Fyne Sisters - The Star Witch Part 19

are innocent would have perished in a most horrible way. I could not save everyone who came to me,"

he said, sadness in his voice. "But I saved those who were strong enough to fight their way past the Panwyr and the loss of hope." He leaned close to her. "That is the worst," he whispered, "the loss of hope."

"I know," she whispered. She'd lost hope such a long time ago. After her mother's death, after Will's

pa.s.sing, after the soldiers had burned her home.

Did she really have even a grain of hope that Lucan would find her?

"How long have I been here?" she asked.

"Ten days," Thayne said. "You are healing well. It often takes those under the influence of Panwyr more than twice that time to become as lucid as you are now. You have a strength about you, Isadora. Still, you must fight the need for the drug that will come to you. A second dose would be much more harmful to you than the first."

She didn't pay attention to what the old man was saying, past a certain point. "Ten days," she repeated, and with those words the last of her hope died once again. Sebestyen had surely spun a believable tale for Lucan to cover her disappearance. He would be angry that she'd left him without saying good-bye. So angry he was probably in Tryfyn by now, comforting himself with another woman, or two.

It didn't matter, she told herself as she struggled to her feet. It wasn't as if they had a future of any kind awaiting them beyond these palace walls, no matter what he said about the days to come.

"You said there were others," she said, dismissing Lucan from her mind.

"Yes." Thayne offered his hand, but she declined to take it. She wasn't yet sure that she trusted him entirely. "Come along, and I will introduce you."

Thayne led the way beyond the cave opening and into a hallway of sorts. The stone halls were narrow but st.u.r.dy, and they snaked down and down and up again. It wasn't long before Isadora saw a new light. It was warmer than the light that surrounded Thayne, more natural.

He turned a corner, and Isadora followed. She stopped when she found herself in a large underground cavern. There was natural and magical flame to light the place, a spring of fresh water, a garden of funguslike plants... and at quick count, twelve people besides herself and the wizard.

There were three women among the crowd, all of them dressed in gowns that had once been fine and which were now filthy and torn. Among the men there were varying styles of clothing, and a few wore what had once been imperial uniforms. She also noticed the blue kilt of a Level Three Master.

They all looked at her with a kind of awe, and some of them even seemed to hold their breath.

"Three empresses," Thayne said with a wave of his old hand. The women he indicated each gave a quick but regal curtsy. "Four empresses were sent here, but only these three were innocent."

Isadora glanced at the seemingly harmless man. "You left the other one to... to those... those monsters?"

"She had evil in her heart, and she had done many wicked things," he said without remorse. "She survived among the other monsters for a good long while. They were more her kind than we could ever be."

Isadora shuddered at the thought of surviving in the pit where those men had clawed at her dress.

Thayne introduced the others. They were, as she had judged by their dress, former ministers, soldiers, and servants, as well as the Level Three Master. All of them had offended Emperor Sebestyen in some way.

"You all live here?"

"Yes. We live here, and we wait."

"What are you waiting for?"

Thayne smiled, creating a ma.s.s of deep wrinkles on his face. "We have been waiting for you, Isadora."

FRANCO SWEPT INTO the room, still dressed as a servant... perhaps for the last time. "Mahri has been seen," he said, sounding relieved.

"Where?"

"Level Three," Franco said, the evident happiness of his relief fading quickly. "Mahri is not a concubine; she has no business on Level Three."

"Her presence there proves that Sebestyen lied to me. He said she left with Isadora." He wondered if Isadora was there, on Level Three, forced to partic.i.p.ate in yet another form of servitude.

His worries did not last very long. Isadora would not make a compliant concubine. In fact, she was anything but compliant. It was one of the traits he most liked about her, oddly enough.

Lucan closed his eyes and concentrated on Isadora, as he had two days ago when he'd determined to his own satisfaction that she was alive and still in the palace. Level Three was above his head; Isadora was below. He knew that without fail; he felt it in a tug of energy as if she called to him.

Mahri might be kept quiet and obedient on Level Three, but Isadora was a different sort of woman. In order to keep her restrained, she would have to be physically confined.

"Where does the emperor keep his prisoners?"

