Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [142]
Acronis could be heard trying to remonstrate with her. Chloe raised her voice.
“I want to see them. My champions. They were wonderful yesterday, weren’t they, Father? They were all wonderful. My Para Dix team. I want all of them here. I told you, Father, send for all of them, right now.”
The physician’s eyes widened. He seemed likely to pass out from shock. Zahakis turned away, his hand over his face, either to hide his laughter or his tears, or perhaps both. Keeper shook his head. Skylan swallowed and was about to enter when a shocked voice sounded behind him.
“What are those heathens doing here?”
Skylan turned to see a short, stocky man wearing ceremonial robes striding importantly toward the door. The man eyed Skylan and the ogre with disgust, then said to Zahakis, “Tribune, remove these slaves.”
Keeper growled dangerously. Skylan gripped the ogre’s arm, silencing him.
“Priest-General Xydis,” said Zahakis, amazed. “What are you doing here?”
“I am here at the request of the Legate,” said Xydis. “Ask him, if you don’t believe me.”
Acronis stood in the door. He was grim-faced, his skin gray beneath his tan. He had not slept. His chin was dark with a day’s growth of beard.
“Let him in, Tribune,” said Acronis.
Chloe gave a shrill cry.
“Send him away! I don’t want him!”
She tried to sit up in bed, but she was too weak. She dragged the coverlet over her head. The physician came hurrying forward, another cup in his hand. He pulled off the coverlet and held the potion to her mouth, forcing her to drink. Chloe gagged and spit most of it out, but some of it must have stayed down, for her head drooped. She sank back on the pillow. Her defiance dwindled to an incoherent murmur.
“Legate,” said Xydis, “I passed a large contingent of soldiers on my way to the villa. You should send them away. This sweet child should be surrounded by nothing but the love and peace of Aelon.”
“Dismiss the house hold guard, Zahakis,” said Acronis. “Give the men a seven-day furlough.”
“You can’t be serious, my lord!” Zahakis said.
“That is an order, Tribune,” said Acronis in hollow tones. He glanced at Skylan and Keeper. “And take these men back to camp.”
“Chloe wants to see us, Legate,” said Skylan.
“My daughter is asleep,” said Acronis, and he shut the door.
“What is he doing?” Skylan asked Zahakis as they walked through the silent house.
“He is desperate,” said Zahakis, shaking his head in sorrow. “He will try anything to save her—even praying to a god he hates.”
The moment Skylan entered the compound, he knew something was wrong. His friends stood together, talking in low tones.
“What’s happened?” Skylan asked tensely. His first thought was that the soldiers had found Wulfe.
Conversation ceased. Everyone, including Aylaen, looked to Sigurd to be their spokesman. Sigurd was smug, pleased with himself. Skylan was immediately wary.
“Where is Wulfe?” he demanded.
“Who gives a crap?” said Sigurd. “He’s here, Skylan,” said Aylaen. “He’s safe. Don’t worry.”
“Then what’s going on?” Skylan asked, relieved.
Sigurd glared at Keeper. “Send the ogre away.”
“He’s a slave like the rest of us,” said Skylan. “And he’s our friend. You can trust him.”
Sigurd looked the ogre up and down and shrugged.
“Very well. He might come in useful at that. We’re getting out of here. We’re going to escape.”
“Escape . . .” Skylan looked from one of his friends to the other. He would have expected them to be jubilant. Instead they were watching him distrustfully. They were expecting him to oppose this. By his half smile, Sigurd was hoping Skylan would oppose it.
“What’s your plan?” Skylan asked.
“It’s not our plan,” said Bjorn with a dark glance at Sigurd. “It’s Treia’s plan.”
“Treia!” Skylan said, shocked. “Treia has a plan to help us to escape?”
Sigurd heard the disbelief in Skylan’s voice and glowered. “It doesn’t matter whose plan it is. It’s a good one.”
He explained how Treia had discovered the Empress’s plot to have them killed and she was