The Skull Throne
Page 136

Amanvah stared at her a long time. Then she turned her eyes to Leesha. “Is this true?”
Leesha glanced at Araine, then back to Amanvah. She shrugged. “I am no expert in Angierian law, but it is certainly possible.”
“I can produce the necessary documents to prove it,” Araine said.
Amanvah shook her head, getting to her feet. “That will not be necessary. I will cast on this.”
“Do it here, if you wish,” Araine said, though it sounded more a command than a request. “I would see this dice magic at work.”
Amanvah considered a moment, then nodded. She looked to Leesha, who set down her tea and went to pull the heavy curtains as Amanvah knelt on the hardwood floor between lush carpets, spreading out her pristine white casting cloth.
Leesha was forced to drag carpets to plug the light seeping in under the doors, but soon the only light came from the glow of the alagai hora in Amanvah’s hands. Leesha and the Duchess Mum paid rapt attention, but Amanvah muttered her prayers in Krasian, and neither of them could make out much with her lips hidden behind her veil.
She produced a small stoppered vial—presumably Rojer’s blood—and dribbled it sparingly over the dice before she shook and cast. It was eerie, watching the wards flare as the dice were yanked from their natural trajectories to form the pattern. Leesha couldn’t begin to read what they said, but after staring for some time, Amanvah nodded and sat back on her heels. Leesha took a chemic light vial from her apron, shaking it to cast them all in its luminescent glow.
“I will require three things,” Amanvah said.
“Three things, in exchange for one,” Araine said.
Amanvah shrugged. “You may attempt to haggle if you wish.” Her tone made it clear the effort would be pointless.
“What three things?” Araine asked.
“You will pardon my husband, myself, and my sister wives, the moment the trial is done,” Amanvah said. “Without equivocation or addendum. We will be free to go, and granted your protection until we are back in the Hollow.”
Araine nodded. “Done.”
“You will grant me daily visitation rights with my husband,” Amanvah went on.
“I can give you an hour a day with him, until the trial,” Araine said.
Amanvah nodded. “That is acceptable.”
“And last?” Araine asked.
Amanvah turned to Leesha. “A drop of Mistress Leesha’s blood.”
Leesha crossed her arms. “Absolutely not!” There was no telling what mischief the woman could cause with that single drop. It was an insult simply to ask.
“Leesha,” Araine said, a warning in her tone.
“You don’t understand what she’s asking,” Leesha said. “Giving a dama’ting your blood is tantamount to handing them a knife and baring your throat. Why should I ever agree to that?”
“Because the fate of my duchy may rest upon it!” Araine hissed. “Give it to her, or I will have it taken from you.”
Leesha bared her teeth. “Don’t threaten me, Araine. I will defend myself, and the child I carry. If your guards so much as lay a hand on me, I will bring this palace down around your ears.”
Araine’s eyes flashed, but Leesha meant every word, and the old woman knew it. She held the Duchess Mum’s eyes for a moment, then looked to Amanvah. “Two conditions.”
Amanvah’s eyes crinkled. Krasians did so love to bargain. “And those are?”
“You use the drop here and now, speaking your question aloud in Thesan,” Leesha began.
Amanvah nodded. “And the second?”
“You will agree to throw the dice for me once in the future,” Leesha said. “The time and question at my discretion.”
Amanvah’s eyes narrowed. “Agreed. So long as your question does not directly affect my people or household.”
In answer, Leesha took a lancet from her apron pocket and lifted her finger, poised to puncture. “Are we all in agreement, then?”
“Ay,” Araine said.
“We are,” Amanvah confirmed.
“Hold out your dice.” Leesha pressed the lancet to the pad of her index finger, squeezing a single drop onto Amanvah’s dice.
The dama’ting rolled them in her palm until confident the blood had touched them all. Then she turned back to her cloth, hands beginning to shake. “Almighty Everam, giver of light and life, grant your servant knowledge of what is to come. Show your humble servant the fate of the child carried by Leesha vah Erny am’Paper am’Hollow.”
Leesha felt the child kick as the dice flared and twisted in midthrow. Amanvah bent forward hungrily, reading the hidden meanings.
“Well?” Leesha demanded at last. “What do they say?”
Amanvah scooped up the dice, returning them to her hora pouch. “I agreed to ask the question aloud for you to hear, mistress, but I never agreed to share the answer.”
Leesha’s jaw tightened, but Araine cut off her response. “Enough! Settle this on your own time.” She looked hard at Amanvah. “I tire of your games and delays, Princess. We have paid your price. Now cast your dice and tell me who is having my son drugged. Easterly? Wardgood? Euchor? One of my sons?”
Amanvah shook her head. “Your Weed Gatherer works alone.”
There was a stunned silence, and for once, Araine lost a bit of her regal bearing, eyes bulging like a toad. “Why?”
Amanvah shrugged. “Ask her, and she will tell you herself. It is a secret carried too long, and must be lanced like a boil.”
“And the drug?” Leesha asked, when it seemed Araine would take all day to process the information.
“A tincture in his wine,” Amanvah said. “I cannot say what exactly, but it does not matter. If the doses stop, his seed will recover on its own.”
“That will take months,” Leesha said.
“You can speed the process with hora,” Amanvah said. “I will prepare a bone for the healing.”
She rolled back on her heels, getting to her feet. “I have fulfilled my part of the bargain. I will see my husband now.”
Araine recovered somewhat at the dama’ting’s imperious tone. She shook her head. “You will sit quietly while I test this information. You will see your husband when I am satisfied, and not before.”
Amanvah’s veil billowed as she blew out an angry breath. She and the Duchess Mum locked stares, but after a moment she gave a curt nod. “I will wait, but if I have not seen my husband and assured myself that he is well by sunset today, I will hold your oath broken.”
Araine’s foot began to twitch, but she said nothing.
Leesha struggled to remember Rojer’s lessons as she smiled at Rosal and Jessa, come at the Duchess Mum’s summons, presumably to discuss Gared’s very obvious interest in the girl.
Rojer had taught her much about royal bearing, how to project her voice even when speaking quietly, and how to hold a mask in place, showing only serenity to others no matter what she was feeling inside. It was a lesson she struggled with to this day.
“If you please, mistress,” Leesha said, “Her Grace would speak to Miss Lacquer alone, before you are called into the discussion.”
Rosal glanced at Jessa in concern, but the woman waved dismissively. “Go on, girl.”