Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [141]
Aylaen was troubled. “I would not want to put the others in danger.”
“Garn is with Torval, Aylaen,” said Treia. “He wants you to be free yourself now. I swear, Aylaen, by my love for Vindrash and for you, my sister. You must leave with our friends and kinsmen and you must make certain Skylan goes with you. The Legate is not to be trusted. If Skylan stays here, he will die.”
“I wish you would come with us, Treia,” said Aylaen, relenting. “I only just found you. I can’t bear the thought of being separated again. Maybe forever.”
“I love Raegar as you love Garn,” said Treia. “I would sacrifice anything for his sake.”
Aylaen embraced her, pressing her wet cheek against her sister’s. Treia returned the hug stiffly.
The conference among the men did not last long. Sigurd had proclaimed himself Chief of Chiefs and he was in favor of the escape plan. Bjorn wanted to wait to hear what Skylan said, but Sigurd reminded them that Skylan had led them into disaster, which was why he was no longer Chief. When Aylaen returned and said that she was prepared to go along with the plan, Bjorn gave way.
Treia told them where to find the shrine.
“What about the Legate’s soldiers?” Sigurd asked. “He posts guards on our compound and he must have fifty men standing guard around his villa at night.”
“You do not need to worry about the soldiers,” said Treia. “All is arranged. Only a few will be standing guard and you can deal with them easily enough. A wagon will come this evening to deliver supplies. Your weapons will be hidden inside.”
“We’ll have to find somewhere to hide them,” said Sigurd, rubbing his jaw.
“No need,” Treia remarked coolly. “The escape is set for tonight.”
“Tonight?” Sigurd repeated, displeased. “That’s too soon. We have to make plans. Farinn is half-blind—”
“Everything is arranged for tonight,” said Treia. “Do you think the Empress is going to wait to kill you? Either you go tonight or”—she shrugged—“you stay here and die. The choice is yours.”
They agreed to go. Aylaen embraced her sister again and bid Treia goodbye. Treia kissed her sister and bid the rest of them a cold farewell.
As she was walking across the compound, Treia glanced up into the heavens.
“I have done what you required of me, Hevis,” she said softly. “This night you will have your sacrifice.”
CHAPTER
7
* * *
BOOK THREE
Skylan and Keeper stood outside Chloe’s bedchamber, waiting to be summoned. The house was unnaturally quiet. People crept about, speaking in whispers. Death walked the halls, and everyone, from soldier to slave, was hushed with awe in that dread presence.
“Where is Acronis?” Keeper asked in a subdued voice.
“With her,” Zahakis answered. “He won’t leave her side.”
“Is she . . . in pain?” Skylan asked gruffly.
“The physicians gave her poppy syrup. To ease her suffering, so they say.” Zahakis gave a thin smile. “I think the true reason was to keep her from pestering them.”
The door opened and Rosa came out. Her eyes were red from weeping. Flute music played softly somewhere. The room was dark and stuffy, the doors to the atrium shut. The time might have been night instead of mid-morning.
“She is not dead yet, to be sealed up in a tomb,” said Skylan. “She loves the fresh air, sunlight. The doors should be open.”
“So she kept insisting,” said Zahakis dryly. “One reason for the poppy syrup.”
Chloe lay in her bed, looking very small and frail beneath her silken coverlets. Skylan could not see Acronis from this angle, but he guessed her father was not far from her. She seemed to be asleep, but, hearing Skylan’s voice, Chloe roused and opened her eyes. She smiled to see him and Keeper and called weakly, “I want to talk to my champions. Bring them in.”
A physician hastened to her side, clucking and fussing. “No visitors. You must rest.” He held a cup to her lips.
“Oh, go away, you old fart,” Chloe said crossly. “And I won’t touch a drop of that horrid stuff.” She knocked the cup from the man’s hand. Syrup spilled over the coverlet. “I won’t