Shards of Time Read online

  “No, Klia wouldn’t allow it.” He paused, and something in the way he suddenly avoided eye contact caught Micum’s attention.

  “There should be more ’faie than I’ve seen so far.”

  Azrin nodded. “Some of the islanders who held slaves killed them quietly, to keep the fact from her.”

  “Damnation!”

  “Klia hanged the ones she caught at it. Some of us aren’t so happy to see her back again, and as governor, no less.”

  “I’ve known her through her aide for some time. She’s a good woman, and fair,” Micum assured him.

  “If you say so.”

  “I’ve heard talk of unrest here. What do you think?”

  Azrin shrugged. “I’ve heard grumbling, but given the force the new governor brought with her, I doubt there’ll be open insurrection. Still, enough of politics. The apple tart is exceptional.”

  They returned to lighter topics, and soon Micum knew of the best gambling establishments, brothels, and tailors in Deep Harbor.

  “What do you make of the ghost stories up at the old city?” Micum asked at last.

  Azrin’s smile faded. “They’re nothing to laugh at, my friend. When I was a boy, some friends and I rode up there to see for ourselves if spirits still walk there. We went when the moon was full and saw men and women walking the streets with their chopped-off heads held under their arm! Even the dogs had no heads.”

  Micum gave him a skeptical look and Azrin burst out laughing. “Those stories are for scaring little children into being good. ‘Eat your dinner or we’ll leave you at the gates of Menosi!’ ”

  “So you’ve not been there?”

  “I passed there once on a hunt. It’s just a ruin, or was until Governor Toneus began messing about up there.”

  “What about the stories of people disappearing?”

  “It’s a dangerous place, I suppose, as any old ruin is.”

  “Was Toneus popular with the people?”

  “What do you think?” asked Azrin. “The Plenimarans ruled here for as long as most can remember. When you see your friends and neighbors run off like that, you don’t much care for those who did it.”

  “So an islander murdered him, not a ghost?”

  “I heard it was that lover of his. Rumor is that she stabbed him in a jealous fit, then killed herself. How else do you explain the room being locked from the inside?”

  “That’s common knowledge, is it?”

  “The guard who finally broke the door down blabbed it. Crazy stories, most of it—guts hanging from the ceiling and such.”

  “More stories to scare children?”

  Azrin shrugged. “They locked him up in the madhouse.”

  “Do you know the man?”

  “Hardly,” Azrin sniffed. “I may be down on my luck, but I’m still a noble. The man was one of the guardsmen Toneus brought with him. A captain, I think.”

  “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “Not at all. I’m just saying things have changed on the island, and they haven’t, if you take my meaning.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  They finished off the last of the tart and Micum paid for the meal.

  “Say, could you recommend a good healer?” Micum rubbed his thigh. “The voyage played havoc with an old scar of mine, and the drysian with Klia wasn’t much use.” It wasn’t completely untrue.

  “Doctor Kordira is the one to see,” Azrin told him. “She’s a proper doctor, not one of those mystical hand wavers you have in Skala.” Azrin gave him a wink. “She’s a pretty thing, too, but mind your manners. It’s said she knows as much about poisons as she does healing.”

  “More tales to scare children?” Micum said with a laugh.

  “Let’s just say I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you.”

  “Much obliged, friend.” He shook hands with Azrin at the door. “I hope to see you again soon. Could you direct me to the good doctor?”

  “Of course. Go back the way we came, go left on Leaf Lane, and you’ll see the sign.”

  It was midafternoon now. Micum soon found the physician’s home—a narrow, three-story row house with a receiving room on the street level.

  The room smelled of herbs and roots, and baskets of them lined one wall, together with bolts of linen and baskets of vegetable lint. The instruments of her trade lay on shelves on another wall, many of them rather alarming.

  A pretty young woman came out from behind a tapestry at the back of the room. “Are you in need, sir?”

  “I was hoping to speak with you about my leg, Doctor Kordira.”

