“I’m not leaving her, Jhiton,” Vorik said, his voice as cold as Syla had ever heard it.
“There’s no reason for you to stay.” Jhiton was just as cold, his taut body radiating dangerous energy.
Beside her, Vorik was the same way. A part of her wondered if she should encourage them to fight, but Vorik had once suggested that his brother had taught him everything he knew and might best him. If Syla lost Vorik, she would be all alone and surrounded by enemies without a protector. And, with a hundred people or more camped out front, it wasn’t as if she would be able to slip away while they fought.
“There is,” Vorik said. “You’ll be less ruthless if I’m watching.”
“This task may require a lack ofruth.”
“She deserves ruth,” Vorik said, his voice softening as he gazed into his brother’s eyes. “You’ve already taken her whole family from her.”
Syla didn’t expect the heartless general to do anything but scoff, but Jhiton looked from Vorik to her for a long moment, then stepped back. His eyes, the same emerald as Vorik’s, were much harder to read, but maybe they grew slightly less cold.
“Very well,” Jhiton said. “You may stay.”
Syla didn’t feel like she’d won a victory, not when Vorik wasalsoher captor, but she did believe that if he was present, he wouldn’t let Jhiton be as monstrous. Would it be enough? When the healer rose, her concoction prepared, Syla doubted it.
“It must be drunk?” Jhiton asked the woman.
“That would be the simplest way to get it into her.”
“She won’t voluntarily drink.” Jhiton eyed Syla again, then his brother.
To see if Vorik would stop him if he tried to force it down her throat?
Syla clenched her jaw and lifted her chin. The healer watched Jhiton, a doubtful expression on her face. Syla hoped that the woman, like her, was sworn to help people, not harm them, and would object to someone being hurt by having her jaw pried open so that she had no choice but to gulp that liquid. But… she doubted the woman would disobey any order Jhiton gave. Even if he wasn’t one of the tribal chiefs, everyone in the camp had shown deference to him as he walked past.
“We’ll have to force it down her throat,” Jhiton told Vorik.
“What’s thelesssimple way to get it into her?” Vorik asked, though he sounded wary.
Syla could guess but doubted nomadic people who used shells for cook pots would have syringes with needles.
The healer gazed thoughtfully at her. “Bring her medical kit to me.”
Syla almost groaned. Just because they didn’t have forges and glassworks and couldn’tmakesyringes didn’t mean the healer wouldn’t know how to use one from the Kingdom. And Syla, who’d been so pleased that she’d managed to bring her medical kit along, had inadvertently delivered one into the enemy’s hands.
20
Vorik had made a mistake.He shouldn’t have captured Syla and brought her here. Yes, those had been his orders; bloody daggers, he’d even suggested—no,requested—them, but that had been out of desperation to save her life. He hadn’t thought it through, hadn’t realized what a betrayal it would seem to him. What a betrayal itwas. Escorting her into the depths of the cave had made him feel like a villain. Maybe this would help his people, but at what cost? His heart? His soul?
Wasn’t there another way? One that wouldn’t have the stormers and the gardeners killing each other over those islands for the rest of his life? And beyond? It wasn’t what the gods had wanted when they’d placed humanity on the protected islands. And this… this betrayal of Syla wasn’t whathewanted.
At his side, she stood straight, her usually expressive face masked, her eyes grim behind her spectacles.
Vorik watched bleakly as Jhiton reached for her medical kit. Her hand tightened reflexively around the strap, as if she would fight him for it, but she must have determined that she wouldn’t win that battle because she let go. She did flex her fingers andeye Jhiton as he took the kit to the healer. Thinking about how she’d once used the power of her touch to kill?
Since they’d landed, Vorik had been watching for signs that she would try that. Normally, he would trust that Jhiton could take care of himself against any foe, but he didn’t know how fastSyla could work her magic to kill. He wasn’t even positive that touch was required.
Healer Yavaron delved into the kit and pulled out a long, slender cylinder with a small reservoir and a needle. The thing looked ominous. Vorik hadn’t seen such a device before, but, as Yavaron poured some of her concoction into the reservoir, he got the gist of what it would do, deliver the drug directly into Syla’s bloodstream.
“That’s not sterile,” Syla said. “You can’t just stick it in someone’s vein.”
Inhervein.
“Your magic will keep you from becoming infected,” Yavaron said with certainty.
Syla looked like she would object further but didn’t. Maybe she knew the statement to be true.
