Mina took hold of Odila’s hand in her own.
Odila gasped, as if in pain. She tried to break the hold, but could not, though Mina was not exerting any force that Gerard could see. Tears sprang to Odila’s eyes, she bit her lip. Her arm shook, her body trembled. She gulped and seemed to try to bear the pain, but the next moment she sank to her knees. The tears spilled over, coursed down her cheeks. She bowed her head.
Mina moved close to Odila. She stroked Odila’s long black hair.
“Now you see,” said Mina softly. “Now you understand.”
“No!” Odila cried in a choked voice. “No, I don’t believe it.”
“You do believe,” Mina said. She put her hand beneath Odila’s chin, lifted her head so that Odila was forced to look into the amber eyes. “I do not lie to you. You are lying to yourself. When you are dead, you will go to the One God, and there will be no more lies.”
Odila stared at her wildly.
Gerard shuddered, chilled to the core of his being.
The archer leaned forward, said something to Mina. She listened and nodded.
“Captain Samuval says that you can undoubtedly provide us with valuable information about the defenses of Solanthus.” Mina smiled, shrugged. “I do not require such information, but the captain believes that he does. Therefore you will be questioned first, before you are put to death.”
“I won’t tell you anything,” Odila said thickly.
Mina regarded her with sorrow. “No, I don’t suppose you will. Your suffering will be wasted, for, I assure you, you could not tell me anything that I do not already know. I do this only to humor Captain Samuval.”
Bending down, Mina kissed Odila on the forehead. “I commend your soul to the One God,” Mina said, and straightening, she turned to Gerard.
“I thank you for delivering your message. I would not advise you to return to Qualinost. Beryl would not permit you to enter that city. She launches her attack tomorrow at dawn. As for Marshal Medan, he is a traitor. He has fallen in love with the elves and their ways. His love finds shape and form in the Queen Mother, Lauralanthalasa. He has not evacuated the city as he was ordered. Qualinost is filled with elven soldiers, prepared to give their lives in defense of their city. The king, Gilthas, has laid a trap for Beryl and her armies—a cunning trap, I must admit.”
Gerard gaped. His jaws went slack. His mouth hung open. He thought he should defend Medan, then knew he shouldn’t, for doing so might implicate him. Or perhaps she already knew Gerard wasn’t what he appeared and nothing that he did or didn’t do would make any difference. He managed, at last, to ask the one thing that he had to know.
“Has Beryl... been warned?” Gerard’s mouth was dry. He could barely speak the words.
“The dragon is in the keeping of the One God, as are we all,” Mina replied.
She turned away. Waiting officers moved forward to claim Mina’s attention, badgered her with questions. She walked off to listen to them, answer them. Gerard was dismissed.
Odila stood up, staggering, and would have fallen if Gerard had not stepped forward and, under the guise of seizing her arm, supported her. He wondered, at that, who was leaning on whom—He was in need of some sort of support himself. Sweating profusely, he felt wrung out.
“I can’t answer you,” Captain Samuval said, although Gerard had not asked a question. The captain walked over to converse.
“Is what Mina said about Medan true? Is he a traitor?”
“I don’t... I don’t...” Gerard’s voice failed him. He was tired of lying, and it seemed pointless anyway. The battle for Qualinost would be held tomorrow at dawn, if he believed her, and he believed her, although he had no idea how or why. He shook his head wearily. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Not now.”
“We’d be glad if you joined our ranks,” Captain Samuval offered. “Here, I’ll show you where to take your prisoner. The interrogator’s setting up, but he should be in business by tomorrow morning. We could use another sword.” He glanced at the city, whose walls were dark with soldiers. “How many troops do you reckon are in there?”
“A lot,” Gerard said with emphasis.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Captain Samuval rubbed his grizzled chin. “I’ll wager she knows, eh?” He jerked a thumb at Odila, who walked as if in a daze, hardly seeming to notice where she was going, hardly seeming to care.
“I don’t know if she does or not,” Gerard said glumly. “She hasn’t said anything to me about it, and she won’t say anything to that torturer of yours. She’s stubborn, that one. Where do I put her? I’ll be thankful to be rid of her.”
Captain Samuval led Gerard to a tent that was close to where the blacksmith and his assistants were setting up his portable forge. Pausing at the smith’s, Captain Samuval appropriated a pair of leg irons and manacles, assisted Gerard in attaching them to Odila’s legs and wrists. He handed Gerard the key.
“She’s your prisoner,” he said.
Gerard thanked him, tucked the key into his boot.
The tent had no bedding, but the captain brought water and food for the prisoner. Odila refused to eat, but she drank some water and managed to sound grudgingly grateful for the attention. She lay down on the tent floor, her eyes wide open and staring.
Gerard left her, went outside, wondering what he was going to do now. He decided the best thing he could do was to eat. He had not realized how hungry he was until he saw the bread and dried meat in the captain’s hand.
“I’ll take that food,” Gerard said, “since she doesn’t want it.”
Samuval handed it over. “No mess tent as yet, but there’s more where this came from. I was headed that way myself. You want to join me?”
“No,” said Gerard. “Thanks, but I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“She’s not going anywhere,” said the captain, amused.
“Still, she’s my responsibility.”
“Suit yourself,” said Captain Samuval and strode off. He had sighted a friend apparently, for he began waving his hand. Gerard saw the minotaur who had been leading the patrol waving back.
Gerard squatted down outside the prison tent. He ate the meal without tasting it. Realizing that he’d left the waterskin inside with Odila, he entered the tent to retrieve it. He moved quietly, thinking she might be asleep.
She had not stirred since he had left her, except that now her eyes were closed. He was reaching quietly for the waterskin, when she spoke.
“I’m not asleep,” she said.
“You should try to rest,” he returned. “Nothing to do now except to wait for nightfall. I have the key to the leg irons. I’ll try to find you some armor or a soldier’s tunic—”
She shifted her gaze from him, looked away.
Gerard had to ask. “What did you see, Odila? What did you see when she touched you?”
Odila closed her eyes, shivered.
“I saw the mind of God!”
30
The War of Souls Begins
Galdar walked through the slumbering camp, yawning so wide he heard a distinct crack. A sharp pain in his jaw made him wince. Resolving not to do that again, he rubbed his jaw and continued on. The night was bright. The moon, within a sliver of being full, was large, lumpish, and vacuous. Galdar had the impression that it was a doltish moon. He’d never liked it much, but it would serve its purpose, if all went according to plan. Mina’s plan. Mina’s strange, bizarre plan. Galdar yawned again, but this time he took care not to crack his jaw.
The guards in front of Mina’s tent recognized him—easy to spot the only minotaur in the entire army. They saluted and looked at him expectantly.
Her tent was dark. Not surprising, considering it was nearly dawn. He was loath to wake her, for she had been up before the sunrise the day before and had gone to bed well after midnight. He hesitated. After all, there wasn’t anything she could do that he hadn’t already done. Still, he felt she should know.