Getting Lost Ch. 05

"I'm much better, thank you." One of the three set down her sewing and left the room. These women were household servants of the king's family. That they were there to wait on her only furthered confirmed Sabrael's falsehoods. If he was truly concerned about an ylf'nim contagion, he certainly wouldn't allow them in the room with her. Lotus asked, "Where's Pol?"

The speaker shook her head. "I don't know. We were asked to look after you today while you recover from your illness. Merriel's gone for your breakfast."

The other woman held up a day gown and said, "If you're well enough, we can help you get dressed. Lord Sabrael said that you would like this." The dress was new, and the other lady was holding up a new pair of earrings. There was a time when Sabrael's gifts used to delight her, when any disparity between them was instantly broken by toys, fine clothes, and shiny baubles. Lotus didn't want to be bought, not again, but it was no fault of these women.

She nodded and answered, "Yes, thank you." While they helped her change, she continued, "In fact I feel so much better, I'd like to go for a walk." If she could escape her room, she could slip away from the ladies and find Pol and Dakath.

"Oh no. No, that won't do. Not today. After such a serious bout with fever, recovery can take some time."

"But I'm fine. This is ridiculous. I'm a healer."

"Yes," the woman gave her a vapid smile. "Strange, the things that happen to people." She pulled up a chair for Lotus and handed over her sewing basket.

Merriel returned with food, and Lotus was hungry. The three women were all talented with needle and thread. Around her food, she was caught up in conversation about stitches and technique. They watched her, all smiles and chatty within their little sewing circle. Pleasant enough jailers, Lotus thought.

As the day lengthened, she thought she might try to enlist their help. "I need to see Prince Dakath. Can you help me? Please? I'm worried about him."

"I'm afraid not. Our Prince Dakath must learn that his magical practices are unsafe. You, of all people, know how dangerous he is. Surely, the king wouldn't allow any harm to his own son, but hard lessons must be learned." The other two women clucked their approval.

"Dakath didn't do anything wrong. It's Sabrael. Something's wrong with him. You've got to help me before things become worse. Can I talk to Azerrul? Maybe the king will understand that it's Sabrael who's sick."

The women frowned at her in confusion. "Sabrael can't be sick. He's a god."

Lotus got to her feet. She took the woman's hand in hers and drew her towards the room dividers. Stepping softly around them, Lotus pointed at the Eloua who floated in the pool. She whispered harshly, "Since when do gods sleep? And why does a divine healer spend three days in bed with fever? Help me!"

At first, the ladies tried averting their eyes, as if they shouldn't see him in that state. In seconds, they all looked at the Eloua, sound asleep in the water. Stricken, they returned to their seats, but Merriel headed for the door. On her way out, she said, "I'll ask for a meeting with the king, High Priestess."

Relieved she said, "Please just call me Lotus. And thank you." She didn't know if Azerrul would help or not, but she'd promised Dakath she'd put an end to Sabrael's act. She had to start somewhere.