Page 76 of The Exquisite Torment of Loving Your Enemy
“You’re going to tell me who gave you the Swanstone job, and what the job was. In exchange, I’m going to unblock your seith.”
“I don’t disclose information about my clients,” said Tristane.
“You haven’t a choice, at this juncture.”
“Oh? Are you going to torture some answers out of me,ma petite?”
“Actually, torture is—” Aurienne cut herself off; there wasn’t time. “Your execution is scheduled for Lammas. Don’t wait for rescue from your Fyren brethren: this place is crawling with wards. I’m offering you a chance to free yourself.”
Tristane’s lurid eye pivoted to the circumference of her cell. Aurienne had seen that look before; it was the one in Mordaunt’s eye when he was calculating movements in the shadow-walk.
“You won’t be able to escape from here, seith or no seith,” said Aurienne. “Dinadan’s arterial wards are nasty work. But at some point they will transfer you to the Stánrocc for your execution. These wards will beremoved. They’ll think you still don’t have seith. There may be an opening.”
“You’ll be blamed for my escape,” said Tristane.
“The procedure is experimental.” Aurienne shrugged. “Experiments fail. Do we have a deal?”
Tristane bent her head in thought. Her hair, matted with blood, swung over her forehead. “One of Fria’s little Haelan, coming to my aid. Of all the lovely ironies.”
“I want to know who hired you more than I want you dead.”
Tristane’s good eye fixed Aurienne. Again there was a calculation.
Distantly, the sound of boots on stone steps echoed. Dinadan was returning.
“Deal,” said Tristane. “I’d offer a handshake, only—”
“I don’t shake hands with your sort.”
“You’re bitchy. I like you.”
“Talk,” said Aurienne. “Quickly.”
“Three sovereigns are behind the Pox,” said Tristane. “The Kentish queen, the Dumnonian queen, and the Mercian king. Their objective was to raise a Dreor army—apparently, children who survive the Pox have a better chance of successfully taking the Dreor tacn. If the tacn fails to take, they make excellent wightlings. Whoever funded your Order’s Pox inoculation project threw a wrench in the works. I was hired to uncover who it was—and, while I was in Swanstone, destroy what I could of the laboratories where the vaccine is being developed.”
Aurienne had been prepared to take any answer from Tristane with a dose of cynicism—but her explanation fell tidily in line with what she already knew.
“What of Lambert?”
“The money man? Dead. I killed him. Useless creature. He knew nothing of where the funds came from.”
“What of the nurses?”
“Nurses?”
“There are four Swanstone nurses missing. All from Paediatrics.”
“No idea.”
Aurienne glanced at the cell door. It sounded like Dinadan had just made the final landing.
“I’m going to heal your eye,” said Aurienne, pressing her tacn to the side of Tristane’s head.
“Why?”
“Because if it’s not healed now, you’ll lose it. And once you’ve lost it, the only one who could help regenerate it is Xanthe, who certainly won’t do it. Don’t kill any Wardens when you make your escape. They would love any excuse to crush your Order to bits.”
Tristane blinked her now-healed, blood-crusted eye, closed it, and let her head hang. Aurienne backed away from her and stood near the door.
