110Chapter Seven
"If you were an assassin," Flin said briskly, "when would you want to kill the Queen of Narayar?"
It was quite a random question, as far as Liss could see, and she wasn't quite in the mood to think about it. For one thing, it was midnight. Ideally, she would be asleep and dreaming. Traipsing across the city of Rannap all day had been mostly uneventful. Aside from Liss's discovery that the troublemakers were probably foreign, their search for information had yielded nothing else. Flin seemed perfectly ready to continue at this pace for another few hours, she noted sourly.
"Liss? Are you listening?"
"I'm not an assassin," Liss said crossly.
"Obviously. You are much too – transparent to be an assassin. You're too transparent to be a spy, too, but that kind of works for itself. I mean, no one expects you to be a spy –"
"Shut up," Liss groaned, stifling a yawn. "You are always so long-winded at night."
"And you are extraordinarily irritable, aren't you?"
She didn't bother to reply.
"If you were an assassin," Flin began in tones of forced patience, and she cut him off.
"I heard you the first time. I would murder her when nobody would see me."
"That would be intelligent of you," Flin said dryly. "If I were an assassin –"
"Are you?" Liss interrupted with faint curiosity. Her eyes were dry and itchy. Her stomach was growling, too. She thought longingly of a cup of steaming hot kaffee.
"No. You see, Danik can be counted on to protect Selera in daily business. I don't think there's much risk in wandering around the palace any more. If I were an assassin, I think the best time would be Harvest. Autumn's Eve is always so busy, and she makes her ritual appearances in front of the entire city –"
"But then surely the assassin would be seen. I just said I would want to do it when nobody would see me."
"And that just shows that you are not an assassin, my dear Liss. When you're in a crowd, you're just a face. There's too much confusion for anyone to notice you. It's the ideal situation for a murder, especially of a public figure."
"Autumn's Eve is in two weeks and – five days," Liss supplied after a moment's calculation.
"I would be willing to bet that we have exactly that long to find the brain behind the assassination plot," Flin said thoughtfully.
"That doesn't put the pressure on at all, does it?" Liss said sarcastically. "Nineteen days to uncover a criminal mastermind."
"Well, there's no use sleeping on the job," Flin said tartly.
Liss opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort when she heard a soft zinging noise, like the twang of rubber –
And Flin slumped over.
Stupefied for a split second, she gaped at her companion. The dim light of a far-off street lantern cast a shadow on his face – was he dead? He couldn't be dead – no, he wasn't dead, his face was screwed up in pain. An arrow was sprouting out of his right shoulder – he groaned and staggered against the wall of a darkened building –
Liss's brain switched on with a rush of energy. With a thrill of anger, she whirled around. A darkened figure was sprinting away, and she tasted bile in her mouth as she began the chase. She sprinted as fast as she could, but the attacker had too much of a head start. They both ran until they reached the busy main street, and then Liss lost him. He faded into the dusky lantern light and the rowdy horde, and her eyes – unused to the light – could not make out any one individual. She stopped, breathing hard, torn between desire to pursue the man and anxiety for Flin.
There were too many people in the streets. There was no way she would recognize the attacker – she had only caught a glimpse of his back. Her first instinct was that it had been a man, but even that she could not be sure of..
No, her priority now was Flin.
She ran back, wide awake now, wind rustling through her hair. The braids had come loosened; one of her ribbons had fallen, and now half of her locks were fluttering wildly behind her. A passing beggar looked at her with alarm. She probably looked like a lunatic. Her feet pounded on the flagstones, her boots slipping off a little in her speed. Boots were most impractical for sprinting in, Liss reflected. Somehow, strangely, the street seemed to glitter, with the edges of the buildings becoming suddenly razor-sharp, like they did in dreams. Maybe a minute – two minutes – had passed – it was so sudden.
Flin was sitting now against the wall, his knees drawn to his chest, sweat gleaming on his forehead. He was panting slightly; the arrow was on the floor.
"Did you get him?" Flin asked, his voice strained. Liss knelt softly by his side and touched the rip in his shirt. His right sleeve was soaked with warm blood.
"No," Liss said quietly, taking her fingers away. "He had too much of a head start, and I didn't even see his face, so I couldn't follow him into the street."
Flin shook his head. For a moment, Liss mentally cringed from the implied rebuke, but then Flin said, "There was no way you could have caught him. He was running almost before he shot the arrow, I bet."
"Are you all right? Does it hurt a lot?"
"Yes," Flin said, gritting his teeth. "Help me up. That's a poison-tipped arrow, Liss. Arrows don't normally burn."
She pressed her lips together grimly, too occupied with placing her own arm under his left to say anything. It took some heavy exertion on Liss's part and a lot of swearing on Flin's to get him on his feet, and he was clutching his shoulder by the end.
"Pick up the arrow," he ordered tersely. She gingerly placed it in her pocket. "We need to get back to the palace. I think – I want to know what this poison is."
The words remained unspoken, but Liss felt hot and cold all at once. If it is fatal….
"Don't you worry, Master Cardif," Liss said, standing so that he could lean heavily on her. "You aren't the dying sort."
The breeze ruffled his own sandy curls, and his face contorted into what might be called, in better circumstances, a grin.
The door was the same as it had been last year. Of course it is, idiot, Liss told herself sternly. What was it about being at close proximity with Lord Nicar that made her quake? It was just a door, an ornate carved affair with gold-leaf paint curving across it in leafy patterns. But behind the door was the most intimidating man she had ever met. She had to gather her thoughts for a brief second – not too long, for Flin was downstairs in pain – before knocking.