  The woman laughed. “Oh, I’m not the doctor, sir. She has a visitor at the moment, but if you’d like to wait, I can make you comfortable here.”

  She set a chair for him by the front window. “Give me your name and I’ll bring word to her upstairs.”

  Micum told her and she moved another tapestry aside and disappeared up the steep stairway behind it. A moment later she returned with word that the visitor was a friend of his, and that he could go up and join them.

  His leg ached as he slowly climbed the steep, narrow stairs. At the top he went through an open door and down a short corridor to a comfortable sitting room where he discovered Thero and a beautiful Plenimaran woman at tea. The wizard wore his formal Orëska robes and his curly black hair bound back in a severe queue. Nonetheless, he seemed perfectly at ease with his hostess.

  Kordira was a true beauty. Her skin was fair, her eyes and hair black as night, her lips red and sensuous, without any sign of cosmetics. She wore a plain blue gown and a rainbow-colored knitted shawl over her shoulders. Her hair was in a braided coronet around her head, woven with blue ribbon. She wore no jewelry, and her nails, though well trimmed, were stained from her work.

  “Ah, here’s your friend, Lord Thero!” she said with a smile that would melt the hardest of hearts. “Please join us, Lord Micum. We’ve just started.”

  “Thank you, my lady.”

  “Oh, I have no title. Please, call me Kordira. Everyone around here does.”

  “Then you must call me Micum.” He took the empty chair and noted how graceful her hands were as she filled a delicate tea dish for him from an equally elegant pot and passed the sweets plate.

  “I was just telling your friend how grateful I am to Princess Klia for allowing me to remain on Kouros,” she said. “I’ve been here for nine years and can’t imagine living anywhere else. It’s so beautiful.”

  “I can understand that,” Micum replied, balancing his tea dish carefully in his big, callused hands.

  “But I think that’s not what you two came to speak with me about.”

  Micum had planned to give her the complaint about his bad leg, but Thero seemed to have the situation well in hand.

  “Princess Klia brought me here to help investigate the death of the previous governor,” the wizard told her, the pleasantries evidently out of the way. “I visited the madhouse last night, and spoke with Captain Sedge. The man seems completely unhinged by what he saw that day. Have you had any contact with him?”

  “Yes, I attended him when they brought him down from Menosi. Believe it or not, he’s much calmer than he was. He tried several times to kill himself that first week, and anyone who came near him. But I doubt he’ll ever fully recover. It’s tragic. Sedge is a good man. I treated his little daughter for thrush soon after he moved his family here. He has three children, and his wife’s six months gone with another.”

  “I’d like to help him, if I can. The princess has ordered me to make a full examination but he’s much too agitated as he is. I wondered if you might assist me with your healing arts. Perhaps between the two of us, we might be able to get a better idea of the state of his mind.”

  “I wasn’t aware that you Orëska practiced medicine.”

  “Not as such, but I might be able to draw from his mind something of what occurred that day.”

  “I see.” She considered this for a moment. “Very well. I gave him
brandy drugged with a distillation of sticky rush last time. Will that interfere with your magic?”

  “It shouldn’t.”

  “Give me a few moments to prepare the draught and we can go at once. Please, finish your tea. I’ll send Cyra up to fetch you when everything is prepared.”

  When she was gone Micum leaned closer to Thero and whispered, “What do you think so far?”

  “I’m not sure yet. There’s no overt sense of magic around her, but a skilled necromancer could probably mask it. I haven’t mentioned the curse, and neither has she.”

  “She’s very charming.”

  Thero smiled. “So I noticed. We shall see.”

  The serving woman came for them shortly and they went downstairs to find the physician by the door, a leather satchel in hand.

  “I noticed your limp, Micum.” Kordira handed him a small clay phial sealed with wax. “Take this draught tonight and have a good soak in a hot tub. It should give you some relief.”

  “Much obliged, Doctor. It’s not so bad that I can’t carry that heavy bag for you,” Micum offered, to see if she’d relinquish it. “It’s a long walk down to the harbor.”

