Abendau's Heir (The Inheritance Trilogy Book 1) (37 page)

Sam nodded. “Fine.” He tossed the small box of medication from hand to hand, and opened the door that led back to the quarry.

The little light pulsed in front of him– tiny, but real and important. He tried to hook it, but it danced out of his grasp. It took some time before he managed to grab it and pull it towards him.

Once pulled, it unravelled and spilt into every corner of his mind. It seemed like it would never stop, that he couldn’t accommodate it, but it sank into strangely familiar places in his mind.

With the light came memories: a blonde woman, so close he tried to touch her. She faded away, replaced by a boy, red haired and earnest, who promised to protect him. One by one the visions came, confusing and elating in equal measure: an angelic youth; a harsh older woman; a cold, dark man; and then a girl, a child, with vivid green eyes. Karia, who looked exactly as she had when he’d said goodbye. He’d promised her it would be all right.

“Kare,” she said. She rubbed his cheek, and he felt healed, stronger.

“I’m Kare,” he replied, astonished. “I’d forgotten.”

“You were alone; you shouldn’t have been.”

“I’m not alone now.”

Karia shook her head and she seemed further away, as if she had faded a little.

“I can’t stay,” she said, “but there are others; you must go to them.”

“I can’t, I daren’t; he’ll hurt me.”

“If you don’t go now, you never will. They’ll take you back, soon.”

He tried to reach her, to join her where she was. “Take me with you,” he pleaded, “don’t leave me alone.”

“Please Kare, go on. Sonly will be there for you; your friends are waiting. Please, be brave; do it for me.”

“I’m so glad it wasn’t you,” he said, and when there was no response he realised she had gone. He remembered he couldn’t say no to her, that he’d never been able to say no to her. He struggled to swim out of his dream, move up to the real world. He stopped several times, overwhelmed with effort, but finally managed to open his eyes.

***

Kare tried to turn his head, but it throbbed when he did. He looked at the ceiling instead, and tried to work out where he was. There was a knocking noise, metal on stone, but it wasn’t familiar. Someone moved inside his cell, and he stiffened in fear.
Beck
. He forced himself to turn his head–
it’s only pain–
and saw it wasn’t Beck, but the doctor.

Kare moaned: whatever Beck inflicted, the doctor fixed, and the fixing often hurt at least as much. He kept looking at the doctor, not able to face moving again, and reached out with his psyche.
It
worked
. It should have been amazing, like a miracle, but he could feel nothing: he was dead inside, hollowed out, a shell who’d forgotten what it was to feel. Tears sprang up as a sense of what he’d lost, how far he’d been taken, grew, a deep dragging loss that filled him, held him down, was too heavy to remove.

He tried to sense the doctor’s feelings, but his head filled with the sensation of all the people around him and he couldn’t concentrate or think. He stopped trying to do anything, and let his mind take over and sort through the information. Only after it had finished was he able to focus on the doctor.

Kare opened his mouth to ask why, but it was dry and his lips were cracked. The doctor lifted a bottle of water and poured some into Kare’s mouth. Mostly, it went down his face and neck, but what little he did swallow soothed him. Kare licked his lips and winced at the sharp pain as they split.

“You brought it back,” he croaked.

Sam shook his head. “I stopped the medicine. You did the rest.”

“Why?” This was a game, a new way to hurt him. They’d let him believe it was back, that he had a chance, and then they’d take it again.
The thought of being returned made his bladder loosen.
I can’t, I daren’t.
The need went away.

“Self-preservation,” said the doctor.

Kare tried to respond, but it hurt too much. He imagined his lips healed: smooth, not cracked and sore, and his mind started to work at it. His whole mouth was sore, ulcers all through it, and he healed those, too. It was a drop in the ocean of pain that ran through him.

He swallowed and winced at the pain in his throat. Any minute now, Beck was going to walk in the door and laugh at him.
Kare wondered if it would be possible to stop his own heart, and decided if Beck walked in, he’d try.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stood back for so long,” said the doctor.

This time, Kare felt the truth of the doctor’s words. Again, he wanted to ask about Beck but didn’t dare; it was as if saying his name might bring him here.

