Responsibility Ch. 06

Maybe half of the summer had been wasted. That was the most disagreeable thing, the wasted time.

Well, that and the refund.

The man entered the bedroom in the little town's inn. He slid a bar over the door.

Another man was sitting at a table inside the room. The first man softly called out to the seated one, "Eh? Hello?"

The second man seemed too busy with his work to hear the greeting. He was using a dipped quill pen on some parchment, and he seemed rather fierce. His dominant arm moved almost as if he was fighting someone. There was a nervy grin on his face.

"Robi?" The first man said to the second, to the one writing and drawing at the desk as if his future depended on it.

Finally, there was a reduction of fire in the second man's eyes as he distractedly said, "Huh? What's the issue?"

"I had to give the last client a refund," the first man said.

That got the arm to freeze in the middle of a loop of ink. His brow wrinkled up and his voice turned suspicious. "Why? We couldn't have failed."

"We did," the first man insisted as he went over to the bed and sat on the edge. "She's alive. She'll be in the next city soon."

"Impossible," Robi said as he went back to his work. It was very likely that he was planning out some overly complex plan for something else. Whether he recognized the problem or not, he simply adored making something more complicated.

Shaking his head, the first man said, "It's true. We need to think of something else. Too much time was lost. We'll have to finish this while she's in the city."

"Kolos, I said it's impossible." Robi paused and pulled some cloth away from his belt. He patted his sweaty face with it. "The arrowhead was perfectly designed."

Perfectly designed to break like some cheap piece of shit.

Kolos' eyes rolled up, then down. He groaned. "Next time, you could use something more potent and dip a metal arrowhead in it."

Carelessly sweeping the wet parchment off one side of the desk, Robi made a tsk tsk noise with his teeth and lips. "Never do the same thing twice in a row." From a stack on the other side of the desk, he picked up a fresh sheet. With a far off voice, waist deep in his thoughts, Robi said, "I think I have a poison that's weak and undetectable in small amounts, especially when diluted."

Leaning over, his hands going to his spread thighs, Kolos looked down and groaned again. His fluffy, golden blond hair tumbled down a bit. "We don't have time to slowly kill her off day by day."

Dipping the point of his quill pen in ink, Robi said, "Don't be a cretin. I'm not going to do that."

***

The married women of this city also had their favored styles of head coverings. A simple, tight cap was popular. Sometimes they were decorated with braids of fabric, or yarn, even straw. Some women had a flowing veil pinned to their caps. The length and shape varied.

Rahela personally made a white linen braid to put over her forehead, over the cap she had while pretending to be married.

Inside the inn room she stayed in with her maids-in-waiting, her preferred maiden hairstyles were chosen.

When the first dinner of the trip was served, with the Emperor and his boys joining, Rahela had her favorite ribbon plaits.

The employees served each person an individual tray of foods. Rahela silently admitted that she was curious about the meal. She'd been craving meaty bacon, and she'd asked to have some. To her delight, when the man with golden blond hair removed the lid from her tray, there was a great amount of bacon.

During the meal, Rahela found that she was drinking much more water than she typically would. Soon, she was taking more wine. The thirst was intense. Halfway through her meal, she wondered about how it had all been seasoned. The food was unusually salty, even a bit spicy.

With a little sigh, she resigned herself to a night of much less sleep than normal. She'd wake up several times to find a chamber pot.

By the time the meal was finished, Rahela had taken three times as many liquids as everyone else. The Emperor even quipped about her being a "dainty little fish."

***

At this time, holding the Emperor's bare hand wasn't as unsettling as it had once been. Considering all the risky kisses she'd gotten in secret, this hand to hand contact was almost nothing.

Another marketplace in a city. Another early day.

The maids-in-waiting giggled and shopped. There were many pretty things to delight them. Soaps and ribbons. Yarn and fabric. Combs and creams. Rahela liked pretty things too, even luxurious things. She wasn't unaffected by all the temptation. Yet, her foolishly prideful nature had her refusing to buy anything she didn't need.

