Shelly Thomas - The Burning Sky

He stared at the furious reddening of his sleeve. He had not thought this through. What would happen to the blood he shed when he used the Crucible as a portal?

Mathi, a plump, middle-aged woman, came forward and pulled Titus to his feet. His hand clamped over the gash in his arm, he followed her to a small room with bitter-smelling poultices cooking over a slow fire. A cot lay in the corner. Unevenly sized jars of herbs lined the shelves.

The moment Mathi turned her back, Titus rendered her unconscious. He caught her with his good arm and laid her down on the cot. Mathi was probably the best healer for miles around, but he still did not want her primitive medicine.

Teeth clenched, he cleaned his wound. Then he took out the remedies and emergency aids he had brought with him, and poured two different vials on his wound and a packet of granules down his throat.

His wound began to close. He threw a battery of spells at his tunic to clean and deodorize it. It would not do to arrive at the Citadel looking and smelling like a massacre.

When he was more presentable, he set a keep-away spell on the dispensary’s door and set out for Helgira’s prayer alcove.

He asked his way toward Helgira’s quarters, using her promise to give him a woman as an excuse. Good-natured winks accompanied his progress for much of the way. Helgira’s handmaidens, however, refused to let him into her personal chambers. So he pulled out his wand and fought his way in.

The prayer alcove was located in Helgira’s bedchamber. He had just crossed the threshold when Helgira crashed in on his heels. There were two alcoves in the bedchamber, both curtained. He had no time to find out which was the prayer alcove, but leaped across her bed to the one that had the more elaborate curtain, muttering the password as he hurtled toward it.

If he chose wrong, he would smash into a three-foot-thick wall and die at the hands of a woman who had Fairfax’s face.

He did not smash into a three-foot-thick wall.

The other end of the portal was, of course, the prayer alcove in Helgira’s bedchamber—in the Citadel’s copy of the Crucible. Had Titus not been running for his life, he would have remembered to be slower and more cautious.

As it was, he flew out of this prayer alcove into the midst of this Helgira’s bedchamber.

This Helgira lifted her wand.

“Watch your feet!” Iolanthe shouted as Wintervale and Kashkari reached the door.

They caught themselves on the door frame and held on as they were bumped from behind by the arrival of Sutherland, Cooper, and Rogers.

But most of the boys had their slippers on and Cooper, who’d come barefoot, had Rogers toss him a pair of the prince’s shoes and trooped in after the others.

Exclamations of disgust and outrage filled the room.

“My God, there is blood,” cried Rogers.

“They’ve injured him,” Iolanthe said. “And I thought it was bad enough they almost brained me.”

More exclamations of disgust and outrage burst forth. “Bastards!” “We are not going to let anybody get away with something like this!” “Did you see who did it?”

“Trumper and Hogg, of course—the prince went after them already,” she said. “They tried to harass me earlier today, but I gave them a sound thrashing.”

“Hear, hear,” said Cooper.

“I’m not going to stand by and do nothing,” said Kashkari, rolling up his sleeves.

As he did so, the tattoo on the inside of his right arm became fully visible. It was not the letter M , but the symbol ♏, for Scorpio, his birth sign in both western and Vedic astrology.

You will best help him by seeking aid from the faithful and bold. And from the scorpion.

Kashkari opened what was left of the prince’s window and hoisted himself onto the windowsill. His action broke the floodgate. Iolanthe had to fight for her turn to go down the drainpipe. Seven more boys followed, two of them climbing out of their own windows; several didn’t even use the drainpipe, but leaped down to the ground, their long nightshirts billowing like sails—before Mrs. Hancock caught someone still on the windowsill.

“Which way did they go?” asked Cooper.

“That way,” said Iolanthe, pointing at a direction opposite the coppice where she had stowed Trumper and Hogg. “Let’s catch them before they get back to their own house.”

Ignoring Mrs. Hancock’s yells for them to come back, she and the boys broke into a run.

When they were some distance from the house, she stopped everyone and divided all the boys into pairs, ostensibly so that they’d have both a greater chance finding Trumper and Hogg and a lesser chance being discovered by the night watchmen.

Kashkari she paired with herself. When she’d sent the other boys into various directions with instructions to wait behind Trumper and Hogg’s house if they could not be located elsewhere, she tapped Kashkari on the shoulder and headed back toward Mrs. Dawlish’s.

“I thought you said they went in the opposite direction,” said Kashkari.

She prayed hard that the Oracle would once again prove herself right. “Long story. Remember when you said if I ever needed help?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“I need your complete discretion. What you do tonight, you will never repeat to another soul. Do I have your word?”

Kashkari hesitated. “Will I harm anyone?”

“No. And you have my word on it.”

“All right,” said Kashkari. “I trust you.”

And I am putting our lives in your hands. “Listen closely. This is what I need you to do.”

Before this Helgira could pulverize him, Titus sank to one knee. “M’lady, I bear a message from my lord Rumis.”

He had studied Helgira’s story closely before he first set out to battle her. Following his ignominious death at her hand, he had tried to forget all about her. Now, however, certain important details dropped back into his head.

Such as that for years, Helgira had carried on a secret, platonic love affair with the great mage Rumis.

Helgira’s expression softened into amusement. “My lord Rumis has quite the sense of humor then, sending his manservant into my bedchamber unannounced.”

“He has an urgent request and no time to lose.”

“Speak.”

“He asks that m’lady outfit me with a steed and send me on my way.”

Since he had entered this copy of the Crucible via a portal, the same rules applied. He must physically travel to the exit. A wyvern would ensure speed.

Helgira sighed. “Tell your master that although his request makes little sense, I trust him too much to delay you with questions.”

“Thank you, m’lady.”

“You may rise. I will have a wyvern waiting for you.” Removing a cuff from her wrist, she placed it around his. “And this token from me will grant you safe passage through my lands.”

Titus came to his feet. “Thank you, m’lady. I take my leave of you.”

As he reached the door, she asked, “Is your master well?”

He turned around and bowed. “Very well, m’lady.”

“And his wife, healthy as ever, I suppose?”

Rumis’s wife was said to have outlived both Helgira and Rumis. “Yes, m’lady.”

She looked away. “Go then. May Fortune be at your back.”

Her expression so reminded him of Fairfax’s that he couldn’t help stare one more moment. “My master sends his most fervent regards, m’lady.”

The wyvern was swift—too swift.

In a few minutes Titus would arrive at his destination. And perhaps in a few more minutes, he would use the execution curse on the Inquisitor.

A ruling prince was required to master the execution curse. If he sentenced any subject to death, he was to perform the deed himself, so that he must look the condemned mage in the face as he took the latter’s life.