Since it was so late, there was no answer, and she had to knock again, louder, resisting the impulse to yell, "Hurry up." After an impatient moment, she finally heard footsteps, and heopened the door. Squinting in the meager light, Nicar blinked a few times, looking strangely vulnerable in his half-asleep state. He was wearing only a thin nightshirt and loose trousers; stubble was covering his chin, and his hair was surprisingly messy. So even Lords tossed and turned at night.
"Is that – Lissandra?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"Yes. Flin is hurt."
"What?" He looked sharply at Liss, alert at once.
"Flin was shot with an arrow, a poison arrow," Liss said, trying to speak clearly, affected by his penetrating look as always. "He told me to get you."
"Damn it," Nicar breathed, and held up a finger. "One second." He disappeared into the darkness of his bedroom and came out a second later, shrugging a black robe on. "What the hell were you two doing, to get him shot?" his Lordship demanded, somewhat incoherently. "Do you know where the physician sleeps?"
"No, I don't. And all we were doing was walking," Liss said. "That's all."
Nicar rubbed his eyes and then tied his robe in the middle so it would stop flapping. "What time is it?"
"Almost one, I think."
He muttered something to himself and then asked, "Where is Flin?"
"Downstairs – he was in too much pain to walk. In the kitchens." She had to quicken her pace to keep up with his Lordship.
"Right. Kenalbie is on this floor, past the servants' quarters, eighth door. Don't make too much noise. I don't want the entire palace raised at this hour. I will be with Flin. And – don't answer too many questions from the doctor, either. Just tell him Cardif is hurt, and leave it at that."
Liss parted from Nicar at the next corridor and repeated his directions to herself over and over again until she reached the doctor's room.
She knocked smartly on the door. Again, there was a pause, and she raised her hand to knock again when the door swung open. Dropping her fist hastily, Liss said in a low urgent voice, "Doctor Kenalbie?"
The man peered at her for a moment, nonplussed. Liss had never seen him before, though she had of course heard of him. He was middle-aged, but there was no sagging about the middle for this man; he was very trim and fit. His face was pointed and clever and he had a full gray beard and quick dark eyes that looked over his square spectacles rather than through them. "Yes?"
"Flin Cardif is hurt. He is downstairs in the kitchens. Lord Nicar asked me to fetch you."
"Cardif? What's he been doing now?" the doctor asked keenly, coming out immediately. He was already in a neat gray robe.
"Arrow," she said briefly.
"Of course it's something like that," Kenalbie murmured. "I never knew such a boy for getting into mischief."
"You knew him as a boy?" Liss said interestedly, diverted for the moment. They turned into the main stair hall and hastened downstairs, her boots clipping briskly on the marble, the sound echoing eerily into the darkness. Kenalbie's own shoes were soft mocassins, and he padded quietly beside her.
"He was very lively back then," the man said thoughtfully. "I was only an assistant, back then – unmarried – and he provided much of my education on broken limbs and stitching."
Liss smiled to herself at the thought. In sight was the faint burning lantern light from the kitchen. She hastened her steps.
Flin was sitting where she had left him, in a chair at a table, and now that there was more light, she could see clearly that he was in a great deal of pain. His lower lip was bleeding from his teeth clamping down on it, and his pupils were dilated. Nicar had been talking, but he fell silent and stood up when they entered. "It's poison, Ken," Lord Nicar said grimly.
Doctor Kenalbie asked no questions but went straight to Flin. Liss felt nauseous as the man leaned forward and smelled the blood – and then took an experienced finger to taste a bit. "It's a toxin – a fairly common one," he said expertly. "It's found in the lowlands of Narayar, from poison frogs."
Flin winced. "A frog did this to me?"
"Oh, no, sir," Kenalbie disagreed gravely. "A human, for sure. It was an arrow?"
"Yes. Liss, show them."
Liss immediately drew the little piece of wood from her pocket. It was about a foot in length, round and brittle, and the actual arrowhead was dark obsidian. Nicar took it from her and examined it, then handed it to Kenalbie.
"These are only shot from close proximity," Nicar pronounced. "You didn't see anyone?"
"We did, but he was running before it even registered that Flin was shot," Liss explained. "I ran, but it was impossible."
"Doctor, if you don't mind, I would like to know if this poison is deadly," Flin said firmly.
"Certain forms are deadly, but I don't believe this one – well, it could be, if there was enough quantity."
"Doctor!" Flin exclaimed, his voice anguished.
"I don't think it is deadly, but I cannot be sure," Kenalbie qualified hurriedly. "I believe – how long has it been since you were shot?"
"Thirty minutes at the least," Liss put in anxiously.
"I will bleed you, then," he decided. "For a few days."
Lissandra shuddered at the thought of bleeding. She had been bled only twice, and the experience was far from pleasant.
Nicar was pacing. "Then I'll leave you to fix him, Doctor Ken, but what I am more concerned about is who shot you."
"Every con in town knows we're searching this thing by now," Flin put in.
"Well, that narrows it down," Nicar said, resigned. He stopped and folded his arms together. "Flin – Selera's no longer the only one in danger."
Lissandra felt a cold chill creep up her spine. She felt, somehow, that it was unrelated to the weather.
thanks to chemy, phoenix-ofthe-goldenrose, and punchadara!
i really appreciate all your guys's input. it makes a difference, truly it does. thanks for sticking with this series! it means a lot..
Punch: Most of the story is unplanned except for what I told you. haha. I'm glad you know, too...
have a nice day..