Shards of Time (38 page)

“Maybe it’s like the portal that appeared at the palace,” said Thero. “Do you see anything around the chamber?”

“No, but maybe we should walk around in case I have to be near it to see it.”

After considerable splashing around, Alec shook his head. “I don’t see anything. I’m going back to the palace.”

With some magical assistance they got their baggage back up the tunnel and rode back toward the palace. Judging by the stars, it was after midnight.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” asked Thero.

The younger man’s face was hidden in shadow, but his voice carried pain as he replied, “What would I do, sleep? Not with Mika gone.”

Thero rode silently along for a long moment, then sighed.
“I’m sorry I shouted at you. I realize you did all you could before she bewitched you. I doubt Seregil would have fared any differently.”

“But you would have?”

“I would have known what she was, yes, and that might have changed things. We have to find a way to get me into that place.”

“The lightstone didn’t work there. What makes you think your magic will?”

“It does for the woman, obviously, since you witnessed her levitating Mika.”

“Maybe only her magic works there.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

At the palace Alec and Thero revisited the two places he’d found portals, but there was nothing there now. They tried the surrounding corridors, but with no luck.

“How does something like that move?” Alec wondered as dawn light seeped in the windows of the first corridor he’d disappeared in.

“This plane is in some contact with ours, but it’s likely not solid, like two walls meeting at a corner. It may be more like a curtain waving in the breeze. That’s more like what you described, the first time you came back.”

“Then there’s no way to know where it’s going to be?”

Thero shook his head grimly. “No.”

S
EREGIL
was awake in bed when Alec returned to their tent.

“Well?”

Alec sat down on the edge of the cot and told him of the skull and Thero’s visions.

“Khazireen, eh?” said Seregil. “That was a good night’s work, Alec. It’s good to have a name, at least.”

“How are you?”

Seregil grinned his crooked grin. “Oh, I’ve been better and worse. So I’d say middling. You’re not looking too chipper yourself. Get some rest. Daylight will be here soon.”

Alec stretched out on the other cot, not expecting to sleep after all he’d seen tonight. But he did, and dreamed of trying and failing to get to Mika. Sometimes it was Seregil he was trying to save, only to find him in a pool of blood, head split open.

The sun was just up when he was shaken awake and opened his eyes to find Thero kneeling beside him, looking frantic.

“What is it?” Alec mumbled, sitting up and pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“Klia is missing!”

That knocked the sleep out of Alec’s head. “When?”

“She never made it to Deep Harbor. She’s been missing for two days and no one knew!”

“Who brought word?” asked Seregil from his cot.

“I did.”

Looking past Thero, Alec saw a beautiful, raven-haired
woman in a simple brown gown and green silk scarf standing by the tent door. For an instant his belly clenched; she didn’t really look like the woman he’d seen yesterday—for one thing, her eyes were so dark they were nearly black, rather than blue—but there were enough common features of color and build to make him look twice.

“Who are you?” It came out more rudely than he’d intended, but the shock of Klia’s loss blasted everything else from his mind.

“I’m Doctor Kordira. I examined Lady Zella and thought you’d like a report firsthand.” She looked past him to Seregil. “Perhaps my skills are needed, as well?”

“What about Lady Zella and Klia?” asked Seregil.

“Zella was found lying by the bridge on the highroad below Mirror Moon. She was taken to your estate and I was sent for. I haven’t been able to get much sense out of her, except her claim that she was attacked by demons.”

“What sort of demons?” asked Thero, who’d gone deathly pale.

“She raved of shadows and no faces and being surrounded by them.”

“Shadows with no faces,” Thero groaned as he took out a blood-spotted linen handkerchief and clutched it. He saw Alec’s questioning look. “Klia.” He performed the spell and his whole body sagged. “She’s gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” asked Seregil.

“There’s no sign of her, which means—” He stopped himself from speaking in front of Kordira, but Alec guessed that he was thinking she was either dead or in the same place that Mika was. If either of them was dead on this side, Thero would know it.

