When she heard that Peto had imprisoned Jorani, lisabet wrote a formal plea to the baron, asking him to release her teacher. His reply, also written, was polite but firm. Jorani would stay where he was until the poisoner was found.
Ilsabet waited a few more days before sending word that she would be down for dinner and requested an audience afterward to plead Lord Jorani's case in person. She chose a black gown that made her pale skin and hair look exotic rather than faded and went downstairs, sitting beside her sister.
As was his custom, the baron had entertainment between the main course and the sweets, this time a singer who'd sung for Baron Janosk on many occasions. While the diners listened, servants carried in a tray of pastries from the kitchen. Though the baron was by custom served first, Ilsabet reached back and grabbed the top piece from the tray, laughing so sweetly at her sister that her impoliteness was seen as childish exuberance, not a formal slight of their new lord.
Ilsabet took a bite, gave a strangled cry, and spit out the piece. Fire filled her mouth and throat, making it hard to breath, to speak. Tears rolled down her face as she grimaced in pain. No sooner had the agony hit, however, than an uncontrollable rage came. Unfocused at first, it was soon directed at the person she hated most.
Consequences be damned! She would kill the baron now; kill him and be done with it. Why wait? Why scheme when she had the means right in front of her? Pushing herself to her feet, she picked up a waterglass and broke it on the side of the table. With the edge held out like a dagger in front of her, she lunged for Peto.
Everything happened so quickly that she almost reached him before the baron's guards rushed forward. Her rage gave her terrible strength, and it took four to subdue her, one of whom was slashed across the arm while trying to wrest the makeshift weapon from her hands. At Peto's order, she was carried kicking and screaming from the dining hall to her chambers.
Servants tied her to her bed. Someone pried open her clenched teeth and poured a liquid tasting of honey and poppy down her throat, but the elixir brought no comfort. She screamed in rage. More liquid followed. This time she bit down on a hand, and blood filled her mouth.
The taste of an enemy! The taste of vengeance!
The baron's face hovered above her. She growled, spit blood and saliva at him and screamed again.
She felt as if she were buried in the belly of some terrible beast, her emotions magnified in its primitive mind, her hidden urges propelling it to act, but her bonds making action impossible.
Another sweet infusion. This time the potion made her sleepy but did little to calm the burning in her mouth and throat, which seemed to be spreading through her body, borne in her blood.
Peto stood at the end of the bed and looked down at Ilsabet. She lay with her arms and legs tightly tied to the four posts. Even through the heavy woolen gown and underskirts, he could see how thin she was. As he watched the healer go about his work, the potions calmed her but did nothing to neutralize the poison in her system. He felt a tremendous guilt.
The sweet she had stolen from the plate had been meant for him. Ilsabet coughed, her eyes still watered, and her lips were turning a pale shade of ash blue.
'What's happening?' Peto asked the healer.
'Her throat is swelling shut,' the man replied. 'I'm doing what I can.'
Not enough! Peto thought. Fearful of the outcome and the terrible future of his conscience should she die, he turned to Shaul. 'Bring Lord Jorani here,' he ordered. He spoke loud enough that Ilsabet could hear him, then moved out of her line of sight, hoping his absence would help calm her.
'Is she going to be all right?' Marishka asked.
Her voice surprised him. Until she spoke, Peto had forgotten she was in the room. She stood by the door, out of the way of the men trying to save her sister's life. Now he focused on Marishka-her clasped hands, her too-bright eyes.
'Don't cry,' he whispered and held out his arms.
She stepped into them and began to sob.
Jorani seemed to take forever to answer the summons, but he came prepared. The elixir he gave Ilsabet cooled the fire in her throat, as well as the one in her mind. Even so, it was some minutes before she could force more than a trickle of air into her lungs. When she exhaled, she started to scream, and cut off the sound.
'Let out the rage,' Jorani said to her. 'You have to.'
She did as he said. Each cry calmed her as if the sounds were emptying the mind of the emotions that caused them.
Hours passed. Ilsabet's voice grew hoarse, her throat sore. Finally, when the cries subsided to frightened whimpers, Jorani ordered the bonds cut. She immediately hugged her teacher, making him stay after the others left. 'Do you think he'll lock you up again now that I'm better?' she whispered.
'You little fool! If you'd taken a bigger bite or if Peto had waited longer to send for me, I'd be heaping wood on your funeral pyre now,' he said without real anger.
The moment she'd risked her life to free him, she ceased being merely his pupil and became something more. He wished there were not such an obscene difference in their ages, for he loved her-her daring and spirit even more than her faith in him.
In the morning, Jorani sought out Baron Peto, meeting with him in his private chambers. Peto's suspicions had turned away from Jorani, and his guards had been questioning the kitchen staff, dismissing the servants employed since the rebellion.
'Mihael and I have decided that from now on, he will be the one to taste my food. Since I've grown rather fond of him, I'd prefer to have Obour servants prepare it,' Peto said to him. 'I also request that you stay in the castle. You seem to be the only one capable of treating the poisonings.'
'I'll be glad to remain,' Jorani replied.
'There is one restriction on you. I will not arm my enemies. I therefore order you not to share your knowledge with Baroness Ilsabet.'
So Peto guessed she might have poisoned herself. Well, Jorani thought, only a fool would not. He agreed, then made a request of his own. 'It seems to me that the constant reminders of her father along with your presence are detrimental to the Baroness Ilsabet's health. My estate is close by. She could stay there for a time. My servants know her well, and she would be quite safe. If you're concerned about her safety, there is a guardhouse for your own men.'
As Jorani anticipated, Peto understood his reasoning immediately. Til order it,' he said.
'Thank you, Baron.'
Jorani was about to add a final remark when they were interrupted by one of the castle guards. 'Baron, I've been sent to tell you that the Baroness Marishka and a servant have left the castle.'
'How did the girl get by you?' Peto demanded.
'She was dressed like the servant, Sire. I wouldn't even know now but one of her maids discovered her missing. She left a letter for you.'
Peto unsealed it, frowning as he read the contents. 'Who is Sagesse?' he asked Jorani.
Marishka's personal maid, Kashi, came from a family of fisher folk that lived on the opposite bank of the Arvid river, a few miles upstream from Nimbus Castle. With one of Kashi's hooded capes covering her distinctive copper-colored hair, Marishka crossed the river with her, then followed the foot trail upstream. At the village, she paid for a pair of horses and supplies for Kashi and herself. Once outfitted, they followed the river northwest, heading for the high grasslands of Kislova's central plain, and the mountains beyond it.
Marishka had never been so far from the castle, and never traveled outside the castle alone, but pilgrims to Sagesse, no matter how wealthy, were required to travel there as common folk. As to the traveling customs of common folk, Marishka had to take Kashi's advice that no matter how poor, a woman would not travel through Kislova alone. Besides, Kashi would never have helped Marishka leave the castle unless she were allowed to come along.
As they rode, the sun warmed them, and the misty skies of the lowlands cleared. That night, Marishka lay back and, for the first time in her life, beheld the full splendor of the stars. The universe was so vast, and she so tiny. She threw a branch on the fire, lay down, and tried to sleep, but it eluded her. Finally, bowing to the
