Chapter Three

Reyad's whip cut into my skin, slashing my flesh with a burning pain.

"Move," he ordered.

I dodged ineffectively, hampered by the rope tied to my wrist, which

anchored me to a post in the center of the room.

"Move faster, keep moving!" Reyad shouted.

The whip snapped again and again. My tattered shirt gave no protection

from the stinging leather. A cool, soothing voice entered my skull. "Go away," it

whispered. "Send your mind to a distant place, a warm loving place. Let your

body go."

The silken voice didn't belong to Reyad or Brazell. A savior, perhaps? An

easy way to escape the torment, tempting but I held out for another opportunity.

Determined, I stayed, focusing on avoiding the lash. When exhaustion claimed

me, my body began to vibrate of its own accord. Like an out-of-control

hummingbird, I darted around the room, avoiding the whip.

I woke in darkness soaked with sweat, my crumpled uniform twisted tight

around my body. The vibration in my dream replaced by a pounding. Before

falling asleep, I had wedged a chair under the doorknob to prevent anyone from

barging in. The chair rattled with each thud.

"I'm up," I shouted. The racket stopped. When I opened the door, Margg

stood frowning with a lantern. I hastened to change my uniform and joined her

in the hallway. "I thought you said sunrise."

Her disapproving stare seared my lips shut. "Itissunrise."

I followed Margg through the labyrinth of the castle's hidden hallways as

the day began to brighten. My room faced west, shielding me from the morning

sun. Margg extinguished the lantern just as the scent of sweet cakes filled the air.

Inhaling, I asked her, "Breakfast?" A hopeful, almost pleading, note crept

into my voice, galling me.

"No. Valek will feed you."

The image of breakfast laced with poison did wonders for suppressing my

appetite. My stomach tightened as the unwanted memory of Valek's Butterfly's

Dust came to mind. By the time we had reached his office, I had convinced

myself that I was about to collapse, soon to be vanquished by the poison if I

didn't receive the antidote.

When I entered the room, Valek was in the process of arranging plates of

steaming food. He had cleared off a section of the table. The displaced papers balanced in messy piles. He gestured to a chair; I sat, searching the table for the

small vial of antidote.

"I hope you're…" Valek studied my face. I stared back, trying not to flinch

under his scrutiny.

"It's amazing what a difference a bath and a uniform can make," Valek

said, absently chewing on a slice of bacon. "I'll have to remember that. It might

be useful in the future." Placing two plates of an egg-and-ham mixture before

me, he said, "Let's get started."

Feeling dizzy and flushed, I blurted out, "I'd rather start with the antidote."

Another long pause from Valek caused me to fidget in my seat.

"You shouldn't be feeling any symptoms. They won't arrive until later this

afternoon." He shrugged and went to his cabinet. He used a pipette to extract a

measure of the white liquid from a large bottle, and then locked the antidote

back inside the cabinet. My interest in the location of the key must have been

obvious because Valek used some type of sleight of hand to make the key

disappear. Handing me the pipette, he sat down on the opposite side of the table.

"Drink up so we can start today's lessons," he said.

I squeezed the contents into my mouth, cringing at the bitter taste. Valek

took the pipette from my hands and exchanged it for a blue jar. "Take a sniff."

The jar contained a white powder, resembling sugar but smelling like

rosewood. Gesturing to the two plates cooling in front of me, Valek asked me to

pick the one sprinkled with the poison. I sniffed at the food like a scent hound

nosing for prey. A faint odor of rosewood emanated from the left plate.

"Good. Should you pick up that aroma from any of the Commander's food,

reject it. The poison is called Tigtus and a single grain of the powder will kill

within the hour." Valek removed the tainted food. "Eat your breakfast." He

indicated the other plate. "You'll need your strength."

I spent the remainder of the day smelling poisons until my head ached and

spun. The multitude of names and aromas began to confuse me, so I asked Valek

for some paper, quill and ink. He stilled.

"I don't know why you continue to surprise me. I should have remembered

that General Brazell educates his orphans." Valek flung a book of papers, a quill

and ink down in front of me. "Take them back to your room. We've done

enough for today."

I silently cursed myself for reminding Valek why I had been the next

person to be executed as I gathered the book and writing implements. Valek's

hard, unforgiving expression revealed his thoughts. Taken off the streets, fed and

educated by Brazell, I had repaid Brazell's kindness by murdering his only child.

I knew Valek would never believe the truth about Brazell and Reyad.

General Brazell's orphanage was a topic of ridicule from the other

Generals. They thought he had gone "soft" after the takeover of Ixia fifteen years

ago. This impression suited Brazell. Seen as a kindly old benefactor, Brazell

could continue unchallenged in his administration of Military District 5.

I hesitated at the entrance of Valek's office, noticing for the first time the

three complex locks on the thick wooden door. Absently fingering the locking

mechanisms, I lingered in the doorway until Valek asked, "Now what?"

"I'm not sure where my room is."

Valek spoke as if talking to a slow-witted child. "Ask the first housekeeper

or kitchen maid you find, they're always scurrying about this time of day. Tell

her you're in the west servant wing, ground floor. She'll show you."

The kitchen maid I snared into helping me was more talkative than Margg

and I took full advantage of her good nature. She guided me to the laundry room

to obtain some linens for my bed. Then I had her show me the way to the baths

and the seamstress's work area. Dilana's piles of uniforms might come in handy

someday.

