The boy departed without another word.
‘Back to the palace,’ she said.
‘I hope you know what you are doing,’ Tomarys muttered.
29
It was late in the women’s quarters as Chloe sat cross-legged on her bed pallet, with only the light of a few flickering torches to see by.
Tomarys slept nearby on a woven mat, lying on his back as his chest rose and fell evenly. He was covered in just a thin linen sheet, but at least the night was warm. He’d told her this was an improvement compared to his last sleeping quarters.
Given her bodyguard’s reactions, Chloe had decided it would be best if she worked at night. Tomarys had fetched a mortar and pestle on their return, and one of the flower pods was still in the pouch, hidden under the pallet.
The other was in the bowl-shaped mortar on her lap. Keeping her movements quiet, Chloe used the pestle to grind the bulb, working over the broken bits of plant again and again. She recalled the instruction she’d received at the Temple of Aeris in Phalesia and knew that the finer the particles became, the more surface area would be exposed to allow the pain-relieving agents to be extracted.
She worked the pestle tirelessly, her muscles becoming sore as she turned the flower pod into an unrecognizable cluster of fine hay-like particles. Finally deciding she was finished, she set the bowl beside her bed pallet. Before retiring, she checked the pouch with the last flower to remind herself it was safely hidden.
Then Chloe lay on the pallet, staring up at the ceiling.
She closed her eyes and went to sleep.
Chloe woke suddenly, certain that she’d been sleeping only for a few hours, her senses groggy and sleep in her eyes. Something had hold of her ankle.
The room was dark and the night still and quiet. Tomarys crouched over her; he had his hand on her foot and had been shaking her.
Sitting up, she saw that there was another man present, a slim Ilean in a plain white tunic, standing with his back at an angle to her, eyes averted. Wondering at his posture, Chloe realized he wasn’t supposed to be in the women’s quarters. To bring him here, his need must have been urgent.
‘What is it?’ Chloe whispered.
‘I am Carin, one of the stewards. The king of kings is in terrible pain,’ he said. ‘The magi cannot help him. He has asked for you.’
Chloe rummaged in her chest and quickly threw a garment over her sleeping shift as the robed man spoke.
‘Of course,’ she said. She picked up the bowl full of crushed soma flower and moved until she was facing the steward. ‘Take me to him.’
Tomarys followed as the steward led her out of the women’s quarters to a part of the palace she’d never been to before. Passing through the silent courtyards and carpeted corridors they stopped at an ornate archway. Two palace soldiers stood guard outside.
‘Enter,’ the steward said to Chloe. He indicated Tomarys. ‘He can wait here.’
Her heart pounding as she held the bowl in her hands, Chloe walked through the doorway.
She entered a huge bedchamber dominated by a four-poster bed with the mattress held above the floor by a frame of wood and cloth strips. Barely taking in the tapestries and carpets, the windows facing the harbor and the luxurious bed linen, Chloe’s gaze went immediately to the man lying on his back on the bed.
Solon was on top of the tangled linen, eyes wide open as he wheezed. He wore a silk robe on his lean frame and had both hands over his sternum.
A magus in yellow hovered near the bed on the far side, turning his dark stare on Chloe as she entered with the steward behind her. Beside him she recognized one of the lords from the throne room, a short bald man in an orange robe.
Knowing she must project confidence, she turned to address the steward. ‘I will need an empty cup, a jug of very hot water, some fine silk, honey, and lemon.’
‘Wait,’ the magus said, talking to the steward rather than Chloe. ‘She could be preparing a slow-acting poison. She is a foreigner. She is not to be trusted.’
‘Lord?’ the steward addressed the bald man.
He thought for a moment. ‘Bring what she needs. But fetch a slave also.’
When the lord nodded for her to proceed, Chloe made an inspection of the sun king. Despite who he was, she felt sympathy for the obvious pain he was in. Solon’s wide eyes followed her movements as she checked him over and he winced at regular intervals. She felt gently around his throat, making the magus tense when she had both hands around his neck, and checked the color of his hands. His circulation was good, and his glands weren’t swollen. His face had none of the yellow discoloration of jaundice. The shadow around his eyes was the result of fatigue and pain.