Chapter Four

"Should we check if she's dead?" asked one of Brazell's soldiers. He held

the lantern up to my door, his overloaded weapon belt jingling with the motion.

"No. That housekeeper checks every morning and gives her a potion. We'll

hear about it soon enough. Besides, it stinks in there." The other soldier waved

his hand in front of his face.

"Yeah. If the smell don't kill the mood, taking off her vomit-soaked

uniform would make any man gag. Although…" The lantern soldier's hand

briefly touched the manacles hanging from his belt. "We could drag her down to

the baths, clean her up, and have some fun before she dies."

"No, someone would see us. If she survives, we'll have plenty of time to

peel off her uniform. It'll be just like opening a present, and definitely more

entertaining when she's awake." He leered. They laughed.

They continued down the hallway and were soon out of sight. I clung to the

wall and wondered if what I had just witnessed had been real. Was I still having

paranoid hallucinations? My head felt as if it had soaked too long in a pool of

water. Dizziness and nausea rippled through my body.

The soldiers were long gone before I worked up the nerve to go back to my

room. I pushed the door wide and thrust my lantern in front of me, shining the

light into every corner and under the bed. A harsh, acrid odor was the only thing

to attack me. Gagging, I unlocked the shutters and threw them open, taking deep

breaths of the cool, cleansing air.

I looked at the noxious puddle on the floor. The last thing I wanted to do

was clean up the mess, but I knew I would never be able to sleep while breathing

in that foul smell. After raiding housekeeping's supplies, and stopping for the

occasional bout of nausea, I managed to scrub the floor without fainting.

Exhausted, I stretched out on the bed. It felt lumpy. I turned in my blankets,

hoping to find a comfortable position. What if Brazell's soldiers came back?

Asleep in bed, I would be an easy target. I had cleaned myself up so there was

no need to drag me to the baths. The room smelled like disinfectant, and I had

forgotten to put the chair under the doorknob.

Imagination kicked in, a vivid scene of me manacled to the bed, helpless

while the soldiers stripped me slowly to heighten their anticipation and savor my

fear.

The walls of my room seemed to thicken and pulse. I bolted out into the

hallway, expecting to see Brazell's soldiers lurking around my door. The corridor was dark and deserted.

When I tried to reenter my room, I felt as if someone pressed a pillow

against my face. I couldn't get my feet to move past the doorway. My room was

a trap. The paranoia effect of My Love or common sense? I wondered.

Indecision kept me standing in the hallway until my stomach growled. Guided

by my hunger, I searched for food.

Hoping to find the kitchen empty, I was dismayed to see a tall man wearing

a white uniform with two black diamonds printed on the front of his shirt

mumbling to himself as he lurched around the ovens. His left leg didn't bend. I

tried to sneak back out but he spotted me.

"Are you looking for me?" he asked.

"No," I said. "I was…looking for something to eat." I craned my neck back

to see his face.

He frowned and shifted his weight to his good leg as he studied my

uniform. Too thin for a cook, I thought, but he wore the proper clothes and only

a cook would be up this early. He was handsome in a subtle way, with light

brown eyes and short brown hair. I wondered if this was Dilana's Rand that

Margg had talked about.

"Help yourself." He gestured toward two steaming loaves of bread. "You

just won me a week's wages."

"Excuse me," I said while cutting off a large piece of bread. "How could I

win you money?"

"You're the new food taster. Right?"

I nodded.

"Everyone knows Valek gave you a dose of My Love. I took a chance and

bet a week's wages that you would live." He stopped to take three more loaves

out of the oven. "A big risk, since you're the smallest and skinniest food taster

we've ever had. Most everyone else had wagered that you wouldn't pull through,

including Margg."

The cook rummaged through one of the cabinets. "Here." He handed me

some butter. "I'll make you some sweet cakes." Grabbing various ingredients

from a shelf, he proceeded to mix up a batter.

"How many food tasters have there been?" I asked him between bites of

buttered bread. Working alone didn't seem to suit him. He seemed glad to have

some company.

With his hands in constant motion, he said, "Five since Commander

Ambrose has been in power. Valek loves his poisons. He poisoned many of the

Commander's enemies, and he likes to keep in practice. You know, testing the

food tasters from time to time to make sure they haven't grown lazy."

The cook's words crawled up my spine. I felt as if my body had liquefied

and pooled into a giant mixing bowl. I was just a puddle of ingredients to be

beaten, stirred and used. When the cook poured the batter onto the hot griddle,

my blood sizzled along with the sweet cakes.

