Oracle (Book 5) by Ben Cassidy Page A

removed his rapier and put it down by the desk.
    Grelda eyed Joseph uneasily, as if she was having second thoughts about letting him into the Sanitarium at all. Finally, she turned and waved her hand. “Follow me, gentlemen. And remember, five minutes only.”
    “You’re embarrassing me,” Maklavir whispered to Joseph as they climbed the stairs after the nurse. “What in Zanthora’s name did you think we needed weapons in here for, anyway?”
    Joseph looked over at Maklavir. “What...if Kara’s not there?”
    Maklavir reached the landing and turned towards the next flight of stairs. “What are you talking about? Who else would we see?”
    Joseph gave Maklavir a look with eyes so pained and hard that they sent a chill down the diplomat’s spine. “It hasn’t occurred to you, yet? We don’t know yet if the goddess is wholly gone.”
    Maklavir felt the blood pound in his ears. His foot missed the next step, and he stumbled.
    The terrifying possibility that Joseph was suggesting had not entered his mind at all. A year ago he would easily have laughed the mere suggestion of such a thing off with ease.
    Now he found himself whispering a prayer to Eru as he climbed.
    They reached the top of the stairs, and headed down a long corridor filled with side chambers and closed doors. Down the hall came the echoing cry of someone weeping. A repeated pounding came from inside one of the rooms.
    A white-robed nurse rushed out of one door and scurried past them.
    Grelda didn’t even glance at the commotion.
    Maklavir tugged nervously at his cape. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. His nostrils twitched at the strange, disagreeable odors that filled the hall.
    “ This is where you put her?” Joseph stared askance at the hallway before them.
    “Yes,” said Maklavir, trying to keep his voice down despite his rising anger. “It’s the finest Sanitarium within a hundred miles.”
    Joseph glanced at a chamber pot that stood outside one of the doors. “Doesn’t seem like it,” he said gruffly.
    Maklavir’s hand twitched. He was doubly glad he didn’t have his sword on him at the moment. “Well, you wouldn’t know, would you? You haven’t even been here to visit Kara once , have you?”
    Joseph’s face flinched, but his eyes kept their flickering anger. “I was off helping Dutraad fight the war, Maklavir. How—?”
    “Oh, yes,” said Maklavir sarcastically. “You always bring up how you’ve been heroically off fighting our war for us. What you seem to forget is that you left me high and dry here in Vorten, with Kara to care for and—” He stopped, suddenly noticing that Grelda was staring at them.
    “Quiet,” she said with a finger over lips. “There are patients resting here.” She turned around and began walking again.
    Maklavir snapped his mouth shut and bit down the rest of his anger.
    Joseph pushed past without another word, his face clouded over.
    Somewhere down the hall came the echoing sound of maniacal laughter.
    Maklavir glanced behind him. The hairs prickled across the back of his neck.
    “Here,” said Grelda at last. She gestured to a wooden door in the corridor, and stood off to one side. “I will see if she is up yet.”
    Maklavir and Joseph stood awkwardly in the corridor for a moment, avoiding eye contact with each other.
    Down the hall, a door slammed.
    Maklavir almost jumped out of his skin at the noise.
    Grelda came out again, her face stern. “Five minutes,” she reminded them. She held the door open and gestured inside.
    Having come this far, both Joseph and Maklavir found themselves inexplicably hesitating.
    Maklavir took a deep breath and stepped inside.
    His heart jumped up into his throat.
    Kara was there, sitting on the edge of her bed in a simple nightgown. Her once long, red hair had been cut incredibly short, so that it now barely went past her ears. Her skin was an unhealthy white. She stared at the wall of the room, twisting her hands over and over and muttering