Sworn To Conflict: Courtlight #3 (7 page)

“I was in the Bookbinders’ district after attending the pre-trial hearing at the magistrate’s court in order to testify on the duchess of Carne’s actions the night before. He appeared in the shop and proceeded to do nothing but stare at me for what felt like minutes. We spoke for only seconds and he was exceedingly cryptic. He didn’t tell me who he was and I didn’t think to interrogate him before he disappeared.”

The truth serum didn’t react. She had left nothing unsaid.

“You didn’t know who he was?” The incredulous tone in Lady Arabella’s words left Ciardis bristling with anger.

“I was told from the moment that I arrived at Court that I was the only Weathervane. That my special status would vault me to the highest echelons of society, since the Companions’ Guild and Imperial Courts hadn’t seen a talent like mine since thirty years prior, when my mother arrived on the scene as the belle of the balls. I believed there was no other Weathervane. How was I to know?”

“All true,” said Lord Chamberlain in a dolorous tone. He stepped into her line of sight and smiled in a way that she could only describe as like that of a cat lapping cream. “Your brother never came to court, and of course never served in the Companions’ Guild. So how would you know that he was living and breathing on this very earth?”

Ciardis didn’t have an answer aside from the fact that the question felt rhetorical, but the truth serum didn’t know that. It began to heat up the lines on her body, insisting that she answer.

“I wouldn’t,” she hissed out through gritted teeth.

A small smile of victory eased onto the man’s face. “Do you know of the current whereabouts of the second Weathervane?”

“No,” Ciardis said with dull eyes.

“Do you know why he was at the Shadowwalker’s side?”

“No,” she said.

“Do you even know your brother’s name?”

“No,” she said for a third time.

Ciardis had never felt as much hate for a person as she felt right now for Lord Chamberlain. Not even for the Shadowwalker. Well, maybe for the Shadowwalker. But that was a lot of hate, and Lord Chamberlain was now right at the top of that list.

An uncomfortable air permeated the tent until Lady Vana stepped forward. “Enough. She knows nothing more about the second Weathervane. I believe our questions have been answered with satisfaction. Do you agree, Lady Arabella?”

Vana took her eyes off Ciardis for a moment to stare at Arabella as she impatiently waited for an answer to her question. Ciardis watched as Lady Arabella’s dilated pupils slowly shrunk back to a normal size and she visibly got a hold of herself. She licked her lips and answered, “Yes, I believe we’re done.”

If Ciardis didn’t know any better, she would have said that the Lady Arabella had enjoyed the questioning...far too much. “Release her,” was Lady Vana’s command. If she noticed anything wrong, she didn’t say.

Arabella reached into the pocket of the wide split-bottom dress she wore and produced a second vial. This one glowed with the cool shine of moonlight rippling on blue water. She took the same amount of liquid that she had taken from the vial of truth serum and smeared the tiny drop on top of the serum dotted on Ciardis’s wrist. For a moment the antidote interacted with the agent on Ciardis’s skin and she felt blessed coolness flow over her like the crisp touch of a chilly day before fall. She couldn’t help but give a smile of relief as first the fire and then the angry buzz of warning disappeared and her body finally relaxed from its rigid posture.

She had been forced to stand without movement for over an hour. She felt no embarrassment when her legs collapsed underneath her, but she did feel pain. The kind that came like an angry nest of bees up your muscles after sitting still for far too long and your legs locked up. Her blood was rushing through the stiff muscles and her circulation was increasing as a result. She couldn’t help the moan that came from her mouth and she sat slumped on the floor, waiting for her legs to wake up and for her body to carry her out of here.

Prince Sebastian came forward. She saw his stylized boots appear on the floor in front of her. She didn’t bother looking up beyond the leather and the trailing cloak. She didn’t want to see his face. He dropped a hand down to her eye level as he knelt to help her up. At the moment her arms were the only things holding her up, as her legs still lay collapsed beneath her. That didn’t stop her from hissing as he reached forward to grip her arms, “I said: Do not touch me. And I meant it.”

A cackle of genuine amusement came from Lady Arabella behind her.

