Ilsabet took the torch from the soldier and thrust it through the bars. The cell, with its oozing walls and slimy floors, looked all the worse in the firelight.
'Why won't you come forward?' she asked.
'The rats,' he whispered.
'There are no rats here,' she replied. 'Come. Bow.'
He stretched out his legs and stood, walking toward her. Something in his expression reminded her of Dark, enough that she pulled the torch back and returned it to a servant. 'I'll bow to Kislova but never to SundelL'
'I am Kislova.'
He lowered his eyes and bowed his head more out of acceptance of her station than obedience. 'My name is Emory,' he said.
'Why did you attack the patrol, Emory?' she asked.
'We thought they were coming to arrest us. It happened often even before the revolt.'
Ilsabet looked to Jorani. 'It's true,' Jorani said. 'What do you want to do with these three?'
Jorani had expected that the boy had already made his death certain. However, Ilsabet surprised him. 'Let the other two go. This one has the mark of a leader. I want him kept in the castle for a while.' She saw the look of horror on Emory's face. Amused by it, she smiled. 'Somewhere secure, but more comfortable, someplace where there are no rats, where we can sit and talk and think of ways to bring quiet to this land.'
'I'd… I'd scarcely have any ideas, Baroness,' Emory stammered, still hoping to leave with the others.
'Even so, I want you to stay. Don't worry, I'm going to give you my sister's rooms. Tonight, bathe and rest. Tomorrow, we'll meet.' She left him, giving orders to the guards.
As soon as she was gone, they unlocked Emory's cell and escorted him upstairs. He didn't feel quite like a prisoner any longer, but he wasn't a guest, either.
TWENTY
The room Emory occupied was as large as his family's cottage. The bed could have held the family as well. As he stood, surrounded by opulence but wearing ripped and dirty clothing and covered with bruises and cuts, servants brought in a tub and began filling it with hot water.
When someone tried to help him take off his clothing, he blushed and asked the servants to leave. They did, sliding a bar across the door. Well, he could hardly be expected to stay otherwise.
The water felt scalding at first, then deliciously warm. The blood caked to his skin soaked off in the soapy water. He scrubbed, then laid his head against a rolled towel on the side of the tub and closed his eyes. Later, when he found himself dozing off, he got out of the tub and, with little energy left, dried off and slipped between the starched sheets.
He woke with no idea of the time. While he'd slept, however, the servants had removed the tub and laid clean clothes across the end of his bed. It hardly surprised him that he'd slept through the sound. At home, with so many sharing such a small space, he'd had to learn to sleep through anything.
Breakfast came soon after he dressed, leading him to wonder if he were being watched. He'd just started his second helping of noodles and eggs when Jorani and the baroness joined him. They sat together, sharing tea out of cups far too delicate for Emory's hands, and discussed the mood in Pirie.
Emory could tell them nothing new. Not knowing why he was here made him nervous, and when discussion became strained, they left him.
After he'd gone to bed that evening, he heard someone call his name. He opened his eyes and saw the baroness standing beside his bed, a brass lamp in hand. 'Come talk with me a while.'
The baroness led Emory down the twisting passage, then through the main castle entrance hall. The chamber was as big as his village square, the tapestries more beautiful than any he had seen for sale in the best Pirie shops. The stairs curved gracefully up, giving him glimpses of artwork, carvings.
It was an incredible opportunity, yet if he'd had any idea which way led to freedom, he'd have bolted. Instead, he kept his composure as best he could.
He joined her at a table beneath a bank of windows. She pulled open the shutters, and in the moonlight he could see the mists on the river below him, the hills rising on the bank.
The baroness wore a simple black gown. Her hair was combed back and her face seemed pale in the dim light. It seemed she was trying to put him at ease, and he did his best to act as if he were.
She handed him a glass of wine. His fingers brushed hers as he took it. She watched intently as he sipped it. Something about the brilliance in her eyes, or the potency of the wine made him dizzy. He put down the glass and rubbed his forehead. The feeling passed.
They talked for another hour. In time he began to speak frankly about the poverty in the village, the desire for peace, and the growing distrust of Sundell.
'Now you've married Baron Peto. What are we to think?' he asked.
'That perhaps someday, it will be a Kislovan lord ruling both lands for the benefit of all of us.' She stood, walked to the door. 'You look tired,' she said. 'We'll speak later.'
Emory was sorry to return to his room, but she was right. He still felt as exhausted as he had the night before, with barely enough energy to return to the bed.
He woke with difficulty when a servant brought his evening meal. As he ate, he managed to throw off the lethargy so that by the time the baroness and Lord Jorani joined him, he was wide awake.
This time the baroness spoke of Shadow Castle. He had thought this place magnificent but apparently it was no more than a crude outpost by comparison to its neighbor. She described the changes she intended to make, the artisans she would be employing from Pirie and the rest of Kislova. When she began discussing carpentry, he beamed: that had been his stepfather's occupation.
They took him to the wharf behind the castle, where Ilsabet explained how she intended to add a pair of docks to increase the river trade to the castle and surrounding countryside.
'The work will cost a lot of money,' Emory said.
Ilsabet smiled. 'My husband will pay for it.'
The glare of the sun on the water made Emory's head pound. He winced and leaned against Jorani for support. 'I'm sorry. I think I got a harder kick to the head than I thought,' he said apologetically.
Servants helped him to his room. Jorani stayed with him a while, asking how he felt, then left him.
'Will he be all right?' Ilsabet asked.
'I think so. We can probably send him home in a day or two. Once he tells everyone about your plans for the castle, they'll think twice before continuing the foolish resistance to Sundell.' He walked down the hall with her, stopping outside her door. 'When you write your husband, tell him I believe that in a few week's time everything will be quiet here.'
'A bittersweet victory since it means that Peto will come back to me,' she said and touched his cheek.
Inside her room, she barred her door, as was her habit, and sat at her table. There she opened her journal and began to write.
I've determined the concentration of web needed to produce illness rather than coma or death. It astonishes and heartens me to realize Jorani has no inkling of what I did, even though he was there when I served it to the boy. If one who knows of the poison can't detect its presence, no Sundell healer will.
Tonight in private, I intend to administer another, smaller dose to the boy. I need to see if the tiny bit more will sicken him again, put him into a coma, or kill him. If the latter happens, I'll make use of it since I've also mixed the potion that is supposed to revive the dead.
I wonder if the formula will work, and what the curse associated with it might be. I wish I could be more open about my work, but Jorani makes that impossible. I've decided it would be wise for him to be elsewhere for a time while I test all the new things I've learned.
She put the journal aside and took out a sheet of parchment. Dipping her quill into the ink, she thought a moment and began to write.
Dearest husband,
It was a long and sad ride back to Nimbus Cas-tie, but a necessary one. We've arrested three men for