“I’ve missed it,” Kare said, the words inadequate. Already his mouth was better, the forming of words uncomfortable instead of agonising.

“They couldn’t have done what they did if you’d had your powers, could they?”

Kare tried to nod his head. He couldn’t. “What’s on my neck?”

“Your collar,” said the doctor. “Leave it, it can’t be removed.”

Kare cast his mind back, and remembered Beck putting it on him and telling him he was his dog now. Beck had tightened it until he had choked, and then tightened it some more. He wondered why it seemed tighter in his memory than it did now, and realised they’d practically starved him.
Again, he noticed how badly he needed a piss but when he tried, nothing happened. He looked at the ceiling, his eyes welling at the realisation he needed Beck to tell him to go.

“Bastards,” he said, and knew it wasn’t even close to what he meant, that there were no words to say what had been done to him. He snapped the collar off his neck, flexing his mind in the old way, and took a first single, deep breath; it was like honey.

“How did you do that?” asked the doctor, his eyes round.

“I did it with the part of my mind that opens things.” He’d thought he would never say those words again.

“How much is back?”

“All of it,” Kare said. “Every bit of it. I just have to remember how to control it; I’d forgotten what a monster it is.”

“What will you do?”

Kare tried to sit up, but couldn’t. He wondered how the hell he’d been able to walk for Beck, and then remembered: his master had ordered him, so he had.

“My best,” he said.

“You need to put the collar back on. They’ll know if it’s off.”

“Right,” Kare said. He snapped it in place, looser so he could breathe easily.
Ask; you need to know.
“Where’s Beck?”

“He’s got a stomach bug,” said the doctor, grinning.

“Good,
” said Kare, but his mind was racing. How long would a stomach upset hold Beck back? Panic made his throat constrict and it was a moment before he could speak again. “I assume you have something in mind?”

The doctor came closer. His voice was low, a whisper. “The Empress is due to leave Abendau tonight. She’s on the way to meet your wife to arrange the formal surrender of the Banned.”

Kare tried to sit up again, and this time realised why he couldn’t; his wrists were shackled to the wall.
Of course; I’m so dangerous, I have to be shackled all the time.
He almost released his wrists and then decided there was no point; he’d only have to put them back on again.

“You’re lying,” he said, sure this
was
a game. “She would die first, let everyone die, before she did that.”

“She says if you can get to Abendau city, the spies will try to get you out.”

The doctor’s eyes met his, and Kare watched him, sure it was a trap. The doctor held his eyes, not looking away
. I have to know
. He reached out, touching the edge of the doctor’s mind as the man tensed, ready to fight. He was no stranger to a psyche probe, evidently.

“Let me,” said Kare.

The doctor took a deep breath, his chest rising. He looked away and then back, nodding. “Do it.”

Kare sank into his mind, feeling his way through, touching sensations of guilt and fear. He felt the doctor’s hatred of the invasion, but the memory of what had been done to him– what this man had watched being done– came back to him, and he sank further in, drilling into his mind, not caring if it hurt.

“Stop,” whispered the doctor, his voice low and harsh, but still Kare drilled, searching for any sign that this was a trick, that he was going to be returned. There was nothing. He pulled out, slowly, still searching, and the sound of the other man’s breathing started to dominate the cell.

Kare met the doctor’s eyes, knowing his shame, feeling his need for absolution. He took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

The doctor inclined his head. “Don’t. You must have seen enough to know I shouldn’t be thanked.”

“I saw enough.” Kare paused, glancing at the barred gate. How long did they have? He coughed a little and said, “My wife must think I’m a miracle worker. Did you mention my condition– the guards?”

“She seemed confident if you got your psyche back, you’d come up with something.”

She would. “
How many of my men are here?”

“I don’t know,” admitted the doctor. “Silom and Lichio are; you saw them when you got here.”

“That was Silom and Lichio?” He stopped, thinking back. Of course it was, but they’d been so thin. “Do you know the symbol for the Banned?”

The doctor shook his head, and Kare took his index fingers and thumbs. He managed to stretch them enough to make two entwined circles. He pulled them so they locked, like a chain.

