Chapter Sixteen
My first step out of the residence was an unpleasant education for me. The sunlight speared into my eyes and the odor churned a stomach already too delicate. And the noise, it set my ears to ringing.
I hadn’t been out since the day before, for the watch at the Stall. And I hadn’t expected to need to be out that day until our late-evening watch, something I had looked forward to, getting some solid, uninterrupted sleep. I would be able to get a handle on this illness and start getting better if I could just be still and quiet for a while. That was why I had picked at Taro until he had stormed away in a huff, else he would have hung around the residence asking me if I needed anything every half hour or so.
But then Risa had arrived, refusing to be put off. So that was the end of my peaceful day.
This was also the first time I’d been out of the residence without Taro in a good long while. I’d had no idea I’d come to rely so completely on his supporting arm. After only a few steps I was unusually tired. But there was nothing to be done about it. Taro had to know someone had killed someone they’d deemed lucky, just so they could have his ashes after he’d been cremated. He needed to know he had to be on guard.
Realizing I wouldn’t get far by foot, I tried to flag down a carriage. The first three carriages that approached me, all without passengers, refused to stop, the nasty buggars. My hand went to my left shoulder, and yes, the braid was still there.
The fourth carriage stopped when I raised my hand, but the driver narrowed his eyes at me. “Here, now, you’ve not got some plague, have you?”
“No, just a headache.” Was that why the others had refused to stop? Did I really look that bad? I knew I was a little pale, and my difficulty sleeping had darkened the shadows under my eyes, and I hadn’t bothered with cosmetics that morning, but I didn’t think my fatigue was beaming out to strangers seeing me from a distance.
The driver studied me for a bit, chewing on something hidden in his mouth with slow, long slides of the jaw. He grunted. “Right, then. Where to?”
“The Lyre Loft,” I said, naming Taro’s current favorite watering hole.
I was gasping for breath after the ordeal of climbing into the carriage, and sweating unpleasantly. The shocks and swaying of the carriage were causing my nausea to bubble up, almost enough to make me disgrace myself right then. But I had to find Taro. He had no idea he was wandering around out there with someone looking to kill him.
It wasn’t a long ride, and though I could have used some more time sitting down, I was relieved to exit. I almost tripped getting out, and the driver whistled and whipped the carriage off barely after I had my two feet on the street. Prat.
The Lyre Loft was one of the nicer drinking and gambling establishments in High Scape, though it avoided ascending into exclusivity. Anyone could go there, but anyone who appeared too obnoxious was encouraged, usually successfully, to leave. It was a little larger than the usual tavern, and cleaner, with furnishings of light red wood and small alcoves along the walls that allowed enough privacy for intimate conversation but not so much privacy that people were tempted to try activities less appropriate.
There weren’t that many people there, it being early in the afternoon. Perhaps that was why the two fiddle players in the corner were so nerve-piercingly bad. They were practicing. No one else seemed to notice the flat notes or that the two players kept falling out of tempo with each other. I wouldn’t have thought it possible for only two players to fall out of unison so regularly, as though each thought he was playing alone.
Taro was not among the patrons. Damn it.
Jek, one of the regular workers at the tavern, came in from the back room carrying a box of bottles. I headed toward him, and when he noticed me, he immediately called out, “Tasa! Vinori! Cut the music!”
The music wasn’t having any kind of impact on my Shield sensibilities. Because it was so bad? Was that a possibility? It didn’t make sense that only well-played music could influence my behavior, did it?
The grating wails halted, and when the fiddlers looked up and saw me, they lowered their instruments and started talking to each other. It wasn’t necessary for them to stop, but the silence was blissful, so I didn’t correct their misapprehension. “Thank you, Jek.”
He nodded. “Are you all right, Dunleavy?”
I didn’t know if he was referring to the music or the fact that I apparently looked awful. It didn’t matter. “Yes, quite. Has Taro been in today?”
“Afraid not.”
I sighed. Damn it. This was his favorite place. Aside from the racetrack. The chances of finding him at the track, even if he was there, were slim. And the thought of going there, with the noise and the crowds and, oh my gods, the smell, made me queasy, pressure building around my eyes as the bar in front of me seemed to slide back a few feet.