The Emperor had a prideful nature too. She'd gradually learned that during this long trip. He was pretending to be a husband, of course, and he had significant means, to say the least. His "wife" will certainly have a new thing from time to time. A pointless purchase. A simple brooch here. A fur-lined cloak there. A bolt of fabric. Some bobbins of thread. Even snacks. Rahela had admitted that she liked dried fish in gelatin.

It was only another shopping scene. Only that.

But Rahela was curious about something.

When she happened to look around at all of the people, slowly chewing on her fish snack, she thought she saw someone familiar.

That golden blond employee? The man that had served her food last night?

He disappeared in all the bustle. Fine. Nothing suspicious about that. People have the right to exist. They also have the right to move out of view. She wasn't in charge of that person.

Yana, the tall girl, she suddenly keened out and leaned forward at one point, her palm going to a local well. Her face shriveled. Oksana asked her what the matter was. Stomachache. The group decided to leave the marketplace to go into a shopping district that had literal buildings instead of stalls. At an apothecary's shop, Rahela watched the exchange between the cheerless Yana and the kindly, wizened woman that showed her a pouch of herbal medicine.

"Don't take more than a pinch of this into your beverage at a time," warned the apothecary, "and don't take more than a single cup's worth of a beverage within a fifteen minutes. If you take too much of this medicine too quickly, you'll have the worst diarrhea." Smiling, the old woman even said, "Some things are harmless or helpful in little quantities, but when you have too much at once you'll turn ill or dead."

What the apothecary said was overflowing with considerate and motherly intentions. Rahela saw no issue with her words. Nevertheless, she thought about that truth concerning dosages. She'd known about that truth for years, of course, but hearing about it made her ponder something.

Something that reminded her of salty foods.

Rahela chose not to speak to anyone about it.

***

It was almost time for autumn.

This was going to be the last day of camping.

In the distance, they could see a vague hint of a border wall protecting Yahsin itself, the center of the empire that Rahela was meant to spend the rest of her life in.

As everything was being arranged and settled, Rahela stood outside and stared at the wall. It looked like a line of ink dividing a sheet of parchment in half. At her sides, her maids-in-waiting stood by, her near constant companions.

To her left, Oksana gave a whimsical sigh and said, "Your Highness, you must be so excited to be so close to your new home."

Yana nodded as she reached up to improve the angle of her headdress. It was a light blue thing with little white ribbons forming vertical stripes. "I-it's nice to ... to be home."

"Have either of you been to the Imperial Castle?" Rahela asked.

"I haven't," Oksana said. She put her palms together and turned her head to smile at Rahela. "I have seen some of the roofs and towers, though."

Rahela gave an understanding nod and looked to Yana, who only shook her head.

"It wouldn't be absurd to assume the castle would be quite large," Rahela said as she turned herself around. When she started walking, the girls followed. "I won't torment myself with futile pondering. We'll see the castle eventually."

They walked all the way back to where their tent had been arranged. It was one of the first things set in place. It had looked very chaotic at the time, men hurrying to put everything in place but still treat everything as if they were precious.

Rahela said that she wanted to look at some of her collection of poisons. It was always wise to make sure nobody had picked the lock to take anything away.

But to her horror, as she sat her chest on top of a table to get a better look, Rahela noticed something. She put two fingers under the padlock and tilted the thing up.

There was a light chip in the outline of the keyhole.

There was no reason for that. Rahela was always smooth when she put her key inside.

Almost like a cat or bird, Rahela felt the hairs on her body stand up. Someone had most definitely picked the lock, or at least tried to. There was always the chance that some soldier had damaged the lock while moving the chest, but that hadn't happened in the past. There were thousands upon thousands of opportunities for any of the padlocks to be damaged. They'd all been pristine. In fact ...

Rahela told the maids to stand aside while she looked at all the other locks on her luggage. Perfect. Just as perfect as they'd been before this long trip. Well, except for the other chest of poisons. The padlock there had a chip in that keyhole too.

She put these two chests on the table and said to the maids, "Don't touch these." She looked to Oksana. "Find the head farrier." The farriers in the troop were meant to be around as much as possible to care for the horses' hooves and nail down horseshoes. "Ask him if he has anything that could snip through thick iron. If he gives you nothing, go to the cook. If he also gives you nothing, go to the medic. Go to as many people as you can reach until you find something. Then find the Emperor himself and ask him to hurry to my side."

