Prisoner (41 page)

In his other hand, the black counter stone felt hot. Too hot next to the cold that was everywhere else. Hesitating, he gave a weak shrug and then lowered his other hand to the floor, touching the counter stone to the crystal. He screamed in agony.

He pulled it away again, curling up and hugging himself, cradling his burning hand close to his body. Stars take them all! Every last one of them was going to get the same measure of pain at breakfast. Wasn't there some other way?

Beraht admitted with an inward wince that there was not. It had hurt worse than even Tawn's torment from the day before, but it had been at least close to the right thing to do. He glanced at Benji, as still as ever. Not so much as a finger had moved, but he could hear two voices in his head. Two versions of the same voice: one begging Beraht to join him, the other begging him to stop it. The former must be what had caused him to sleep walk. And the other… the real Benji?

He didn't know. It was obviously weaker than the voice trying to coax Beraht into power. How there were two, he did not know and did not care. He just wanted them both to shut up. Taking a deep breath, bracing himself, Beraht closed his eyes tight and sought for something—anything—that would help him endure the pain.

Curses flooded the room when his mind immediately dredged up thoughts of von Adolwulf. The smug, smirking, arrogant, violent—

Beraht slammed his hands down, barely noticed the jarring pain in his left hand as the counter stone slammed into crystal. Nor did he notice when he started screaming, just that suddenly he was. He bit hard on his lip again, focusing on the pain and how everything was the fault of that damned bastard, and he'd curse his name under every star in the sky if that's what it took to break his damned—

Voices filled his head. Angry. Sad. Coaxing. Pleading. Screaming. Sobbing. Hundreds of thousands of voices until his head ached to the point he wished it would just hurry up and burst already. His left hand burned with pain, his right had gone numb from the searing cold.

Don't.

Please.

Join.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop…

Beneath his frozen right hand, Beraht felt something shift and crack. He saw blood leaking from under his palm. His left hand and now his arm felt as if they were on fire; he wondered if they were bleeding too, but couldn't take his eyes off the blood on the floor. More dripped from his ruined bottom lip. He'd have to start mangling his top lip next if this continued.

Something inside him seemed to
snap
, like a strong spell searing the arcen right out of his body. He felt empty.

Then nothing.

*~*~*

He felt hot. Way too hot. Beraht struggled to figure out the source of the overwhelming heat and could only determine that he was moving. "Bastard," he guessed, and fell back into the black, not hearing the laughter as he was carried out of the tunnel.

*~*~*

Beraht groaned and opened his eyes. Then closed them again and scrambled to pull the blankets back up. "Stars, how much did I drink last night?" He struggled to remember and recall who had let him drink that much so that he knew who to kill.

Then the night started coming back, in bits and pieces and then all at once, and Beraht wished he'd simply had too much to drink. He deliberated between staying in bed and getting up. Staying in bed sounded wonderfully appealing, but he resisted and threw back the blankets and made himself sit up.

He was in his room, not dead, and the bastard was asleep in a chair by the window. Something in there didn't fit. Beraht closed his eyes, then opened them again and half-stumbled out of bed. His head felt like the worst possible mix between arcen withdrawal and no fewer than six jugs of wine. He'd only been that stupid once—his first time back in the city after surviving a season of war.

Never again, he'd vowed.

It was a damn shame that he was feeling the pain and hadn't had any fun first. Someone would pay dearly.

He sat down hard at the table by the fireplace, fumbling with the glass of water sitting there. Von Adolwulf's no doubt. Beraht gulped the water down then managed to spill only a bit when he poured more. He sipped the second glass, knowing from experience that he'd only heave it up if he drank too much too fast.

His head hit the table with a thump, and he immediately regretted letting it drop. Someone was going to die. Hopefully him. Anything to make the pain stop. Holding his head in his left hand, he reached out with his right to grab the water glass—and let it go with a curse.

Stars, his hand hurt. Beraht stared at it, frowning. A long, deep gash ran the width of it. It started to bleed again as he watched, and he muttered a few more choice curses.

