Chapter Eight

When I awoke the next morning, Valek's list of poisons was still clutched

in my hand. I reviewed the poison inventory until the medic discharged me.

Bruised muscles protested every movement as I headed for the door. I

should have been happy to leave the infirmary, but my nerves preoccupied me.

My stomach felt as if it contained a live mouse, trying to chew its way out.

The guards stationed outside the infirmary door startled me. But they

weren't wearing Brazell's colors, and I belatedly remembered that Valek had

assigned them as protection until I reported to his office.

I glanced around to get my bearings, but had no idea which direction led to

my room. I had been living in the castle for eighteen days, but I was still

uncertain of its inner layout. The basic shape of the castle itself eluded me,

having never seen it from the outside.

The prison carriage that had brought me to the castle had been a square box

with airholes. I had refused to peer out like some caged animal. When I reached

the castle, I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to block out the anguish of

being chained, groped and dragged to the dungeon. I guess I could have focused

on potential ways to escape, but I had accepted my punishment when I had killed

Reyad.

As much as I hated to ask the guards for directions to my room, I had no

choice. Wordlessly they guided me through the castle. One walked in front, the

other followed. Only after the lead man inspected my room was I allowed inside.

My uniforms hung undisturbed in the armoire. But instead of being hidden

inside a drawer, my journal lay open on the top of the desk. Someone had read

my impressions of poisons and other information. The queasy feeling in my gut

was replaced by a cold, hard sensation. The mouse had died, reflecting my sour

mood perfectly.

I suspected Valek. He was bold enough to have gone through my personal

papers. He had probably even reasoned that it was his duty to make sure I wasn't

plotting something. After all, I was just the food taster, and not entitled to any

privacy.

Grabbing the journal and uniforms, I left my room and headed for the baths.

The guards waited outside while I soaked in the water. I took my sweet time.

Valek and his test could wait; I wasn't going to carry out his orders like some

idiotic drone.

Chased by Brazell's guards, finding poison in almost all of my meals, and being wagered on like some damn racehorse didn't cause me to be as angry as I

was about Valek reading my journal.

Arriving at Valek's office, I cut off any smart remark he could make by

demanding, "Where's your test?"

Amusement touched Valek's face. He rose from behind his desk. Sweeping

his arm with a dramatic flourish, he indicated two rows of food and drinks on the

conference table. "Only one item isn't poisoned. Find it. Then eat or drink your

selection."

I tasted each item. I sniffed. I gargled. I held my nose. I took small bites. I

spat. Some of the food had grown cold. Most of the meals were bland, making

the poison easy to spot, while the fruit drinks masked the poison.

Finishing the last item, I turned to Valek. "You bastard. They're all

poisoned." What a nasty trick; I should have suspected he would pull a stunt like

that.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I wouldn't touch anything on that table."

Valek's gaze was stony as he walked toward me. "I'm sorry, Yelena.

You've failed."

My heart plunged into my stomach. The dead mouse resuscitated and began

to gnaw holes in my gut. I searched the table. What had I missed?

Nothing. I was right. I challenged Valek to prove me wrong.

Without hesitation he raised a cup. "This one is clean."

"Drink it." I remembered that cup. It was laced with a bitter poison.

Valek's hand wavered a bit. He sipped. I bit my lip. Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe it was the cup next to it. Valek held my gaze as he rolled the liquid

around his tongue. He spat.

I wanted to jump, to cheer, to dance little circles around him. Instead I said,

"Blackberry poison."

"Yes," Valek said. He alternated between examining the cup in his hand

and absentmindedly staring at the rows of cold food.

"I passed?"

He nodded, still distracted. Then he walked to his desk, and he gently

placed the cup down. Shaking his head, he picked some papers up only to put

them back unread.

"I should have known you would try to trick me."

My heated tone drew his eyes. I wished then that I'd remained silent.

"You're all fired up. And it isn't because of the test. Explain yourself."

"Explain? Why doIhave to explain? Maybeyoushould explain why you read

my journal." There, I'd said it.

"Journal?" Valek looked at me in amazement. "I didn't read anything of

yours. But if I had, it would have been within my rights."

"Why?" I demanded.

An incredulous look settled on Valek's face. His mouth opened and closed

several times before he was able to voice his thoughts. "Yelena, you confessed

to murder. You were caught straddling Reyad's body with a bloody knife in your

hand. I searched your file for a motive. There was none. Only a report that you

refused to answer all questions."

