Authors: Hilari Bell
“Y
OU SAID IF YOU COULD
help me without endangering yourself, you’d do it. Did you mean that?”
“Probably,” said Chardane cautiously. “Within reason.”
As he’d knocked on the herbery door, the horrible thought that Chardane herself might be supplying the drug had flashed through Jeriah’s mind. But the conspiracy had started only a few years ago; the Hierarch’s illness was seven years past. She had no motive…he hoped. He pulled the jar, dark-glazed pottery with a wide cork stopper, out of his tunic and set it on the table. Chardane’s face showed nothing but mild curiosity.
“What’s this?”
“It’s the Hierarch’s medicine.”
She looked up, startled. “I don’t make any medicines for the Hierarch.”
“We brew it into a tea he drinks nightly. One scoop of leaves in a cup of boiling water, steeped for a minute and a half. I thought you were the only herb-healer in the palace.”
“I am. Kerratis thinks herbs are beneath a real healer. Where did he get this?” Her eyes narrowed, suspicion dawning. She was either innocent or a brilliant liar. Lesser One. Conspirator. Jeriah knew she was a brilliant liar.
“I don’t know. There are several jars of it. I haven’t been here long enough to need replacements.”
“Let’s see if I can tell what’s in it. It might just be a mild soother.” She poured some of the leaves onto her palm and peered at them. Then she sniffed, and her expression stiffened.
“What is it?” Jeriah asked.
“It smells like…No, that’s not possible! I’ll wet it—that will make the scent stronger.”
“Smells like
what
?”
“Well, it smells like green vervallen. But yellow vervallen smells much the same, and it’s harmless.”
“What does the one that isn’t harmless do?”
“Just what you’re guessing—it clouds the mind, the memory, the ability to think.”
“All the symptoms the Hierarch’s been displaying for the last seven years.” Anger seethed in Jeriah’s voice. “Seven
years
. And no one suspected? No one even bothered to check—”
“His personal healer is the only one who examines him.” Chardane focused her full attention on Jeriah for the first time since she’d smelled the herbs. “If this is what I think it is, do you realize how deadly your discovery could become?”
“Of course I do. I’m not stupid.”
“Then go now, and let me test it.” She was already hustling him toward the door. “The scent isn’t enough—we have to be absolutely certain.”
Jeriah grabbed the door frame on his way through. “I’ll go if you promise not to do or say anything until we’ve talked about it. You promised to help me, remember? Anything within reason.”
She stopped shoving at him. “Aye, though I’m not sure this falls within reason. I promise not to tell anyone till after we’ve talked. Come back tonight.”
She pushed him out and shut the door before he could reply—but she’d promised.
Two of Jeriah’s friends had been here seven years ago, when the Hierarch became ill, but they’d been children at the time. That was probably why they’d been allowed to stay.
Jeriah found the first in the tilt yard, helping the arms master teach some pages to use a lance.
“Seven years ago? Who remembers anything that long ago, much less council stuff?”
But with a little prompting the second one, who was polishing his master’s armor, did remember what was going on in the council when the Hierarch had fallen ill. And what side of that debate the Hierarch had been on.
While they dressed the Hierarch for dinner, Jeriah told the menservants that one of the medicine jars was empty. How to get it refilled? Just mention it to Master Goserian.
That surprised Jeriah, but he had to pursue it.
He mentioned the empty jar to Master Goserian, who said he’d order more. It was natural to ask where it came from.
After dinner Jeriah gave the Hierarch his medicine, feeling like a murderer as he handed him the cup. Then he claimed a headache and went straight down the servants’ stairs to knock on Chardane’s door.
She cracked it to identify him before letting him in. The tidy workshop was awash in dirty crockery and open jars, the air thick with the cloying scent of the Hierarch’s medicine.
“Well?”
Chardane brushed a straggling wisp of hair away from her tired eyes. “It’s green vervallen. I could prove it to any competent herb-healer—except that all the ones who don’t serve the church are under a death sentence. Even so…Did you find out where this ‘medicine’ comes from?”
“Master Goserian buys it from ‘a very reputable’ herb seller in the city, recommended by Master Kerratis. I didn’t have time to go to his shop.”