While Oksana went off to do that, Rahela stayed with Yana. That tall girl was knelt down on the cloth floor, tapping her fingertips together and halfway whimpering. Her head was partially bowed. She didn't know what was going on but she certainly knew something was wrong.

Rahela decided to gingerly lift one of the chests and consider the weight. How much was missing? Was anything added? She moved onto the other chest, lightly tilting it one way and then another.

Some time later, Oksana entered the tent with a tool in her hands. It similar to pliers, but the handles were much longer. The blades were small, thin parts of rounded jaws. She clearly didn't know how to use it, let alone hold it properly.

Not even two seconds after she came in, the Emperor himself entered with his squires and even General Anisim. Yana shuddered and got up to her feet. Oksana marched over to Rahela and said, "This is the best tool that was found."

Uncertain, but determined, Rahela took the handles of the device and then bowed towards her confused guests.

"The padlocks to my chests have been meddled with," she explained. "I'd rather not unlock them. There could be traps in the mechanisms."

The General stepped forward. "Your Highness, it would be an honor to assist you. I'll cut the shanks."

Nodding, Rahela said, "I'm thankful." She made a straight gesture towards the chest on top. "Please don't stand in front of the lock. Keep to one side." After she said that, she made certain that nobody was within range of some hypothetical trap. Then she told the General to take the tool and break open the first padlock.

As Rahela laid her palm on top of the chest to keep it closed, the General cut the first padlock's shank. Then he very carefully set the padlock under the table to decrease the likelihood of someone to tripping over it. Rahela told him to stand back.

She took her trusted knife from her belt. Then, standing at the hinges on the back of the chest, she lightly jiggled and slid the blade into the crack from one side. She used the blade to pull the lid up.

Quick. Hardly a sound. But it didn't matter. It flew out from inside the chest. It landed on one of the tent's fabric walls. Oksana gasped to see it.

Rahela temporarily put her knife away and took a pair of tweezers from her pouch. Then she went over to what had zoomed out of the chest.

It was thin and sharp, stuck in the wall.

She tugged it away and held it up to a brighter spot of daylight.

"It's one of my stingers," Rahela announced. "To gain more satisfaction, I presume, someone dipped half of it in a liquid poison. We should hold onto our restraint." She walked over to the now open chest and, still to one side, she peered inside.

A kind of spring based device had been attached to the interior, clearly designed to force something out once the lid was tilted back.

Rahela asked for a clay jar with a lid. She needed something to hold the stinger. She looked around, from one bitter face to the next. Yet, there was an exception. The Emperor didn't show any plain signs of offense. He was mainly somber, perhaps even with a hint of coldness.

Once the stinger was put away, Rahela and the General repeated the process with the other chest. Similar results. Of course. Rahela put the second stinger with the first. Then she tied the jar's lid closed.

Right when she was about to ask more questions, some men burst into the tent. They were panting a little. Two of them had a man bound in ropes and chains, and they were carrying him. He was squirming like he thought he'd be roasted on a spit. His boiled leather cap fell off his head, rolled, and halted near one of the squire's feet.

Rahela's lower eyelids twitched and crinkled as she silently noted the struggling man's lovely blond hair. His worried face seemed interesting too.

One of the men bowed to the General and Emperor. Then he reported, "This soldier was caught trying to leave the campsite. Not long after that, we found another soldier dead and naked, hidden in a tree. We suspect this deserter might be responsible."

Yana spoke up then, outstretching her arm and pointing a finger at the bound, blond man. "Y-you!! I saw! I-I saw you!"

Rahela addressed Yana very tenderly, as if she was talking to a very little one. "Yana, you're quite distraught. You must calm yourself before you make any accusations."

Her head moving back and forth, her dark braid swinging, Yana insisted, "H-he! He helped! He helped wi-with your luh-luh!" Her face nearly turned a cruel shade of purple as she brawled with her own throat and mouth. "Luggage! He was one of ... one of th-the men! He he-hel-helped! He had yo-your poison ch-chests! I saw!" Her voice rose. "SAW!! I SAW HIM CARRY THEM!!"

