“As I understand it, the Overlord wants your cooperation, not your death, demon child. I believe he seeks an alliance, not your destruction.”
“An alliance? With me? Now I really
Before Terbolt could answer, the door opened and R’shiel felt the room sway momentarily as Joyhinia stepped into the room. It was impossible, she knew, for Joyhinia to have regained her wits. Dacendaran had stolen them and Tarja had destroyed them. How could she be standing there? So sure of herself? So obviously aware?
“Did you want something, Captain?” the Duke asked, addressing the First Sister with ill-disguised impatience.
R’shiel stared at him in confusion.
“Garanus wishes to speak with you, my Lord. In
“She is not to be harmed,” the Duke warned.
“As you wish.”
Joyhinia closed the door behind the Duke then leaned against it, studying R’shiel with contempt.
“Your sorcerer’s tricks didn’t help you much this time, did they?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh yes you do! You may have fooled everyone else, but these Kariens know what you are. And I’ve seen your evil first hand. Only this time Tarja’s not around to save you, is he?”
It slowly dawned on R’shiel that this was not Joyhinia. The body was hers, certainly, but the words were not. She knew the aura surrounding Joyhinia, and this did not belong to her foster-mother. Neither did the memories. Joyhinia had never seen her use anything remotely resembling magic. Nobody in Medalon had, with the exception of her friends still on the northern border and the Fardohnyan crew of the
“
The name evoked a flood of memories she had thought long forgotten. Nightmares she hoped she would never revisit suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. R’shiel’s mouth went dry and she took an involuntary step backwards, wishing Korandellan had never removed the block on her emotions. For a brief, sickening moment the pain, the humiliation she had suffered in this man’s hands tried to swamp her. She fought a wave of nausea as bad as the one that had almost crippled her when she tried to coerce the Gathering.
“In the flesh,” Joyhinia agreed. “Well, in the First Sister’s flesh actually. Ironic, don’t you think?”
“How?” she managed to ask, her head reeling from the implications of such a dreadful combination.
Joyhinia shrugged. “I’m not sure how. The priests did it. They called on their Overlord, or something. I wasn’t too thrilled to begin with, until it occurred to me what I could do as First Sister. By the look on your face, I’d say it’s occurred to you, too.”
Actually, R’shiel was still struggling to come to grips with the dreadful spectre of the man she loathed and feared most in this world controlling the body of the woman she hated almost as much. Her mind had not had time to deal with the wider implications of all that sadistic megalomania trapped inside the woman who ruled Medalon.
“You won’t get away with this, Loclon. You can’t make people believe you’re the First Sister.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, demon child. I
“Where’s Mahina?”
“The usurper? Safely under lock and key. She’ll be tried and hanged for treason, along with the Lord Defender and Tarja, when I get my hands on them. I may even keep you alive long enough to watch them swing.”
“You’ve no say over what happens to me, you deluded fool. You’re a Karien puppet. You’re dancing to their tune.”
“Only while it suits me.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” she warned. “They’ll only keep you alive long enough to do what they want. And you won’t be able to deny them. Where’s your own body, Loclon? Somewhere safe? Being tended by Karien priests? Did they promise to watch over you while your mind inhabits Joyhinia’s body? How long do you think you’ll last if they slit your unresisting throat?” R’shiel had no idea if her prediction was accurate, but Loclon didn’t know that.
Joyhinia’s face paled a little, small satisfaction though it was. It was obvious the Kariens had not explained much about the mechanics of transferring his mind into Joyhinia’s body. That could work in her favour. Loclon was many things, but first and foremost, he was a coward.
“You console yourself anyway you want, R’shiel,” the First Sister retorted. “Just remember, I’m the one in control now.”
R’shiel had to keep reminding herself that this was Loclon, not Joyhinia, and that she needed to deal with
Loclon took a step toward her, reacting as he always did to her taunts. R’shiel tentatively reached inside herself and tried to touch her power, but even that delicate probe caused the collar to burn. She understood why the Duke had untied her, why Loclon did not fear her. They had cut her off from the source of the Harshini magic.
“I intend to make you suffer until you beg for mercy!” Joyhinia’s voice hissed, but it was Loclon’s vengeful mind that supplied the words.
“You’ll be doing nothing of the sort,” the Duke of Setenton corrected.
Joyhinia spun around in annoyance to find the Karien standing by the open door wearing a look of intense displeasure.
“R’shiel is a wanted criminal, my Lord. She belongs to Medalon.”
“She belongs to the Overlord, Captain, and if I see any evidence that you intend to interfere with the Overlord’s wishes, you may find the penalty life-threatening. Your usefulness is limited. There are other, more cooperative minds who could serve our needs just as easily.”
Loclon’s eyes burned with anger in Joyhinia’s face. She strode from the room, pushing past Setenton. The duke watched her leave and then turned to R’shiel.
“You will be confined here until we leave. There are a number of things that need to be taken care of first. But we should be able to leave in a few days. If all goes well, we should be in Karien by the end of the month.”
“Then you plan to travel overland? A bit risky, don’t you think, in the middle of a war?”
Lord Setenton smiled coldly. “War? What war? Of course, you left the Gathering early, didn’t you? Your nation is no longer at war with Karien, my dear. The First Sister has already dispatched the order to your forces on the border. Medalon has surrendered.”
Chapter 48
“Surrender?” Damin leapt forward and snatched the note from Tarja’s hand. “The hell we will! This is a trick!”
Tarja looked haggard, as if he hadn’t slept for days. “The note carries the correct authentication seal from the Citadel. It’s genuine.”
“Who sent it?”
“The First Sister,” Jenga told him grimly.
“But
“Mahina would not betray us,” the Lord Defender objected.
“Well, somebody did! Probably your precious Garet Warner. I told you he wasn’t to be trusted.”
Tarja sagged against the edge of the long table near the hearth. “You’re both missing the point here. This
