The King's Daughters (28 page)

Crouched over the body of a guard, the creature was too busy gorging itself on the putrefied flesh to notice our presence. The ghoul, I observed, had a basic human form, but there ended the resemblance. This foul apparition was covered with scars, boils, and sores. Even its bald head was a raw mass of oozing sores and red-crusted wounds . . .
unless they're leftovers from previous feasts
. Utterly disgusted, I brandished my torch toward the ghoul. "Stop, vile monster!"

Stupefied to have been caught in the act of gnawing on a body, the ghoul raised bloody clawed hands, shielding his narrow red eyes, and hissed aggressively at us.

His face wasn't as I had expected. Beastly was how I had imagined it would be. But instead it was, to my dismay, like the face of an old man, wrinkled, twisted, and nearly toothless. Quite frankly, I found it far more disturbing than if it had been beastly looking.

Pulling to my side, Milo lowered his torch toward the creature. The ghoul shrieked, exposing a mouth dripping with blood and smeared with half-chewed chunks of maggot-infested flesh.

"OH—ghastly!" Milo exclaimed just before he bent over and emptied his stomach at my feet. "Pardon me, my lord," he said, rising. "I . . . I couldn't . . . "

"Shhh!" I hushed, moving forward.

The ghoul growled and hissed in a threatening manner. Yet it failed to frighten or intimidate me. By the way the ghoul's narrow eyes were anxiously darting around in search of a way out, it was evident that the ghoul was more scared than anything else. Suddenly, the creature's eyes settled on a point behind me. The ghoul's physiognomy changed. From scared it became terrified. Curling up in the corner of the cellar, the ghoul began whimpering like a beaten dog. I peeked over my shoulder to see what could cause such a reaction in the ghoul: Lilloh. She was slapping the flat side of a short blade in the palm of her hand, muted plop, plop, plop sounds accompanied the gestures.

"Good! It remembers me," she said with a proud smirk.

"You've met this creature before?"

Khuan nodded.

"I don't understand. If you've questioned it already, why are we here?"

"Then we thought the ghoul guilty of these crimes. We didn't know as much as now. We didn't ask the right questions. Evil does not volunteer information. One must be clever and precise in his questioning to get the right answers."

"I'll ask." Lilloh advanced toward the ghoul.

The creature reacted by letting out a bloodcurdling shriek and clawing the air in desperation. I must admit that, for the space of a heartbeat, I felt some pity for the screaming ghoul.

Covering my ears, I turned to Khuan. "There must be a better way of dealing with this horrid being."

Khuan aimed patient eyes at me, and I was glad to see that his wise gaze harbored no cruelty whatsoever, only a hint of concern. "This is the proper way, Amir," said Khuan. "Sadly, ghouls need incentives to cooperate; otherwise it would lie to us. Pain, or the fear of pain, is usually what works best."

"Call her back then. This ghoul is clearly ready to talk."

After giving a nod in my direction, Khuan spoke briefly to Lilloh in his native tongue. She cast him a dark resentful look, and then her somber stare switched to me. With her full lips pushed forward in a sign of disapproval, she shook her head. "Too much kindness . . . bad! Can hurt you. Evil does best work through kind people."

"I agree with her, my lord," Milo snorted. "Let her beat that creature. Better yet, let me do it."

Lilloh bowed to Milo, and before I could tell the young eunuch to quiet down, Khuan squeezed my elbow. "Do not reprimand your valet in front of this creature," he whispered. "When confronting evil, even an entity as weak as a ghoul, always, and I mean
always,
show a united front."

How dare he give me orders!
Even though I didn't protest openly and kept my mouth shut, I nonetheless expressed my discontentment by roughly pulling out of his grip.

Seemingly unaffected by my rude behavior, Khuan said, "Come. Let's approach this creature together."

We crossed the distance separating us from the hissing ghoul. As we got close to it, a powerful stench of decomposed flesh engulfed us. The smell was so vile I had to draw air through my mouth for fear that if I breathed normally I would retch uncontrollably.

"Who is behind those deaths?" asked Khuan.

The ghoul didn't answer, it just growled at us.

"Speak, or we will hurt you," Khuan threatened.

For a moment the ghoul looked as if torn by conflict. Finally, its mouth twisted. "They'll hurt me worse if I do," the ghoul said in a gravelly voice.