“Are you all right?” Jek asked again.
I nodded by means of lowering my head, slightly and just once, and swallowed so I could say in a low voice, “Thank you for your help.” Though I wasn’t sure whether he’d really done anything helpful. “If you see Taro, please let him know I’m looking for him. Please tell him it’s important.” And what was so important? Oh. Aye. Someone was trying to kill him.
And suddenly, Jek was standing right in front of me. How had he managed to walk right through the bar like that? It was made of wood, wasn’t it? I tapped it with my knuckles just to make sure.
“You’re looking really bad,” Jek was saying, and then he went on to talk about carriage and home and I didn’t really listen.
“Thank you,” I said, and I made my way carefully to the entrance, keeping myself tall and upright, walking with dignity.
Jek said something else from behind me, but I wasn’t sure he was speaking to me, and it didn’t matter anyway. I needed to find Taro.
Why wouldn’t the door stay still?
Without quite knowing how I’d accomplished it, I was back outside. All right, that was good. Now I just needed to get to the racetrack. If Taro wasn’t at the Lyre Loft, then he must be at the racetrack.
I called for a carriage, and a sound must have come out, because suddenly there was a carriage standing there in front of me. It took two tries to get my foot on the footplate and whoever was standing directly behind me was surely Zaire-sent, for I wasn’t sure I could have climbed into the carriage without his help.
It was only once I was seated in the carriage—if one could call it seated, my head down at one end of the cushion and my rear end pressed against the opposite wall of the carriage—that I realized I couldn’t remember giving the driver directions. But I must have, because the carriage was moving.
A lot, damn it. I pressed a hand to my stomach, trying to prevent anything in it from escaping. I was not going to throw up in a carriage.
I wondered if there was any kind of spell to make me feel better. I’d have to look into it. Not that I actually believed in any of that stuff, but hey, it couldn’t hurt to try. As long as I didn’t have to eat or drink anything disgusting.
Oh, I shouldn’t have thought about drinking disgusting concoctions. I groaned and curled more tightly around my stomach.
The carriage came to such a jolting halt that I landed on my knees on the floor. I experienced no surprise at this, because that was just the sort of day I was having. I tried to crawl back onto the cushion. I hadn’t accomplished that by the time the door behind me had opened. Then there seemed to be hands all over me.
“Hey,” I said in protest. And that was all I said. I couldn’t really think of anything else to say as I was pulled out of the carriage and set unsteadily on my feet.
I stared up at the ugly gray building before me, stretching for the full length of a long block and with almost no windows. “This isn’t the racetrack,” I said stupidly.
“No, ma’am. If you’d please lie down here.”
“I need to go to the racetrack.” Why were people trying to keep me from finding Taro? I turned against the hands on my arms and shoulders to get back into the carriage. But the carriage was no longer there. “Hey!”
“Please come in, Shield Mallorough. We’re going to take care of you.”
“No!” I shook at the hands grabbing me, slapping at everything that connected. “I have to find Taro! They’re going to kill him!”
“I’m sure Source Karish is quite all right. Just lie down here and we’ll get you comfortable.”
“No!” I pushed and shoved and shimmied with all my strength. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much. “Let me go, gods damn it! Help!”
“Hush,” a stern voice said. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.” And despite my best efforts, I felt myself being lifted off my feet and laid across some surface.
And then straps were tightened over my chest, my feet and my waist, tying my arms, tying everything down.
I just started screaming. What were these people doing? Who were they?
There was the sharp incline of stairs, and then there was darkness. My screams seemed to echo. Something soft and sweet smelling covered my mouth and nose, and that really alarmed me. I tried to jerk my head to the side, but the softness just followed, and a palm on my forehead forced me to stillness.
With the second breath, warmth spread from my face down my arms, torso and legs, forcing muscles to relax whether I wanted them to or not. With the third breath, the whirling thoughts in my brain slowed right down. Whether I took a fourth breath or not would always be a little unclear to me.
The next thing I knew was silence, and it took me a few moments to determine whether I was asleep or not. Then my stomach gurgled into almost unmanageable nausea, and I knew I was awake. I put a hand over my eyes as I fought not to throw up.
