“I feared that it would rouse unpleasant memories for you, my dearest,” Oasia said quietly to Fedeles. She squeezed his fingers in her own.

  Atreau wished that he could vomit on command, because that was the response Oasia’s saccharine claim deserved.

  “If you worried for me much more I’d live in complete ignorance,” Fedeles told her, and Oasia had the gall to laugh.

  “Oh, you have your own sources of information, husband mine. And you know I wouldn’t have kept anything back that was worth knowing.”

  “Really?” Atreau asked. “Even your brother’s plot to seize the throne?”

  “Which one of his plots?” Oasia replied, and for just an instant her utter contempt showed as she looked at Atreau. Then her sneer vanished and she shifted her attention and gaze back to Fedeles. “He’s plotted and schemed after the throne since he was a child. Presently, all I know of the current plan is that he’s had Clara’s husband killed so as to free her for marriage to either Jacinto or Remes.”

  “Remes. It has to be. Hierro’s got no hold over Jacinto and a woman like Clara would hold no appeal for him—” Atreau began, only to be cut short.

  “As far as you know,” Oasia responded. “But you, Lord Vediya, have not been contending with my brother’s machinations for as long as I have. What he may have allowed Master Ariz to hear and see may be only what he wants us to know.”

  Atreau scowled at the thought of that. If Hierro had fed lies to Master Ariz, then his plot could be altogether different. However, Master Ariz struck Atreau as a poor choice for the job. The man could hardly tell them anything, much less be depended upon to spread misinformation. And he was far more suitable and well positioned to act as an assassin.

  “There’s no need to school Atreau. We are none of us in collusion with Hierro,” Fedeles chided her, but without much ire. He wiped his eyes with the cuff of his coat. “So, your brother had Count Odalis murdered?”

  Oasia nodded. “His physician believes his demise was the result of an old man’s heart attempting to keep pace with too young of a bride. But I know for a fact that he was smothered to death.”

  The three of them stopped only a stride away from Mistress Delfia, and all of them looked to Narsi and Master Ariz. Narsi had brought his physician’s bag to the foot of the stool and seemed to be in the midst of inquiring after which drugs Master Ariz had already attempted to use to manage his pain.

  “Smoke poppy?” Narsi inquired.

  “I’ve given him that as well.” Mistress Delfia moved a little closer to Narsi as she spoke. She knelt down and nodded at the bottle of milky fluid Narsi held up. “The pain doesn’t relent until he’s nearly unconscious. It’s the same with white ruin, beer or wine. No relief until he’s legless.”

  No surprise then that Dommian had been such a drunkard. Though Atreau did wonder how Master Ariz wasn’t.

  “So long as he can think, he can suffer,” Master Ariz said, and Atreau noted that he was again speaking in the third person as if discussing the condition of some other man—Dommian, perhaps. “The spell binding him isn’t a physical thing, but magical.”

  “That may be,” Narsi replied. “But even magic must take effect through some physical process. From what you’re describing, it sounds as if the spell causes pain by acting upon the brain and not the flesh of the body. There is no physical injury, but the mind responds as if there is. It’s almost like the sensations experienced in a nightmare.”

  Mistress Delfia cocked her head, studying Narsi intently, as if she’d just noticed something astounding about him.

  “Yes,” Master Ariz said. “That’s it exactly. A nightmare that can’t be woken from.”

  “It might be a nightmare indeed . . . I wonder if, to some extent, y—er—Dommian was a kind of sleepwalker. If that truly is the case, it might explain certain things. For example, his inability to express spontaneous emotion and a certain imperviousness to physical pain.”

  “They say that if you die in a dream you will wake,” Master Ariz mumbled. “I wonder where I will wake when I die?”

  “In paradise, my darling. I promise you.” Mistress Delfia reached out and embraced her brother. He bowed his head against her shoulder. The sight touched Atreau, made him think of how he’d embraced Spider the night before when he had wanted with all his heart to somehow make things right for his brother. It reminded him of how helpless he’d felt as well.

  “I’m so tired, Delfia.” Master Ariz’s words were soft, but clear through the surrounding silence.

