"Tell me where you're keeping those eyes, or Lord Hyacinth gets a shiny burn on his other cheek!"
"No! Please!"
A strident voice echoed down the hallway as Lady Hyacinth, Gillian and the Hadrian men hurtled towards Healer Hasif's lab, muffled by the thick wood of the double doors, but still unmistakably Meya's, followed by a whimpering voice pleading for mercy. Whether it was due to fear or pain, Coris was not sure.
"Please! I'm telling you, my lady. I have no clue about these accusations!"
Healer Hasif reasoned to the door in exasperation. Coris cast his eyes about the scene as he struggled to process this surreal turn of events.
He saw Lady Arinel standing a little way away to the right, wringing her hands, stricken with worry. She started, having just registered their presence, then turned and scampered over to them.
"Ari, what's going on?" Zier demanded in a whisper. Arinel was downcast, her face hidden behind blinds of blonde locks as she clutched at Zier's sleeve with a trembling hand,
"I had Healer Hasif show me around the herb gardens, to lure her away from her lab so Meya and Lord Ahmundi could sneak inside."
She shot a quick look at the door, using Hasif's and Meya's raised voices trading barbs as cover as she brought them up to speed,
"Hasif grew suspicious and she hurried back. When Meya spotted her coming, she chained the doors from inside and took Ahmundi hostage. She said Hasif's been hoarding dragon eyeballs and breaking them open to harvest the glowing stones inside—Hyacinth's so-called green crystals. Apparently, they give out immense energy. That must have been the reason the eyes could remain glowing for thousands of years."
The air in their vicinity seemed to have dropped in temperature. Coris's eyes lost their usual focus as the pieces fell into place. He understood why Meya had chosen this course of action, of course, but the enormity of what she had done chilled him to the core.
"Persephia, Cleygar and Lors' eyes might have already been used, to destroy evidence and silence them, but on the slight chance they're still untouched, we need Amoriah to force their whereabouts out of Hasif." He murmured, his lips numb. Arinel nodded earnestly,
"Ahmundi's looking to get rid of Hasif as well. I'm sure he's simply playing along. Meya would never harm anyone."
"Well, Amoriah doesn't know that, does she? Wouldn't this turn her against Meya? How do you expect Lord Uncle to negotiate safe passage for her now?" Simon pointed out, voicing Coris's exact concern.
Coris turned to Father, just as much for advice as reassurance, but Father's expression was of grim acceptance. He shook his head slowly,
"We have three days at best to deal with this matter before Olivis's arresting party arrives from Jaise."
He said, lips barely moving as he kept an eye on Lady Hyacinth. She stood with her arms crossed, eyes narrowed, unnervingly calm even as her only son was under threat of torture,
"If Amoriah rejects my offer, Meya's best chance is to flee with the dragons while we stay behind and negotiate with Olivis."
He glanced at Gillian. The dragon commander gave a nod, his barely blinking eyes never once leaving the lab's door,
"Dockar will take her to Amplevale. I take it they are your ally?"
"Lady Amplevale is my sister. She'll take care of the girl."
Coris followed Gillian's gaze to the double doors. He could imagine Meya standing behind it, her feet braced on the stone and her face set as she taunted Hasif with her bluffs. He shook his head in disbelief.
"I must call this off. This is too much of a risk." He started towards Lady Hyacinth. Father's roughened hand clamped onto his shoulder.
"She knows the consequences, Coris. That she deliberately didn't consult you means she doesn't intend for Hadrian to intervene."
"Please, Father. I can't let her become a criminal!" Coris shook his head, beseeching.
"The girl is doing this for three of her kind. And I'm deciding on behalf of three Hadrian subjects. This is not your place to weigh in." Father reminded, his whispered voice sharp.
"She's my retinue. She's under my command!" Coris hissed back. This time, it was Gillian who challenged him,
"Meya Hild, your father and I, we are the triumvirate and our decision is unanimous. You will respect it, Lord Coris."
The dragon commander growled through gritted teeth. Coris stared deep into those blazing green eyes, and he knew his case was lost. Meya was first and foremost her own self, before she was the woman he loved, a Greeneye before Lady Hadrian. The halfling, the Hadrian, the dragon—three shall decide on matters pertaining to Greeneyes. And, in this immediate party, Meya was fittest for the role among the nine Greeneyes, just as Father's word took precedence over his as Baron Hadrian. He had no say in the matter.