"Poor Oscove, Valek never liked him. Testing him constantly until he

couldn't handle the pressure. The 'official' cause of death was suicide, but I

think Valek killed him."

Flip. I stared as the cook deftly flicked his wrist, turning the cakes over. My

muscles trembled in synch with the sound of frying sweet cakes.

Here I was worried about Brazell, when one misstep with Valek and…Flip.

I would be gone. He probably held a couple of poisons in reserve just in case he

decided to replace the taster. Glancing over my shoulder, I imagined Valek

coming into the kitchen to poison my breakfast. I couldn't even enjoy talking

with a chatty cook without being reminded that tasting potentially poisoned food

wasn't the only danger of my new job.

The cook handed me a plate loaded with sweet cakes, took three more

loaves of bread out of the oven and refilled his bread pans with dough. Piping-

hot sweet cakes were such a rare treat that I devoured them despite my unsettled

stomach.

"Oscove was my friend. He was the Commander's best food taster. He used

to come to my kitchen every morning after breakfast and help me invent new

recipes. I have to keep things interesting or the Commander will start looking for

a new cook. Know what I mean?"

I nodded, wiping butter off my chin.

He thrust out his hand. "My name's Rand."

I shook his hand. "Yelena."

I stopped at an open window on my way to Valek's office. The rising sun

was just cresting the Soul Mountains to the east of the castle. The colors in the

sky resembled a ruined painting, as if a small child had spilled water on the

canvas. I let my eyes feast on the vibrant display of life as I inhaled the fresh air.

Everything was in full bloom, and soon the cool morning breeze would warm to

a comfortable level. The hot season was in its infancy. The days of sweltering

heat and limp, humid nights were still a few weeks away. I had been training

with Valek for a fortnight, and I wondered how long My Love had held me

unconscious.

Tearing myself away from the window, I walked toward Valek's office,

arriving at his door just as he was leaving.

"Yelena! You made it." Valek smiled. "It's been three days. I was

beginning to worry."

I studied his face. He seemed sincerely glad to see me.

"Where's Margg?" he asked.

"I haven't seen her." Thank fate, I thought.

"Then you'll need your antidote," Valek said while moving back to his

cabinet.

Once I swallowed the liquid, Valek headed toward the door. When I didn't

follow, he gestured to me.

"I have to taste the Commander's breakfast," he said, setting a quick pace.

I huffed along behind him.

"It's time you meet the Commander and watch how food tasting should be

done."

We turned into the main hallway of the castle. Valek didn't miss a step, but

I stumbled and stifled a gasp. The famous tapestries from the King's era were

torn and soiled with black paint. In Brazell's orphanage we had been taught that

each tapestry represented a province of the old kingdom. Hand-quilted with gold

threads during the course of many years, the colored silk pictures told a story

about the history of each province. Now in rags, they still told a very powerful

tale about the Commander's rule.

The Commander's disdain for the opulence, excesses and injustices of the

former ruler and his family was well known throughout Ixia. From monarchy to

military, the changes in Ixia were severe. While some citizens embraced the

simple but strict rules in the Code of Behavior, others rebelled by refusing to

wear their uniforms, by not requesting permission to travel, and by escaping to

the south.

Based on the offense, the insurgents' punishment matched exactly what was

written in the Code. No uniform meant two days chained naked in the town's

square. It didn't matter if the offender had a legitimate reason; the punishment

was always the same. Ixia's people discovered that there wasn't going to be any

guessing about their punishment. No bribing or good-old-boy networking either;

the Commander meant business. Live by the Code or face the consequences.

I pulled my eyes away from the tapestries in time to see Valek disappear

through an arched doorway decorated with lavish stonework. Splintered wooden

doors hung crookedly on their hinges, but the intricate carvings of trees and

exotic birds were still visible. Another victim of the takeover, and another

reminder of the Commander's intent.

I stopped in amazement just past the broken doors. This was the castle's

throne room. Inside was a sea of desks occupied by numerous advisers and

military officers from every Military District in the Territory. The room hummed

with activity.

It was hard to distinguish individuals in the commotion, but I finally spotted

Valek's smooth stride as he went through an open door at the back of the room.

Finding a path around the maze of desks took some time. When I arrived at the

door, I heard a man's voice complaining about cold sweet cakes.