  “I know. I know.” Mistress Delfia stroked his back, as if she were soothing one of her children. “But it’s over now. It can end here.”

  Master Ariz nodded.

  Fedeles looked alarmed, but Oasia appeared as resigned as Master Ariz and his sister. Atreau decided to keep his mouth shut. He’d already made his argument to Fedeles. Let Oasia be the villain for once. Or better yet, let Master Ariz demand that he be killed himself. What could Fedeles say to that?

  “Well, we’re not just going to give up, obviously,” Narsi stated.

  Everyone, Atreau included, stared at him. Mistress Delfia wiped the tears from her cheeks. Even Master Ariz lifted his head in surprise.

  “Whatever do you mean, Master Physician?” Oasia arched a delicate brow, but there was no anger in her voice. Her gaze had turned assessing and interested.

  Narsi rose to his feet and again Atreau noted the young man’s exceptional height and air of dignity.

  “I’ve only just begun to diagnose how the spell that afflicted Dommian works, and as far as I can tell, only depressants have been employed so far in attempt to effect any improvement. But after just this brief interview I would think that what we are looking for is something more along the lines of a stimulant.” Narsi turned his attention from both Oasia and Fedeles and returned to his crouch beside Master Ariz. “If the spell truly does work by shutting down certain regions of the mind, perhaps by compromising the subject’s conscious will, then it’s similar to a waking sleep. That means that there could be any number of ways to counteract it or even stop it. We must not give up hope before we’ve tried anything.”

  “The longer I remain, the greater of a threat I pose.” Master Ariz hung his head. “Once he realizes that I’ve been exposed, he’ll use me to do as much harm as possible.”

  A little sob escaped Mistress Delfia, but she quickly regained her composure. “I can do it quickly. So that he feels nothing,” Mistress Delfia said.

  Fedeles shook his head, but surprisingly, it was Oasia who spoke up.

  “No, let us consider what the master physician has said before we rush to any rash decisions.” She turned to Fedeles and held his gaze. Atreau felt certain that she read Fedeles as well as he had, perhaps better. She’d not escaped her brother and father’s grasps by misjudging the men around her. She had to know that concealing Ariz’s enthralled state had angered and offended Fedeles. He could see it in the narrow look Fedeles gave her now. She needed to regain his trust.

  “Master Ariz is dear to us and has been a loyal servant for years. If there is a way to help him, we should take the time to attempt that.” Oasia went on as if Fedeles was the one who needed convincing. “If he could be liberated, it would not only do him good, but he is in a position to do our enemies considerable harm.”

  Atreau clenched his jaw to stop himself from pointing out that unless Narsi pulled off some miracle in a day or so, Hierro Fueres could very well order him to murder them all. Was Oasia counting on him to argue for Master Ariz’s death and thus earn Fedeles’s ire? It would be like her—except that if there was one human being in all the world whom she seemed to truly love, it was her son. She wouldn’t endanger Sparanzo, not even for Fedeles’s sake.

  “So what is it you propose that we do?” Atreau asked Oasia.

  “We deliver Master Ariz to my sister, Clara,” Oasia replied. “She sent word that she does not feel safe since her husband’s passing.”

  Oddly, that comment inspired a snort from Master Ariz.

  “Did you kill him as well?” Atreau demanded of Master Ariz.

  Master Ariz met his gaze with a cold, dead stare. He gave a tired nod.

  “Are there any murders in the city that you didn’t commit?” Atreau could hardly credit it. If he had his count right, Master Ariz had killed three men in less than a week. And they were still willing to let him live.

  “He had nothing to do with the priests who died at the south gate. Nor has he ever raised his hand against a holy sister.” Mistress Delfia shot Atreau an accusing glower, which was rich, seeing as he wasn’t the one who’d committed those crimes or even given Captain Ciceron leave to perpetrate them.

  “We aren’t any of us without guilt,” Fedeles said.

  Narsi started to open his mouth and then, meeting Atreau’s gaze, seemed to think better of saying anything.