“You had me worried there,” I heard Taro say, and I uncovered my eyes. The ceiling above me was stone, as was the wall out of the right corners of my eyes. I looked to my left, realizing I was in the only bed of a stone cell, and that Taro was seated in a chair beside the bed, a racing circular on his knee. “I don’t think they meant for you to sleep this long.”
They. Hospital. The taste in my mouth was foul beyond the telling of it. I looked at the hand I’d put on my face. At least they’d untied me.
I was so tired.
“Would you like some water?”
There was a small table on the left side of the bed. On it rested the candle that was the only source of illumination in the room, a mug and a single flower—a blue lily—in a slim glass vase. Water sounded divine, so I shifted up on the bed to sit up. It was hard work.
“No, I’ll get it,” Taro said quickly.
I was sure he would, but I hated the idea of him propping up my head while I tried to drink lying down, so I continued to press myself upright. By the time my back was against the wall, I was shaking and sweating and dreading the effort it would take to lie back down again. Taro, having sighed loudly over my stubbornness, waited until I held out a hand for the mug.
I didn’t object when he continued to hold on to the mug after I’d gripped the handle and brought it to my lips. My hand was shaking badly, and I might have dropped the mug without his assistance.
The water tasted awful, though that may have been due to the taste already in my mouth. It did feel good going down, clearing out the sticky sensation in my throat. There were a few tense moments, however, where it was in danger of coming back up.
“What happened?” Taro asked after I’d sipped down most of the mug. “You look terrible.”
I would have stuck my tongue out at him if it wouldn’t have taken so much energy.
What did happen? I had to think about that.
“They said you were in hysterics,” Taro continued.
I was not. Not until they started grabbing me and yanking me and tying me down, and wouldn’t that make anyone upset? “Where is this?” I demanded.
“Just a private room at the hospital,” he said. “I had you moved from the public ward when I got here.”
I wasn’t entirely reassured. “Why’s it made of stone?” Cells were made of stone, weren’t they?
“It’s quieter. They also prefer these rooms if they feel someone needs to be quarantined. But they don’t seem to think you’re contagious.”
Of course I wasn’t contagious. I was just . . . tired. Gods, I was so tired. But my mind was slowly clearing. “Someone’s trying to kill you,” I said, but the words seemed to come from nowhere. I remembered believing that someone was trying to kill him, but I wasn’t quite sure why.
His eyebrows rose. “Again?”
All right. Try to remember. That morning, I woke up too early, an annoying habit I’d developed recently. Spent the morning not eating the breakfast I had put together. Ben freshened the poultice on my hand. Risa had shown up and told me about Ben’s daughter. Ah, there it was. “Ben’s daughter was arrested for killing the mayor,” I told him. And while the shock widened his eyes, I added, “Risa thinks she killed him for the ashes.”
“That’s kind of extreme, isn’t it?”
I shrugged. “That’s what she said. That the mayor was killed because he was thought to be lucky.”
Taro whistled. “Poor Ben.”
“So I was worried that you might be considered a good target for the same kind of attack. Because, you know . . .” I trailed off to allow him to come to the proper conclusion on his own.
He frowned. “Because what? Because I’m lucky? You think I’m lucky?”
From his tone, it appeared that he had taken some sort of offense. I hadn’t expected that. “You don’t?”
He stiffened. “Do you know me at all?”
I was an idiot. Having been with him for the past few years, I could understand why he wouldn’t think himself a particularly fortunate person. “Look at your life from the point of view of someone who is desperate enough to use a spell to fix whatever problems they have in their lives. To them, you lead a charmed life. The son and brother of a wealthy duke, and all that means to people who don’t know any better. You’re a Source. You’re terribly handsome.”
“You always make beauty seem such a bad thing,” he murmured.
“I didn’t mean ‘terribly’ in the negative sense of the word.”
“There’s a positive sense?”
There was no point in turning that into an argument. “Do you admit that people who don’t know you well might think you’re lucky?”
He shrugged.
“I just didn’t feel comfortable having you out and about without knowing someone had been killed because they were thought lucky.”
“But you couldn’t wait until I got home?”