A hand gripping her skirt, Oksana ran over to Yana and put her free hand on her back. "It's safe now. It's safe. No use for fretting."

Rahela understood why Yana was suddenly so alarmed and livid. She was one of Rahela's maids-in-waiting. There have been times when Rahela had asked her to open one of her personal coffers or chests. What if Yana had been sent to fetch one of Rahela's favorite gowns, and then a poisoned something or other leapt out and killed her? There was enough evil in trying to murder the Princess, but her maids-in-waiting didn't need to die at all.

Well, Rahela thought, all the luggage had to be inspected now.

***

"Open his mouth."

That's what Irakly said to the men inside the little, briskly arranged tent that was just for this purpose.

The suspect, prisoner, whatever one wanted to call him, he was bound to a chair, and nobody was about to let him do much.

To many people's surprise, the blond man's face was shining with lines of tears, but he hadn't given any information up. Someone muttered how a bit of torture would change that soon. He seemed easy to crack.

When the men forced the blond man's mouth open, they likely had that sort of expectation. When the Emperor took a dagger and approached, they most certainly had that expectation.

No hesitation involved, the blade went into the blond's mouth.

And Irakly searched.

His lips pursed for part of a moment.

With the blade, he was able to dislodge something from the side of a tooth. Then he pinched that something away.

"Remove your hands," the Emperor told the men as he looked down at the thing. It resembled a black pebble, although it was far too smooth.

He looked at the blond man's eyes, which were grappling with the very idea of deception. Whatever emotions he had were bubbling, wanting to leap out. It was a useless struggle, what with the tears and all.

Then the Emperor said, "Leave."

Alone. All alone with the suspect. Irakly was pleased with that. He let the black thing fall to the ground, where it only bounced once. His foot moved forward to crush the thing. It wasn't difficult. A fine powder was streaked on the bottom of his shoe.

He approached, not even a foot away from the bound suspect.

"You prepared yourself for suicide," the Emperor said in a cool whisper, bending down and almost smiling, "but you couldn't bring yourself to do it."

That black powder was poison. Irakly knew it.

He saw the man's throat move with a swallow.

"You must have something to live for," the Emperor said, straightening back up and reaching up to tap his own jawline with a fingernail. He did it a few more times as he went on. "I wouldn't mind giving you a chance to live." The fingertip soon rested on the jaw instead. "I'd even give you a sack of necessities and a little box of silver, to ensure that you have the finest outlook." He lifted the finger away and stretched it out, the tip facing upwards. "All you'd need to do is three things."

With a shrug and a tone changing to something more casual, Irakly listed those three things.

"One, once we're finished with you, you'll never return to Yahsin again, unless I summon you. Two, you'll give me all the details of the attempts you've made against my betrothed's life. Three, you'll give me the name of the person or group that hired you. I don't care if you lie. Even a lie can be used to find truth."

The blond man lowered his head. His exhale was loud.

***

Another private conversation, another important conversation.

Only this time, it truly felt that way, at least in the beginning.

A piece of nighttime in the Emperor's tent. Alone with him behind wooden panels.

Quiet, still, Rahela stood and waited for the kiss. It would happen. He'd put his arms around her, hold her up to him, and put his mouth on her. Her fingers bit into each other as she waited.

Yet, the first thing the Emperor did was sit down on his chair and speak of important matters.

"The assassin gave me a name," he said.

Wordless, Rahela nodded in the dark.

"It doesn't mean much to you right now. It's the name of one of the noble families in Yahsin."

Rahela didn't know of any of those families, although she'd need to know of them soon.

"Regardless," the Emperor said, "I'll let you hold the name in your thoughts.

Utkinsky."

Sighing, Rahela assumed she'd have difficulty pronouncing such a name. It reminded her of court dancers, but she didn't understand why that was so. But even with the difficulty, she experimented with the syllables before her betrothed. "Ut ... kin ... ski. Utkin ... skiiiiiii?"

His chair squeaked. She saw his head and body all move as if he wanted to put more weight on his right. The outlines were feeble, if they could be called outlines. They had to be imaginary. The point was, she couldn't see him very well. He was made of shapes and held almost no details. With ease, he repeated the name.