  “My point is,” Oasia went on, “that Clara hopes to use her tragedy as an excuse to be invited into our household. She wants to get closer to Sparanzo—”

  “Absolutely not!” Fedeles stated and Oasia laughed.

  “Those were my words exactly, darling,” Oasia told him. “So I suggest that we beg off, due to our concerns over Dommian’s murder taking place in our very household. Instead of having Clara come here, we send Master Ariz to offer her his protection. Then he will be near enough that he and Master Narsi can attempt their experiments, but Master Ariz will no longer be so intimate a part of our household that Hierro would have easy use of him.”

  Fedeles scowled, but Atreau had to admit that Oasia’s plan wasn’t a bad one—if they weren’t going to simply execute Master Ariz. Moving him would at least get him away from Fedeles and Sparanzo. Though not anywhere as far as Atreau would have liked.

  “We couldn’t ensure his safety if he is sent to the Odalis household,” Fedeles objected. “We could just as easily send him to safety in Rauma or Anacleto, where Hierro would not look for him.”

  “He could not spy for us if he were sent away to Rauma,” Oasia replied. “And I do not think it would be good for him if Hierro realizes that we have discovered his secret. He would torture you just to vent his frustration, wouldn’t he, Master Ariz?”

  Master Ariz shrugged. But his sister nodded.

  “And we would also be depriving him of Master Narsi’s care,” Delfia stated, then she looked to Narsi. “Do you truly believe that your Haldiim teachings can defeat a holy Cadeleonian spell?”

  “Well, I’m not thinking in terms of Haldiim or Cadeleonian, so much as in terms of where the mystical and the physical interact.” Narsi stood again and gifted Mistress Delfia with a warm, supremely confident smile. “From everything I’ve read, in Haldiim texts, Cadeleonian holy books and even Lord Vediya’s writing about the Labaran War, it seems obvious that no matter what the origin of a spell, or blessing or curse, it has to manifest through some physical means to be effective. Even the Old Gods had to take on physical form to engage in their battles. They might have started out as elemental spirits, but to actually attack the demon lords, they had to be channeled into living bodies. Isn’t that right, Lord Vediya?” Narsi glanced to Atreau and Atreau couldn’t help but smile back.

  Narsi really had memorized his books. Not just the obscene sections. Everything.

  “That is quite true,” Atreau said.

  “Right. So no matter what its origin, the spell on Dommian and all the others under Hierro’s control has to be physically embodied and has to take effect through physical processes that a physician might be capable of affecting.”

  Atreau could see the line of Narsi’s reasoning but wasn’t certain that he was right. What physical process was it exactly that allowed Count Radulf to turn into a dog, or his sister Hylanya to float in the air for days on end? On the other hand, Narsi had been able to wake her when no one else could, and by only using a medicine.

  Delfia appeared uncertain, and neither Fedeles or Oasia looked particularly convinced. Narsi sighed.

  “You’re all allowing the idea of magic to confuse you. But try to recognize that this condition, like so many others, is merely a case of cause and effect. Then you will realize that if I can localize the physical areas affected, I may well be able to interrupt the processes at that level. The cause, whether it be a magical or natural disorder, doesn’t matter if I can disrupt its expression into physical flesh.”

  Atreau thought that if nothing else had betrayed him as a Haldiim, his belief in his own reasoning—even in the face of a duke and duchess’s disbelief—would have given him away at once.

  “From what I’ve learned, I’m going to begin with the premise that my patient simply suffers from something very like a disorder of his sleep. And there is absolutely no reason for me to assume that I can do nothing before I’ve tried anything. That would be utterly defeatist, foolish and an affront to both my intellect and my duty as a physician.”

  In the ringing silence that followed Narsi’s oration, Atreau felt a change in the atmosphere of the room and in the faces of the people in it—like the first rays of light illuminating the sparkling world after a calamitous thunderstorm. He was inspiring, no doubt, but they still had a practical problem.

  “But your patient can’t return here for his treatments, and I don’t think it would be wise to send you into Clara Odalis’s lair. You two will need to meet somewhere away from both households . . . ,” Atreau said, pondering where would be best.

