Too Many Princes (77 page)

RACING TO DISASTER

He lay, unable to move, for what seemed a very long time. Awareness came and went. Lottres felt hard floor boards. His temples throbbed against them. Then he felt he was falling through the floor. He wanted to struggle, to fight for his life, but he had no energy, no will.

A consciousness intruded into his dazed mind. Lottres shied from it, fearing Ysislaw's return, and fell into darkness. The being pursued him, steadied him. With relief, Lottres recognized Shaelen.

“
Come back to me, heart-brother,
”
Shaelen said.
“
You must return to your body.
”

“
How?
”
Lottres managed.

“
Let me guide you,
”
Shaelen said
.
“
I spoke of a spell to banish fatigue. Do you remember? This will also clear the poison from your lungs. I will show you how.
”

“
All right.
”
Lottres was too disoriented to argue.

Shaelen's presence enfolded Lottres with the security of a mother's embrace. He felt they were floating like thistle puffs, down and up and in and out, all at the same time. Yet his thoughts were coming clearer.

They had been in Eben's tower. Brastigan had triggered a trap. Lottres remembered Ysislaw's boasting, and the horror of realizing the only person who knew where they were had left them to die. Smoke had overcome him. Shaelen, too. He remembered her lying terribly still. How could she be helping him now?

“
That was a ruse.
”
Lottres sensed gentle laughter as Shaelen answered him
.
“
Remember, I was already meditating. I used that to protect myself. I heard Ysislaw say we were to share your king's fate, and I knew he was merely immobilized, not dead. I guessed that we wouldn't be killed, either.
”

“
You're right.
”
Lottres had known it himself, that Oskar was still alive. He felt foolish for assuming the worst.

“
I'm sorry for your fear,
”
Shaelen said.
“
Tormenting you is what kept Ysislaw from sensing that I wasn't as unconscious as I pretended to be. I waited and listened. Ysislaw has left the keep again. The battle will soon begin. I don't think he has any
eppagadrocca
here. We can try once more to escape.
”

“
This time, we'd better succeed,
”
Lottres said.

* * *

Therula leaned on the stone archway, watching the soldiers depart. She waited, considering how best to handle Garican. Trampling on Garican might be the most efficient approach, but it was exactly what the false king would have done. She didn't want to be like him. Besides, Garican still needed the little credibility he had.

The soldiers were gone. The keep's outer gate closed with a thunderous clang. Therula missed her cloak's warmth as she moved toward where Garican was speaking with his squad leaders. The group broke up just as she reached them. Therula nodded in response to bows from soldiers hurrying away.

“
Captain Garican,
”
she called.

“
What—Oh, your highness!
”
Garican sounded rattled. Maybe he had understood more of what Oskar said than she thought.
“
Princess, you must get to the inner keep. That would be the safest place for you.
”

“
Of course, Captain, but I need a favor,
”
Therula smiled winningly.
“
I know that Sergeant Pikarus's squad has returned from their journey. I would like to borrow them.
”

“
Borrow?
”
Garican hesitated.
“
Your highness, we need every man on the walls.
”

“
But Mother is concerned,
”
Therula said. It was only a little lie, she told herself. Alustra would never know how Therula had used her name.

“
Two squads have already been assigned to the keep, your highness,
”
Garican said. She supposed he meant that to sound reassuring. It came off a stuttering parody.

“
But we don't know them, and the king,
”
Therula couldn't bring herself to call him brother,
“
said you were to take the greatest care with our safety. Mother trusts Sergeant Pikarus more than most.
”

Garican paused again. Therula let her lower lip roll out, and fixed him with an earnest pout. She watched a dull redness creep up Garican's neck and into his cheeks. Therula took a step toward him, laid a hand on his arm.

“
Please, Captain,
”
she begged in a low, dramatic tone.

Garican jumped as if her touch burned him. In an instant, his resolve crumbled.
“
If... I... Of course. Very well, your highness. Sergeant Pikarus and his men will report to you right away.
”

“
Oh, thank you so much!
”
Therula beamed with breathless gratitude.
“
I'll go tell him.
”

“
I can send someone,
“
Garican faltered.

