Gail Martin - The blood king

He heard a rap at the outer door to the sitting room, and the rustle of someone moving to answer. "You can't go in there," Carina protested. "He's not ready."

From the sound of the approaching footsteps, their visitor was undeterred. Tris forced himself to open his eyes and turn his throbbing head. Theron was approaching in the dim light. She wore her council robes, and her expression was of sincere concern.

"How long did it take for him to come around?" Theron asked Carina, who was clearly unhappy with the intrusion.

"Three candlemarks," Carina clipped. "Most of the time, I was busy keeping him from choking on his own vomit. Just how much of this 'training' do you think he can take?"

Theron looked closely at Tris. "Just three candle-marks?" she asked. "And he's only been hit with wormroot once before?"

Tris thought Carina might explode with the anger that seethed in her voice. "Three candlemarks is an eternity," she said between gritted teeth. "And compared to how much wormroot you managed to get into his system, what he had before was hardly anything."

Theron nodded. "Exactly. He's adapting. Learning to work around it. The last time-how did he react?"

"We'd just been attacked by soldiers. He barely stayed on his horse, and he collapsed when we got to the cell."

"Um hum." Theron moved to take Tris's pulse and look into his eyes.

"I'm awake and alive," Tris managed through parched lips. "You can speak like I'm here."

"You kept fighting, after three doses of poison," Theron remarked. "Your Eastmark kick needs some work, but given your condition, it wasn't bad. Not bad at all. We've got to work on your control. You didn't effectively counter the pain spell."

"I know."

"And your magic got wobbly after you lost Mageslayer."

"Wobbly?" Tris echoed hoarsely. "It was out of reach."

"Not immediately. For an untrained mage, you hung on to it-at least a little bit-for quite a while." Theron managed a smile. "I'm glad you weren't at full strength when you sent that blast my way, or we might have needed a new trainer."

"I can teach you to counter that pain spell-and some other nasties that you might encounter." She chuckled mirthlessly. "You may not choose to use them on someone else, but it can be damn handy-knowing how to deflect them. And we've got to build up your tolerance for wormroot." "Build up a tolerance!" Carina exclaimed angrily. "We know Arontala uses it on other mages. As a vayash moru, it has no effect on Arontala himself. It's likely he and Jared will take some kind of precautions, and wormroot could be part of them." She gave Tris a crooked grin. "It's going to get worse before it gets better."

Tris swallowed hard and nodded. "I thought you might say that," he said, surprised at how spent his own voice sounded.

Theron spared a glance at his bandages. "Looks like Carina's got you patched up."

"Even with deep healing, he's not going to be good as new overnight," Carina replied tersely.

Theron met her eyes. "Whatever he's got will have to do," she said matter-of-factly. "We don't have time to wait." She looked down at Tris. "See you at the salle tomorrow morning. We'll work on that kick." Without another word, Theron turned away. Carina followed her to the door and might have said something more to Tris, but as the healer closed the door behind Theron, Tris felt the world waver around him. He closed his eyes as consciousness once again slipped out of his grasp.

"You HELD YOUR own today." Sister Theron offered Tris a hand up from where he lay on his back in the salle floor. He smiled ruefully and accepted her offer.

"If you mean that I managed to stay on my feet longer and I didn't lose my breakfast right away, then thank you." He steadied himself, fresh from a dosing of wormroot and a bad gash on his shoulder. Warm blood trickled down his arm underneath his sleeve, and the leather cuirass he wore seemed to weigh him down as he fought the poison in his system. His right leg throbbed from a bad wrenching after Theron pushed him to practice his Eastmark kick. In all, Tris could not recall ever feeling worse.

Theron seemed to guess his thoughts. "Your kick is getting cleaner," she said. "For a prince, you've picked up some interesting street fighting techniques."

Tris managed a chuckle. "Thank Vahanian." He tried to take a step and staggered. Theron caught him, getting under his left arm for support and draping it across her shoulders as he limped toward the door.

"I know you won't believe me, but you're learning to handle the wormroot," she said. Nothing about Theron was coddling. Tris knew that any praise he wrested from the skilled fighter was hard won.

"It's hard to remember that when I'm puking my guts out." Tris was leaning far more heavily on Theron than he wanted to admit.

"I don't think you understand," she said as they made their way toward the salle door. "A mage of middling power would be unconscious from the dosing you've had. Many strong mages take longer to recover their power after they've been poisoned. In between dosings, your power came back at full strength. And you've hung on to more control for longer each time."

"I still feel like shit," Tris muttered as they began the painful climb to the top of the spiral stairs.

When they reached the upper floors, a brown-robed sister ran past them, sobbing. A knot of robed mages huddled in conversation along one wall, and a small crowd had gathered around the doorway to one of the bedrooms. Tris and Theron exchanged worried glances.

"Go ahead," he said, leaning against the wall as she removed his support. "I'll get there. Looks like something big is going on."

Theron nodded and made her way through the crowd. Tris limped behind her through the cluster of Sisters, some of whom were weeping. At the doorway he saw that Carina and Taru were both already in the room, which was a bedchamber. With a shock he recognized Elam slumped at a table near the fire.

Carina ran to him. He waved off her assistance, finding that he could stand if he leaned against the wall. "What happened?" he asked, trying to take in the scene through a throbbing reaction headache.

"Elam's dead." There was a catch in Carina's voice. "Her heart-" She shook her head. "She was almost seventy years old." Carina moved past him to close the door, bolting the door to assure their privacy.

Landis was already in the room. Alaine was cleaning up Elam's spilled tea. Landis and Taru were deep in conversation. From their expressions, Tris could see that the two Sisters were not in complete agreement.

Something familiar tugged at the frayed edges of his power and Tris closed his eyes, struggling to control his magic through the fatigue and the poison. Carina laid a hand on his arm, but he shook his head, focusing all his will on the spirit that was trying to reach him through his fogged mage sense.

He opened his eyes. "It's Elam," he said, and the others in the room turned to look at him. "She's quite insistent-but the wormroot is making this difficult…" He closed his eyes again, willing his power past the poison in his veins. What should have been a simple working took all of his concentration, but he brought the spirit closer, and then, with effort, made the revenant visible to the others.

Carina gasped. Elam's ghost stood before them.

"I was murdered," the spirit said in a voice audible to all. "We have a traitor within the Sisterhood."

Taru stepped forward. "Elam-who did this?"

"I don't know. Something I picked up had a triggering spell. It stopped my heart. Every mage in this citadel has the power for such a spell. And many had the access to place the trigger." Elam looked at Tris. "Someone does not wish you to succeed in your training."

The image of the spirit wavered as Tris felt the wormroot unravel his control. Theron pushed a chair under him as he began to fall. Tris's power slipped beyond his grasp, and the visible image of Elam's ghost disappeared. In his mage sight, Tris could see Elam standing at a distance, her expression serious.