  “It isn’t unusual for me to travel to the south side of the river to practice against the swordsmen at the Red Stallion,” Master Ariz offered. For the first time he looked Fedeles in the eye, which caused Fedeles to give him a teary smile.

  “Only a few streets down from the Candioro Theater, where Jacinto is staging his play.” Atreau ignored their weird flirtation in the hope no one else would notice.

  Sabella would be at the theater as well, which would help insure Narsi’s safety. If anyone could be a match for an assassin, it would be another assassin.

  “That’s perfect!” Narsi beamed. “Prince Jacinto just offered me a role. I’m not sure he was serious, but I could at least claim that I thought he was and show up to meet Master—er, my patient—once. We could find another meeting place—”

  “No. The theater will be the best,” Atreau decided before either Master Ariz or Narsi could place themselves in a location beyond his control. “Jacinto will be delighted to have you in his production. I’ll make certain there’s a role for you.”

  “I should warn you that I’m not a very good actor,” Narsi admitted. “Also I can’t sing to save my life.”

  “You certainly can give a lecture though,” Fedeles commented.

  “I’ll tailor the role to your skills,” Atreau assured Narsi. “A Yuanese court astronomer, perhaps? The bright robes would suit your height and dark complexion, and the role wouldn’t require more of you than to stand in the background looking enigmatic and wise beyond your years—which sums up your demeanor most of the time anyway, so, no stretch of acting ability there.”

  “Could it work?” Mistress Delfia addressed the question only to her brother.

  “I don’t . . . maybe. Maybe it could,” Master Ariz said. “It’s not the spell that Master Narsi is trying to destroy. He’s just helping me with my sleep . . .”

  Mistress Delfia nodded and added, “You do sleep very poorly many nights.”

  “That’s right,” Narsi put in. “I’m not a Bahiim, or priest or witch. I’m simply a physician who can only treat your health. Nothing else.”

  Master Ariz nodded slowly, seemingly to himself.

  “And speaking of your health,” Narsi went on, “I really do feel that we need to remove these ropes so that I can clean the cut in your chest.”

  Master Ariz tensed but didn’t argue as Narsi and Mistress Delfia began to loosen the ropes binding him. Atreau dropped his hand to his belt knife as casually as he could, while Oasia made an odd gesture of her hands, which reminded Atreau of the motions he’d seen so many Labaran witches perform as they readied for magical combat. Standing between the two of them, Fedeles looked on with the same strained expression he’d worn when his favorite horse had fallen ill and needed nursing through two full nights.

  Master Ariz kept control of himself as the ropes fell away. He straightened and rose from the stool quickly, despite the fact that his hands and feet had to be numb. When Narsi attempted to open his shirt to clean his injury, Master Ariz waved him aside.

  “It’s a scratch. Nearly scabbed closed already.” Master Ariz’s words conveyed no emotion, but Atreau guessed from the way he moved that he was embarrassed. Clearly he was not accustomed to being the center of much attention. He gathered up the rope, coiled it and returned it to the weapons rack. Task completed, he stood beside the rack like a stuffed dummy.

  “I’ll send my condolences to Clara along with a letter of introduction for you to deliver to her, Master Ariz. I believe we could have you on your way before the first bell of night,” Oasia said.

  Mistress Delfia withdrew to Oasia’s side and reassumed the posture of a modest lady’s maid.

  An odd quiet filled the room and Atreau realized that all of them were waiting for Fedeles to say or do anything.

  “I should pack my things—” Master Ariz began at last.

  “That can wait,” Fedeles cut him off. He looked to Oasia and then to Atreau. Frustration and hurt showed in his expression, but all he said was, “I would have a little time alone with Master Ariz.”

  Atreau wasn’t convinced of how wise an idea that might be, but he didn’t have it in him to engage in another pointless argument with Fedeles just now. So he turned to Narsi.

  “It seems that we had best go and secure that role for you from Jacinto.”

  Narsi simply nodded and followed him out through the garden doors. After they’d reached the cover of the camellia hedges, Narsi stopped.

 

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