“The dra’gorgos must have taken her and her escort,” said Alec.

“But not Zella,” Seregil noted with icy calm.

“Dra’gorgos? Forgive me, my lords, but I don’t understand,” said Kordira.

Seregil managed to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed, blankets wadded across his lap. “Hand me my breeches, Alec.”

“No.”

Kordira looked around at them, perhaps gauging the sudden increase in tension, then said, “I think I’ll go find something to drink. Send for me if you need me.”

“I said give me my breeches,” Seregil said again as soon as she was gone.

Alec locked eyes with him. “No. You’re not up to it yet.”

Seregil gave him a disbelieving look. “I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not. I’m in good shape and I could have died in there if I didn’t have a little food with me. The state you’re in, I don’t think we could carry enough to keep you going, and we’d probably end up having to carry you, too. I’m sorry, Seregil, but you’d be a liability right now.”

Anger flared in Seregil’s grey eyes, but only for an instant. “You’re probably right.”

“You know I am, talí.” Alec pulled on his boots and stood up, looking for his sword belt and bow.

“Nobody is going anywhere yet,” Thero told them with an obvious effort. “There are preparations we must make.”

Micum stepped in through the tent flap, still tucking in his shirt. “I just met Doctor Kordira and she told me what happened. Tell me what you want me to do, Thero.”

“As I was just telling them, there are preparations to be made. If we are dealing with a dyrmagnos, then we have to be ready, although I’m concerned about that, given what happened to Alec’s lightstone there.”

“You mean your magic might not work there, either,” said Seregil.

“Precisely. But we won’t know that unless I can find a way in with Alec’s help. That’s the first thing we must ascertain.”

“And I’m just going to lie here and worry, apparently,” Seregil growled.

“Can you ride?” asked Thero.

“I can manage.”

“Good. Go speak with Zella and learn all you can from her about the ambush. Also, I need that gold arm ring she showed us that first night. See if you can find out who the workmen
were who went into that cave. I think one of them may have the Great Seal.”

“If it’s there I’ll find it,” he replied, looking much happier now that he had something to do. “I better get cleaned up. Help me over to my tent, will you, Micum? And I think I’d like to speak with the good doctor, too.”

Micum got him into his breeches and helped him to his tent.

“Do you want to go to the bathing tent?” asked Micum as he eased Seregil down to sit on his own bed.

“Later,” said Seregil. “Please send in the doctor and then go keep Thero company. He’s more brokenhearted than he’s letting on.”

“What about you?”

“I could ask you the same,” Seregil replied. “We’re going to find her and bring her back. That’s all I want to think about right now.”

Micum clasped his hand, then went out.

There was no question of going into Deep Harbor the way he looked, Seregil thought glumly, grimacing into the small mirror someone had left near the bed. The skin around the stitches in his scalp was a healthy-looking pink, but the hair he had left was a stiff, tangled mess. Between that and the bloodstained bandages swathing his chest, he was a sight to scare small children.

Kordira stepped in and caught him shaking his head at his less-than-pleasing reflection. “May I examine you?”

“I’d appreciate it.”

She came and looked him over, touching his head here and there with gentle fingers. “I’m so sorry about Princess Klia.”

“Thank you, but we don’t know yet if she’s dead or not.”

“True.” She felt through his hair. “There’s no infection here. We’ll have to get those bandages off before I can tell you any more. Might I suggest a bath?”

“You certainly may.” Leaving Kordira in the tent, he enlisted the help of a couple of soldiers to get him to the bathing tent. His back hurt a great deal from the wrenching it had taken, but he was able to walk, if slowly.

It took three tubs of water to remove the crusted bandages
and soak the blood from his hair. Swathed in flannels, with one wrapped around his head, he hobbled back to the tent without help. Kordira was waiting with fresh bandages and a fragrant honey salve.

