Beneath the Surface (10 page)

Before Evrial hit the bottom, the blackness swallowing her was complete—as was the icy chill paralyzing her limbs. She was vaguely aware of a current passing over her, but she might as well have been encased in a glacier for all that she could move or escape. Her lungs ached for air, but she couldn’t push off the bottom, couldn’t do
anything
. If she died down there, nobody would ever find her body. Her family would have no idea what had happened to her.

Something prodded her. What new insult? A giant river fish to eat her alive?

No, that was a hand groping about. Hope sprang into her mind. Maldynado?

The hand caught her beneath the armpit. In a burst, Evrial found herself rising to the surface, water rippling past her body. Her head broke the surface, and her lungs still worked enough to suck in a great gasp.

Water streamed into her eyes. Lights burned in the distance, but she couldn’t tell if they were on shore or belonged to the steamboat. Was that it pulling away? She tried to raise a hand to wipe the water away, but her limbs wouldn’t respond.

“
Just relax,” came Maldynado’s voice near her ear, the words barely recognizable over his chattering teeth. “I’ve got you,” he said, then added, “Blast, it’s cold enough to freeze a man’s love apples right off.”

All she could concentrate on was breathing as he swam, not toward the lights—they were pulling away too quickly—but toward the dark shoreline. Trees loomed along the banks, thick evergreen branches outlined with snow. Of course they’d picked this fight out in the middle of nowhere without a town in sight. There would be no hotels or even farmsteads where they could recover. Tremors coursed through Evrial’s body. If the poison on that dart didn’t kill her, the cold might.

No, she told herself, don’t think like that. She wasn’t going to die on some wild forsaken shore.

“
Lo—oo—ve ap—ples?” she stuttered, trying to distract herself.

“
Sure. They’re terribly important. A man’s most prized possessions, you know.”

Water continued to stream past as they drew nearer to those towering trees. Finally Maldynado shifted position—his feet must have found the bottom. He released her armpit, and terror flowed into Evrial, a fear that she’d slip away and float—or sink—into the darkness again. But Maldynado was only changing his grip. One arm slipped beneath her shoulders and the other beneath her knees. He lifted her from the water and carried her to the bank.

The snow made the night seem brighter than usual, but Evrial still couldn’t make out Maldynado’s face, just his dark form above her. It shouldn’t matter, but she wished she
could
see his face. Somehow it felt important. He’d just saved her life.

“
It’s darned inconvenient that we lost Akstyr,” Maldynado said, teeth chattering as he climbed away from the water. “He
does
know how to make fire with his mind. I can’t say that I thought to bring matches to a dinner show. Not that they would have survived a dip in the river anyway.” He paused to look around. “No chance of catching the steamboat, I don’t think. They’ve already disappeared around that bend up there. Though sprinting to catch up might keep us warm.” He gazed down at her. “But you don’t look like you’re up to that.”

“
Bastards shot me,” Evrial said, though it came out muffled, and she didn’t know if he could understand.

“
With one of those crossbows? The poisoned ones?”

Evrial nodded.

Maldynado growled and looked around again. “If those shrubs come ashore on
this
side of the river, I’m going to pound them into the ground like a jackhammer.”

He laid her down, and a grunt of protest escaped Evrial’s lips. Being pressed against his chest had been the closest thing to warmth out there. At least she found—by inadvertently dropping her hand onto the cold snow—that she could move her arms now.

“
I’ll be back in a minute,” Maldynado said. “I’m going to try and find a cave or nook or something where we can huddle until you get the feeling back in your limbs. You should probably, uhm, take your clothes off.”

Having been born in the country, and seen any number of people caught out in the area’s harsh winter elements, Evrial knew the dangers of hypothermia well enough and was already trying to pry open her trouser button, but she did manage a moment of wry amusement over the way he fumbled the statement. Funny to think that a man who had doubtlessly told dozens—maybe hundreds—of women to disrobe would find it awkward to do so now.

“
I don’t think it’s much below freezing,” Maldynado said, “and the snow will be insulating, but that water was cold enough to shrivel up, well, you know.”

“
Love apples?”

“
Precisely so.” Maldynado jogged into the forest. “Be right back!”

It took Evrial five or six hours—or so it seemed—to remove her soggy boots, socks, and trousers. The shirt and jacket came last. Shivers wracked her body, but she knew that was better than if she stopped shivering. She would have liked to leap to her feet and run to warm herself, and maybe catch that steamboat, but her limbs were still heavy and slow to respond. Fortunately, the trees sheltered her from some of the frosty northern wind that had been gusting downriver, battering the boat with horizontal flakes.

The snow crusting her bare, numb backside convinced her to see if she could stand. Even using a tree for support, her leaden legs barely held her weight. After a moment of standing on the snow, she chanced sticking her bare feet back into her boots. She draped her clothing on branches to dry, though more likely they’d freeze into stiff sheets of ice. With luck, morning would bring thawing temperatures. She just had to survive the night.

“
Now there’s a unique fashion style.” Maldynado jogged out of the forest and waved toward her boots, or perhaps he was noting the lack of anything
except
boots.

