Trey glanced at his second. “Has the medical and healing staff been given the all clear?”
“Aye, Commander, but we’re only using the secondary medical facilities. The main hospital was severely damaged in the explosion.”
Trey nodded and returned his gaze to mine. “Return to the main hall when you finish. I’ll meet you back there.”
And be careful. He might not have said that, but the words whispered around me nevertheless.
I nodded, spun around, and left. My footsteps echoed in the silence as I clattered down the stairs. The guards watched me, but neither acknowledged my presence nor tried to stop me.
Most of the fires were now out, although the foul scent of the oil the Adlin had used still hung on the air. Most of the debris had also been cleared; only the smaller stones and metal particles remained to show anything untoward had happened here.
I walked across the inner courtyard and bounded up the steps to the smaller hospital. It was packed with the injured and those tending to them, and there was certainly more here than the twenty-seven Hansen had initially mentioned. The air was thick with the scent of blood and the sounds of pain, and I found myself hoping April hadn’t found himself in a similar situation back at Winterborne.
I paused in the doorway and scanned the room, looking for Treace, but not immediately seeing her. I did spot Mace Dien’s wild red hair, and made my way over. He was tending to a youngish man with a shattered arm, but glanced up as I approached.
“Neve March,” he said, surprise evident. “I thought you’d gone back to Winterborne?”
“I had, but I was assigned duty to the commander—”
“He’s back? Excellent.” He returned his gaze to his patient. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for Treace—have you seen her?”
“She’s upstairs, in the recovery ward.”
“Thanks.” I headed for the exit and climbed up to the next floor. This area was less chaotic than the floor below, but the beds were all filled, and cots had been brought in to cater for the overflow of wounded being tended to. I scanned the room again and spotted Treace’s familiar figure heading out the door on the far side.
I made my way through the maze and then hurried after her. “Treace,” I said, as she disappeared through another doorway.
Her face reappeared. “Neve,” she said, with a smile that only barely lifted the stress so evident in her. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
“No.” I stopped. “Have you got time to answer a couple of questions?”
“Possibly not, but come along with me while I’m collecting the medicines.”
“Thanks.” I followed her into the apothecary. “I just wanted to ask about the two children who were found in Tenterra the other day.”
“Those poor wee waifs?” She shook her head. “It’s criminal what’s been done to them.”
I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, watching as she began gathering various herbs, tablets, and other medicinal items into the basket she was carrying. “In what way?”
“They were little more than skin and bones, and the smell that was coming from them—it was a mix of urine and blue cheese, and totally foul.” Her nose wrinkled. “The poor souls couldn’t have seen water for years. Their reaction certainly seemed to indicate that—they were terrified.”
A smile touched my lips. “That’s not unusual for kids, is it? Many would rather be grimy than clean any day.”
“This was more than the usual reluctance. We ended up having to give them a calmative.” She shook her head, sadness in her eyes. “Not that it did them much good. The foul scent seemed entrenched in their skins.”
“Were you able to question them?”
“We tried, but the language that came out of their mouths certainly wasn’t one I’d ever heard before.”
“So you weren’t able to find out anything about them? Or why they might have been out in Tenterra?”
“No.” She half shrugged. “Miller—one of the nurses here that has some telepathy ability—did a reading on them at the lieutenant’s request, but apparently all he got was an incoherent mess.”
“Is Miller around?”
The sadness in her expression increased. “He got caught when the main hospital’s wall collapsed. I haven’t seen him come in, so I don’t think he survived.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Treace.”
She sniffed and looked away. “He was a good man.”
I hesitated, waiting several beats to both honor the dead and to give her time to collect herself, and then said, “I don’t suppose he told you anything he saw?”
“A little.” She wrinkled her nose. “But it didn’t make much sense. He said he saw earth, tunnels, and darkness, and an existence that was little more than pain and suffering. He saw women strapped to beds, and the raw, bloody remnants of perfect little babies. And he saw skeletal hands that were thin, taloned, and lavender colored.”
Horror stirred through me. Much of what Miller had seen in the children’s minds seemed to echo what I’d so briefly caught in Saska’s. Did that mean she was connected to them?
Could they, perhaps, even be her children?
They’d been found close to where I’d found Saska, after all, and it wasn’t impossible that they’d been with her when she escaped. And yet, if that had been the case, why hadn’t I spotted them? And why would she not mention them? Could any memory loss be so complete that she wouldn’t feel something terrible had happened, that some vital part of her was missing?
Or was that what she’d been trying to tell me when she’d said many answers would be found if I searched the area in which she’d been discovered?
“Can you describe the two of them to me?”
Treace hesitated. “They were very badly stained—much worse than you are, I’m afraid—but one of them had the looks of an air witch, and the other could have been of the earth. They were both wearing lovely silver bracelets, which was strange given their physical and mental state. I mean, if someone cared enough to gift them something like that, why were they in such a state?”
Why indeed. But it confirmed that at least one of them could have been Saska’s. Or maybe even Pyra’s, given she, too, had given birth before she’d returned to Winterborne. “Were either of them tested for magic?”
Treace raised her eyebrows. “Why would they be? With staining that bad, lass, there’s no possibility they could have held magic.”
That raised my eyebrows, given Trey’s daughter was both stained and capable of magic. I’d been under the impression everyone at Blacklake was aware of her abilities, but Trey had obviously been a lot more circumspect than that. Which wasn’t really surprising since he’d given up his entire world—everything he’d ever known—to raise her himself.
“Do you know what’s happened to them?”
Guilt flashed across her face and she looked away. “Aye. They snuck out on me; I’m told they were likely killed in the attack.”
So she didn’t know that they were the reason the attack happened in the first place. Without their destruction of the wall, the Adlin wouldn’t have gotten into the outer bailey. I wasn’t about to tell her that, though. Not when she was already feeling so responsible. “You can’t be blamed for what happened, Treace. No one can. It’s just one of those unfortunate sequences of events.”
A smile ghosted her lips. “So Mace said.”
“Then believe him.” I pushed away from the wall. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
She nodded. “At least it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, given the wall fell. I never thought that was even possible. Makes life out here a little bit scarier now.”
“I’m sure your witches will ensure it doesn’t happen again.” Although the truth of the matter was, not even the strongest witch could defend this place—or Winterborne itself—against treachery. We had to find the people—be it the Irkallan or someone else—behind this plot and stop them.
Fast.