Temple of the Traveler: Empress of Dreams by Scott Rhine Page A

a brief scuffle, Pagaose’s closest two guards also collapsed, writhing in pain.
    “Giant jellyfish poison,” warned Nightglow, pointing to the purple coating on the spears, now smeared with blood.
    Pagaose drew the One True Sword.
    The two successful spearmen squared off against the two male defenders. Both spears flew at the emperor simultaneously. He dodged one and the other grazed his shoulder as he beheaded his attacker. The pain in his back made his muscles contract, and he collapsed to his knees. Coals gnawed at his veins as they crawled toward his spine. The guards on the ground beside him were vomiting.
    “Anna, get vinegar!” said Nightglow. “My father died from this venom. It paralyzes the muscles and then kills.”
    “Guards, carry me to the throne room,” wheezed the emperor.
    “We’ll get a healer, sire,” said Niftkin searching for any attacker who might still be living.
    “Now,” he ordered, closing his eyes and hiding from the pain searing its way through his body.
    Four of them carried him, and it was all he could do not to scream. He reached for the source energy above his throne; it was enough to hold him stable but not push the poison back.
    He was shaking, sweating, and fighting the urge to vomit. He held the poison like a ball of fire. He could see the angry circle of red on his shoulder. He had to counter it soon. Remembering the marks of the rubies on his forehead, he called out to the Traveler. “I need a sign that I am the one.”
    By the Door light, his skin oozed dark purple. Niftkin wiped the poison with a cloth, but the vile mixture burned him even through the fabric. He dropped the cloth as Anna ran in with a jug. She poured the vinegar over the emperor’s back and then splashed the guard’s damaged hand. The stinging stopped for both men. She kept pouring to wash away the steady flow of purple that leaked from the wound.
    When the jug was empty, Nightglow announced, “Get the leeches to draw out the rest.”
    “No physicians,” Pagaose said, gritting his teeth. “I must not show weakness.”
    “You should be dead,” said Niftkin.
    “I should be on time for my vote,” insisted the emperor, wiping sweat from his brow.
    “It still aches. You should rest,” Anna begged.
    “Anna, bring me clean clothes,” the emperor ordered. “Niftkin shall see the leech. The other guards and the old soldiers can help me to the court in a palanquin. After the ruling, I’ll return for treatment. No one outside this room is to hear of my infirmity or recovery. I can rest over the weekend. You, help me out of these ruined clothes.”
    Eventually, after Niftkin immersed his hand in a water urn, he was able to move his fingers without wincing. He said, “I would accompany my emperor.”
    They had left the mirror beside the throne for those having their eyes transmuted. While the others were distracted, the emperor glanced at his own reflection. One of his dots had vanished. “No, I have two miracles left. You have a debt to repay your body that will soon come due. Leave me now so that you can serve me better later.”
    The head guard bowed. “My life should be forfeit for failing you.”
    “No,” Pagaose insisted. “I offended too many this week by moving too fast. Next week, we shall practice caution. Yes?”
    Nightglow volunteered. “I will see him to bed.” She held Niftkin’s hand, examining the damage. “I also have a salve that would help reduce scarring.
    “That’s expensive medicine,” the guard objected, still breathing hard.
    “You saved my life, sir,” she said, beaming at him over her veil. “I owe you my skilled ministrations.”
    Locking eyes with her, he said, “I scarcely feel the sting, milady.”
    ****
    Lady Evershade arrived in the parlor of Lord Pangborn that evening. She was dressed in a white mourning garment that accentuated her fit figure. He knew she was thirty-five, but her apothecary was a wonder at squid-ink hair dyes and sea-cucumber facial