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Stevane
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I'm still lying down on my little bunk in the back partition of Thelea and the Kommissar's carriage. The collar around my neck is itchy and tight, and it's stifling my thoughts just as Gerald described in Lyric's tale. Speaking of Lyric, my brother is still asleep in the top bunk... well, more like unconscious. All I know is there's a lump in the mattress above me. I don't know if he's tied up or what. The carriage has been rocketing along, as far as I can tell. I don't know how far it's traveled. I don't know what's to become of us, but there must be some way out of here.
I've got to warn someone. I've got to do something. Maybe somebody can find Katherine's body. Daddy will need it. Maybe it just rolled somewhere, or something. They can bring her back, if it hasn't been too long! Yes, that must be why Jhe 'hLete sent us out to help! He must have foreseen that even if we couldn't save Katherine, I'd tip someone off and help them find a body. That's more than worth getting kidnapped over! I push my mind against the collar, trying to pry it off, to wish the locks loose or rusty or--
It's like being hit in the head with a very light, blunt object. I'm dizzy for a moment, but not hurt. The collar gave me a gentle reprimand. Okay, that's fine. I'll keep working at it. I mean, Gerald couldn't get his off without his Arms, but he's Gerald. I've had lots more Poet training than him.
After three consecutive attempts, the collar gives me a small knot on the back of my skull for my troubles, and starts to choke me. Okay. I give up, for now.
Man, it's a shame it blocks Poetry. I don't have my practice Arms on me, otherwise I'd try to cut it off or something. Maybe pick the lock. They left me untied, other than the collar, but there's nothing back here that I can see to aid me. If I get out of the little bunk, they'll hear me moving around back here, too. Well, what else do I have besides Poetry, then? Do I have some other, non-Poetry skill that the collar won't block and will at least get me out of this carriage?
I have what is possibly the most brilliant idea I will ever have in any of my lives.
I light the carriage on fire with my mind.
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The next thing I remember is being grabbed by the neck. I don't even react - for a moment I think it's the collar just squeezing me for the little rebellion I managed to stir up. I'm a little dazed, so I'm trying to figure out why I'm being lifted into the air. Scraps of burning wood are all around me.
Huh. I think I managed to explode the thing. Makes sense. Lots of air in a little sealed-up compartment. They really should have put more vents in the thing.
My thoughts are cut short by the intense glare of the blue eyes looking into mine. Now, I'm a little fuzzy in the head right now, and I'm pretty sure that with this guy's grip around my neck, I can't breathe. Possibly, my wooziness is due to an increasingly dire lack of oxygen. Still, even with all that factored in, I swear it's not a hallucination when I see a smile light up on the Kommissar's face. "Cute," he says in a whisper only intended for me, "and it almost worked. In an aesthetic sense, I appreciate that." Then he squeezes a little harder, and black spots start to peek around my vision.
"Have you killed her?!" Thelea's voice screeches from behind me. I'd turn and look at her, but you know. Neck-grip. Urk. She sounds pretty pissed. Almost as pissed as Katherine was when I accidentally vaporized her perfume and makeup stashes. I swear it was just an early chemistry experiment. I was just trying to make her a present. She never really did appreciate my motivation. Hah, some Advocate! (...Hope they found the body. Hope there was one.)
You know, I think Thelea is going to appreciate my motivation even less. Xen is clenching his jaw, trying to keep a straight face and still trying to hold back chuckles. Oh ew, this is like flashbacks to my childhood. Why can't I just get out of here?
Everything goes black for a second, and I slump to the grass. Why am I so dizzy? Oh yeah, air. I bring my hands to my throat and gasp for awhile as stars shower over my vision. Xen's no longer holding my neck, which is good, but someone else is standing over me. Even through the blocking effect of the collar, I can feel boiling fury, so it must be Thelea. Which is bad.
Man, this was a pretty sucky escape attempt, and the first time I've exploded something and it wasn't on purpose. Did I do something wrong? Usually the fire stuff works out exactly as planned. I remember the collar around my neck. Oh, yeah. Without Poetry, I probably have less control over the results of my actions. Plus, Thelea's subverted Poets probably countered a bit of what I was trying to do. Speaking of Thelea, what is she--OOF.
Thelea gives me another kick in the side with her pointy black granny shoes. I curl up and try to huddle away from it, but I'm too dizzy to do much about her assault. "Destroyed the carriage! Scared off my horses! Brained my fucking carriage driver! He was expensive!" Kick-kick-kick. Then the kicking stops. I check to see if I'm dead.