“Riding is a very bad idea, Baron,” she said, inspecting the wounds on his chest and neck. “You’ll open up these cuts again if you’re not careful.”

“Please, call me Seregil. We don’t stand on ceremony here.” The truth was, riding a horse was looking less and less attractive. The bath had taken most of his energy, and his various wounds were burning like fire in spite of the salve. Even so, he let a young servant boy help him into fresh clothing while Kordira waited outside, then looked around for his sword belt. That, too, was covered in blood—his own, this time.

“I’ll find you a new one, my lord,” the boy offered.

“Thank you.” Seregil lowered himself carefully down on the edge of the cot. “Now where are my extra boots?”

The boy found them and helped him into them. “Anything else, my lord?”

“Please send the lady in.”

“Well, you look a bit better,” Kordira observed with a wry look as she entered. “It’s a bit belated at this point, but it is good to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, Doctor.” Seregil passed a hand ruefully across the two bare patches on his scalp. “I don’t usually look this piebald. You wouldn’t happen to have a comb?”

Smiling, she produced a wooden comb from the purse at her belt. “May I?”

“Please do. After all, we’ve only just met.”

She chuckled as she sat next to him on the bed and draped a dry flannel over his shoulders to catch the water still dripping from his wet hair. With incredible gentleness, she worked through the tangles until the long locks were smooth. “Come out and sit in the sun to dry.”

Seregil took her advice, settling on a stool in front of the tent. Her horse was tethered nearby, and Seregil saw that there were large leather panniers behind the saddle. “You came prepared.”

“Always. I never know when I’ll have to deliver a baby or stitch up a gut. I have a few things that might help you, as well, if you’re willing to let a Plenimaran physician minister to you.”

“Well, you did comb my hair, after all.”

She went to the panniers and pulled out a few parcels and jars, then disappeared in the direction of the kitchens.

As he waited for her to return, Seregil considered his situation. Find artifacts and bring the arm ring, Thero had said. Surely he could do a bit more than that.

Kordira returned with a man carrying a tray.

“Just set it here on the grass, please,” she told the man. He put it down at Seregil’s feet and she knelt beside it, heedless of her gown. It was of fine cloth but simply cut, as was the silk scarf around her shoulders, and she wore no jewelry. Her nails were short and stained from her work. And, he had to admit, she was very lovely. There had been a time, under better circumstances, when he’d already have been making plans to seduce such a beauty. He touched his scalp again; he wasn’t at his most attractive.

She noticed. “It won’t do, you getting your head sunburned.” She untied her scarf and fashioned a headdress for him, then took a small silver mirror from her purse and let him look.

The way she’d wrapped it resembled an Aurënfaie
sen’gai
, covering his head and twisted about the brow, with tails hanging over his left shoulder. “You know how to tie a sen’gai?”

“I’ve seen ’faie wearing them.”

“Slaves?”

“Slaves aren’t allowed to wear them, as you no doubt know. No, free people, traders and the like. I traveled awhile before settling here.”

“What brought you to Kouros?”

“I came to see the oracle’s site and fell in love with the island and the people. And yes, there was slavery, but as I told your friends I hate it as much as any Skalan.”

“Or Aurënfaie?”

“I doubt I can match any ’faie’s hatred of slavery. I would never claim it.”

Seregil gave her a crooked smile. “It’s very kind of you to say so.”

“I know you don’t trust me,” she replied, busying herself with the bowls and cups on the tray. “Your friends don’t, either. It’s quite understandable. I just prefer to have it out in the open.”

“Thank you.”

She lifted a steaming mug from the tray and handed it to him. “This is marrow broth, with brandy, ironwort for strength, and a dash of sticky rush for the pain.” She took a clean cloth from a dish, showing him a helping of cold venison pie and two apples cut in quarters. “Drink the broth and eat as much as you’re able. Can you send someone to commandeer us a small cart? I don’t think you’re in any shape to ride.”