89 - The Complication
Inara had a feeling something truly terrible was going to happen today.
There was a strange tension in the atmosphere, like the entire compound was on edge. Lady Ishta had been in a ferocious mood all day too, her demands getting increasingly more particular and unhinged.
She had first claimed the tea Inara had brought her had one too many leaves in it.
Then, after it was remade, it didn’t produce the perfect amount of bubbles.
And now it was too sweet, though Inara had used only one spoonful of honey as Lady Ishta always demanded.
Inara flinched as the lady sent the cup crashing against the wall beside her head.
“Foolish girl,” Ishta growled. “Can’t you do anything right?’
“I’m sorry, my Lady.” Inara got on her knees, bowing her head. “The blame is mine.”
“Of course it’s yours. The tea is too cold. Get out of here and make it again.”
Inara didn’t need to be told twice. She rushed to her feet, about to hurry out and make another batch. But before she took more than a step, the tray was flung at her too, this time hitting the wall behind the space she was about to occupy.
“Are you going to leave without cleaning up that mess?” Lady Ishta’s voice dropped to a threatening register, sending a shiver down her maid’s spine.
Inara was frozen in indecision. The last time, when she had attempted to pick up the shards before obeying the lady's demands for another cup of tea, a thrown hair ornament had scratched her face.
That was why this time, she’d moved to make the tea first and planned to clean up while the lady enjoyed a hopefully perfect brew.
Would cleaning now be the right answer, or was it just an excuse for Ishta to unleash her wrath on her? Was she better off making a run for it, hoping to avoid all missiles on the way out? What would be the best course of action here?
Finally, Lady Ishta made a disgruntled sound and said, "Just get out. I can’t stand to look at your face any longer.”
Inara swallowed.
“Yes, my lady,” she said as she hurried out, waiting until she had taken thirty steps and turned at least two corners into an empty hallway before she leaned back against the wall.
She dragged in a ragged breath.
Just a few more hours.
There were only a few more hours until the lady retired for the night.
Hopefully, she would be in better spirits tomorrow, and if she weren't, then Inara would continue counting down the hours till a new day came.
Just as she had been doing for most of her life now.
She heard footsteps from the adjoining passageway and was afraid that it would be one of the elders or the young master, so she quickly squeezed herself into an alcove. When she confirmed the voices were indeed who she feared, she made herself smaller, pressing tightly to the wall so they would not see her.
The conversation reached her regardless.
“...Elric. If he doesn’t turn up in the next two days, assume she killed him.”
Inara had initially panicked as the footsteps got closer, but the mention of the Archmage's name had her stilling.
“You can’t assume anything,” Elder Hattus said. “Not with the Golden Beast presumably involved.”
“Our brother worries far too much,” Young Lord Draco said. “It’s why he’s losing all his lovely hair. He got most of what he wanted. The council is now suitably distracted, and the Archmage is probably dead. So what more is he looking for?”
“The Council will not be distracted forever, and the Archmage's notes are still in the system. Once his death is confirmed, it will come under investigation. The Holy Anchor will not accept the death of his son without explanation, which is why I was against this in the first place. This plan of his could bring even more scrutiny to us. Not to mention that if Elric shows up out of the blue–”
“If he were going to show up, he would have done so already. He’s likely going through The Change. Or the witch has killed him. She knows there’s no cure for what he has, and once people understand what he's going through, death is the only option."
“But there is a cure. Or have you forgotten?”
“You mean…” Lord Draco chuckled. “You think she will come here for it? Beast or not, it will be unwise for her to risk coming to our territory, and I doubt someone like her will leave retirement for this. I don't know who is more paranoid, you or Yseult."
“Whether you think she will come or not, the Archmage Yseult is smart enough to take measures against that. If she does make that mistake, we’ll be ready for her.”
“Good. Now you can stop worrying and start discussing what I will wear to the Iverson ball. The tailoring on my last waistcoat? Atrocious. It can never happen again. Additionally, has the shipment from Voyard arrived yet?”
By that point, they had walked too far away to be heard by Inara, who had pushed her hand over her mouth, trapping any sharp breaths that might have otherwise escaped.
Her heart raced in her chest, but for once it wasn’t from the fear of being almost caught.
It was from sheer devastation.
The full impact of the words she'd just heard wrecked her psyche, and she slowly sank to the floor.
Up until a few weeks ago, she had only known of the Archmage Elric by name. He was the one who was raised by mundane parents, who worked for mundane affairs despite his high standing, and who Archmage Yseult dubbed the laughing stock of high-class Ascendant society.
