show
you,” she said. “If you personally ensure I can see Mr. Harlowe.”

“I am a man of influence as you say, but alas, even my influence goes only so far. My father would not permit it. Besides, I could always use Mr. Harlowe’s welfare as leverage to force you to show me your ability.”

“My ability cannot be coerced. If I feel I am being threatened, or Mr. Harlowe is being used as leverage, it will not work.” It was pretty much a lie, and he’d probably see right through it, but she had to try. “Would your father necessarily have to know about my seeing Cade? It could be between you and me.”

He said nothing, weighing her words, no doubt.

“Look,” she continued, “we both want something, and we can both make it work to our mutual benefit.”

Dr. Silk laughed. It was a scratchy sound. “You did say you were born to merchants, did you not?”

“The very best.”

“Very well.” She could tell he was trying to sound indifferent, but she could hear the underlying eagerness in his voice. “As long as you remain cooperative and answer my questions, as well as show me your ability, I will find a way to let you see your lover. You will just have to trust me to keep my end of this . . . bargain.”

She nodded. “I will accept your word, on your honor, as you will have to accept mine.”

“Agreed.”

Karigan gave him the traditional merchant bow to seal it. “I am at your service.”

Dr. Silk nodded gravely in return. “Then let us begin with questions, shall we? About your ability—”

“Not until I see Cade.”

“That will take time to arrange.”

Karigan shrugged. “I will not show you, or talk about it, till I see him.” She imagined Dr. Silk glaring at her from behind his specs as the silence lengthened between them. She did not capitulate.

As though they had not spoken of her ability or Cade, he folded his hands upon the desk once again and began to speak. “I have a number of questions, which you have agreed to answer. As improbable as it sounds, the fact that a person from so long ago is sitting before me now, there is precedent for it. One only has to look to the emperor or my father for that. But unlike either of them, if you are who you say you are, I gather you have not been living among us for these two centuries but are only recently arrived. And if that is, in fact, the case, how is it you came to be here?”

The questioning, and her answering, were both very like what it had been with the professor. Dr. Silk listened avidly to the story of her journey into Blackveil.

“Some of the materials we’ve found and preserved make mention of a Green Rider named Karigan G’ladheon, and that she vanished into Blackveil and never returned,” he said.

Karigan had no idea what documents and artifacts he might have access to, so she could only shrug and continue, telling him of the looking mask, how she smashed it, and—

“You
smashed
it? An artifact of such amazing power?” He looked like he wanted to reach across the desk and shake her for her stupidity. The professor had not responded this way when he’d heard about the looking mask. “Why? Why did you give up such an opportunity? To hold the balance of the world in your hands?”

She shuddered. “I did not want the responsibility.” It had not been her place. It was the responsibility of the gods to wield such power, not some small, fallible mortal. She also had not wanted to be held captive by the power, forever separated from her world, her friends and family, to be its guardian. Is that why the mirror man had tried passing the mask on to her? Had he tired of his guardianship?

Dr. Silk shook his head, clearly aghast over the choice she had made. Men like him could never understand. They did not care about the responsibility, only the wielding of power over others, only power for power’s sake, so they could stand over other men and not be the one at the bottom of the heap, who is looked down upon by those above.