“
Oh, you're much too busy,
”
Therula insisted. In truth, she didn't want Garican to start searching for Pikarus, and realize he wasn't in the barracks with his squad.

“
Thank you again, Captain,
”
she fluttered.
“
You've saved us.
”

* * *

Peace flowed from Shaelen, washing through Lottres like a river. He was on the floor again, feeling faintly ill. As his senses returned he instinctively copied Shaelen, summoning that same cool cleanliness from within himself. The swirling current carried away poison and fatigue. He was left calm and rested.

Lottres opened his eyes in darkness. The thick smoke was still there, but it didn't seem to matter. Lottres rolled to his feet. He sensed the furnishings and faint warmth from three unconscious men. The lightless surroundings were no more important than the drugged haze in the air. Others, however, didn't have such an advantage.

“
I'll look for a candle.
”
Lottres spoke softly, knowing Ysislaw might hear no matter how far off he was.

“
And I'll get this door open,
”
Shaelen said. Lottres could feel her stand by the stirring of the air.
“
The others will need to breathe when we wake them.
”

Pikarus had had the candle when they entered the room, so Lottres walked toward the bed. Once again, he noticed that it was harder to extend his senses as he drew nearer. Whatever the source of Ysislaw's blocking spell, it must be nearby. He could barely sense Shaelen at the door, to say nothing of the sluggish pulse of Brastigan's unconscious mind. Frustrated, Lottres resigned himself to relying on his normal sense of touch.

Fumbling fingers located Eben's headboard. He found the stand of twisted iron and a hollow shell of wax where one of the poisoned candles had been. No trace of heat lingered there. Lottres didn't trust himself not to trip over someone, so he circled behind the bed. A basin and pitcher rested on the flat top of the chest of drawers. At last, there was the candle.

Lottres sat on the edge of the cold mattress. His fingers traced the shape of the tarnished metal holder. The candle was a short stub, slightly greasy, with a brittle curve of wick on top. Lottres touched that gently, lest it crumble beneath his touch.

He held the candle before him and pictured it in his mind with the shapes his fingers reported. Then he imagined the flame, a yellow flower opening. Lottres focused his power and willed the fire to life. A little hiss, a brief crackle. A tiny round spark appeared like a golden pearl amid the false night. As it grew steadily, Eben's room emerged from nothingness.

Shaelen swung the door wide. She knelt and placed the wooden bar to block it open. Then her power gently stirred the air, trying to clear the fumes. It did little good.

“
There's a trap door at the top of the tower,
”
Lottres said.
“
If you open that, it should set up a draft.
”

Shaelen paused in the doorway, looking up the dark stairwell.
“
I don't sense any more guards,
”
she said.
“
This won't take long.
”

Lottres nodded, and she slipped up the stairs. He carried his light around the bed again, and looked down on his fallen comrades. Two of them were right at the bedside. Pikarus lay half across Oskar, as if he had been trying to rouse the comatose king when the smoke overcame him. Brastigan was a little farther off, pointing toward the door. He must have been crawling toward Lottres when he collapsed.

“
Like you could have done anything to help me,
”
Lottres murmured. Nevertheless, he felt touched that Brastigan had put his safety first.

A distant thump echoed down the stairwell. Shaelen had the trap door open. Almost at once, Lottres could feel air moving. Slowly, it carried the smoke from the room.

He looked down at the three of them a moment longer, trying to decide who to wake first. Oskar looked worst of the three. His face was a sickly color. But, Lottres thought, Oskar might not be able to walk right away. He might need the other two to help him along. Brastigan wasn't likely to be enthusiastic about such a chore—not that Lottres blamed him.

All in all, Pikarus seemed a sensible first choice. Lottres knelt so he could place both hands on Pikarus's back. As he set the candle down, a flicker of movement under the bed caught his eye.

Curiously, Lottres moved the candle up and down. Nothing. He waved it from side to side. Now he saw clearly: something under the bed was casting a shadow. He probed with his mind and felt nothing. Yet there it was, a regular black shape against the glow of candlelight.