Despite that, she had assumed he would be like all the other Archmages she’d met, either aloof and cold or downright cruel.
Until the day they'd met and he'd gotten mad at Elder Hattus on her behalf.
Had it not been for Elric, she might have foregone food that night.
She might have even been ordered to kneel in the corner and seek atonement until her knees ached.
But the Archmage Elric had stopped that. Rather than demand punishment, he had scolded Elder Hattus for even suggesting a rightfully deserved penalty for her carelessness.
Not only that, but whatever spell he had cast on her had protected her from the harsher cruelties she would have otherwise endured. It had become a topic of frustration for the elders and a bane for Lord and Lady Draco after Elder Hattus told them what happened.
They questioned her extensively about what she had done to attract the Archmage's attention, not trusting her word that she had done nothing. Following that, the young Lord and Lady had resolved to torture her with psychological warfare instead, levying threats and tantrums that were meant to scare and shame her for her own inadequacy.
But even then, the bite of their words had been dulled by the relief from the physical violence afforded to her by the Archmage.
But most of all, what she remembered about him was how kind he had been to her.
He had held her gaze and spoken to her like she was someone who mattered. He had even offered to leave with her, though she knew how much trouble that would cause him.
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And now, he was going through something unimaginable, something more terrible than death itself.
She knew what The Change was. Several years ago, there had been a virus that had swept through the sect, and it had driven several of their members mad. They had become violent, mindless humans, writhing about, ranting and ravaging whatever they could find, their skins grey, their eyes red.
They looked just like demonkin.
The Elders had searched for a cure, but the cure did not work for everyone. They had to kill those who were too far gone, and since the Elders did not know the source of the plague, it would happen again and again, to different people from different houses.
Some with the virus had learned to suppress symptoms for as long as possible, as they knew once they underwent The Change, it was too late. Some had even survived for years without The Change.
Most, though, had to be put down for their own good and that of the rest of the sect.
This was the sacrilegious secret of the sect, something they weren’t allowed to discuss with anyone within or without. Their tongues had been tied by oaths and hexes that kept them all bound to this cursed existence.
If they disobeyed, they might catch the disease and die too.
Inara had been right to dread today.
Archmage Elric going through The Change meant he only had a few hours to days of sanity left.
Pain pierced her heart and spread through her entire body.
A choked sob finally tore out of her throat, the band around her chest squeezing tighter. Her body began to tremble, and she looked down at her own, pale, shaking hand.
Was it from her? Had she somehow passed on the disease to him, though she had never had it herself?
Or had he gotten it from the atmosphere when he was here?
Or, a voice whispered in her mind. The Elders had specifically exposed him to illness to get rid of him.
At least that was what their conversation could imply. Perhaps they had given him infected water.
She had handed him the infected water.
No.
Please no.
Now, she recalled pieces of conversations she'd overheard specifically in the last few weeks.
People tended to say things around her that they wouldn’t say around anyone else, simply because they forgot she existed.
Some of the Elders and Archmage Yseult had been speaking about a pest they needed to get rid of.
Was that Elric?
Had they done all this to punish him for his interference?
Emotion overwhelmed her. Another sob escaped her mouth and then another. Her breath grew loud and ratchety, her heart throbbing as hot tears flowed down her cheeks. The Archmage was dying. He was dying, and there was nothing she could do for him, no way she could help him.
She felt so powerless.
Unless…unless she could somehow get word to someone.
Or get an antidote for him.
The one that they had used to cure some of the infected members of the sect. Perhaps that would work for Elric.
Where could she get that?
She tried to remember pieces of the conversation she had overheard. Things she had not paid particular attention to before now became important.
Elder Manu. He had been ill for some time and remained confined in his quarters. What if his illness was the same as what Elric now suffered? What if there was some medicine in his room?
Perhaps she could sneak some away, smuggle it out of the compound, and get it to the Archmage Elric in time. She might be able to save him.
She had to do it right now.
She didn't have a clear plan forward as she extracted herself from her corner, with adrenaline rushing through her veins.
But when she turned, she found her path blocked by Lady Ishta, who had a furious look on her face.
“This is where you’ve been when I was calling for you?" the lady snarled and grabbed the maid by her hair.
Inara let out a weak cry as Lady Ishta began dragging her into the parlor, her voice bouncing off the walls.
"You've gotten so arrogant as of late, haven't you?" the lady ranted. "Defying me. Ignoring me. All because that stupid Archmage gave you attention, you’ve forgotten your place. You think you're somebody now? You are nobody. You are nothing. And you will forever be nothing."
