She shook her head at him and grinned. ‘Sintara says that Carson and Sedric have found it. She showed me where.’ She blinked, the location of the well suddenly reordering her mental map of the city. Of course. It all made sense now. Knowledge seeped up from buried memories; the secret that only Elderlings and dragons must know, the one bit of knowledge that must never be shared with the outside world. The very reason for Kelsingra’s location and existence. She did not smile: it was too immense for that. ‘It’s dragon Silver. The source of all magic.’
Selden awoke to low voices. A man’s voice, insistent and almost mocking, a woman’s voice, indignant and venturing toward anger. ‘I will tell my father.’
‘Who do you think gave me the key? Who do you think ordered the guards to allow me to come and go as I please?’
‘You have not married me! You have no right to touch me! Get away! Stop!’
It took Selden a time to realize that he was awake, that this was not a dream, and that he recognized the woman’s voice. He dragged himself to a sitting position on the narrow divan. The fire in the little hearth had burned low: it was late at night, then. He looked around the small study. No one was there. A dream, then?
No. A man’s voice, low and angry, from the next room: ‘Come here!’
He clutched his head to make the room stop spinning, then went off into a coughing fit and abruptly the voices in the other room were stilled.
‘You’ve wakened him,’ Chassim exclaimed. ‘I have to see if he is all right. You would not want him to die before my father has the chance to kill him.’ Her voice was full of disgust for whoever she addressed.
‘He can wait until I’m finished,’ the man replied abruptly. His words were followed by a crash of falling furniture, and then a woman’s shriek, suddenly muffled.
The long robe she had given him to wear was twisted around his hips and swaddled his legs. Selden swung his legs off the bed and then struggled to free himself. ‘Chassim!’ he called, and then choked on his coughing. He stood, feeling too tall, swaying like a reed in the wind. His knees started to buckle under him. He grabbed the back of the divan and took two staggering steps until his outstretched hands met the stout wood of the door. He had not been out of this room since he arrived here; he had no idea where the door led. He slapped at the heavy panels and then found the handle and tugged at the catch. The door swung open and he followed it in a stagger. Chassim was pinned on the bed by a heavy man. His one hand clutched her throat while with the other he was dragging her nightrobe up her body. Her hands tugged hopelessly at the hand that choked her. Her head was flung back, her braided hair coming loose, her mouth wide open and her eyes bulging with terror at not being able to breathe.
‘Let her go!’ he shouted, but the words took all his breath. He staggered forward, coughing. He caught at a pot of flowers and threw it at the man. It bounced off his back and fell to the floor, unbroken, rolling in a half circle, spilling soil as it went. The man glanced over his shoulder; his face, already red with passion, went purple with fury. ‘Out! Get out, or I kill you now, you freak!’
‘Chassim!’ Selden shouted, for her tongue was beginning to protrude from her mouth. ‘You’re killing her! Let her go!’
‘She is mine to kill! As are you!’ Ellik shouted. He released her, lifting his body off her to come at Selden.
A brass figurine was at hand. Selden threw it at the Chancellor, and watched it sail past him to land with a thud on the floor. Then Ellik seized him by the front of his robe, lifted him off his feet and shook him like a rag. Selden could not control the wild whipping of his head. He rained blows on his attacker but there was no strength in his hands or arms. An angry child would have fought more effectively. Ellik laughed, mocking and triumphant, and flung Selden aside. He struck the door and clutched at it as he slid down it. Darkness made the room small and then it did not exist at all.
Someone gripped his shoulders, rolling him onto his back. He flailed, trying to land a telling blow until he heard Chassim say, ‘Stop it. It’s me. He’s gone.’
The room was in darkness. As his eyes adjusted, he made out the paleness of her nightrobe, and then the faded gold of her tattered braids hanging around her face. Seeing her face with her hair half loosened around it made him realize she was younger than he had thought. He pushed his own hair back from his face and suddenly realized that he hurt. All over. Badly. It must have showed on his face for she said wearily, ‘He saved a few kicks for you, on his way out.’
‘Did he hurt you?’ he asked, and saw small sparks of rage light in her eyes at the stupidity of his question.