A drawn-out scream of (faked) agony issued from behind the door. Coris jolted and turned his attention back to the hostage negotiation. Healer Hasif's long, pale face still shone with droplets of sweat, but she was no longer fretting as she gawked at Lady Hyacinth, who had merely raised an eyebrow at the sound of her son's apparent torture.
At long last, Amoriah heaved a sigh, uncrossed her arms, then strode forth into the fray,
"For Freda's sake," She cursed in annoyance, then shouted at the closed doors,
"I know you're behind this, Ahmundi, but by all means, do carry on entertaining me. Open up, boy! Let's see what atrocity Hasif has in store this time."
Coris stood staring in the eerie silence that descended, blinking in bewilderment, which was soon replaced by dread.
Meya and Ahmundi had miscalculated. Lady Amoriah knew her son's antics well. Ahmundi's enmity towards Healer Hasif, it seemed, was not a well-kept secret. What would be Meya's next move?
Seconds dragged into minutes. At long last, heavy clunks of slinking chains broke the silence as the culprits unbarred the door, and the double doors were thrown open.
Meya stood in the doorway, panting and red-faced. Beside her was a towering, ample-bellied, bespectacled young man with short, wavy black hair, cloaked in Hyacinth violet robes—Lord Ahmundi Hyacinth.
There were no burns on either of his cheeks. He appeared fearful and nervous, just as Coris had always known him to be, but also determined as he faced his mother's wrath.
The two wordlessly led the way as the congregation trooped inside Hasif's lab. Meya stepped around the worktable, then pulled aside a slab of the opposite wall, and the sight that awaited within whisked the air from Coris's lungs.
Rows of dozens of glowing green eyes glared back at them, seemingly hanging in mid-air, surrounded by the darkness of the secret chamber.
----------------------------------------
Meya stood before the shelves bearing the jars holding dragon eyeballs, narrowed eyes sweeping across the lab, taking note of each visitor, their movements, their reactions, as they spread out and examined the room and all the horrors it had on display.
Coris had stationed himself at the corner of the worktable across from her, eyebrows furrowed, his gray eyes gliding back and forth between the pile of cracked Lattis halves overflowing from the bowl and the vat of glittering, clear jelly.
She wasn't the only one watching him, however. Out of the corner of her eye, Meya caught Lasralein Hasif loitering near the opposite end of the worktable. After a surreptitious glance at Coris, as if to make sure he wasn't aware of her presence, she extended a brown arm from the folds of her toga towards the curious contraption with the whirring windmill. Meya's heart skipped a beat, and she blurted out,
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
"None of you disturb one speck of dust in this room 'til we find those eyes."
Lasralein's arm froze, and so did every movement in the room, except for perhaps the slowly oscillating specks of glitter in the vat. All eyes pooled upon the alchemist. She answered them all with a look of serene defiance, then reached for the contraption.
"Last I remember, this is my lab, and you're standing on Hyacinth soil." said Lasralein coolly. She retrieved the luminous green stone from its holder (the windmill slowed to a stop), dropped it into the corresponding bowl, straightened up and finally turned to face Meya,
"Not to mention you're a fugitive bound for the pyre pending negotiations. And you have just added kidnapping the Lord Hyacinth to your tally. Had you not been Lord Hadrian's mistress, you would've paid for that crime the moment that door was open!"
Lasralein's voice rose into a snarl as she jabbed a trembling finger towards the lab's outer doors, her black eyes flashing with fury. Meya gritted her teeth as she was reminded of exactly how screwed up her situation already was. Yet, she glared right back. Coris swept down the table towards her, shielding her from the alchemist's death glare with his slight frame,
"I'm sure Meya was acting under orders from Lord Hyacinth, Healer Hasif. He has the authority to investigate your lab, and he was never in any harm."
He said, his voice soft and placating. He glanced quickly at Ahmundi—the Lord Hyacinth jerked out a single heavy nod, his blue-black eyes staring at Hasif with utmost distaste from behind thick spectacles—then stepped closer to the worktable, a pale hand sweeping over the various paraphernalia,
"Could you please explain all this? What are you doing with all these eyes? What is your experiment? What could possibly justify harvesting eyes from dozens of living, breathing people—my men included—then throwing their listless bodies into brothels to bury evidence?"
