The Infernal city img_38.jpg

He clambered up from black depths, but it was a slippery slope. He had little moments when he thought he was awake, but they were full of pain and strange movement, and in the end might have just been a dream within a dream, a little of the Dark Lady’s whimsy. A little hope before the nightmares had him again.

Finally, though, he opened his eyes, and bright light filled them. His head throbbed furiously, and there was blood caked in his mouth and nostrils. He was facedown in the dirt and one eye was covered tightly by a cloth of some kind.

He tried to push up, but his hands were behind him, and from the pain in his wrists he knew they must be bound.

He tried to call out, but all that emerged was a croak.

“There you are,” a feminine voice said. He flopped his head over and saw Radhasa, sitting against a tree, eating an apple. Her horse was behind her, and so was his, along with a Khajiit and a Bosmer he’d never seen before, speaking in low tones a few yards away.

“You tried to kill me,” he said.

“No, I didn’t. I hit you with the flat. Could just as easily have been the edge.” She smiled. “I was supposed to kill you, though.”

“Why?”

“If I told you that, then I would have to kill you,” she replied. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, Treb.”

“Where—what happened to the rest?”

“Ah, well, there’s the pity. Some pretty good people just died for you.”

He tried to understand that. “How many, traitor? How many of my people did you kill?”

“Well, unless you still count me—I’m thinking you don’t—I would have to say everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Yep. Even little Dario.” She licked juice from her fingers.

“He’s just a boy!”

“Not anymore. Graduated with the rest of them.”

“Why?” he sobbed. His eyes stung with tears.

“Again, not telling. A little mystery, remember? Like your bird here.” She smiled. “How does it work?”

“I’m going to kill you!” he screamed. “You hear me?”

He lifted his head to direct his shout to the strangers. “Did she tell you who I am? Do you know what you’ve done?”

Incredibly, they laughed.

“All right,” Radhasa said. “Break’s over. Get him horsed, fellows, and let’s move along.”

He tried to fight, but his head was ringing and his limbs were sapped of energy, but most of all he couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t get his mind to stand still. What was happening? This didn’t happen, not to him. How could all of his friends be dead?

The horse started forward, and, slung over its back, he watched the wheel ruts in the road.

She was lying, of course. Gulan and the rest were probably tracking them. Some of them probably were dead, but most of them must have made it. He’d never lost more than three of his personal guard in one battle anywhere, including the Battle of Blinker Creek.

So she was lying, and they were coming. He just had to stay alive until they found him.

How long had he been out? Where were they?

The immediate answer to that last was that they were on a hunting trail of some sort, surrounded by massive oak and ash trees. The land rolled a bit, so it was a good guess they weren’t in the Niben Valley anymore, which meant that he must have been unconscious for at least a few days.

His best guess was that they were somewhere in the West Weald, and by the sun, traveling mostly south.

So where were they going?

He looked to Radhasa, riding slightly ahead of him.

“You said you were supposed to kill me,” he croaked. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I’m going to sell you,” she replied. “I know a certain very eccentric Khajiit who collects people like you. He’ll pay more than ten times what I was offered to kill you. So we’re off to Elsweyr. Think of it as a holiday. A really, really long holiday that will be no fun at all.”

“Radhasa,” he said, “that’s insane. People know what I look like. Someone between here and there is going to recognize me.”

“You haven’t seen your face since I whacked it,” she replied. “Looks a little different at the moment. And we’ll keep the bandages on. Once we get you where you’re going, there’s going to be a real limited selection of people you’re likely to meet, and it won’t matter to any of them who you are.”

“My father,” he said. “He’d pay more yet to get me back. Have you thought of that?”

“He might,” she agreed. “But I don’t think I would survive that. Too many resources at his disposal, too many ways to trap us.”

“Those resources are bent on you already.”

“No, not anytime soon, I think.”

“When he finds the bodies—”

“Don’t worry about that,” she said. “It’s covered.” She chuckled.

“What are you laughing about?”

“Good thing you don’t like being addressed as ‘Prince,’” she replied. “Because you’re never going to hear anyone call you that again.”

She snapped her reins and broke into a trot. His horse, leaded to hers, followed suit.

FOUR

The Infernal city img_39.jpg

The day after talking with Attrebus, Annaïg felt energized, despite the lack of sleep. She went early to her work archiving the plants, animals, and minerals that appeared on her table every morning. She surveyed what was before her for a moment, then glanced up at the cabinets and drawers that climbed the wall to the ceiling.

“Luc,” she said quietly.

The hob peered out of the empty cabinet it habitually slept in.

“Luc,” it echoed.

“Luc, you know what’s in all of those cabinets up there?”

“Luc knows.”

“Do you find them by name?”

“If Luc has name.”

“And if you don’t have the name?” she pressed.

“Then describe—color, taste, smell.”

“I see.”

She thought about that for a moment, and then got some of the eucalyptus distillation they had used before.

“Smell this, Luc.”

The creature wrinkled its wide nostrils at it.

“I don’t know the name of what I’m looking for, but it is black and smells a bit like this. I want you to search the cabinets and bring me anything that fits that description, one container at a time.”

“Yes, Luc find.”

He bounded off, and Annaïg took a deep breath. She hadn’t dared instruct the beast to bring things only when she was alone; it could tell Qijne, and that would raise questions.

Glim had been right about one thing—she needed to re-create the elixir that had allowed them to fly here. Once Attrebus was near, it might be the only way to reach him. In any case, she needed options. Being able to fly would be a big one.

She set to work on what was before her—arrowroot, silk leeches, and cypress needles. Luc brought her a bottle. She sniffed it, and got an intensely stringent, herbal, minty smell.

“Not that one,” she said.

Luc bounded back off.

She remembered the sound of the prince’s voice. He’d believed her, hadn’t he? A prince. And he had talked to her like she was important. She’d always known that was how it would be, if they met, but to have it actually happen …

“You’re awfully cheerful for a dead woman,” Slyr commented from just behind her.

Annaïg jumped about a foot, her heart racing. “It’s the lack of sleep,” she said. “Makes me giddy.” She lifted her pen and scribbled a few notes regarding the willow bark on the table in front of her.

“I need you.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Annaïg replied. “But this is my time for cataloging. Remember?”

“Yes, well that was before we were put in charge if Lord Ghol’s victuals,” she snapped.

Annaïg shrugged. “If you think you can talk Qijne into releasing me from this duty, I won’t argue.”

“You’re only saying that because you know I wouldn’t dare.”

“That’s true,” Annaïg replied. “On the other hand, Lord Ghol is bored, yes? We need something new, and that’s likely to come from these things.”


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