“You don’t dare go, Lucy,” Jerrett said.
“He’s right,” Velia agreed.
Frowning at them, she sighed. “If an infection sets in, we could lose her. It’s been days already.” Her hands on the conference table, she leaned in. “Although, I suppose, truth be told, there’s not much I could do anyway. That’s why I asked Percival to stop by here. I want to know if there’s anything I can tell Dixon to do, via Spec, that might help since he doesn’t seem inclined to just bring her back here.” She scowled.
“Are you sure that’s wise? Telling Percival anything, I mean?” Jerrett asked. “What if he’s . . . you know.”
“Our leak? Of course, that’s possible, but what choice do we have?” she asked, her hands raised, palms up. Then she dropped them, huffing, as her shoulders sagged.
“I don’t like it.”
She sat, then drew a circle in the dust on the tabletop. “I’m just going to tell him that Dixon, Dax, and Aliza, are in trouble, but I won’t say where they are. I’ll only ask him questions in a general sense.”
“Where exactly are they?” Velia asked.
Lucy picked up a scrolled map. As she unrolled it, a crinkling sound filled the air. After putting weights on its corners to hold it flat, she grabbed her owl feather quill, dipped the end of it in a pot of ink, and then circled a place on it.
“Right here is where Spec says they are—in some old barn on an abandoned farmstead.”
Jerrett sat back. “If you’re sure,” he said.
“I am. Now, I’m going to get Percival.” She went to the door and opened it.
Percival nearly fell inside.
“Oh!” she cried, surprised. “I was just on my way to find you.”
He approached, his stride firm and determined. “Spec found me. He said there’s an emergency that you need help with.” He glanced from her to Jerrett, and then to Velia. “So . . . what is it?”
Lucy told him of the predicament in which their fellow Oathtakers found themselves.
“Maybe you and I should go,” Percival said. “You could deliver us there.”
“No, but thank you.” Her eyes flickered toward her friends, then settled back on him.
“Is that the place there?” he asked as he motioned toward the map.
Lucy grabbed it and rolled it back up. “Listen,” she said, “I just want to know if there’s anything Dixon could do to help with any infection, should one set in. Apparently, the bone broke through her skin—and they were in an old . . .” She paused. “Well, they’re not in a sterile place, let’s just say.”
“Sugar,” Percival said.
She pulled back. “What?”
“Sugar. If the wound is open, pack it with sugar. Dixon could mix honey with it as well.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Sugar? I’ve never heard of such a—”
“Nevertheless, it works. Pack it with sugar, then flush it daily and repack it. It will draw the infection out.”
She stared at him, as though expecting him to break out a big grin. “Are you sure?” she asked when his expression remained stone-cold sober.
“I’m certain. The remedy dates back centuries. For those without healers readily available, it’s been used frequently—and with great success.”
Lucy stood and paced again. “Dixon should have some sugar in with his general supplies,” she muttered. She turned back. “How much would it take?”
“He just needs enough to make a sludge of it. Pack it in and around the wound, and then leave it open—or cover it. It doesn’t really matter.”
“That’s it? You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Well,” Velia piped up, “you know, if Dixon doesn’t have any sugar with him, it’s usually fairly easy to get. So it seems the perfect option.”
“Huh. All right. Thank you, Percival,” Lucy said to him. Then resuming her seat she added, “That’s it for now.”
He stood and stepped toward the door, then turned back. “Ahhh, Lucy . . . may I have a word with you?”
“Certainly.” She met him at his side.
He looked down, then glanced back at her. “I wondered if you might join me—”
“Thank you, Percival,” she cut him off, “but no.”
He made as though to say more, then clamped his mouth shut and nodded. “All right then,” he said. “Jerrett,” he nodded his way, and then, “Velia,” he added addressing her. With that, he made his way out.
Before the door fully closed, Spec flew up from the tabletop whereupon he’d been sitting.
“Oh!” Lucy said, surprised at his sudden movement. “Well, you know what you’re to tell Dixon.”
“If that’s it, then I’ll be off,” the flit said.
“That’s all,” Lucy said, “but do have one of you report back again as quickly as possible.”
“Consider it done.” With that, he flew to the door, waited for her to open it for him, and then sped off.
He watched and listened through the hole in the wall as Lucy, Jerrett, and Velia, left the conference room. It had proven to be an excellent place to go when he sought information. From it, he’d learned all about Mara’s powers, including of her ability to make crystals from her flares that could be used as weapons. He’d warned Daeva about them before Zarek’s men captured her and the twins, so that if they were carrying any at the time, the men could confiscate them. He was also relieved when Daeva assured him that she’d be unable to make any more of them, or make use of any of her other magic in a manner that would allow her to break free from her cell. He smiled at the thought. Then he scooted nearer the door leading out from his hiding place.
He brushed his sleeve across his face when the dusty air tickled his nose, recalling that he’d almost sneezed from it earlier. He frowned, considering the catastrophe that might have been. Fortunately, he’d not succumbed.
Placing his ear to the closet door, he listened. Hearing nothing, he turned the knob, opened the door a few inches to the eerie sound of squeaking hinges, and then peeked out.
Nothing.
He made his way out of the closet and then to the doorway that led to the hall. Once again, he put his ear to the door.
Just outside, Lucy visited with Jerrett and Velia as the three of them passed by.
He looked out as they left the building. Then he shimmied around the corner to the conference room door. Quickly, he turned the handle, opened it, and then stepped inside.
Ahhh!
The rolled up map sat in the same place where Lucy had left it. He was grateful for the chance to get a good look at it, as it would provide him with the information he required.
Lucy really is slipping. She’d just made another foolish, grievous, error.
Hearing boots clicking in the hallway, he pulled away from the table. Seconds later, the footsteps moved on.
Turning back to the map, he unrolled it. Then, after noting the markings on it, he quickly rolled it back up and returned it to the place where Lucy had left it.
He made his way to the door, then cracked it open. Finding the hallway empty, he stepped out.
Barely able to contain his glee, he rushed through the building and sanctuary grounds to his room.
Upon arrival, he entered, closed the door behind, and locked it.
He made his way to stand before a mirror that hung on the wall. Then as he’d done numerous times in the past, he called on the power of Daeva.
When the underlord arrived seconds later, he gloried in the pain that came of the spirit’s heat. It was ecstatic; it left him momentarily speechless.
Finally, getting a grip on himself, he relayed all that he’d learned.