Klia came around in daylight, sick, achy, and very surprised to be alive. Myrhini was still beside her cot, watching her intently.
“How long?” Klia tried to ask, but her throat felt swollen and her mouth tasted bitter. Her head was splitting. “Water-”
“Aden left this for you.”
Myrhini held Klia’s head up and helped her sip from a cup. The infusion smelled of herbs and minerals, and tasted mildly sweet. She managed a few sips, then gagged it up again.
“You have to keep it down,” Myrhini told her calmly. “Aden did what he could with magic, but he said you need this to fight any remaining poison. It’s a good thing you bled the way you did, too. Apparently because most of the wounds were shallow, the bleeding washed out the poison, or at least the worst of it. The stab wound to your hip was the worst.”
Klia flexed her leg and grimaced. “He didn’t have to cut anything out or off, did he?”
Myrhini chuckled. “No. Here, have some more.”
“Bilairy’s Balls,” Klia groaned, then doggedly accepted a few more sips. After a few moments of lying absolutely still with her eyes closed, the awful feeling in her stomach began to subside, though her head hurt so bad she was seeing
flashing lights behind her eyes. “How did they get past the guards?”
“And me?” Myrhini sighed. “They killed the guards, then opened the seam at the back of your room with some kind of acid.
“No sound. Who was on guard?”
“Two of Danos’s people: Saura and Melkian. I have Captain Beka and her Urghazi on guard around your tent now. Klia, I’m so sorry-”
Klia waved aside the apology. “Not your fault. The killers knew what they were doing. What do we know about them?”
“Just that they were soldiers, and must have been specially tasked with your assassination once they escaped from the battle yesterday. They wouldn’t have been carrying poison and acid by chance. Who was giving the orders is a mystery. The survivors of the battle must have regrouped and chosen a leader. I doubt there are enough of them to stage a major attack, but I have the perimeter under full guard.”
“Well done. I suppose I’d better get a report off to Phoria. You’ll have to write it for me, though. I can’t see straight yet.”
Myrhini brought Aden’s cup to her lips again. “Drink.”
Klia drank and the pain and nausea retreated a bit more, enough for her to send Myrhini to her clothes chest for the leather bag containing the small painted wands Thero had supplied her with before she’d left Rhiminee in the spring.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” her friend said, and went out to the map room to compose the report.
Klia pressed the wand to her lips, then broke it, releasing the message sphere spell infused into it. A blue point of light hovered over one broken end. “Thero, I must speak with you,” she said softly, then touched the sphere and sent it speeding off to the south. It was the nature of the simple but powerful spell to find the recipient, wherever he or she happened to be.
A tingle of magic woke Thero. A message sphere was floating over his face; there was only one person he’d given
any message sticks to recently. Heart tripping a beat, he touched it and heard Klia’s whispered message.
He threw a robe on over his nightshirt and went to the wardrobe, where he pushed aside the neatly hung robes and took a small marble box from a shelf at the back. It was a solid piece of stone until he spoke the command word and the seam under the lid appeared. Removing it, he took out a fine linen handkerchief spotted with dried blood-her blood. Klia had pricked her finger with a dagger and made the talisman for him in Aurenen, when he was recalled to Skala before she was. Blood magic was frowned upon at best by the Oreska, but it was part of the heritage passed down to him through Nysander. With this he could do a sighting, find Klia anywhere, anytime. It was a privilege he was careful not to abuse. Holding the handkerchief between his palms, he invoked the window spell, opening a portal between them over the long miles that allowed them to see and speak to each other.
Nothing in her brief message had prepared him for the state he found her in. A blanket was pulled up to her chest, but her shirt was off, leaving her in only her breast band, bare arms on top of the blanket. Even in candlelight he could see how pale she was, and the bandages on her hands and arms; defensive wounds. Her padded glove was off, and her maimed hand rested on her chest, a reminder of the poisoned needle that had nearly cost her not only her hand but her life. No scar, though, no matter how severe, could ever make her less beautiful in his eyes.
“By the Light, Klia, what’s happened?” he exclaimed softly.
She managed a wan smile. “Two days of fighting without a scratch, then tonight assassins attacked me in my own bed.”
“But how?”
She waved the question aside with obvious weariness. “I don’t have the energy to talk for long. They were Plenimarans, and came after me with poisoned knives. The drysian and Myrhini saved me.”
“You look ill.”
“I am, but it’s passing.”
“What can I do?”
Klia closed her eyes for a moment and licked her dry lips. “Not a thing, except to bear witness, I suppose. I just-I just wanted you to know. Silly, I suppose, but…”
Her words sped his already pounding heart. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but as usual the words jammed somewhere in the region of his heart. All he managed was, “I’m so glad you told me. I wish there was something more I could do for you. I could come there.”
“No, my friend, that’s not necessary, and might raise a few too many questions, since you’ve no business here.” She paused and shook her head slightly. “I wish you could, though.”
Every fiber of the wizard’s being ached to brush aside her warning and cast the translocation that would take him to her side.
“I want you to take word of this to Korathan, and tell him I’m fine.”
“Fine? All those bandages-”
“Minor wounds, Thero. It was dark when they attacked and I didn’t make it easy for them.”
“How many?”
“Four. They killed themselves with poison when they failed. We were unable to question any of them.”
“And you’re certain they were Plenimarans?”
“They were in uniform.” She let out a small laugh. “And who else would want me dead?”
I can think of a few. But he held his tongue. A Plenimaran attack was really not that surprising, and those were certainly recognizable tactics.
Klia gave him the details of the latest battle and the attack, but soon it was obvious that the effort was taxing what strength she had.
“Rest well, and call on me whenever you need,” he said.
Her smile was warm this time. “You know I will, my friend. Don’t let Korathan worry too much, please.”
“I’ll do my best, Highness.”
“Good.” With that she closed her eyes. After a moment of gazing at that beloved face, he broke off the spell.
Thero entered Prince Korathan’s palace room just after dawn. The prince was dressed and seated by the hearth, stroking the ears of one of his hunting dogs.
“I have news, Highness,” Thero told him. “Klia was attacked last night.”
“Attacked?” Korathan stared at him in alarm. “Sakor’s Fire, is she all right?”
“Yes. There was poison involved, but her drysian saved her.”
“Thank the Sailor. But how do you know this?”
Thero explained the night’s events as succinctly as he could.
“They sound more like professional assassins,” Korathan remarked when he was finished.
“Yes, but they might have been soldiers, as well. Klia said they were in uniform.”
“I suppose so. Have you told Seregil and Alec?”
“No, I came straight to you.”
“Good. I think it would be better if we kept this to ourselves for now. Klia is a popular commander and given the mood of the city, this kind of bad news isn’t needed.”
“But Seregil wouldn’t-”
“There’s nothing they can do about it, Thero. I’m not asking.”