Confused, I looked at Milo and Lilloh. Did the ghoul mean these two?—somehow I doubted it. "Who will hurt you? Who are they?"

The ghoul spat in my direction. A fat glob of bloody spit landed on my boot. My dislike for this creature was growing by leaps and bounds. I thrust my torch at the ghoul. I had no intension of actually burning the repulsive creature, but I thought I could make a good bluff of it. The move brought me a disapproving glare from Khuan. The ghoul, for his part, shrieked loudly and leapt back in fear.

"Who are they?" I demanded.

"The disciples," the ghoul snarled. "They'll hurt me if I talk. The disciples will hurt me. The old one is wicked—WICKED."

"The old one," I repeated. "Who's the old one? What's his name? And who are these disciples?"

"Can't—too afraid," the ghoul blurted out.

We tried extorting more information out of the ghoul, but failed to get anything coherent from the terrified creature. We all came to the conclusion that there was no use staying here any longer.

As we were about to leave the cellar, a thought crossed my mind.
Perhaps there are other questions the ghoul could answer, questions that will not frighten it as much.
I turned around. "Ghoul, is there someone else besides you who can answer our questions? Someone who is not afraid of the old one?"

"All that serve the old one, fears the old one."

"Name someone who isn't serving the old one then."

The ghoul became as still as a statue. While it remained in that pose, with its head slightly cocked to the side, it looked too human for my taste. Then its small red eyes rose toward me and the traces of humanity I had thought I saw in that creature moments ago vanished. What was left in front of me was nothing but a demon.

"The witch," hissed the ghoul. "The witch knows." The creature then produced a hideous grimace, which I supposed was his idea of a smile.

I tried more questions but got nothing else out of the ghoul. Short of options, we decided to leave the cellar. Once I was outside in the cold night air, I filled my lungs with much delight. Lord, I was happy to be rid of the horrid stench of the ghoul. Milo stepped beside me and bent down. I watched him rub a handful of snow over his ashen face.

"You bluffed," Khuan snapped. "When you made as if you were going to burn the ghoul with your torch, you were bluffing." Khuan's sharp reproof took me by surprise; he was usually so composed.

"It worked. The ghoul believed me."

"Doesn't matter. Never bluff with evil. If you do something, you better mean it. Otherwise if it sees through your bluff, it will never believe you again, no matter what you try."

"Enough, Khuan!" said Lilloh. "He did well. He got answers."

The tension stiffening Khuan's shoulders eased and soon he was looking calm and collected again. "The witch that the ghoul mentioned, can it be the girl in the dungeon?"

I had come to that conclusion too. Isabo was probably who the ghoul meant. I nodded. "I believe so."

"Then we learned nothing," said Khuan. "Because seeing her is impossible."

"That's not true. We learned about the disciples and the old one. I think I know who they are." I told Khuan and Lilloh about the baron and the black robed group. "It makes sense. The black-robe followers are the disciples and the baron is the old one. It fits."

Khuan rubbed his smooth chin. "Or his god could be the old one. If that's the case, we're doomed. We cannot win a fight against a god."

In a sudden outburst of frustration, Lilloh elbowed her way between me and Khuan and exclaimed, "Men! Blind men! See, Isabo was with bear. Why with bear, if not to do bad things. I think she enchanted bear. She disciple. Teacher of potion is old one."

I sighed. The ghoul had said disciples not disciple. Sadly Lilloh's rudimentary knowledge of Sorvinkian didn't permit her to catch the nuance between plural and singular. But that wasn't the main flaw in her reasoning. "No. You're wrong. The ghoul said that the witch, Isabo, didn't serve the old one."

Lilloh frowned. "No! She guilty."

"I disagree. My gut feeling tells me that she's innocent."

"Gut! Gut know only food."

I moaned and rolled my eyes in despair. "That means something different . . . " I paused; explaining this to her was an exercise in futility. "Never mind, Lilloh, you can't understand."

Lilloh didn't take my remark lightly. She stepped closer to me and raised her chin in defiance. "You not so smart. Explain bear."

"I can't."

"Then I right."

"No, you're not," I argued. "The baron has something to do with this. I'm sure of it."

"Do you smell magic on baron?"

"Smell? Sense magic on him, you mean—no, but—"

"You
sense
magic on Isabo."

Reluctantly, I said, "Well, yes."