“Doesn’t matter; I know that one. He’s not what I’d call reputable, but he doesn’t have the nerve to raise the stuff himself. He probably gets it from someone else, who pays him well and whose name he doesn’t even know. At least, not the real name.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Dead end?”
“Bet on it.”
“I can’t believe Master Kerratis would—”
Chardane snorted. “I believe it. Kerratis…I’d be lying if I said he was a bad healer, but it’s the healing itself he cares for, the art, the magic of it. The people he works on are just ‘subjects.’”
“The Sunlord is a dangerous subject to play with unless he has a very strong motive. And I don’t think Master Kerratis does.” Jeriah paced the crowded chamber. Had she already guessed the truth? “I talked to some people this afternoon. People who were here seven years ago and remembered what was going on in the Landholders’ Council.”
“I’ve been thinking about that myself.”
“They said that a handful of priests had gotten some spy’s report on the barbarians, and they wanted to move the whole Realm into the north. Everyone thought they were crazy, and the Hierarch opposed it.”
Another heartbeat of silence passed.
“I wouldn’t say he opposed it,” said Chardane. “It had just been proposed and he…resisted the idea. He was never a decisive man. But it was becoming clear that he was going to oppose it.”
Even to imply that the Hierarch was an indecisive man instead of a divinely inspired leader was a minor heresy, but Jeriah brushed that aside. She knew. Would she help?
“Was his illness natural?”
“Aye. I helped treat him and I’d stake my life on that. I was a little surprised when his mind didn’t recover, but it was a
terrible fever. I didn’t know he was taking
medicine.
” Anger hissed in her soft peasant voice.
“So Master Lazur didn’t set out to kill him. He just saw an opportunity…”
“…and he took it.”
Jeriah almost expected something to explode when the words were finally said aloud, but nothing happened. At least, nothing visible.
“Can we prove it?”
“How?” Chardane asked. “By this time Lazur will have buried his tracks so deep, it’d take an earthquake to uncover them. If he needs to, he can throw Kerratis to the wolves. There’s nothing to connect Lazur to the drugs except our suspicions. The question is, can we use our knowledge without proving it? And Dark One take me if I know the answer.”
Jeriah’s plan began to take shape. “I think I can. But first, you said green vervallen clouds the mind. Is the effect permanent? He got better, a little, the few times I missed giving him his medicine.”
“It isn’t usually permanent, but I’m talking about one or two accidental doses. I’ve never heard of it being given to someone for seven years! The effect of that…I don’t know. I’ve also no idea how long it would take to wear off, but I’d guess it would take weeks for his mind to clear completely. If it ever does.”
“And the moment we stop drugging him, Master Kerratis
will notice. He keeps a close eye on the Hierarch’s condition. He’d notice any change within days. No wonder he was so upset when I missed the dose. And Master Lazur…” Jeriah gazed blindly at the disordered room, remembering.
“Was he upset too?”
“No, dead calm. He must have thought it would make me suspicious if he overreacted. In fact, he said something like that to Kerratis. Why didn’t I notice? But he seemed so confident…”
“A formidable enemy. Who else was there?”
“Just Nevin, and he doesn’t…Surely he couldn’t…”
“Did he overreact?”
“Yes, but he would because he loves the Hierarch. I’m sure Nevin doesn’t know about the drug. Almost sure.”
“Hmm. They’d tell as few as possible. Nevin was a child seven years ago, so you’re probably right. Who else might know?”
They thought for a moment.
“Some of Master Lazur’s cadre, perhaps,” said Jeriah. “Though he wouldn’t tell anyone he didn’t have to.”
“Some of the landholders as well…perhaps. So we can’t simply go to the council and announce our suspicions. The straight path is barred—we need a twisty one. I think I can use this.”
“So can I, and I want to use it first. You said you’d help me.”
“Not by giving up the best weapon that’s ever come to
my hand! This could uproot that cursed cadre!” Her hands twisted against each other. It was the first time Jeriah had seen her serenity broken, but he couldn’t yield.
“I’m not asking you to give it up, just let me use it first. Once I’ve got the notes and gone into the Otherworld to find Tobin, you can do anything you want. I’ll approach Master Lazur as soon as he gets back. You wouldn’t lose any time at all.”
“Approach him? I can give you some time; three of the folk I need won’t be able to get here till the Equinox Ceremony, which gives us a week. But I can’t let you warn Lazur!”
