Kardos suddenly screamed, his foot falling into the soil up to his knee. He scrambled away and looked back. It was only a collapsed burrow, but they all looked at it with horror, even the captain, waiting for a bony hand to emerge. Yes, this was a torture of their own making.
As we neared the end of the valley, we spotted riders coming toward us. I noticed the captain visibly brighten, but then he cursed. They were Morrighese troops. A low shudder rolled through Torback.
“It began with the stars,” Phineas suddenly blurted out. I turned and looked at him. His eyes were glazed, his expression lost. “It was the tembris that showed us. The stars brought a—”
“Shut up!” the captain ordered.
“Why?” Phineas asked. “What difference does it make now? We’re all going to die anyway.”
“What do you mean, It began with the stars?” I asked.
“Quiet!” Torback yelled.
“We’re not going to die!” Bahr growled. “There’s still time!”
“It’s too late,” Phineas said. “It’s too late for all of us.” He looked at Jase. “I’m sorry. There never was a fever cure. He knew what would make you listen. I tried to—”
“Stupid bastard—” Sarva lunged toward him. A warning arrow hissed through the air but at the same time, Bahr lunged toward Phineas too, his fist jamming into his gut. Wren, Synové, and I moved swiftly, knocking Bahr and Sarva to their stomachs and pressing swords to their backs. Eben and Natiya nocked arrows, ordering Jase, Torback, Kardos, and the captain down on their knees.
Phineas stood frozen, his mouth open, his eyes wide as if terrified by the sudden swirl of commotion. But then I saw a trickle of blood on the front of his shirt. He dropped to his knees, still unable to speak. I left Bahr facedown, ordering him not to move and went to Phineas just as he fell forward. A giant brezalot rib protruded from his back. I looked over at the captain, who had been directly behind Phineas. His expression was smug and remorseless.
We were prepared for them to attack us, but not one another.
I rolled Phineas to his side and pulled him up into my arms. His face was splotched with tears. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, every word an effort. “The olives. The casks.” He coughed, blood seeping from his mouth. “The room. Where you found me. The papers.” He let out a long, wheezing breath.
“What about the papers?” I said.
“Destroy them. Make sure—”
His lips stilled. His chest stilled. But his eyes remained frozen on me, still afraid.
*
The captain didn’t look smug now. I saw the sweat bead on his upper lip as the king approached. We had arrived at the encampment just outside the southern entrance to the valley. The queen’s brother, Bryn, was the newly crowned King of Morrighan, his father having passed last year. He walked toward us leaning heavily on his cane. He was a young man, robust and healthy, but he’d lost his lower right leg in the attempt on his life. With every labored step, the king had a reminder of the captain’s treachery. We had the prisoners lined up for inspection, but the king approached me first.
“Your Majesty,” I said, bowing. Wren and Synové did the same. He stopped us mid-bow, reaching out and touching my shoulder.
“No,” he said. “I should be the one bending a knee to all of you. I would, but I might not get up again.” He was without pretense, much like his sister.
He smiled. I knew he was trying to pretend this moment wasn’t affecting him as much as it was. He was a handsome man, but old for his years. The queen said he had once been her humorous brother, the prankster she often got into trouble with as a child. There was no humor in his eyes anymore. His family had been decimated.
He told me he would be leaving twenty soldiers with us as escort and support, and then walked with me down the line of prisoners, looking at each one as I told him who they were and what they had done. First Kardos, Sarva, and Bahr, and then we came to Torback. He had actually been one of the king’s tutors when he was a child.
“You found a full snake’s nest. We didn’t know about him.” He stared at Torback for a long while, and when Torback buckled under the heat of his scrutiny, babbling for his life, the king silenced him.
“There was another scholar,” I explained. “The captain murdered him on the way here.”
“So I heard,” he said. “Phineas was hardly more than a boy himself when he disappeared from Morrighan. The conspiracy was a long time in the planning.” He stepped in front of the captain, his scrutiny searing. “As you well know, Captain Illarion. The one thing you will get that my brothers and thousands of others didn’t is justice. Since you aligned yourself with the Komizar, you’ll face Vendan judgement. My sister has a court waiting for you.”
The captain stared back, silent, maybe seeing the boy king he had betrayed, maybe retracing the choices he could have made. I saw Death standing behind him, waiting to take him. Maybe not here. Not today. Maybe on a windy turret in Venda justice would be served, when the Watch Captain’s neck snapped and it was time to move on to his final judgement.
“And who is this?” the king asked, stepping in front of Jase.
“The Patrei of Hell’s Mouth,” Jase answered, glaring at the king, “and I demand to be released.”
The king turned toward me. “And he’s here because?”
“Tell him, Kazi,” Jase said. “Explain to him why I’m here and not home protecting my family and empire.”
I swallowed, the answer trapped in my throat.
Griz stepped forward and answered before I could. “He gave the fugitives sanctuary and the supplies to build an arsenal of weapons.”
“Then he’ll face a noose too.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
JASE
Over and over again as I had walked through the valley I thought to myself, Our weapons were not meant for this. Never for this. I stared at Sarva, remembering when he tried to take the launcher from me, remembering all their promises, We’ll have the cure soon. They had shown my father the ledgers of the Ancients, the magic of cures in formulas we couldn’t understand, but they promised that the scholars were deciphering them and we bought it. The months were peppered with false breakthroughs and progress whenever our patience wore thin.
Sarva and Beaufort both looked far too cocky, as if there was still a chance of escape. Twenty Morrighese troops were escorting us back to Venda—not to mention the fellow named Griz, who was three men in one. There was bad blood between him and the Vendans, and he would never let them out of his sight. There’d be no slipping away, though it was still on my mind. I had to get home. Whatever league was trying to displace us, it wouldn’t be long before they regrouped and came after us again. Had Beaufort been conspiring with one of them? It seemed unlikely. He’d been holed up at Tor’s Watch for almost a year with no outside contact. Except for Zane. He was Beaufort’s lone contact with the outside world.
Somewhere deep down, I had known they couldn’t be trusted. My father knew. That’s why he had sent a letter to the king’s magistrate. Yet in spite of the vague reply, he still let them into Tor’s Watch.
I’m sorry. There never was a fever cure. He knew what would make you listen.