“Lord Eaglespike will be here later. He may wish to speak with you then, or he may wait until Wolfblade has met his demands. In the meantime, you may consider yourself... our guest.”
He stood back as Adrina was pushed forward from the small guardroom to a long, narrow corridor. The walls were made of rusted iron bars, each one revealing a damp cell beyond. Most of them were empty, and the occupants of the few that weren't looked up disinterestedly as she passed.
About halfway up the corridor, her escort stopped and unlocked the cell on her left. They pushed her through the door with little ceremony and locked it behind her.
Serrin followed the guards and stood outside the bars, watching her as she took in the small high window, the damp, salt-pitted floor and the mouldy straw that served as a bed. A guard untied the ropes that bound her wrists and she rubbed at the raw skin absently as she looked around.
“Not exactly what you're used to, I imagine?”
“If you want to use your imagination for something fruitful,” she suggested frostily, “use it to imagine what I'm going to do to you when I get out of here. Have you any idea how long we Fardohnyans can hold a grudge? Do you have any concept of the lengths we are prepared to go to for revenge? Perhaps you've heard of the ancient Fardohnyan tradition of mort'eda?”
Rather than looking fearful, Serrin actually smiled. “You don't think the threats of a woman frighten me, do you?”
“Then what does frighten you, my Lord? You'll go to war over this, you know that, don't you?”
“Know it? We're counting on it! Damin Wolfblade will gather up the thousand men he has in Greenharbour and come storming over our border as soon as he hears you are missing.”
“Then why aren't you out there getting ready to face him?”
“We are ready to face him, Your Highness. We have ten thousand men waiting. He'll fly right into our trap like a fox on the scent of fresh chicken blood. If there's one thing you can always count on, it's Damin Wolfblade's reaction to anything that he perceives as a threat to something he loves. He'd rather fight than eat.”
Adrina burst out laughing, despite how much it hurt her split lip. “This is your grand plan? There's a fatal flaw in your logic, I'm afraid.”
“What flaw?”
“You're assuming Damin loves me.”
“Well, doesn't he?” Serrin asked, a little confused.
“I hate to disappoint you, Serrin,” she said, holding her sides against the bitter laughter that shook her. “But you've not provoked Damin, you've played right into his hands. He won't care if you send me back to him in little pieces. You've kidnapped the one thing he wants to be rid of!”
Serrin glared at her in disbelief. “You're just saying that.”
Adrina's laughter had almost reached the point of hysteria. She could not believe they had actually kidnapped her for such a mistaken reason.
“You poor, misguided fools!” she cried, sobbing with mirth. “Love me? Dear gods, he despises me!”
Serrin turned away and left her alone, his footsteps echoing angrily along the passage. Still crying with laughter, Adrina sank down onto the floor of her cell and hugged her knees. Her mirth abated slowly but the tears did not as the harsh truth of her predicament hit her with full force.
Damin would not risk a civil war for her. She knew that. Even if he wanted to, Marla would prevent him from taking action, or worse, she would convince him to go to war, but not until after her despised daughter-in-law had been conveniently disposed of. There was a chance that R'shiel might come to her rescue, but with everything else that was going on, saving Adrina was probably far down on her list of priorities and the demon child could be as ruthless as Marla when the mood took her.
The worst of her predicament was the dreadful realisation that at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to be warm and dry and safe in Damin's arms somewhere far from this place.
And Tamylan - dear, sweet, loyal Tamylan - had died for her.
She cried anew for her slave, realising now, when it was too late to do anything about it, that Tam had been her one true friend. The loneliness that settled on her seemed worse than her small cell, worse than her bruised and battered face, worse even than the bitter knowledge that she had fallen for Damin Wolfblade and she would probably never get the chance to tell him.
Damin would not come for her. She was certain of that.
He didn't even know that she carried his child.
CHAPTER 24
The Seeing Stone in the Temple of the Gods loomed over R'shiel, a solid lump of crystal as tall as a man, mounted on a black marble base. Candles set in solid silver sconces lit the altar, reflecting off the Stone with flickering rainbow light. She studied it for some time, hoping to learn its secret.
“It concerns me that the demon child knows so little of the ways of the Harshini.”
R'shiel turned. Kalan was striding towards her down the centre of the echoing temple. Kalan had ordered it cleared whenever R'shiel wished to use it - apparently she thought the demon child needed solitude during her worship.
R'shiel did not correct the High Arrion's assumptions. It was convenient that the Sorcerers' Collective thought of her as Harshini. It wouldn't do at all to remind them she was a Medalonian half-breed raised to despise the gods and everything they represented.
“Concerns you? It scares the hell out of me.”
Kalan frowned. “I wish you were joking.”
“So do I.”
The High Arrion climbed the steps to the altar and stopped beside her, studying the crystal for a moment. “You sent for me?”
“I need to contact Sanctuary.”
“And you want to know how to use the Stone?”
R'shiel nodded. “Glenanaran and the others are still unconscious. I'm not sure how to help.”
“We owe them a great deal,” Kalan agreed.
“So, what's the trick with this thing?”
Kalan shook her head in despair. “This thing? Divine One, you have a bad habit of blaspheming every time you open your mouth. I hope the gods are forgiving.”
“I'd settle for them just minding their own business.”
Kalan sighed eloquently but made no further comment. She stepped up to the Stone and laid her hand on it, as if she drew strength from its solid presence, then turned to R'shiel.
“In the old days, before the Sisterhood conquered Medalon, the Seeing Stone was our main link with the Harshini. In those days we had scores of Harshini roaming through Hythria and Fardohnya. Medalon was their home but their teachers were spread out even as far as Karien, before the Overlord came to power. There were five Seeing Stones back then.”
“Five? What happened to them? Where are they now?”
“The Stone in Yarnarrow was taken to the Isle of Slarn, when Xaphista came to power in Karien. The Sisterhood somehow disposed of the Stone at the Citadel. The Stone in Talabar is gone too, but nobody is certain where.”
“And the fifth Stone is in Sanctuary.”
Kalan nodded. “This Stone was silent for almost two hundred years, after the Harshini left us. Then Korandellan appeared about three years ago, seeking Lord Brakandaran.”
“He sent him to look for me.”
“And now here you are, seeking to use the Stone to speak with Korandellan. Strange how things turn out.”
R'shiel wasn't sure how to answer that. Kalan had been in a strange mood since they arrived in Greenharbour. Perhaps it was because of the attack on the Collective.
“Can you use the Stone?”
Kalan nodded. “In theory, although I've never tried. We lost a great deal of knowledge when the Harshini departed. We have the texts that describe the skills, but without Harshini tutors to explain the nuances of the techniques, many things proved impossible. I cannot use the Stone as you can. All you need do is place your hands upon it, draw on your power and think of whoever you wish to contact.”