“Let them know you’re on side. And then go check on Beck: keep him sealed down. I need to decide how to do things.”

Sam left, and Kare closed his eyes, glad to be alone. He needed the toilet, so much so his stomach was aching. He tried to let go, but nothing happened. How painful would it be if his bladder burst? It would kill him, he guessed. He watched the door, ready for Beck to walk in, knowing he’d do nothing if he did–
the very thought of turning on his master chilled him.

He shifted and pain shot from his bladder, making him gasp. He closed his eyes and
willed
himself to let go, but still nothing happened. He looked at the ceiling, breathed deeply and tried not to think. A first trickle came, and he bit down against the sharp agony and tasted blood. He clenched his fists until it flooded out and pooled under him. He panted, waiting for it to be over. Sharp tears flooded into his eyes: at least he was enough of a man to do that. But could he do any more?

He took the part of his mind that healed things, thinking at least he could try. It had to be better than waiting for Beck to come and finish him.

***

Lichio stood at the bars of his cell. His lash wounds were open and weeping, and the pain had wakened him. He’d have to try to sleep again soon, he knew. It took strength to get through a day in the quarry. He looked down the corridor to the quiet cell at the end, pretty sure that was where Kare had been taken.
What did they do to him?
Even thinking about it made Lichio sick.

The gate to Kare’s cell opened and a figure came out. As he approached, Lichio recognised him as the doctor from Omendegon, one of a long list of people he would gladly murder. Lichio glared at the doctor, willing him to look and know Lichio le Payne hated him. The doctor nodded, as if to himself, linked his fingers together and walked on. Lichio cocked his head; he’d thought, the last time they’d met, that the doctor had been scared, and had hoped he might be frightened enough to do something. Hoped, but never believed.

“Silom,” Lichio said.

Silom got up from the back of the cell, the speed of his response telling Lichio he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep.

“The doc from Omendegon?” Lichio made the same symbol, carefully.

“You’re joking.”

“Would I?”

“Interesting,” said Silom. “Earlier, I overheard a couple of the guards.”

“Go on.” Lichio kept his face casual and voice very, very low.

“Apparently Beck’s got the worst case of the shits you’ve ever seen– completely incapacitated, keeps getting worse. They’re talking about shipping him back to Abendau in case it’s infectious.”

“Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving bloke.”

Silom smiled grimly and glanced at Kare’s cell. “Do you think?”

“No hope. You don’t get over whatever happened there.”

“I don’t know, he always surprised us.”

Lichio decided to humour the big man. “Absolutely; you never know.”

They walked back to their blankets. The other slaves made way for them to pass, the odd glare from Silom reminding them who was in charge in this particular cell. It was, Lichio thought, very useful to be Silom’s friend. He lay down and tried to sleep, but it wouldn't come, not with him jumping at every sound, prepared to take whatever chance presented itself.

***

“Is everything ready?” asked Sonly. She pulled at the lapel of her flight jacket, and understood why Kare had always complained about the Banned uniforms. She wished he was here, moaning about it now.

“They’re ready,” said Michael. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“I’m up to it. Kare promised he’d try to make it back, but I think that goes both ways.”

“If he doesn’t manage to get out?”

His words cut through Sonly. The doctor was adamant that Kare was so badly hurt, his mind lost, that even with his psyche he could do nothing. And, Sonly admitted to herself, there was no way he could get them as far as the city. The best she could hope was that he was strong enough to fight back and get himself killed– quickly and free.
You never know
, said one stubborn part of her. The rest of her, the pragmatic Sonly, stamped down on her hope.

“Then I’ll turn tail and come back before I meet the Empress. It won’t do the Banned any good if I end up taking Kare’s place in Omendegon,” she said, trying to sound brave. Michael nodded but didn't voice the fact this was the last chance for the Banned– after, they were out of options.

Kare lay in his cell, thinking, planning. He had little option– the manacles on his wrists gave him barely any room to move. He’d spent the night going over the plans he and Rjala had made for attacking Abendau. If he got to the port, they could reach the city and the spy network.