Eona - Alison Goodman [15]
At first, I could only think of the soldiers around us, and Ryko trapped beneath me. Then came the ghosts of those I had killed. I tried to push away the stark image of the Beseecher crushed under the fisher house roof, but his lifeless face became every face in my mind: men swept away by roiling seas, women buried in their houses, children torn and bloodied.
I took a shuddering breath, hoping to clear my mind of such grim imaginings. Instead, I saw my dying master convulsing in my arms, Lord Tyron beheaded on the road like a traitor, and the terrifying moment when I knew Lord Ido had slaughtered the other ten Dragoneyes and their young apprentices. So much death, and most of it in the name of Ido’s ambition. Even the villagers had been killed by his power as much as mine.
Why did Ido save me? Ryko was right; Ido did nothing without some gain for himself. If he was still after my power, he could have had it at the fisher house; I had been defenseless. I shuddered, remembering the first time he had forced his way into my mind, during the King Monsoon test. He had not only taken over my power, but my body, too. Yet this time he did not try to take either. Perhaps Ido was truly a changed man. Still, I would not gamble on his transformation: darkness was woven too tight into his nature. It was more likely he was trying to force an obligation upon me—to save him from Sethon. Did he really think I would risk my life to rescue the man who had killed my master and the other Dragoneyes?
“Laon, take your team and fan out to the south.” It was Haddo’s voice, near the front of the cart. “Sen, your team goes north. Remember, there is no bonus if the young Dragoneye lord is hurt in any way. The emperor is not fussy about the others. Corpses will do.”
I heard Vida’s soft intake of breath. When I looked across, she was staring at the canopy, face drained of all color. Her eyes flicked to mine—a fleeting admission of fear—then she straightened her shoulders and continued stacking our belongings in the traveling baskets.
Beneath my sleeve, I stroked the folio with its rope of guardian pearls and sent a prayer to Kinra: Keep us safe. The gems shivered and clicked, but this time I found no comfort in their tight embrace.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS DARK by the time our cart lurched to a standstill in the courtyard of the Laosang village inn. The sudden lack of noise sharpened the sounds around us: Haddo ordering his men to their billeting duties, the low of our hungry oxen, and the clang of kitchen pots. Soft yellow light edged the canopy and brought more detail into the cart. Vida had wedged herself upright between two of the larger traveling baskets. Her pale face was hollow from exhaustion. Throughout the long day, I had been lulled into uneasy naps by our slow swaying progress and the patter of intermittent rain on the canopy. Vida, however, had made a point of staying awake the whole time. I scrubbed at my eyes, strangely irritated by her stoicism.
The front hatch slid open and Dela peered in at us.
“I will arrange for a room, wife.” Every crease on her face was marked with dark dirt, like the painted lines of an opera mask. “You, Vida, see to your mistress and then come and help Solly clean the cart and prepare it for tomorrow.”
A good plan, especially as most of Haddo’s men would be busy with their own needs for an hour or so. We met one another’s eyes, silently acknowledging the risk.
“Here is your cloak, mistress,” Vida said, forcing brightness into her voice. She handed me the garment. “You must wrap up against the night air.”
Dela was waiting for me as I clambered out of the cart. She offered her hand, in her role as husband, and frowned with concern as I sagged against her body.
“Are you all right?” she whispered in my ear, bracing me.
“It’s just travel cricks,” I said. Then I caught the aroma of meat