Coris propped his hands on the tabletop, staring unblinking at Hasif. The room held its breath as Hasif pursed her lips into a line. Her eyes slid towards Lady Amoriah, communicating silently. Then, she shook her head.
"I cannot tell you." said Lasralein, cool and clipped.
"You cannot? Or you will not?" Coris shot back, eyebrows raised. Lasralein merely raised her face and threw out her chest in defiance, her lips sealed even tighter. Then, as tension in the air built up to breaking point, a new voice struck like the first bolt in a storm,
"It's a request from King Alden." Ahmundi burst out. He shivered as he answered each pair of widened eyes but soldiered on regardless, pointing to the contraption on the desk, "He needs a lightweight, compact energy source to power this machine."
"AHMUNDI!" Lady Amoriah roared, slamming two bejeweled fists onto the worktable. Arinel seized up then huddled against Zier's chest.
"Mother, please. This is madness!" Ahmundi cried, both hands raised before him, pleading for his mother to see reason, "You can't possibly be thinking of presenting this to the king! Greeneyes they may be, they're still humans!"
Amoriah rolled her eyes then slapped a meaty hand to her forehead,
"This is Hasif we're talking about here. I'm sure these eyes have been taken willingly and lawfully. Haven't they, Hasif?" She raised an eyebrow at her trusted aide, who nodded vigorously, "As patriotic donations towards the betterment of our country, I don't see why Alden would object to it."
"Please, rest assured, my lord." Lasralein rushed over to her young master, back stooped and shoulders folded, switching from haughty to humble in a blink. Ahmundi seemingly wasn't convinced. "After all, I myself am a Greeneye. I would never dream of harming a fellow Fyrbound."
"Fyrbound?" Meya repeated, frowning. Lasralein turned to her, nodding.
"Yes. You and me both, Lady Hadrian." She straightened with a thin smile that did not reach her eyes, back to business as usual. She touched her fingertips to the centerpiece sequin dangling from her headdress—some sort of insignia. It was shaped into the outline of a triangle. Contained within was a rhombus, which, in turn, contained a circle.
"Our church, Light of Lashtiri, is dedicated to the salvation of those who came into this land tainted by Chione's touch." Lasralein's explanation tugged Meya's eyebrows ever closer together,
"Cursed to be her spies and agents of strife. Branded for the Lake from birth. However, by offering prayers and dedicating their lives in service of Freda's blessed land, one coin at a time, they would earn their place in the Heights. And have their names immortalized on the scientific wonders they've contributed to."
Lasralein swept a graceful hand over her worktable. It took Meya a moment to peel away the perfumed petals of her flowery sermon to the cold, hard truth beneath,
"To put it plainly, when you were assigned this task from King Alden, you asked them to donate their eyes to buy their way to the Heights?" She scoffed through gritted teeth.
"Exactly." Lasralein was unperturbed. Eyes followed her as she glided over to the chest of drawers and retrieved a book from it. She handed it to Meya,
"This ledger records all donations and their status. If you require more proof, I could take you to our place of worship. Our donors would be more than willing to answer your questions."
Meya's gaze lingered on Lasralein's seemingly magnanimous face for a breath longer, before poring down at the pages of the ledger. Coris sidled up beside her and followed suit. The ledger recorded dates and names (Greeneyes were marked with a cross), followed by donations—most in gold of all amounts, some in artifacts of priceless value and daily necessities, the rest in Greeneye eyes.
The remarks column recorded the status of the contributions in careful detail. Gold went to fund various activities of the church. Eyes were used in experiments. Some were left blank—still intact in jars, awaiting their turn.
Hands shaking, Meya met eyes with Coris. He gave her the slightest, solemnest nod. She understood his message.
It was Lasralein. Whatever he and Gillian had witnessed in that brothel had proved that beyond doubt. But how would she convince Lady Amoriah of her guilt when Lasralein had solid proof of her overground dealings and they had next to nothing.
Meya turned back to Lasralein. Beneath her humility, she could've sworn she saw a glint of smugness at the sight of her apparent defeat,
"So you mean to say these eyes, this experiment, have no connection whatsoever to our Greeneyes being found in Lady Hyacinth's favorite brothel?" She asked.