In my room, I opened the shutters to let in the fading light from the setting

sun. Sitting down at my desk, I wrote exhaustive notes on what I had learned

that day, including a rough map of the servants' corridors. I considered more

exploration of the castle, but Valek had been right, I needed my strength. I hoped

I would have time to explore later.

During the next two weeks, the training proceeded in a manner so similar to

the first day that I lapsed into a routine, arriving at Valek's every morning to

train. After fourteen days of sniffing poisons, I found that my sense of smell had

heightened. But then Valek announced I was strong enough to begin tasting

poisons.

"I'll start with the deadliest one," he said. "If you don't die from it, the

other poisons wouldn't kill you either. I don't want to waste all my time training

you only to see you die in the end." He placed a slender red bottle on his desk.

"It's nasty. Affects the body immediately." Valek's eyes lit up as he admired the

poison. "It's called Have a Drink, My Love, or My Love for short because the

poison has a history of being used by disheartened wives." He squeezed two

drops of the poison into a steaming cup. "A larger dose would definitely kill you.

With a smaller dose, there is a chance you'll survive, but you'll become

delusional, paranoid and completely disoriented for the next few days."

"Valek, why do I have to taste My Love if it has immediate results? Isn't

that what a food taster is for? I taste the Commander's food. I keel over, dead.

End of the tale." I tried pacing around the room but kept tripping over stacks of

books. Frustrated, I kicked two piles into their neighbors, scattering books into a messy heap on the floor. Valek's gaze pierced me, draining the odd feeling of

satisfaction I had gotten from kicking the books.

"A food taster's job is much more complex than that," Valek explained,

pulling his hair back from his face. "Being able to identify which poison taints

the Commander's food can lead me to the poisoner." Valek handed me the cup.

"Even if you only have a split second to shout out My Love before passing out,

it would narrow down the list of suspects. There are a number of assassins who

are partial to My Love. The poison is grown in Sitia, the southern lands. It was

easy to obtain before the takeover. With the closure of the southern border, only

a handful of people have enough money to purchase it illegally."

Valek went over to the mess on the floor and started restacking the books.

His movements were so graceful that I wondered if he had been a dancer, but his

words betrayed to me that his fluid gestures were those of a trained killer.

"Yelena, your job is very important. That's why I spend so much time

training you. A shrewd assassin can watch a taster for several days to discover a

pattern." Valek continued his lecture from the floor. "For example, the taster

might always cut a piece of meat from the left side, or never stir the drink. Some

poisons sink to the bottom of the cup. If the taster only sips off the top, then the

assassin knows exactly where to place the poison to kill his intended victim." He

finished picking up the books. The new piles were neater than the rest of the

stacks on the floor. It seemed an invitation to Valek to continue straightening the

books. He cleared a bigger path through his office.

"Once you drink the poison, Margg will help you to your room and take

care of you. I'll give her your daily dose of Butterfly's Dust antidote."

I stared at the steam drifting from the tea. I picked up the cup, the heat

warming my icy hands. When Margg entered the room, it felt as if the

executioner had just mounted the dais, reaching for the lever. Should I sit down

or lie down? I looked around the room, seeing nothing. My arms started to tingle

as I realized I had been holding my breath.

I raised the cup in a mock salute, and then drained the contents. "Sour

apples," I said.

Valek nodded. I had only enough time to put the cup on the table before my

world began to melt. Margg's body undulated toward me. Her large head

sprouted flowers from her eye sockets. A moment later her body filled the room

as her head shriveled.

I sensed movement. The gray walls grew arms and legs that reached for me,

trying to use me in their fight against the floor. Gray spirits rose from under my

feet. They dived, poked and cackled at me. They were freedom. I tried to push

the Margg thing away, but it clung and wrapped itself around me, digging through my ears and pounding on my head.

"Murderer," it whispered. "Sneaky bitch. You probably slit his throat while

he slept. Easy way to kill. Did you enjoy yourself as you watched his blood soak

the sheets? You're nothing but a rat."

I grabbed at the voice, trying to make it stop, but it turned into two green-

and-black toy soldiers who held me tight.

"She'll die from the poison. If not you can take her," the Margg thing said

to the soldiers.

They pushed me into a dark pit. I plunged into blackness.

The stench of vomit and excrement greeted me when I regained

consciousness. They were the unmistakable odors of the dungeon. Wondering

how I had ended up back in my old cell, I sat up. A surge of nausea demanded

my attention. I groped around for the slop pot and encountered the metal leg of a

bed, which I clutched as dry heaves racked my body. When they stopped, I

leaned against the wall, grateful to be on the floor of my room and not back in

the dungeon. Beds were a luxury not included with the subterranean

accommodations.

Summoning the strength to stand, I located and lit my lantern. Dried vomit

caked my face. My shirt and pants were soaking wet and smelled foul. The

liquid contents of my body had collected in a puddle on the floor.

Margg took good care of me, I thought sarcastically. At least she was

practical. If she had dumped me on the bed I would have ruined the mattress.

I thanked fate that I had survived the poison and that I had awakened in the

middle of the night. Unable to endure the feel of my sodden uniform any longer,

I made my way to the baths.

On my return, voices stopped me before I reached the hallway leading to

my room. Extinguishing my lantern in one quick motion, I peeked around the

corner. Two soldiers stood in front of my door. The soft light of their lantern

reflected the green-and-black colors of their uniforms—Brazell's colors.