Valek stepped closer. He lowered his voice. "Since I don't know what

motivates you to kill, I can't predict if you'll do it again or what might set you

off. I'm bound by the Code of Behavior, so I had to offer you the choice of

becoming the new taster." He drew a deep breath and continued. "You'll be very

close to the Commander on a daily basis. Until I can trust you, I'll be watching

you."

My anger leaked away. Why should I expect Valek to trust me when I

didn't trust him?

My composure returned. "How do I win your trust?"

"Tell me why you killed Reyad."

"You're not ready to believe me."

Valek averted his gaze to the conference table. I covered my mouth with

my hand. Why had I used the wordready?Ready implied that he would believe

me at some point. Pure wishful thinking on my part.

"You're right," he said.

We seemed to be at an impasse.

"I passed your test. I want my antidote."

Roused into action, Valek drew a dose, handing it to me.

"Now what?" I asked.

"Lunch! We're late." He hustled me out the door. I gulped the white liquid

as we moved.

As we neared the throne room, the noise of many voices speaking at once

echoed through the halls. Two of the Commander's advisers were arguing.

Officers and soldiers clumped behind the two advisers. The Commander leaned

against a nearby desk, listening intently.

The group debated the best way to locate and recapture a fugitive. The right

side insisted upon using an oversupply of soldiers and tracking dogs, while the

left claimed that a few clever soldiers would work. Brute force versus

intelligence.

The exchange, while loud, lacked anger. The guards stationed around the

room stood relaxed. Surmising that this type of debate was common, I wondered if the fugitive was a real person or just part of a hypothetical exercise.

Valek moved next to the Commander. I stood behind them. The debate

made me squirm because I couldn't help imagining myself as the poor soul

being hunted.

I pictured myself running through the woods, out of breath, and straining to

hear the sounds of pursuit. Unable to blend into a town because a new face

would alert the soldiers on patrol. Bored soldiers whose only job was to watch,

who were familiar with the town's inhabitants.

Every citizen of the Territory of Ixia had a specific job. After the takeover,

everyone had been appointed an occupation. A citizen was allowed to move to a

different town or Military District, but proper forms were required. A completed

transfer request needed approval from the supervisor, and proof that a position

was being held at the new address. Without the proper documents, a civilian

found in the wrong neighborhood was arrested. Visiting other districts was

acceptable, but again only as long as the proper papers were obtained and shown

to the soldiers on arrival.

While working in isolation with Brazell and Reyad, I had obsessively

thought about escape. Thinking of freedom had been better than dwelling on my

life as a laboratory rat. With no family or friends outside the manor to hide me,

though, the southern lands were my best option, assuming I could penetrate the

well guarded border.

I had created elaborate fantasies of stealing away to Sitia, finding an

adoptive family and falling in love. Corny, sentimental rubbish, but it was my

only elixir. Every day when the experiments began, my mind would focus on

Sitia, finding bright colors, loving gestures and warmth. Holding those images in

my mind, I endured Reyad's tests.

But even if I had been given the opportunity to escape, I don't know if I

would have seized it. Although I remembered nothing of my birth family, I did

have a family living within the manor house. The other lost children who had

been taken in. My sisters. My brothers. My children. I learned with them, I

played with them and I took care of them. How could I abandon them? To think

of May or Carra taking my place was too much to bear.

I bit on my finger until I tasted blood, and dragged my thoughts back to the

present. I had escaped from Brazell. He would leave the castle in two weeks and

return home, probably to the next round of experiments with a different

laboratory rat. My heart went out to her, whoever she was. Brazell was brutal.

She was in for a rough time. But I had saved her from Reyad.

Pulling my hand away from my mouth, I inspected the bite mark. Not too

deep, it wouldn't scar. I traced the network of semicircular scars that covered my fingers and knuckles. When I looked up, I caught Valek staring at my hands. I

laced them behind my back.

The Commander raised his hand. Quiet descended in an instant. "Excellent

points from both sides. We will put your theories to the test. Two teams."

Pointing to the two main debaters, the Commander said, "You'll be the Captains.

Assemble your team and organize a plan of attack. Recruit as needed. Valek will

supply a fugitive from one of his men. You have a fortnight to prepare."

The noise level rose as the Commander headed toward his office with

Valek and I close behind.

Valek shut the office door, muffling the commotion. "Is Marrok's escape to

Sitia still bothering you?" he asked.

The Commander frowned. "Yes. Sloppy work, that pursuit. Marrok must

have known you were in MD–8. You really need to train a couple of protégés."

Valek looked at him in mock horror. "But then I wouldn't be

indispensable."

A quick smile graced the Commander's face, before he spotted me

lingering near the corner. "Well, Valek, you were right about this one. She

survived your test." Then to me, he said, "Come here."