"I'm appalled you would even consider the possibility." Lasralein shook her head slowly, affronted, "What evidence are your suspicions based on?"
"Well, the letter—" Meya shot Coris a swift glance.
"I have told you. It was not written by me." Lasralein sighed in exasperation, "It was likely an attempt by the actual culprit to scapegoat me."
"What about Agnes? She could tell us what happened the day they arrived here." Meya turned sharply to Coris. He didn't return the gesture, still staring at Lasralein.
"I'm afraid Agnes is in no state to testify, Meya." He murmured, his lips barely moving. It was more the fear in his voice than his words that sent a wave of chill cascading down Meya's back. Yet, she couldn't lose now. There must be some other way. There must be—
"What—what about—"
Coris said not a word. He merely looked at her, a look that snuffed out Meya's voice in her throat. No, his eyes weren't in the least cold nor threatening, but they shone with authority and experience, as well as a plea, as if he knew a losing battle when he saw one.
Meya fought back tears. She was on the verge of hyperventilating. Coris laid a sorrowful yet firm hand on her shoulder, then turned to face Lasralein in her place.
"Finding our men's eyes and investigating the Dollhouse is of utmost importance. Until Lady Agnesia recovers, we couldn't rule you out as a possible culprit." He said, soft-spoken as ever yet solemn, then turned to Baron Hadrian,
"Father, I'd like to interview the donors. I'd like this lab to be under guard from both Hyacinth and Hadrian men to prevent any of us from tampering with evidence. I'd like the brothel in question to be temporarily closed so we could investigate the dealings of the Dollhouse. And I'd like protection for informants and witnesses should any come forth."
Silence fell once again as father and son held their gaze. The son beseeching, the father deliberating. At long last, Baron Kellis broke the connection, turning to his Hyacinthean counterpart,
"Amoriah, the Greeneyes in the Dollhouse could've come from all corners of Latakia." He began, his voice not much louder than a whisper, shaking his head slowly as he gazed deep into the Lady's indifferent blue-black eyes,
"Greeneyes they may be, they could very well have been offspring of noblemen. Sons and daughters of powerful merchants. Some of them may have been missed by those who knew them. The brothel may be on your soil, but my men have been found in it. The eyes may have been willing donations, but who is to say none have been stolen from those poor souls left to rot in that brothel?"
Baron Kellis paused, eyebrows raised. Meya saw the muscles in Amoriah's jawline tensing underneath her jowls of fat, even as her expression did not waver. Kellis took an imposing step closer to her.
"If you are indeed fulfilling a request from the King, then I am prepared to bring this case to his attention. If it would bring back my men's eyes, or at least answers for their family in Hadrian, I swear to Freda I would. If you do not wish for your invention to be tainted by infamy. If you do not wish to suffer the ordeal of Lord Crosset on charges of willful neglect, then I suggest you lead this investigation, or at least allow my son what he requested."
All was quiet yet again. The two rulers locked eyes, transfixed in a battle of wills, as their subjects held their breath. After what must have been full minutes, Amoriah shook her head.
"No." She said, and her dead, cold eyes betrayed no more.
Meya could not believe it. How could she? Whether Hasif had any involvement was irrelevant. She'd thought the mere fact dozens of Greeneyes—living, breathing human beings—had been found stripped of their sight and memories, prostituted as pleasure dolls in a brothel, should have been enough to move even the stoniest heart and spur them to take action. She couldn't make sense of it. How could this happen?
"You can interview those donors if Healer Hasif permits it. I can spare a few guards to watch over the lab while you make sure every eye is accounted for, but I will not intervene with the brothel's business."
Amoriah shook her head again, then her eyes slid to Meya,
"As for the girl," Meya jolted out of her reverie, but Amoriah's eyes had already slid back to Baron Hadrian, "You'll have your answer tomorrow—AHMUNDI!"
She snapped, sending Ahmundi jumping half a foot into the air even with his considerable mass. Her beady eyes narrowed in fury as she commanded,
"My study. Now!"
At that, Lady Hyacinth spun around and stormed out of the lab, her son trailing gloomily behind her, braced for whatever ordeal may befall him.