Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [74]
Half of me believed him. I knew the truth. I had seen the wreckage, the destruction, I had seen the blood on the floor. He was so persuasive that I saw, in my mind, exactly what he wanted me to see—Joram, concerned, willingly going with them. I was certain Eliza must believe him. Mosiah thought so, too, apparently, for he glided forward, prepared to confront the Technomancer. Scylla did not move, but watched Eliza.
“I want to see my father and mother,” Eliza said.
“I am sorry, mistress, that is not possible,” said Smythe. “Your father had a long journey and he is fatigued, plus being most anxious over the fate of the Darksword. He fears for your safety, my dear. The blade is sharp, the sword unwieldy. You might cut yourself. Tell us where to find it and perhaps, by that time, your father will have recovered sufficiently to be able to talk to you.”
His smooth voice and benign manner slid over his threats like a silken scarf.
“Sir,” Eliza stated calmly, “you lie. Your minions took my father and mother and Father Saryon by force. Then they destroyed our home, searching for the object which my father would never give to you, so long as he lived. And the same may be said of his daughter. If that is all you came for, you have my leave to go.”
Kevon Smythe’s expression softened. He seemed truly grieved. “It is not my place to chastise you, mistress, but your father will not like to hear of your refusal. He will be angry with you and will punish you for your disobedience. He has warned me that you are sometimes a willful, stubborn child. We have his authorization to take the sword from you by force, if that becomes necessary.”
Eliza’s lashes were wet with tears, but she maintained her control. “You do not know my father if you think he would say such a thing. You do not know me if you think I would believe it. Get out.”
Kevon Smythe shook his head resignedly, then shifted his head to gaze at me. “Reuven, it is good to see you again, though, I regret to say, under sad circumstances. It seems that Father Saryon has been afflicted with a terrible disease, which will cause his death unless he receives prompt treatment back on Earth. Our physicians give him thirty-six hours to live. You know the good father, Reuven. He will not leave without Joram and Joram will not leave without the Darksword. If I were you, I would do my best to find it, wherever it may be hidden.”
His gaze shifted back to Eliza. “Bring the Darksword to the city of Zith-el. Come to the Eastroad Gate. Someone will be waiting for you.”
The image went out. Mosiah removed the holographic projector, which had been stashed inside the fireplace. A stone had been pried loose, the projection machine placed inside. He tossed it on the floor.
“You knew that was there,” Scylla said.
“Yes. They had to have some means to communicate with us. I found it before you arrived.”
Scylla stomped on it with her heavy boot, crushed it. “Are there any listening devices?”
“I removed them. I decided to leave this. We needed to hear what they had to say. Zith-el.” He mused. “So they have taken Joram to Zith-el.”
“Yes.” Scylla slapped her hands on her thighs. “Now we can make plans.”
“We!” Mosiah looked at her very balefully. “What do you have to do with this? With any of this?”
“I’m here,” said Scylla, with a sly smile. “And the Darksword is in my air car. I’d say I have a lot to do with this.”
“I was right. General Boris did send you,” Mosiah said, his tone harsh. “You’re one of his people. Damn it, he promised he would leave this to us!”
“You’ve done such a wonderful job so far,” Scylla commented wryly.
Mosiah flushed, stiffened. “I didn’t see you around when the D’karn-darah attacked.”
“Stop it!” Eliza said sharply. “You both want the Darksword.
That’s all you care about. Well, you can’t have it. I’m going to do what he says. I’m going to take it to Zith-el.”
Eliza’s defiance might have seemed childish and