“Apparently not.” Thinking back, I couldn’t remember why I was so sure he had to know immediately. Even if he were a potential target, he’d been out with friends, in daylight, and he rarely spent the entire day out. Why didn’t I think it could wait until he got home?
“That doesn’t explain why you were hysterical.”
“I wasn’t hysterical,” I objected. “I was upset.” And why was that, again? Oh, right. “I got in the carriage expecting to go to the racetrack and ended up here. I didn’t know where I was at the time.” I didn’t think I’d ever been to this hospital before. “People pulled me out of the carriage and were pulling me this way and that. They tied me down—”
“They tied you?”
“Aye. I was angry.” But I remembered screaming, and not making much sense. How humiliating. Why had I been unable to express, calmly, rationally, why I couldn’t stay? All I’d had to say was that yes, I was a little unwell, but it was nothing serious, and it was vital that I find Taro. My Source. They would have left me alone. Instead, I’d shrieked and struck out like a mad-woman. What was wrong with me?
After a brisk knock, the door opened and a healer walked into the tiny room, his bald head scraping the ceiling. He had oddly sunken eyes, and while I usually enjoyed prominent cheekbones, his appeared more like squarish blocks of bone pressing right up through his pale skin. His shoulders were freakishly broad, too broad for his body, so his long arms hung down as though they were attached just to the underside of his shoulders, and not the rest of his body. His hands were huge, with prominent knuckles. His loose trousers hid the shape of his legs, but they were long in proportion to his body.
I couldn’t recall ever being so disturbed by someone’s appearance before. It was as though he’d been too carelessly thrown together and no one had taken the time to sand down all the edges.
“You’re looking better,” he said. His voice was as deep as his height would suggest, and oddly slurred, as though he’d been drinking. He’d better not have been. “Sort of.”
“And you are?” Taro asked coolly.
“Healer Pearson,” he answered in an absent tone as he unwrapped my right hand. “This isn’t healing as it should be. Is this dressing changed daily?”
“Aye,” I said.
“With what kind of compound?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted.
“That seems careless.” He left my hand unwrapped. “All right, now.” He fixed me with a stern eye that seemed too small for its socket. “Time for some honesty. Were you drunk when you first arrived here?” He pressed two thick fingers against my throat as he waited for my answer.
“Of course not.”
“Had you taken any nonmedicinal drugs?”
“No.”
“Any medicinal drugs?”
“Just this.” I raised my right hand. “But I have been under the weather lately. Nausea and headache, mostly.”
“That wouldn’t explain your hysteria when you got here.”
“I wasn’t hysterical,” I objected snappishly. “People were yanking me this way and that and tying me down and they wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Because you were incoherent. Are you sure you weren’t drunk?”
Prat, calling me a liar. “Yes.” I let the sibilant stretch out.
From the bag he’d carried in with him, he picked out some short strips of cream-colored cloth. One he briefly placed over my temple, another on my tongue, and a third over the burn on my palm. “You can rest here while I test these,” he said, placing each strip into its own small bowl.
“How long will that take?” I asked. “We have watch tonight.”
For the first time, the healer appeared surprised. “You’re still on the roster?”
“Of course.” Why shouldn’t we be? Whatever this illness was, it didn’t seem to be too serious.
I remembered then the difficulty I’d had Shielding Taro recently. Was that because of me, rather than because of the nature of the events or how he was channeling? Hell, I could be so stupid.
“How disappointingly irresponsible of you,” he said. “You’re off the roster now.”
“You may not be aware of how few Pairs we have in High Scape right now,” said Taro. “We’re stretched quite thin. I don’t think we can afford to lose another Pair.”
“You will take yourselves off the roster, or I will take you off myself. And if I do it, it will take you much longer to get back on it.”
I found this healer off-putting, and I felt inclined to do the opposite of whatever he was ordering regardless of how much sense he made. It really irked that this stranger, a regular, could have any impact on my ability to perform my duties, regardless of how right he might be. But it alarmed me that he thought an upset stomach and some headaches were serious enough to necessitate such a drastic step.
“All right,” I said.
“Good decision. I’ll be a couple of hours with these.”
The room felt much larger once he left.