“Tobin doesn’t have weeks!” Jeriah snapped. “He’s probably ill already! You can’t stop me. Besides, what can Master Lazur do? Quit drugging the Hierarch? That’s the last thing he wants.”
“He might kill him.” Grim determination sat oddly on her plump face. “If the Hierarch dies, our weapon no longer matters.”
“Is Master Lazur ready to have a new hierarch chosen?”
“If not, I’ll bet he could get ready. Don’t do this, lad. I don’t want that poor man’s blood on my hands.”
“Me neither. But I don’t think I’ll frighten Master Lazur that much. All I want is a chance to save Tobin, and he knows it.”
“You’re thinking to blackmail him?”
“Why not? If what I wanted was really dangerous to him or the relocation, it might not work—but he shouldn’t see
much risk in letting me go after Tobin. Lots less risk than revealing that the Sunlord is being drugged, and a shadow government has been running the Realm for the last seven years.”
She picked up a dirty cup, turning it in her hands. “I might be able to stop you, but I don’t think either of us can afford to start fighting the other. If I let you go ahead, you mustn’t give him the slightest hint that I know
anything
.”
She was going to agree! Fear and excitement shook him.
“That should be easy.”
“I doubt it. Lazur’s a great one for laying traps.”
“Then you might find it useful to watch me spring them.”
“Aye, I might. Very well, you have till Equinox to do what you will—just keep my name out of it! In fact, we shouldn’t meet again.” Once more she was hustling him out. “And be careful. The Hierarch isn’t the only one Lazur might think to kill, and I want don’t want your blood on my hands either.”
“I’ll be careful,” he promised. “The last time…” The last time Jeriah had been careless, his brother had been convicted of treason in his place. “I’ll be
very
careful.”
Two days dragged past as Jeriah waited for Master Lazur’s return. It was absurd to be eager for an event that just a few days ago he’d been praying to put off. But Chardane’s people would arrive for the Equinox Ceremony in less than a week. How long would it take Master Lazur to retrieve the notes
and arrange to cast a gate? Hours? Days?
Tobin was almost certainly ill by now—his days were running out.
Each night Jeriah gave the Hierarch the drug. He told himself that after seven years a few more doses would do no additional harm. Then he tried telling himself that he had to do this to get Tobin back. At least that was true—but it didn’t make Jeriah feel any better as he watched the old man drink.
Cogswhallop woke him before dawn each morning—no success. Jeriah thought about calling off the search, but he wasn’t certain his plan would succeed. And the goblins had already been paid for it.
He was beginning to understand why the sorceress had taken up the goblins’ cause—but she still had no excuse for dragging his brother into it!
Nevin arrived on the evening of the second day, when Jeriah was helping the Hierarch dress for dinner. He told Jeriah that he’d serve the high table tonight; Master Lazur wanted to see his ex-assistant. Malice glittered in his eyes. Jeriah was too preoccupied to spend much thought on Nevin, although anything that pleased Nevin probably meant trouble for him.
He detoured by his room to pick up the empty medicine jar, its glazed surface cold in his chilly fingers. Jeriah felt cold all over.
The flowers were blooming riotously. Marble gleamed in
the mellow light. How could this palace be so beautiful, run so smoothly, when its heart was rotten? Maybe the rot was only in Lazur’s heart. Or his own? Blackmail and lies. Tobin would be ill by now—this was Jeriah’s only chance to reach his brother before he died. He drew a steadying breath and knocked on Master Lazur’s door.
“Come.” The priest’s face was lined with weariness from his journey. “Come in, Jeriah, and sit down. It seems”—his smile was wry—“that I underestimated your mother.”
“My
mother
?” It was so far from any of Jeriah’s expectations that it took him a moment to understand. He dropped into the offered chair.
“Yes. In her last letter she threatened to…What was it? Make my life a lot more difficult. Well, she’s done so.”
Good for her
. “How did she do that?”
The priest’s lips thinned. “Nevin told you about the unrest on the coast? Where people were suddenly questioning the need to relocate?”
Jeriah nodded.
“Your mother’s behind it. I only hope the damage hasn’t spread beyond the coast. But if it has, we’ll deal with it. I’m going to need your help with her after all.”