***
Arielle had entered the second building with no problem at all.
The guardrails in place were nothing compared to Yseult's spell arrangement, and so it was easy enough for her to bypass.
The only complications were the magic-detecting components and the guards that lined the hallways.
Oh, and the fact that there was at least one person here who had soul sight.
Vittoria had told her to don her disguise before moving through the space, just in case someone with soul sight caught her. She would have to drop her invisibility then, and she could then pretend to be a mercenary that they hired from time to time.
Her new disguise had a mask on the lower half of her face and long black hair tied up in a ponytail. She also looked taller and more mature. She was to move briskly and remain silent, using a few known hand signals to communicate. She was also to ignore the guards standing in the room.
But that would only matter if she had to become visible.
She was to remain invisible for as long as possible, or at least until she got to the inner portions of the home.
As she approached, she heard loud sounds of yelling in the living space near the treasure chamber.
"Wait," Vittoria said suddenly. "Go into that corner. The Lady over there, the one screaming like a banshee, has soul sight. Avoid her at all costs."
Ari nodded and obeyed
While there, she watched the scene, having never seen anything like it in her life.
“You brat!” The Lady picked up a lamp and smashed it on the floor next to another girl who was cowering. “I’m sick of you and your insolence! I ring for you, and you dare to ignore me! You think me insignificant now in comparison to your precious Archmage! Just because he cast that spell on you does not mean you can now do whatever you want! And now he's as good as dead anyway. How great is he now?"
She threw something else at the maid, a smaller tabletop decorative vase, and Arielle winced as it hit the girl's shoulder and bounced off.
Instinctively, she readied a gust of wind to shove the assailant into a wall, but Vittoria said sharply, “Don't."
Ari froze in place, though internally her mind was rioting, demanding she do something to help.
She was in shock that no one had stopped the madness yet, none of the guards who were standing on the other side of the hall, at least. They were all pretending not to see it, though some looked on in sympathy or discomfort.
Why were they allowing this abuse to continue?
“Don’t call attention to yourself. This isn’t your fight.”
That was true. It wasn't her fight, and undoubtedly she couldn't risk their mission for a fight that was not hers.
But she wasn't just going to watch someone get hurt in front of her eyes and do nothing.
“Think about Elric,” Vittoria said, seemingly sensing the direction of Arielle's thoughts. “Any wrong move you make could be the end of his life.”
Reason and guilt fought a war that battered her internally. She felt caught between Vittoria's clear logic and acknowledging that she could not conceivably leave the girl to her own demise.
What would Elric think of her if she simply stood here and watched the lady assault her maid? Elric dedicated his career to helping those weaker than him, and if he knew Arielle did nothing, he would be ashamed of her.
Arielle looked around, ensuring no masters or magic-detecting runes were in her path.
Then she cast a silent spell that lightly adjusted the lady's robes as she moved, until they got caught underneath her feet and she tumbled down, hitting her knee hard.
“Oh, my lady!" Suddenly, a host of people rushed in from all corners, surrounding the fallen mistress. "Are you injured?"
"I'm fine," the lady snapped, getting up instantly, but it didn't stop the sycophantic hovering.
She gave one last dirty look to the girl on the floor and strutted away, her robes billowing about her.
The staff gave the girl on the floor pitying looks, but they hurried after the lady, fussing over what was likely a scratch at most.
Meanwhile, the one who’d had a vase thrown at her remained sobbing on the floor.
Ari approached her slowly, despite Vittoria's fervent protest, drawn by sympathy and a need to see if the girl was gravely injured. Perhaps, she could get away with healing her.
The girl was softly crying. There was a bruise on the back of her hand and a shallow cut at the side of her face, but she neither touched them nor paid them any special attention.
"I'm sorry," she whispered between sniffles. "Archmage Elric, I'm so sorry."
That gave Arielle pause.
Why was she apologizing to Elric?
In fact, how did she know him?
Should she ask? No, that would mean revealing herself.
"Arielle," Vittoria warned, but Arielle's attention remained on the girl who sat up. She pulled out what looked to be a torn piece of fabric from her pocket and wiped her face again.
That was when Arielle recognized her.
It was the same girl she had saved in Khor. And the fabric she was holding was the piece Ari had given her.
She held it against her chest and looked to the ceiling.
"I have to help him," she murmured. "Before it's too late."
Help who? Elric? How?
Arielle wondered, but the girl got to her feet before Arielle could say anything, and she limped away.