Commander Ambrose sat behind a plain wooden desk. His office was stark

in comparison to Valek's and lacked personal decorations. The only object in the

room that did not have a specific purpose was a hand-size statue of a black snow

cat. The cat's eyes glinted with silver, and bright specks of the metal peppered

the beast's powerful back.

The Commander's black uniform was perfectly tailored and immaculate,

indistinguishable from Valek's except that the diamonds stitched on his collar

were real. They twinkled in the morning light. The Commander's black hair was

sprinkled with gray and cut so short that the strands stood straight up.

In Brazell's classroom, we had learned that the Commander avoided public

appearances and having his portrait painted. The fewer people who knew what

he looked like, the less his chances were of being assassinated. Some thought he

was paranoid, but I believed that since he had gained power by using assassins

and covert warfare, he was merely being realistic.

This was not the Commander I had envisioned: burly, bearded and weighed

down with medals and weapons. He was thin, clean shaven, with delicate

features.

"Commander, this is Yelena, your new food taster," Valek said, pulling me

into the room.

The Commander's gold almond-shaped eyes met mine. His gaze had the

sharpness of a sword point. It pressed against my throat and fastened me to the

floor. I felt myself being drawn out and examined. When he looked over at

Valek, I swayed with relief.

"From what Brazell's been hollering about, I expected her to breathe fire,"

the Commander said.

I stiffened on hearing Brazell's name. If Brazell was complaining to the

Commander, I could be back in line for the noose.

"Brazell's a fool," Valek said. "He wanted the drama of a public hanging

for his son's killer. I personally would have taken care of her immediately. It

would have been within his rights." Valek slurped the Commander's tea and

sniffed the sweet cakes.

My chest was tight. I was having trouble drawing in air.

"Besides, it's clearly written in the Code of Behavior that the next to be

hanged gets the job offer. And Brazell was one of the authors." Cutting a piece

of one sweet cake from the center and the other from the side, Valek put both pieces in his mouth, chewing slowly. "Here." He handed the plate to the

Commander.

"Brazell does have a point," the Commander said. He picked up his tea and

stared at the contents. "When does she start? I'm getting tired of cold food."

"A few more days."

"Good," the Commander said to Valek, then turned to me. "You arrive with

my food and taste quick. I don't want to be looking for you. Understand?"

Feeling light-headed, I answered, "Yes, Sir."

"Valek, I'm losing weight because of you. Lunch is in the war room. Don't

be late."

"Yes, Sir," Valek said and headed for the door. I followed. We wound our

way through the tangle of desks. When Valek stopped to consult with another

adviser, I glanced around. A handful of the Commander's advisers were women,

and I noticed two female Captains and one Colonel. Their new roles were one of

the benefits of the takeover. The Commander assigned jobs based on skills and

intelligence, not on gender.

While the monarchy preferred to see women work as maids, kitchen helpers

and wives, the Commander gave them the freedom to choose what they wanted

to do. Some women preferred their former occupations, while others jumped at

the chance to do something else, and the younger generation had been quick to

take advantage of the new opportunities.

When we finally reached Valek's office, Margg was dusting around

Valek's piles of papers on the table. It looked to me as if she was spending more

time reading the papers than straightening them. Didn't Valek notice? I

wondered what Margg did for Valek besides cleaning.

Margg turned a pleasant face to Valek, but as soon as he walked away she

glared fiercely at me. Must have lost a lot of money betting against my survival,

I thought. I smiled at her. She managed to control her outraged expression before

Valek glanced up at us from his desk.

"Yelena, you look exhausted. You make me tired just looking at you. Go

rest. Come back after lunch and we'll continue with your training."

I didn't really feel tired, but rest sounded like an excellent idea. As I moved

along the hallway, Valek's comment wormed its way through my mind. My pace

slowed and I dragged my feet toward my room. I was so preoccupied with the

physical effort of walking that I bumped right into two of Brazell's guards.

"Lookie, Wren, I found our rat!" one guard exclaimed, grabbing my wrist.

Alert, I gaped at the green diamonds on the guard's uniform.

"Good for you," Wren said. "Let's show your catch to General Brazell."

"The General isn't fond of live rats. Especially this one."

The guard shook me hard. Pain coursed up my arm to my shoulder and

neck. In a panic, I searched the hallway for help. It was deserted.

"That's right, he prefers them skinned alive."

I'd heard enough. I did what any good rat would do. I bit down on the

guard's hand until I tasted blood. Yelping and cursing in surprise, his grip

lessened. I jerked my arm out of his grasp and ran.