Even so, she waited a while longer, peering occasionally over the terrace rim. Finally, when convinced it was safe, she moved. She'd seen the terraces from way out to sea, and there was no cover to hide an ambush. The shed itself was the only place where men could hide, and neither she, Yulia, Mari or Valenti had seen anyone. Besides which, the sheer gall of anyone, to make preparations for ambush in a cemetery was beyond imagining.
The maid stopped fidgeting when she saw Sasha walking toward her. When she arrived, the maid curtsied. “Lady Sashandra, I am Tesslyn. My mistress awaits inside.”
“You're Lenay?” Sasha asked in surprise. The accent was unmistakable.
Tesslyn smiled. She seemed perhaps the same age as Marya. “Aye, M'Lady,” she said in Lenay. “I came out with Princess Marya in her wedding train, fourteen years ago. I decided to stay.”
“Fourteen years,” said Sasha. “That's a long time.”
“Your sister's service is most rewarding,” said Tesslyn. “And I found myself a lovely husband and now have children of my own.”
“Where are the guards?” she thought to ask Tesslyn, turning to survey the terraces eastward. Always a good idea to take a final look at the surroundings before entering a building.
“There is an old Steiner cousin who is buried just there,” said Tesslyn, pointing to a gravestone not ten plots away. “Princess Marya made a great fuss when she discovered none of the present family had come to pay their respects for several years. She said it should be private for the deceased cousin's soul would surely be angry. The family soldiers are a little superstitious, they're waiting well beyond the curve in the cliff here.”
“Clever,” Sasha observed, smiling.
“Princess Marya is never anything but sincere,” said Tesslyn mildly.
“You're not superstitious?” Sasha asked.
“I'm quite certain Princess Marya's prayers have consoled her cousin's angry spirit.”
Sasha gave her a sideways look. “Right,” she said. She turned to open the cabin door and allowed it to swing, creaking, so she could observe the gloom within. Paused in the doorway, a hand on her knife, looking for ambush. There was nothing, just piled headstones, shovels and other work gear. And Marya, standing by the same little window with the view across the harbour. Sasha smiled at her. “Sorry,” she said. “I have to be careful. Kessligh would kill me.”
“Oh, Sasha,” said Marya with evident emotion. “It's so good to see you!” Sasha went to her and hugged her. And felt a sting on the back of her neck as they embraced.
“Ow!” She pulled back and looked at Marya in puzzlement. Marya looked pale, she realised. Suddenly frightened. Then the dizziness began. “Oh no,” Sasha exclaimed incredulously. “Oh no. You didn't!” She put a hand to the back of her neck and found blood on her fingers; grabbed Marya's wrist, twisted, and found a small needle protruding from a ring about her middle finger.
“Oh Sasha, I'm so sorry!” There were tears in Marya's eyes. “I'm so sorry, I didn't want to do it…” Sasha's knife came out fast and Marya's eyes widened. “It's not fatal, Sasha! Oh gods, I'd never…it'll just make you sleep!”
Sasha thumped her left hand against the wall, trying to hold her balance as her vision swam and faded. There was strength in her right arm yet. Marya's figure swam close, then far, hot then cold. One thrust. One…She hurled the knife at the window instead, but her arm was weak and the glass cracked without breaking. No warning to Yulia. Yulia wouldn't know. “Family!” she gasped. “I'm…family!”
“It's been fourteen years since I came to Petrodor, Sasha,” Marya said sadly. “Steiner are my family now.”
Sasha awoke with a perfect recollection of what had happened. And cursed herself for the greatest fool in all the history of fooldom.
She was lying on her back. On a bed, by the feel of it. And it was hot. She tried to raise her head, and found that was possible, if awkward. She had a nasty headache, a stiff neck and the distant sensation of nausea. Distant, but ready to roll over her like a tide if she moved too suddenly. She lay in a small, stone room. Sunlight shone through a tall, slit window. Despite the discomfort, she was surprisingly clearheaded. The potion had been a serrin concoction, no doubt. The most effective ones always were.
She stretched and found herself thankfully free of other injuries or stiffness…except that her legs were bare. Where were her boots? Or come to that, her clothes? She slapped hands to her waist and found, to her alarm, that she was wearing…a dress! Damn. She'd spent most of the last twelve years avoiding the prospect of ever wearing one of these horrible things ever again. Now, her efforts had finally been foiled. It was nearly funny, and she fought back an exasperated laugh.
A new, unpleasant thought occurred to her and the laugh died on her lips. She pulled the dress up, and found to her relief that she was still wearing her old, thigh-length woollen underwear. Thank the spirits. She'd not have put it past some Steiner soldier to take liberties with an unconscious woman. Nor a dead one, came the uncharitable thought. She felt herself, but found no irritation, no soreness. Just as well. The serrin's white powder she always carried was with her clothes, and they were…
She rolled on the bed and looked around the room. It had three walls-one curved, the other two straight, with a door in one. There was no furniture but for her bed, and no sign of her clothes. Nor, obviously enough, her weapons. Beside the bed, a bucket of water stood on the flagstones with a clean cloth draped over the rim. She dipped a finger in the water and tasted it, suspiciously. Nothing happened, and it tasted good. She was thirsty as all hells. She lowered her upper body off the bed, not game to try squatting just now, and drank directly from the bucket. She wiped cool water on her face as she lay back.
From beyond the slit window she could hear the cries of gulls. She strained her ears, but heard nothing more. Was she in the Steiner Mansion? It would be busy, surely, with guards and servants. Her window opened onto sky, yet she could not hear the clatter of a passing cart, nor the distant commotion of the docks. Just gulls. She thought about getting up, and trying to see out, but she didn't feel up to that just now.
Marya. Marya had betrayed her. Except that now, so soon after the event, it did not surprise her. How could she not have seen? Fourteen years. She'd said it herself, to Marya's maid, just before she'd gone inside. Fourteen years was a long time. Marya had always been traditional. Conservative. She cared for people, and had always conformed her own needs to the needs of the family. And now Marya had children of her own, heirs to the great power of Family Steiner. Of course they mattered more to her than a long-lost sister. Sasha had made the mistake of assuming that Marya's simple compassion would override that family loyalty at least to a small degree, when she discovered that her family were doing bad things. But no…that would mean Marya placing herself, and her own opinions and wants, ahead of those of her immediate family. And Marya never had. And now, it seemed, probably never would.
Sasha put a hand to the back of her neck. It hurt, and was swollen. She hoped Marya had at least heated the needle first, for her sister's sake. Probably Patachi Steiner had ordered it, and Father Portus had been the bait. Why her? Had she been in danger of discovering something? Or were they looking for leverage on Kessligh? A cold knot formed in her stomach. As a hostage, they could threaten her with things, if Kessligh did not do what they wanted. How Kessligh would respond, she could not guess. Did not want to guess. Kessligh would not take kindly to blackmail. But then, surely he would not wish her in greater danger, either. Sasha had heard of the families’ methods in such matters, the fingers or ears sent to the loved ones…