No, the kicking stopped because Xen's standing in front of Thelea now. "The destrier horses are still here. They were obedient. We should get going. We're technically on Radian soil still." His voice is very calm and matter-of-fact. I have the feeling he deals with Thelea very often, which makes me feel sorry for him, but I still don't like him. He may be sticking up for me, but he squeezed my neck pretty damn hard.
Just telling you what lines shouldn't be crossed. Play along.
I blink. That's kind of odd. It sounds like Herald's voice, but Herald's my knife I left with Jhe h'Lete. Then again, sometimes I hear voices in my head, and Iaen taught me that's a normal thing with Armed, and he said to listen to them as long as they didn't tell me to go kill myself. I guess that's pretty reasonable advice for crazy people. Armed might as well be crazy people, and as a Poet I already qualify as crazy people. So I will take Iaen's crazy people advice and listen to the voice in my head. Besides all that, it sounds like a pretty reasonable crazy people voice, and I guess I could use one of those right now.
Thelea is quiet for a moment. Less kicking, more thinking. That's great. "How are we going to take both of them?"
"They're large horses. They can each fit an extra occupant. Grab the King's consort and take him on yours." He pauses. "...And see if she didn't destroy the wine."
"And if she did?"
"Then I'll hurt her." I get pulled up then, but at least it's not by the neck. My vision's coming in flashes, so as I'm being half-carried, half-led, I see: grass, footprints, burning carriage shrapnel, broken carriage horse rein, bit of wooden thingy, rear end of a horse. The rear attaches to the rest of a horse, a very big horse, which is standing and living and breathing and doing the horsey things that horsies often do.
"Two of the wine bottles are whole." There's a clinking of glass. "Three broken. The rest of the champagne's still intact." She sounds mollified on that score. That's sort of a relief, until my hair gets yanked almost out of its roots.
Xen holds my head close, his lips brushing against my ear. I can smell his breath, and I couldn't say it stinks, but it's like the breath of an animal who is about to eat me. Maybe a wolf, but I don't really go around smelling wolves' mouths, so you can just make the assumption if you like. I think that's pretty poetic, myself. "Don't step out of line again, Poet. She doesn't need you that much, and it won't be nearly as funny to me next time. Now get up on the horse."
There's a tense moment of silence. I try to tell him something, then I realize that if I open my mouth, I'm gonna puke on him. That's close to the message that I'm trying to impart, but something tells me the means of delivery won't be appreciated.
"...Don't tell me you're Jhe h'Akribastes's daughter and you can't ride a horse, little girl?" It's a growl, but it almost seems amused. I can't tell if he finds it funny or not. I'm not sure if I hope I do. I don't know if I'm supposed to make this man laugh or not, which is awkward for me, because I got through most of my life up until now that way.
What else got me through life? Well, I am Jhe h'Akribastes's daughter. The only other way out besides sneakiness and laughter has been honesty. I just shake my head.
He snorts. "You'll be fun." He boosts me up on the horse, which involves a lot more touching my ass than I ever wanted to happen between us. I just sort of lurch forward and grab the oh-shit handle. The pommel. Yeah, that thing. He's gone for a bit, at least as far as my tunnel-vision can tell. I wonder what makes this horsie giddy-up. That's probably not a very good idea. The last time Daddy tried to teach me to ride a horse, Camden ended up feeling very sorry for the horse, and Mikhal wouldn't stop telling glue jokes. It really was very sad.
You've done very well. Now sit still for once and wait, little scrub of a Poet. Stupid crazy voice, thinks it's so smart. I listen to it nevertheless.
"Pack it into the saddle-bag. Three bottles in each. That should balance well." Xen's voice is gruff. I try to turn and look at what he's doing without making myself throw up. They have another war horse. They're probably good horsies, but I'm not really a horse person. Probably why Katherine and I never clicked. The horse thing and the whole makeup on fire thing. Anyway, Lyric's lying on the ground a few paces away from the horse. He is tied up, by the wrists. Good. If he's not wearing a collar, they don't know he's a Poet. He looks relatively alive, which is a lot better than I feel. I think he's unconscious, but then I see him blink and look up at me in confusion.
I shake my head, trying to gesture behind him without getting Xen's attention. Lyric's eyes widen as he begins to comprehend his surroundings. He sits up and looks over his shoulder at Xen and Thelea.
Then, to my utter horror, he stands up and walks to them.
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