My feet obeyed despite my hysterical heart.

"As my official food taster, you're to report to me with my breakfast. I'll

give you my daily itinerary and expect you to be present at each meal. I will not

accept tardiness. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

He glanced at Valek. "She looks fragile. Are you sure she's strong

enough?"

"Yes, Sir."

The Commander appeared unconvinced. His golden eyes tracked from me

to Valek as he contemplated. I hoped with desperation that he wasn't looking for

an excuse to fire me.

"All right. Since I missed lunch, Valek, you will join me for an early

dinner. Yelena, you start as my food taster tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Sir," Valek and I said in unison. We were dismissed.

We returned to Valek's office to gather my extra uniforms and journal.

Valek escorted me to his living quarters, located in the central part of the castle.

As we traveled the main hallways, I noticed that the bright areas of stone on the

wall outnumbered the darker zones. A vast array of paintings must have been

taken down. We also passed several large, colorless rooms that had been

redesigned as either offices or barracks.

It occurred to me that the Commander's functional style and stark standards had robbed the castle of its soul. All that remained was a dead stone building

reassigned to purely utilitarian purposes.

I was too young to remember what life was like before the takeover, but I

had been taught in Brazell's orphanage that the monarchy had been corrupt and

its citizens unhappy. The takeover had been just that; to call it a war would be

inaccurate. Most of the King's soldiers had switched loyalty to the Commander.

They had been disgusted with promotions based on bribery and blood ties

instead of hard work and skill. Orders to kill people for minor infractions

because a member of the elite was angry caused sour feelings among the men.

Women had been recruited to the Commander's cause, and they made

excellent spies. Valek assassinated the key supporters of the King. When the

King tried to raise an army to fight the Commander's army, he had no defenders.

The Commander captured the castle without a fight, and little blood was shed.

Most of the nobility had been killed, but a few had escaped to Sitia.

Valek and I arrived at a pair of massive wooden doors, guarded by two

soldiers. Valek spoke with the guards, instructing them that I was to be allowed

access as needed. We entered a short hallway with two doors on opposite sides.

Valek unlocked the door on the right and explained to me that the other led to

the Commander's apartment.

Valek's living quarters turned out to be an expansive suite of rooms.

Coming in from the gloomy hallway, I was struck by the brightness of the main,

L-shaped living area. Windows as thin as a tiger's stripes allowed sunlight to

pour in.

Piles of books occupied every corner and tabletop. Hand-size gray rocks,

streaked with white, and multicolored crystals were scattered throughout.

Small black statues of animals and flowers glinted with silver. The statues

dotted the room. Delicate and intricately detailed, they were similar to the

panthers on Valek's office desk, and were the room's only decoration.

A considerable collection of weapons hung on the walls. Some of the

weapons were old, dust-covered antiques that hadn't been used in years, while

others shined. One long, thin knife still had fresh blood on the blade. The

crimson liquid gleamed in the sunlight, causing a chill to snake through my

body. I wondered who had been on the wrong end of that blade.

To the left of the entrance was a stairway, and three doors lined the right

wall of the living area.

Valek pointed to the first door on the right. "That room is yours until

Brazell leaves the castle. I suggest you get some rest." He picked up three books

from an end table. "I'll be back later. Don't go out. I'll bring you dinner." Valek

left, but then came back before the door shut. "Lock the door behind me. You should be safe here."

Safe,I thought, turning the bolt, was the last thing I could ever feel here.

Anyone who knew how to pick a lock could sneak in, grab a weapon and have at

me. I examined the swords on the wall, and sighed with some relief. The

weapons were anchored securely. I tugged hard on a mace, just to be sure.

The clutter surrounding my door was thicker than around the other two, and

I discovered why when I entered. Clean, box-shaped areas were outlined by the

thick dust that still coated the floor, bed, bureau and desk. The room had been

used for storage. Instead of cleaning it, Margg must have just moved the boxes

out and considered her job done.

Margg's minimal work was a not so subtle hint of her vast dislike for me.

Perhaps it would be best to avoid her for a while.

Inside the room, the bedding was filthy. A musty smell permeated. I

sneezed. There was a small window, and after wrestling with the shutters, I

managed to open it.

The furniture was made of expensive ebony. Intricate carvings of leaves

and vines curled down chair legs and across drawers. When I wiped the dust off

the headboard, I uncovered a delicate garden scene with butterflies and flowers.

After I stripped the bed of its dirty sheets and stretched out on the mattress,

my impression of Margg as a harmless grump-with-a-grudge evaporated. At that

moment I saw that a message had been written in the dust on the desk.

It read, "Murderer. The noose waits."