“
Fashion,” Evrial said, irritated by her chattering teeth, “has never been a pri—priority for me.” She tried a haughty sniff, but her nose was running, and it sounded more like she was trying to tame wild phlegm. “If you don’t like my outfit—”

“
Oh, no. I approve.” Though the darkness hid his face, he winked. She was sure of it. “Come, my lady.” Maldynado extended an arm. “Time to get cozy for a spell.”

“
I suppose there’ll b—be touching.” Evrial couldn’t manage her usual grumble for that word, not with frostbite threatening. She stumbled into Maldynado’s proffered arm and was fortunate that he caught her. She wanted to protest when he swept her off her feet and against his chest again, but it seemed like too much work. Besides, her trembling body betrayed her by snuggling closer.

“
Only in a medically approved manner,” Maldynado said solemnly. “Unless you decide you require vigorous exercise to warm your blood.”

“
What I require is a big furry blanket.”

“
If you wanted furry, you should have been stranded with Books.”

“
What’s that supposed to mean?”

“
Just that I’m perplexed as to why he’s always accusing
me
of being the one with simian ancestry.” Maldynado stopped before a sheltered nook between two huge gnarled roots protruding from the base of an ancient cedar. He set her down and waved to a pile of boughs stacked in the hollow. “These will be almost as nice as blankets. Cozy branches with the snow shaken free.”

“
Cozy, huh?” Evrial wrapped her arms around her torso and squatted, gingerly resting her rump on the pile. Meanwhile Maldynado shucked his wet clothing. There wasn’t much to see in the dark, and she found herself regretting that, though she made a show of settling herself in on the branches. She certainly didn’t want him to think she was
watching
.

“
Comfortable?” Maldynado tugged his boots off.

“
The water dripping from my hair down my back is like icicles licking my skin, my shoulder feels like feral cats are biting their way out from the inside, and there are frozen pine needles stabbing my nether regions.” And she wished he’d hurry up and join her. If she got any colder, she’d turn into an icicle herself.

“
So, that’s a no?”

Evrial snorted.

“
Just checking. You’re tough; you might appreciate those sorts of hardships.”

Maldynado slid into the nook, distracting Evrial from whatever retort she might have come up with. He lifted an arm, hesitated, started to put it around her, then ended up propping his hand on the ground behind her. His arm barely touched her back.

“
What’s that supposed to do to keep us warm?” Evrial asked.

Too cold to worry about modesty, she flung her legs over his, crawled into his lap, wrapped her arms around his torso, and buried her face in his shoulder. She hoped he’d get the idea and return the embrace, because the shivers coursing through her were threatening to shake her teeth out of her jaw.

Maldynado hesitated again, but finally encircled her with his arms. “Sorry, I’m damp.”

“
Isn’t the woman supposed to say that?” Evrial asked before she could think better of uttering the silly line.

Several heartbeats thumped past—she and Maldynado were pressed close enough that she could feel them—before he said, “Uhhh. Normally I’d say yes, and that there shouldn’t be an apology with the statement, but... was that a joke?”

“
Maybe.”

“
I haven’t heard you make one before. You’re almost as humorle—, er, taciturn as Sicarius.”

Evrial didn’t have a response for that. Being compared to a cold-hearted assassin stung, but could she blame him? She knew it was partially true, that she was on the blunt side, but...

Evrial thought of Amaranthe’s suggestion that she lower her defenses, and that maybe Maldynado would lower his in turn. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m not always so... grouchy. It’s just that when I first met you people, you were clearly The Enemy.”

“
Me?” Maldynado sounded so innocent she almost laughed.

“
I thought I was done with you all until, months later, Lokdon showed up on my family’s doorstep with her assassin. That got me in trouble with my family, and my brother reported the visit to my commander, so I’m not sure if I’ll have a job when I get back. For all I know, there’ll be a wanted poster hanging in headquarters, right alongside of Sicarius’s. I went down to Forkingrust against my better judgment, largely because I felt compelled to help the emperor, though I clearly saw Lokdon manipulating me into that situation. Part of it, too, was that I guess I hoped that by helping him, I’d end up with another recommendation or commendation that would erase suspicion back home. But as it turns out, he’s
not
the emperor, and now I’m running around with outlaws with no hope of having those suspicions cleared, and I fear I’ll dig myself into deeper trouble by being with you. I don’t particularly want to see this Ravido of yours on the throne, but I’m not convinced we have any right to pick who does take the throne.” Evrial sank deeper against Maldynado’s chest, worn down by the long ramble. She hadn’t meant to say—to
reveal
—so much. Especially not to someone who was as likely to make a joke out of it all as anything.

“
All right,” Maldynado said, “I can see some reasons for grumpiness in there, but... are you not having any fun at
all
? That train fight was exhilarating. Especially the part where we survived it.”

Evrial may have cringed at the idea of a joke, but somehow his actual words lightened her heart, and, her face once again buried in his shoulder, she laughed. Curse Amaranthe, maybe she’d been right about that as well. Maybe she
did
need more humor in her life.

“
I won’t try to tell you what to do,” Maldynado said, “but I’d be terribly put out if you wandered off and left us, leaving me with only Books to trade barbs with. He’s been too busy for it of late anyway, what with his political scheming. Oh, you should ask him about it, if you can stand a lecture. That might help you make up your mind about whether you want to back our efforts or not. Knowing Books, he wants to do something noble, democratic, and tormented-dead-ancestors boring.”