Page 14 of Stranger's Choice
“Being an earth sprite does not make me understand the motivations of the magical races in your land. My advice is to let them be, if that is what they desire.”
Before Tjalik even started translating that last comment, Heolin nodded at Auraelie, turned, and walked away.
Sebin turned to Tjalik. “Do you think he likes me?”
The translator looked at him with wide eyes and said nothing. Sebin wished he could speak Imperial without ruining his plans—he suspected Auraelie would have had a pithy comment for him after that remark. He appreciated having someone to talk to who wasn’t always nervous and uncomfortable.
Sebin looked around the room and spotted the Emperor sitting on his throne, his two black shadows flanking him. He was talking to one of the men who had made Auraelie so uncomfortable a few days earlier, Marsone. The man reminded Sebin of his older brother, Aster, which was not a good thing. Still, he would be easy enough to use during a conversation with the Emperor. It looked like it was time to keep up the pretense that Sebin wanted to be in the Emperor’s good graces in order to snag a trade deal.
Sebin approached the Emperor, his own twin shadows flanking him. He felt silly with his entourage and appreciated the times when Auraelie remained by a wall—except, if he had to have one person by his side, he’d rather her than Tjalik. Sebin was watching Marsone and the Emperor carefully as he got closer and so he noticed when the Emperor’s bodyguard suddenly went alert.
The man was always standing at the ready, but his focus suddenly shifted in a way Sebin couldn’t identify. He didn’t look at any one person or spot in particular, his gaze still roving over everything, but there was a difference, a new intenseness, all the same. Everyone else in the room noticed the change a second after Sebin, when the bodyguard’s hand fell to the hilt of his scimitar and he stepped in front of the Emperor. Marsone skittered back, his hands rising up in front of his chest.
Then everyone froze, staring in silence as the man who was normally no more than a shadow became a predator in their midst, his sword drawn.
That is, everyone except a single servant froze. She stepped in front of Sebin as the room stilled. While he processed the incongruity of her hurried movements when everyone else was motionless, she rushed past him and grabbed Auraelie. She pulled the oracle forward against her chest.
She held a dagger to Auraelie’s throat. “Nobody move!”
Auraelie’s eyes went round, fear in every inch of her body. Sebin almost stepped forward, wanting todosomething, but what could he do? If he startled the attacker, she might slit Auraelie’s throat. He could reveal his ability to speak Imperial and try to talk her down, but what would he say? Back in Moial, he might have made the attempt, confident in his ability to deescalate the situation. Here, he knew just enough about the people and culture that he might make things ten times worse.
Then Auraelie moved.
At first, Sebin thought she was trying to escape. Soon he realized that her flailing was not an attempt to break the woman’s hold, or even an example of fear sending her into a frenzy. No, she was convulsing, completely out of control of her own body. Her eyes rolled back; her legs no longer supported her.
The sudden weight took the attacker by surprise. Auraelie slipped from her grip to the floor, blood trickling onto the ground from where the dagger caught her.
The Emperor shouted something too fast for Sebin to make out, and the bodyguard leaped forward at the woman who had grabbed Auraelie.
Sebin dropped to his knees and checked the oracle’s throat. Just a shallow cut, long, but not serious. Her veil had come askew, and Sebin grabbed it to dab at the blood. She was still convulsing, and he didn’t know how to help, but he figured preventing her from cracking her skull against the ground was a good first step. He ripped off his imperial style vest, grateful that the garment was long enough that it wadded up into a serviceable cushion.
He slid the fabric under Auraelie’s head, then leaned back to check the cut again.
A sliver of cold metal pressed against his chin. Sebin looked up the length of the scimitar into the eyes of the Emperor’s bodyguard. He held up his hands and spoke slowly, his jaw barely moving, so as not to let the sword dig in any deeper. “I’m trying to help.”
The bodyguard didn’t understand him, but he lowered the sword slightly. “Do not touch her.”
“She needs medical attention.” Sebin looked around for Tjalik, but the man was clearly not in a state to translate. He was shaking, his entire attention on the prone body of the attacker. The corpse, Sebin supposed, noticing the blood on the sword for the first time. A drop of dark red fell from the scimitar and splattered against the floor as he watched.
Still holding up his hands, Sebin carefully climbed to his feet. Maybe they would actually get Auraelie the help she needed if he didn’t distract them.
The bodyguard lowered the point of his sword to the ground, but made no move toward the oracle. The Emperor stood in front of his throne staring at her, but issued no orders to help her.
“What are you waiting for?” Sebin demanded in Imperial. “She needs help!”
The Emperor glared at him, but said nothing.
“The only help we can give her,” the bodyguard said quietly, “is space. Touch sent her into this fit. If you try to help, you will only send her deeper into the visions.”
“This is the result of her magic?”
“Seeing the future does not come without a cost. This is her price for the gift.”
Sebin looked back at the Emperor. He was the one he had to convince; the bodyguard would obey his orders no matter what Sebin said. And Sebin could not help Auraelie unless the bodyguard stepped aside. “If her magic causes this fit, then I can help her.”
“You, who has lied to me for weeks, and only now betrays himself?” The Emperor glared at him. “How can you help her?”
Sebin thought it would be obvious. “Her magic doesn’t work on me, so my touch won’t harm her.”
“What?” The Emperor took a step forward. “What do you mean?”
Five hells. Sebin had never even considered that the Emperor’s Oracle hadn’t told the Emperor that he was immune to her power. She was one of his Will. Then again, she had also kept Sebin’s secret about speaking Imperial. That should have alerted him that she was not as loyal as Tjalik had painted all the members of the Will.
Time was wasting, though. Auraelie’s convulsions had lessened in severity, but she was still shaking, and her head had slipped from the makeshift pillow.
“I am immune to the oracle’s power. I can touch her.” In fact, if he touched her with his right hand, letting the charmed ring on his finger lie against her skin, anyone could touch her safely. The null charm would cut off her power at the source. Sebin was not about to announce that, however. He had already revealed enough secrets for the day—this one wouldn’t make a difference to Auraelie’s health, so he would not share it. But he would make sure she got competent medical attention.