"Level Twelve, I hear," Franco said. "Two Levels beneath the ground floor. Surely the emperor would not imprison a woman."

"I wouldn't put anything past Emperor Sebestyen," Lucan said. He strapped on two swords and three knives, and checked to make sure they were well-seated in their sheaths. They were a part of him, and in his time here he had hidden the weapons or abandoned them altogether. No more. Any sentinel who tried to stop him as he made his way to Isadora would die. He laid his eyes on Franco. "Get ready. It's time."

ISADORA SAT WITH the youngest of the three empresses. Rikka was a pretty girl who was only a little worse for wear for her time in Level Thirteen. Like the other empresses, she was dressed in a once-fine crimson gown that designated her former station. She was not as worn down as the others, but then she had only been here a few months.

Everyone was anxious for news of what was going on above, but only Rikka had been outraged by the news that Emperor Sebestyen had married his concubine Liane. The fact that they'd produced twins together-news the others found fascinating-was apparently unimportant to Rikka.

"He actually married her?" The pet.i.te woman shouted as she scrambled to her feet to glare down at Isadora. Her hands formed small, tight fists at her sides, and when she stood it was evident that she'd lost many pounds since that frock had been fitted. "He threw me in this awful place, and then he married that... that wh.o.r.e?"

"Yes," Isadora said gently. "Because she was carrying his child, of course," she added. She had come to like Liane well enough, but she could imagine well why Rikka did not. After all, Liane had been Rikka's husband's mistress for the entire time she'd been married to Sebestyen.

"I thought he must be unable to father children," she said petulantly.

"He was. A witch's spell made conception possible."

Rikka sat again, yet still she pouted. "If I had called upon a witch's spell, I would be mother to the heir and still living above, in a fine room with lots of good food and clothes and-"

"Stop it!" The eldest and tallest of the empresses laughed lightly as she ordered Rikka to be quiet. Ghita was perhaps a few years older than Sebestyen-mid-thirties, Isadora would guess. The dust and dirt of Level Thirteen enhanced every small wrinkle on her handsome face. As his first wife, was she the true empress, still? That fact might matter to some of the more proper ministers and priests, but if the emperor had declared her dead... then she might as well be dead.

When Sebestyen had married Ghita, they'd both been little more than children. His first empress had fared very well, considering how long she'd lived in this cavelike home. "I do not wish to speak of food other than fungus until I can actually smell and taste it." She had managed to maintain an air of dignity the others did not possess-and perhaps never had.

"I want a bath," Avryl said longingly. "And I want tea, with sugar and cream." She sighed and rested her chin in delicate hands. Avryl was the only one of the empresses who was not fair-haired. Her hair was as dark as Isadora's, and she behaved very much like a spoiled child. It was hard to imagine maintaining that pampered manner in this place. Somehow, Avryl had managed to do just that. Still, there was a surprising strength to her; otherwise, she would not have survived.

Bannan, the Level Three Master, dropped to his haunches beside Ghita. "You females speak of all the things you want when we get out of here. Does not one of you wish to kill the emperor before we leave the palace?"

"Of course we do," Avryl answered. "But killing is man's work."

"Not necessarily," Isadora said beneath her breath. Still, they all heard her. Perhaps some of them even agreed with her.

While she sat there, an unexpected and tantalizing aroma teased her nose. It was not the mushroom soup Thayne prepared daily to keep the prisoners alive. This was sweeter. She closed her eyes. It was very sweet, very tempting, and she wanted it. Even though the room was cool, a sweat broke out on her forehead, and she felt perspiration gathering and growing on her chest and her thighs. Yes, she was suddenly hot.

A gnawing began in the pit of her stomach, and moving very slowly she rose to her feet and turned away from the group. By the moon and the stars, she was hungry in a way she had not imagined she could be. She was drawn away from the others, pulled toward the hallway that Thayne had led her through yesterday.

Had it been just yesterday?

"Isadora. Isadora!" Rikka tapped her on the shoulder, then took her arm. "Where are you going?"

"Can't you smell that? I want some of whatever that is."

Bannan and Laren hurried her way, and she instinctively moved away from them. The former soldier and the Master wished to stop her; they wished to take away from her whatever was sending her the scent that she needed and keep it for themselves.

