The Colorless Land

Chapter 20: The King in the Dragon Court

"May?" Saryana repeated, torn between gallows humor and exasperation. "Slight? Miscalculation?"

Aithal gave her an apologetic glance. "Well—"

"You made a mess is what you did," she said. "So the second heir to the throne has never learned to notice when someone slips something in his drink?"

"And neither has the Second General of the Jadirian Army," Aithal replied with a lopsided grin.

"I'm not made for court intrigue. But I'm also not made for the blame game." Saryana sighed. "First things first, we need a strategy."

"Not to blame anyone," Evariel piped in, "but what about Grandmother Elisya? Should she not have known the innkeeper spiked our drinks, since she seems to know everything?"

"I am not omniscient, Master Elf," came Lisha's voice from the back of the carriage. "I happen to know a great deal and have met a great many people, but I cannot read minds. Even I cannot recognize a sleeping potion that has neither smell nor taste." She gave a small huff. "Look at yourself next time before throwing around accusations."

Evariel mumbled an apology. Jolette stared at the sorceress, suddenly viewing her first conversation with her in a different light.

Lisha had known her name. That might still be easy enough; Aithal had introduced the whole party, and the elves must have told her her name. Her hometown, too, she must have known the same way. But how had she known she was Maithea's daughter? Jolette did not recall mentioning her mother's name to her companions at all.

Did that mean the sorceress had been to Rivertown before? Had she met her parents?

She decided she would find that out some other time.

"So the innkeeper sold us out?" she asked, staring questioningly into the round. "But—but—how'd he know it was us? Edmian's disguised!"

Aithal's face darkened. "If only I knew," he said. "There is one explanation that comes to mind. But if that's true..." He set his jaw, his eyes flashing. "They better return my token the next time I see them."

"So you think it was the outlaws? You think people are taking us to the king?" Jolette tried to jump up and fell back down, kept in place by her tied wrists and ankles. "But we can't let them! If the king gets Edmian, he's gonna send him back to that place!"

"We're still in the moving carriage," Evariel added. "Why don't we jump out? We can run away and—"

"—break our necks when we hit the ground," Saryana interrupted him. "We are not jumping out of a moving carriage without a strategy. Horses run faster than people. Unless we can jump out without them noticing or disappear quickly, they'll catch us again." She nodded towards the ropes that tied them. "Besides, first of all we should get rid of these."

They all looked at each other. A knife, they thought. All they needed was a knife to cut the ropes, but in their sleep they had been disarmed, and wherever their packs were, they were safely out of their reach.

"If only our hands were tied in front of us," Evariel muttered. "Then we could free each other."

Saryana snorted. "No soldier would be that stupid."

"But we gotta do something!" Panic rose up in Jolette's mind. "If we don't get out, they're gonna—"

"Don't worry," Aithal said quietly. "The palace is still a few days away. We may still find an escape when they stop and rest for the night."

~ ~ ~

But the soldiers of Firland gave them no opportunity. Day and night they guarded them well, watching over them in shifts so that there was always one to keep an eye on them while the others slept. None ever fell asleep on duty. They did not untie the prisoners for meals or sleep either, making them eat and drink from food and bottles in their hands and leaving them to lie in the carriage at night.