  “You’re very kind.” She handed him the heavy case and led the way down to the madhouse.

  “By the way,” said Thero as they went along. “Our ship was overrun with rats on crossing. Filthy things, full of disease. Do you know of any sort of poison to take care of them?”

  “Poison has a way of turning up where it’s not wanted,” Kordira told him. “Tell your captain to take on some cats. There’s no shortage of them on the island.”

  Thero trod very lightly around Kordira. If she was a necromancer skilled enough to hide what she was so well, then touching her mind was out of the question, as she’d most likely know it. And she was clearly well liked here. Everyone they met greeted her or gave a respectful nod. Many of the men took off their hats to her.

  “The new lords of Mirror Moon are causing a bit of a stir,” she remarked as they walked along. “Are they friends of yours?”

  “Yes. What are people saying?”

  “Oh, nothing serious. It’s just jarring to many, seeing a powerful, free ’faie. And no one’s sure what to make of him gathering former slaves to the estate.”

  “Word certainly travels fast around here,” said Micum.

  “It’s a small place. So tell me, why is Baron Seregil massing ’faie at Mirror Moon?”

  Micum chuckled. “I’d hardly say massing.”

  “No, it’s nothing of the kind,” Thero explained. “It’s out of compassion. It pains him deeply to see his countrymen in such a miserable state.”

  “Ah. Well, I’m glad to hear it.” Kordira shook her head. “Slavery is the curse of my people, and one that took root here, sadly.”

  “You don’t hold with slavery?” asked Micum.

  “If I say no, will you believe me?”

  “I thought all Plenimarans practiced it.”

  “I’m a physician, Micum, from a long line of physicians. We deal in misery every day and don’t believe in adding to it through such degradation.”

  “I heard that some of the islanders killed their slaves to cover up the fact that they’d kept them.”

  “Yes. I’m not excusing it, but you can’t imagine the fear people felt when word came that Skala had taken possession of the island again. It’s well known how bitterly the Skalans hate the Plenimaran people, and everyone assumed there would be reprisals. To some extent, they were right.”

  “How so?” asked Micum. “I was told the only deaths that occurred were those who fought back and people who were hanged for slave killing.”

  “Which confirmed the fears of many.”

  “I wouldn’t say Skalans hate the Plenimaran people,” Thero told her. “They hate the wars, and necromancers, and the marines, in particular, but you must admit, they are a brutal lot.”

  “I can’t contest that.”

  “What do you make of the tales of spirits killing Toneus and his companion?”

  “I think it’s entirely possible,” she replied. “I’ve been to Menosi. It’s not a good place. You’ve heard of disappearances around there, no doubt.”

  “Yes, but the mayor dismissed the stories. Apparently people fall down mine shafts and get lost in the mountains.”

  Kordira snorted. “Of course Hasen would say that. He’s made a good deal of money from the building that’s gone on up there, and hopes to make more if the restored city and shrine attract travelers and pilgrims.”

  “I understand there have been problems with the shrine, though.”

  “Yes. Still, I understand much of it has been repaired since I last visited.”

  They reached the madhouse and the same warder let them in and took them up to the unfortunate captain’s cell.

  Sedge looked as terrified as he had the first time Thero had visited him, huddled in the corner near the slop bucket, but he calmed visibly when he recognized the doctor.

  “He’s having a good day,” Kordira murmured to Thero.

  “Who are these men, Doctor?” Sedge asked.

  “Friends, my dear.” She went to him and took his hand in hers. “They’ve come to help me help you. You have nothing to fear from them. How are you feeling today?”

  “I want to go home. I want to see my wife and little ones.”

  “And so you shall, as soon as you’re better. But first you must allow us to help heal you. This young man is Thero, a wizard from Skala. Do you remember him?”

  Sedge cowered back against the wall. “He attacked me. Him and that other demon! He’s made himself look human today, but he’s not, Doctor. And he’s brought an even bigger demon today. Why have you let them in? Don’t go near them!”