"It's Panwyr you smell," Rikka said. "The sentinels have just thrown several doses of the drug, as well as some food, into the area where they threw you not so long ago. You not only smell it, you feel it, don't you? It's in your blood, still. I know too well what you're thinking right now." She sighed. "You must be strong. If you put Panwyr into your body again, it will only be harder to fight off the addiction. It might even be impossible."

Isadora let Laren take her arm and turn her away from the stone corridor. A faint noise reached her ears,

and she had to strain to hear. A shout, a scream... laughter.

"They kill one another in order to get their hands on a tiny portion of the drug they need," Rikka said in a soft voice. "Thayne told me the first few times the sensations the drug generate are wonderful, but soon those feelings begin to fade, and an addict needs the drug simply to function. One dose can be addictive, or even fatal."

"And once the Panwyr has you, there is no escape," Laren said in a husky voice. "Have you seen the Isen Demon?"

Isadora flinched and took her arm from Laren's. "Demon?"

"Not a proper demon," Rikka explained. "Trapped souls linked together, huddling in dark corners and craving what they will never have: Panwyr."

"The bits of shadow I saw s.h.i.+fting in the corners?" Not here, where there was life and light, but in the cell-like room where she had recovered.

"Yes," Rikka said softly.

"You were all given the drug before you were thrown down here?"

"We were," Bannan said. "Thanks to the wizard and his magic, we all survived. There have been a few who were thrown down here without the Panwyr, but not many."

Isadora turned to Thayne, who looked to be totally engrossed in his preparation of the mushroom soup.

"The girls Nelyk threw down here, Ryona, and the others like her, they were not drugged."

"You know of Ryona," he said in a lowered voice.

"Yes."

"She and the baby are well?" He tried to sound disinterested, but she could tell he was not.

"Empress Liane sent them home. When they left here, they were both doing very well."

"Good. She was the only one I could save. The others..." Thayne shrugged thin shoulders. "Surviving Level Thirteen is difficult enough without throwing childbirth into the mix."

Isadora was unable to imagine what their time down here had been like. Ryona was very lucky to have survived. "The man who did this, Nelyk... he's out there." She nodded toward the corridor.

"I know," Thayne replied.

Isadora kept her focus on the corridor entrance. It was impossible to see around the corner. What if the ratlike men were there, just waiting to attack? The scent of the drug still called to her, and she wanted it. One more taste; just a small one.

But she did not rise and make her way toward the corridor. The worst of the addiction had pa.s.sed while she'd slept under Thayne's care. She could fight the battle from here on out. She had suffered before. This new suffering was minimal in comparison.

Besides, she was accustomed to not getting what she wanted, what she craved. Like Will, or peace, or her sisters, or true happiness. Even Lucan had never truly been hers.

"Why do they not attack?" she asked, anxious to turn her mind from all she did not have.

"This area of Level Thirteen is sealed," Thayne said matter-of-factly.

"Sealed? How?"

"By me," he said. "By magic. None that I do not allow can pa.s.s beyond a certain point."

"Those men out there live in the dark, with only the food the guards throw to them, while you have light and tasteless but nouris.h.i.+ng soup. Are you not compelled to help them all?"

Thayne walked to her, his step slow as if each move pained him. He leaned down and looked her in the eye. In a low but strong voice he said, "My gift is protection, but not everyone deserves my care. If I allowed those prisoners here, how long do you think the empresses would survive? How long before someone like Nelyk killed the men who are here not for a crime but for an insult?" His expression softened. "Your gift is protection also, but you have not yet learned that not all beings deserve your favor."

Isadora's heart leaped. "How do you know-"

"I know many things," he interrupted. "Destruction is easier than protection, as you well understand. Destruction does not require care and consideration and time and heart. It is easier to strike out in blind anger than it is to s.h.i.+eld those who need our care." A gentle hand caressed her cheek. "Not everyone deserves to benefit from your gift, Isadora. You are not beholden to the entire of Columbyana, only to those you love."

"And if I don't love anyone?" she snapped.

Thayne just smiled. "Your heart is filled with love; you just choose to share that love sparingly, for now."

"For always," she responded.