Lady Vana hadn’t bothered to kneel by her side once the vial’s antidote had been administered. She looked down at Ciardis with contempt on her face, “You can’t stay on the floor.”

Ciardis laughed with bitterness. “I’ll do as I please. Unless I’m under arrest?”

“You’re free to go back to Sandrin, should you wish,” said Lady Arabella.

“What I wish is to be left alone.” There was silence all around her. When she said nothing more, they all left the tent one by one. Prince Sebastian lingered the longest, but when she refused to acknowledge his presence eventually he left, too.

Ciardis felt the tears she’d been holding back rush up as soon as the tent flap closed behind his back. Ugly, gut-wrenching sobs escaped from her throat. She hadn’t cried this loudly since she was five and was tossed out of the school by the schoolmarm for not being able to pay the dues. It hadn’t been the thought of learning that had caused her tears back then so much as losing out on doing the same thing as every other child in the village. This felt the same. The sense of loss—the loss of identity, the loss of the tenuous links of friendships she’d thought she had. At the time it had felt like the end of the world, just as it did now. She had thought Sebastian and Vana were her friends and that they would fight for her, but instead they had lied to her face and turned their backs on her. The more she thought about it, the more the tears came. She didn’t even realize another person was in the tent until her body was scooped up and she was being cradled in a nest of fur. Maris had come in moments before. As she cradled Ciardis she tried speaking to the sobbing girl to calm her, but Ciardis was having none of it. Now that she had a comforting lap to cry on, she wasn’t ready to be reasonable. She sobbed tears and snot onto Maris’s black-spotted snow white fur and clutched her shoulders with a ferocity that belied her small size.

After twenty minutes had passed, Maris had had enough.

She told Ciardis, “I’ll comfort you, but I won’t coddle.”

Ciardis sniffled as tears continued to drip down her face.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because they tortured me...” Ciardis said through open-mouthed sobs.

“Are you sure? Tears of pain are different from tears of retribution.”

Ciardis’s sobs were stifled.

“You are a Weathervane child. You’re better than this. Better than them. Now get up. Clean up your face and I’ll make you a tincture for the lingering aches in your muscles.”

“Why are you doing this?” Ciardis face was still muffled in the fur of Maris’s shoulder.

“Because a lot more heartache and pain is coming your way, and you must be
ready
,” Maris responded with a growl, “You must be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?”

“The war that is coming,” Maris said with finality, forcibly gripping the small, human arms that were locked tight about her neck and pushing them down. She set Ciardis on her feet with barely any effort. Even if had Ciardis tried to keep clutching on to her, Maris could have restrained her with as small an effort as the one she put in now. Any chimera could.

“What happens now?” Ciardis said softly.

“You need to decide whether or not you want to act like a child or a woman grown. There are many challenges in the North, challenges the empire won’t or can’t hear,” Maris replied as she straightened up.

“What makes it my duty to accept these challenges? I’m just a companion trainee.” Her shoulders were slumped, her mouth stuck out, and her eyes were still puffy from the tears. She looked like a five year old whose sweets had been taken away.

“Everyone has a responsibility to the Empire—big or small. You must do your part. As to what that part is, the knowledge will come in time.”

Ciardis was barely listening to her speak of destiny. She was still hoping for a warm cup of cider to be thrust into her hands and to be pushed back into a warm, soothing cocoon of blankets as she slept away her misery. She wasn’t ashamed. She was damn
tired
.

The chimera healer smiled as if she could read Ciardis’s thoughts and was amused by them. Ciardis barely kept herself from flinching at that smile. Maris may have been a healer and a comfort to her, but that didn’t change the fact that her muzzle hid the sharp and plentiful teeth of a predator. It was like staring into the maw of a woodland tiger and preparing to meet your death.

Maris reached up quickly and slapped a paw on the top of Ciardis’s curly head. The force, gentle as it was, made Ciardis’s knees buckle. The quick work of Maris’s other arm kept her from falling.

“It’s time, cub,” Maris said with a gentle growl, “for you to face your fears and to attend the meeting.”

“What meeting?”

