Читать книгу Study Collection - Maria V. Snyder - Страница 12

6

STEPPING OVER THE PRONE forms of the sleeping soldiers, Valek took my injured arm and inspected it. “Not as bad as it looks. You’ll live. We’ll see the Commander first, then the medic.”

Valek hurried me through the castle. My arm began to throb. I lagged behind. The thought of facing the Commander’s stony gaze dragged at my feet. Finding the medic, then sinking into a hot bath was without a doubt more appealing.

We entered a spacious round chamber that served as the Commander’s war room. Slender, stained-glass windows stretched from the floor to the ceiling and encircled three-quarters of the chamber. The kaleidoscope of colors made me feel as if I were inside a spinning top. Dizzy, I would have stumbled except I caught a glimpse of something that rooted me to the floor.

A long wooden table filled the center of the room. Sitting at the head of the table with two guards standing behind him was the Commander. His thin eyebrows were pinched together in annoyance. A tray of untouched food sat by his side. Also seated around the table were three of the Commander’s Generals. Two of the Generals were busy eating their lunch, while the third’s fork hovered in midair. I focused on the hand; white knuckles equaled white-hot rage. With reluctance I met General Brazell’s gaze.

Brazell lowered his fork, his face taut. His eyes held lightning. I was the target, and like a rabbit caught in the open, I was too frightened to move.

“Valek, you’re…” Commander Ambrose began.

“Late,” Valek finished for him. “I know. There was a slight altercation,” he said. He pulled me closer.

Intrigued, the other two Generals stopped eating. I flushed, stifling a strong desire to bolt from the room. Having no contact with any high-ranking officers, I recognized the Generals only by the colors on their uniforms. My trip to the Commander’s dungeon was the first time I had been past the borders of MD–5. Even during the first ten years I had lived in Brazell’s orphanage, I had only caught brief glimpses of him and his family.

Unfortunately, after I had turned sixteen, the sight of Brazell and his son Reyad became my daily nightmare. I had been flattered by the attention of my benefactor; his gray hair and short beard framed a square-shaped, pleasant face that shouted respectability. Stout and sturdy, he was the ultimate father figure to me. Brazell told me I was the smartest of his “adopted” children and that he needed my help with some experiments. I readily agreed to participate.

The memory of how grateful and naive I had been sickened me. It was three years ago. I had been a puppy. A puppy still wagging her tail as the bag’s opening was tied shut.

Two years I had suffered. My mind recoiled from the memories. I stared at Brazell in the war room. His lips were pressed tight as his jaw quivered. He fought to contain his hatred. Faint with fatigue, I saw Reyad’s ghost appear behind his father. Reyad’s slashed throat hung open, and blood dripped down, staining his nightshirt. A distant recollection of a tale about murder victims haunting their killers until their business was settled filtered through my mind.

I rubbed my eyes. Did anyone else see the ghost? If so, they hid it well. My gaze slid to Valek. Was he haunted by ghosts? If that old story was to be believed, he would be swamped by them.

Worry that I might not be completely rid of Reyad pulsed through me, but not a trace of remorse. The only thing I was sorry for was not having the courage to kill Brazell when I had the chance. Sorry that I was unable to save my “sisters and brothers” at Brazell’s orphanage from turning sixteen. Sorry that I was unable to warn May and Carra, and help them run away.

The Commander’s voice brought my attention back to the war room.

“Altercation, Valek?” He sighed like an indulgent parent. “How many dead?”

“None. I couldn’t justify the disposal of soldiers merely following General Brazell’s orders to hunt down and kill our new food taster. Besides, they weren’t very smart. Seems she was on the verge of giving them the slip when she ran into me. Good thing though, or I might not have found out about the incident.”

The Commander studied me for a while before turning to Brazell.

It was all Brazell needed. Leaping from his chair, he shouted, “She should be dead! I want her dead! She killed my son!”

Valek said, “But the Code of Behavior…”

“Damn the Code. I’m a General. She killed a General’s son and here she is…” Emotion choked off Brazell’s voice. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to wrap his hands around my throat that instant. Reyad’s ghost floated behind his father, a smirk on his face.

“It’s a dishonor to me that she lives,” Brazell said. “An insult. Train another prisoner. I want her dead!”

Instinctively, I stepped behind Valek. The other Generals were nodding their heads in agreement. I was too terrified to look at the Commander.

“He has a sound argument,” the Commander said without a trace of emotion tainting his voice.

“You have never deviated from what’s written in the Code of Behavior,” Valek argued. “Start now and you’ll begin a trend. Besides, you’ll be killing the brightest food taster we’ve ever had. She’s almost trained.” He gestured to the tray of cold food beside the Commander.

I glanced around Valek to see the Commander’s expression. Thoughtful, he pursed his lips while he considered Valek’s argument. I crossed my arms, digging my fingernails deep into my flesh.

Brazell, sensing a change of heart, took a step toward the Commander. “She’s smart because I educated her. I can’t believe you’re going to listen to this upstart, conniving, sneaky thief—” Brazell stopped. He had said too much. He had insulted Valek, and even I knew that the Commander had a special fondness for Valek.