  “It’s all right, my dear,” she said, stroking his hand. “They’re not demons, they are friends. That’s just your illness tricking you. We’ve talked about this, haven’t we? You can’t trust your eyes, so you must trust me.”

  Sedge shook his head, still regarding Thero and Micum with dismay. “How can anyone help me?”

  “You must let us try. I’ve brought you medicine—the draught that helps you sleep without dreams. Come, lie down and drink for me.” Kordira helped him to the bed and spread the blanket over him, then took a small brass jar from her satchel. Uncorking it, she offered it to him and he downed it eagerly.

  “That’s good. That’s good,” he whispered, licking his lips. “No dreams?”

  “No dreams,” she promised.

  He lay down, eyelids already drooping, and she stroked his brow until he was deeply asleep.

  “There. I made it strong, so he won’t wake for hours.” Kordira stood and let Thero take her place.

  The wizard felt the man’s pulse; it was slow and even, and his breathing was calm. He rested his hand on Sedge’s forehead and let his mind brush the sleeping man’s. To his surprise, he found that the madness had not followed the poor fellow into sleep. Instead, he saw a pretty, pregnant blond woman and three small children in a garden by a tidy stone cottage. It was a static image, like a painting, but he could hear the sound of the sea nearby.

  “Did you stop his thoughts somehow, Doctor?”

  “Not intentionally. You can read his mind?”

  “I can sense his thoughts,” Thero replied, adding, “but only with some effort. It’s not something I do lightly.”

  Taking out his crystal wand, he drew the sigil of discernment over Sedge and watched as waves of pale light spread out from it, then settled like ash over him. It turned silver—a sign that some magic was present. That was no surprise, after what he’d managed to learn last time. Now to find out what exactly it was.

  The moment Theo touched Sedge with the wand an unbearable stench rolled over him. He had the fleeting impression of red eyes and a misshapen maw full of yellow teeth before a dreadful force struck him, knocking him across the room and into the stone wall so hard he nearly lost consciousness. He gagged and swallowed hard, tryin
g desperately not to vomit.

  Kordira and Micum were beside him at once, and through the haze that threatened to engulf him he was aware of her fingers on his wrist, and the sound her voice, although he couldn’t make out what she was saying.

  Sitting up, he blinked to clear his vision, then felt gingerly at the back of his head where it had struck the wall. There was no blood, but he was certainly going to have a headache, and a lump.

  “Are you seeing a double image?” she asked, and her voice still seemed to be coming from a distance. More than the blow to the head was affecting him.

  “No,” he replied, and his voice sounded loud and hollow inside his head. “My wand …”

  “Here,” said Micum, putting it in his hand. “You’re lucky it didn’t break.”

  Lucky indeed, thought Thero, smoothing his fingers over it. Such items were not easily broken, but the force of the malevolent energy that had thrown him across the room was much more of a danger.

  He drew the same sigil again, this time over his heart, and was relieved to find that nothing evil had transferred to him, though he was still suffering the aftereffects of the attack, for attack it had certainly been.

  “How are you?” asked Micum.

  “Just a bit rattled.”

  “What do you make of all that?” asked the doctor.

  “He’s cursed, rather than mad,” Thero replied, his suspicions confirmed. “Or been driven mad by the curse. He came in contact with something very evil, and it’s marked him.”

  Kordira gave Sedge a worried look. “Can the curse be lifted?”

  “There is a ritual—” Thero tried to stand, but she laid a hand on his shoulder, keeping him down.

  “Can you perform it?” she asked as she examined his skull with gentle fingers.

  That was a good question. He’d studied the cleansing ritual, and assisted Nysander in performing it, but he’d never done it on his own.

  “I can try,” he said at last. “Whether it will work on this kind of magic or not, I don’t know. It could prove fatal.”

  “Sometimes death is a blessing for one as tormented as he.”

  “It will take some preparation, and I can’t do it here.”

  “My rooms are at your disposal.”