Ciardis had a brief moment to wonder if the paw on her head was some kind of chimera goodbye before she felt a rush of power and energy like nothing she had ever felt before. It rushed down through her head and across her body like a warm and energizing glow. She felt her physical form strengthen and her mind clear like a lake that had been shrouded by a dark mist and could now see the sun.

“The one in which you meet the ones who will decide this war.”

Ciardis was too busy feeling rejuvenated to catch all of Maris’s words. “What...what just happened to me?”

The healer released her and said flatly, “The truth serum is known for its side effects. Among them is the dulling of a person’s mind. It not only restrains your movement but also your thought processes, impeding you from rationalizing and using cognitive thinking. All in an effort to reduce your ability to lie.”

Ciardis gulped and said, “You knew they were going to do this to me?”

Maris tilted Ciardis’s head up with a single claw-tipped digit. “Even I didn’t know if you were a traitor or not, Ciardis Weathervane, and therefore precautions had to be taken. You had to be tested. We can’t afford to have traitors in our midst. Not when we’re so close to winning this war.”

Turning, Maris moved to leave the tent. As she lifted the tent flap to leave, Ciardis called out, “Where are you going?”

“To take care of that Truthsayer. She should have known to not leave you as you were. Defenseless—mentally and physically.”

Ciardis watched as the chimera disappeared outside with the tip of her tail angrily twitching behind her.

S
eeing no other alternatives, Ciardis smoothed her dress and cloak and stepped out of the tent minutes later. She bit her lip in indecision and then turned to the guards that flanked her.

“Where would I go to get something to eat?”

They exchanged glances over her head and the one on her left, Kane, responded, “We’ll have something brought to your tent, miss.”

Ciardis shook her head. She wanted to go where she could talk to the soldiers. People who would really know what was happening here. She might be furious at Prince Heir Sebastian, but that didn’t mean she thought he was wrong about the campaign here. And Ciardis was nothing if not practical. If they lost this war and this land, her home was next, and then Sandrin would fall. She couldn’t let that happen. She had a duty to the empire to prevent it from happening. Which meant that she needed to find out everything she could before she attended that meeting with the Old Ones tomorrow, including what General Barnaren was hiding.

“I would prefer to eat out here...with the soldiers.”

Kane didn’t answer. This time Titus tried.

“Miss, our orders were to keep you safe.”

“And escort me where I want to go?”

“Yes,” replied Titus with reluctance. The poor man was probably wondering what in the world he’d gotten himself into.

Ciardis smiled and reached up high to pat his upper arm. “Good, then. Let’s go find something eat with people who like to talk.” Kane looked over to the west, scouting the area. With a definitive shrug of his shoulders, he set off. Ciardis turned and followed him, and Titus followed her. They were too well trained to grumble but discontent was rolling off their shoulders like storm clouds. She had no doubt that they’d get used to it. They had to.

As they marched through the camp most of the men avoided even looking at her. Out of respect or a healthy dose of fear, she couldn’t say. General Barnaren had issued a decree that said no one was to touch or disturb the Weathervane or he would deal with them personally. When the occasionally curious soldier shouted compliments that would make a sailor blush and produced gestures that were even lewder, a stern look from her guards shut them right up. Ten minutes of walking later they arrived close to the outer perimeter of the commander’s guarded area in the center of the camp. Curious, Ciardis peeked around Kane’s shoulder to see where they had stopped. She didn’t get a good look in before Titus unceremoniously pushed her back so that she stood between them.

She frowned. They were too tall, too big, and too brawny for her to see over or around, particularly with the battleaxes they both carried strapped to their backs. She opened her mouth to voice her displeasure and Kane turned around swiftly and silently. He moved on the snowy ground as elegantly as a chimera was rumored to be able to. And fresh snow appeared where there had been none before. She wondered silently, as she shut her mouth with a clap, why there was snow in this area of the encampment and no other.

“Lady Weathervane, we are your guards. We will escort you where you deem fit as long as we are certain it presents you no danger,” Kane said. Ciardis suspected that grinding noise she heard was in part coming from his clenched teeth.

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to finish.