“Brazell, leave my food taster alone.”

My breath hissed with relief.

Brazell attempted to argue, but the Commander silenced him. “It’s an order. Go ahead and build your new factory. Consider your permit approved.” He dangled a carrot in front of Brazell. Was a new factory worth more than my death?

Silence followed as everyone waited for Brazell to comment. He gave me a look full of venom. Reyad’s ghost grinned, and I guessed from his cat-that-got-the-rat smile that the permit approval was very important to Brazell. More important than he let on to the Commander. The rage and indignation over my missing the noose was genuine, but he could build his factory now, and then kill me later. He knew where to find me.

Brazell left the room without saying another word. The amused ghost mouthed the words “See you next time,” before following his father.

When the other Generals started to protest the permit approval, the Commander listened to their arguments in silence. Momentarily forgotten, I studied the two Generals. Their uniforms were similar to the Commander’s except that they wore black jackets with gold buttons. Instead of real diamonds on their collars, each General had five embroidered diamonds stitched on their coats over their left breasts. No medals or ribbons decorated their uniforms. The Commander’s troops wore only what was needed for recognition and for battle.

The diamonds on the General sitting close to the Commander were blue. He was General Hazal in charge of Military District 6, just west of Brazell’s MD–5. General Tesso’s diamonds were silver for MD–4, which bordered to the north of Brazell’s. If a district planned a big project, like building a new factory or clearing land for farming, a permit approved by the Commander was required. Smaller projects, like installing a new oven at a bakery or building a house within the district, only needed approval from that district’s General. Most Generals had a staff to handle the processing of new permit applications.

It was apparent from the Generals’ complaints that Brazell’s permit was in the initial processing stages. Discussions with the bordering districts had started, but the Commander’s staff had not yet reviewed and authenticated the factory’s plans. Usually once the staff recommended approval, the Commander signed off on the application. The Code of Behavior only stated that permission must be received prior to building, and if the Commander wanted to bypass his own process he could do so.

We had been taught the Code of Behavior at the orphanage. Anyone wishing the honor of running errands into town had to memorize and recite the Code perfectly prior to gaining the privilege. Besides reading and writing, the education I had received from Brazell had also included mathematics and the history of Ixia’s takeover by the Commander. Since the takeover, education was available to everyone and not just a privilege for the men of the richer classes.

My education, though, took a turn for the worse when I began “helping” Brazell. Memories threatened to overwhelm me. My hot skin felt tight. I trembled, forcing my mind to the present. The Generals had finished their rebuttal of the Commander’s decision. Valek tasted the Commander’s cold food, and pushed it closer to him.

“Your concerns are noted. My order stands,” the Commander said. He turned to Valek. “Your food taster had better live up to your endorsements. One slip and you’ll be training her replacement prior to your reassignment. You’re dismissed.”

Valek took my arm and steered me from the chamber. We walked down the hallway until the door of the war room clicked shut. Then Valek stopped. The features on his face had hardened into a porcelain mask.

“Yelena…”

“Don’t say anything. Don’t threaten or bully or intimidate. I’ve had enough of that from Brazell. I’ll make every effort to be the best taster because I’m getting used to the idea of living. And I don’t want to give Brazell the satisfaction of seeing me dead.” Tired of examining Valek’s every facial expression and straining to hear every small nuance in his voice for clues to his mood, I moved away from him. He followed me. When we reached an intersection, Valek’s hand grasped my elbow. I heard him utter the word medic as he guided me to the left. Without once looking at his face, I let him steer me to the infirmary.

As I was led to an empty examining table, I squinted at the medic’s all-white uniform. The only color on the uniform was two small red diamonds stitched on the collar. My mind was so muddled with fatigue that it took me some time to figure out that the short-haired medic was a female. With a grunt, I stretched out on the table.

When the woman left to get her supplies, Valek said, “I’ll post some guards outside the door, in case Brazell changes his mind.” Before leaving the infirmary, I saw him speak with the medic. She nodded and glanced toward me.

The medic returned with a tray full of shiny medical instruments that included a jar of a substance that looked like jelly. She scrubbed my arms with alcohol, making the wounds bleed and sting. I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

“They’re all superficial, except this one,” the medic said as she pointed to the elbow I had used to break the glass. “This wound needs to be sealed.”

“Sealed?” It sounded painful.

The medic picked up the pot of jelly. “Relax. It’s a new method for treating deep lacerations. We use this glue to seal the skin. Once the wound heals, the glue is absorbed into the body.” She scooped out a large amount with her fingers and applied it to the cut.

I winced at the pain. She pinched my skin together, holding it tight. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

“It was invented by the Commander’s cook, of all people. There are no side effects and it tastes great in tea.”

“Rand?” I asked, surprised.

She nodded. Still holding the skin together, she said, “You’ll need to wear a bandage for a few days and keep the cut dry.” She blew on the glue for a while before releasing her grip. She bandaged my arm. “Valek wants you to stay here tonight. I’ll bring you dinner. You can get some rest.”

I thought eating might require too much effort, but when she brought the hot food, I realized I was starving. A strange taste in my tea caused me to lose my appetite in an instant.

Someone had poisoned my tea.