"See, Amir, I right."

"Amir! How dare you use my name this freely! I did not permit you this familiarity. This is highly impolite and rude."

Lilloh's eyes narrowed. "Yes. But I right. You sense fat princess inside bear."

I flinched and stepped back. "I sensed nothing of the sort."

"Liar! You sense. I saw. Isabo with bear. Fat princess in bear. See! I right!" Lilloh stamped her foot down repetitively. "See! See! See!"

"All right, all right. I see your point," I admitted with obvious discontent. Needless to say, I was beginning to dislike Lilloh quite a bit.

"My lord," Milo murmured into my ear. "I'm glad you've agreed with her. Otherwise I fear this she-devil may have stabbed you."

Khuan threw me a sheepish look. "I think Lilloh might be right. Sadly, that brings us back to Isabo and the fact that we can't see her."

Churning the problem in my mind, I came to an obvious solution. "I'll have to ask Eva to help us. I'm quite certain she can convince the guards to let me speak with Isabo."

"If she agree to see you," said a skeptic-looking Lilloh.

"Why wouldn't she? We're trying to help her family, her sisters."

Lilloh pouted. "She won't help you. Trust me, I speak truth. That woman . . . Pf. She brings you only pain. She worthless."

"Watch your tongue!"

Lilloh raised her chin. "No. I say what I think."

Khuan promptly stepped in between Lilloh and me. "I believe we've wasted enough of your time, Prince Amir. A thousand thanks." On these words, he bowed and left, nearly dragging an unwilling Lilloh behind him.

Good, leave!
That was just as well, I thought, because I had seen enough of those two for now. As I watched the glow of their torches diminish, one thought haunted me: What if Lilloh was right? What if Eva refused to meet me? How would I save her then?

The next morning I awoke very early because I had something clear and precise in mind. A special plan of action, which to be successful needed to be set in motion at the earliest of hours.

Fearing that Lilloh might be right to assume that Eva would refuse to help me—or just plainly refuse to see me—I had decided to enter her bedroom without her consent or knowledge. First, I made my way to the servants' quarters. Once I arrived there, I was surprised by the frantic activity of the place. Cooks were hard at work; stewards were busy polishing silverware while valets and maids rushed in and out carrying freshly laundered linen and sparkling porcelain dishes.

"What's the cause of all this excitement?" I asked a maid as she dashed by me.

The maid, a plump woman in her thirties with heavy-hooded eyes, gave me a perplexed look. "But, my lord, we're preparing the banquet hall for tonight's announcement."

"What announcement?"

"Oh, my lord doesn't know!" exclaimed the maid. "The king has decided to remarry. He's announcing his choice tonight!" The maid paused and peeked around briefly before whispering in a tone of secrecy, "It's Countess Ivana. Everybody already knows about it. Tonight it's gonna be made official though. Now I must go back to work, my lord." On these words, the maid curtseyed and fled through one of the passages.

Although this wedding seemed a bit rushed to me, I was glad the king chose Ivana. I believed she'd make a wonderful queen. My thoughts returned to Eva. Soon, she too would begin preparing for this event, and then maids would swarm around her like worker bees tending a queen.

Knowing that I had no time to lose, I entered the passage leading to her room. I tiptoed to the door and paused before opening it. Maybe coming here was a mistake. It was certainly improper. Chances were good that she was going to be angry at me. If so, what would I say? I sighed. There was no way of predicting her reaction, and staying here was a waste of precious time. And really, the consequence of this action couldn't be worse than the torment of not knowing anyway. My mind made up, I gathered my courage and entered Eva's bedroom.

Standing motionless in front of her window in her black mourning dress, Eva resembled one of the many shadows inhabiting the corners of her dimly lit room.

I cleared my throat.

She didn't move; her eyes remained lost in space. "I don't want anything this morning, thank you," she murmured, believing I was a servant.

I was astounded by the dullness of her voice, by her downcast attitude. "Eva, it's me; Amir," I whispered.

She turned and, for a brief instant, surprise illuminated her red puffy eyes. Then this minute spark of light extinguished itself and her eyes took on a somber air of defeat.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a voice that was devoid of interest yet still managed to be laced with condemnation. "Don't say it is to get news of Lars's health, which hasn't changed by the way, or to congratulate Father on his decision to remarry. I know you care not for my family."