"Tits of the Winter Princess," von Adolwulf said, "why couldn't you sleep a little while longer?" He loomed over the table and Beraht. Where the blazes had he come from? Beraht glanced toward the chair where von Adolwulf had been, half expecting to see him still there. No such luck. Which meant he'd actually have to deal with the man… who was currently bandaging his hand.

"Leave me alone."

"Shut up," von Adolwulf said. "Hold still. If I have to hold you down, I will."

Beraht made a face. "I'm in excruciating pain, and you wake up and start threatening
more
pain. Typical. Go back to sleep; it's too early in the morning to put up with you."

"It's late afternoon."

"Still too early," Beraht said, drawing his hand back as von Adolwulf finished and examining it suspiciously. Unable to find anything wrong, except that he was wearing a bandage instead of using magic to fix the wound, Beraht used his left hand to grab the water glass. It was empty, because he'd spilled it a moment ago. Biting back more curses, he reached for the pitcher and poured more.

Silence fell for several minutes. Finally, the driving pain in his head faded to a dull, throbbing aggravation—not a great improvement, but better. Another day or two and he'd be back to normal. Hopefully. As normal as he could get, he supposed. "I'm still alive, so it either worked or failed miserably. I'm hoping the fact that I feel like I lost a drinking contest means I succeeded."

Von Adolwulf laughed, the sound doing nothing to help his head. "Yes, Beraht. As soon as everyone calms down, you'll be a hero."

Beraht rolled his eyes and drank more water. He stared at the empty glass, contemplating the positives and negatives of attempting food. Better not to try yet. Distraction then. He looked up. And up. Von Adolwulf needed to sit down. "What are you doing here?"

"Watching you," von Adolwulf said. "You kept thrashing around and tearing the bandages off your hand last night after I brought you up here. You finally wore yourself out and fell asleep." He scrubbed his face. "I wish you could have slept a little longer."

"So go back to bed," Beraht said irritably. "Believe me, I wish I'd stayed. Stars, my head hurts." The dull throb had flared back into a grinding pain. "Stars take them all. I'm going back to bed, and I'm not waking up until I'm either feeling better or finally dead. So by all means go find your own bed."

"I'm under strict orders not to leave you alone."

Beraht glared, then gave up and climbed into bed. "Fine, whatever. Grab your stupid sword and cuddle up with it. Just don't wake me up." Pulling up the blankets, he immediately fell back asleep.

When he woke again, the first thing he noticed was that he was no longer in crippling pain. It was at the same level as going a few days without arcen, which was bearable. The second thing he noticed was that he was hot. Beraht shoved his hair out of his face and glowered at von Adolwulf's back.

He climbed out of bed and helped himself to what remained of the water. Feeling marginally more alive, he crossed the room and pulled on the cord. Please let someone understand it meant food. Beraht collapsed into a chair at the table, staring unseeing at the mostly-dead fire.

All things considered, he was feeling remarkably empty—and not just in his stomach. His entire body seemed to be missing something. Magic, he supposed. Or whatever had given Illussor their ability to use magic. Funny he'd never noticed it before. But that was part ignorance and mostly arcen.

Was there food coming? Beraht folded his arms on top of the table and used them to pillow his head, letting his eyes close and trying vainly to ignore the headache that was steadily getting worse.

The click of the door opening roused him from his doze, and he blinked a couple of times before he realized that Esta was standing at the table with a tray of food—plenty enough for two or three. Von Adolwulf had woken as well. How had Beraht not heard him?

"Are you feeling any better?" Esta asked, looking concerned. So strange to see worry plain on her face.

Beraht smiled. "I'm fine. Just a headache. Is everything…" He trailed off and accepted a plate gratefully, more interested in food than questions.

Esta handed a plate to von Adolwulf, who accepted it with a nod, and then sat down. "Once you're feeling better, Matthias would like to see everyone in his chambers. He thinks it would be best if we waited to talk until then." She smiled, and there was a wealth of emotion in the simple expression. "But you did it."

"Good," Beraht said. "I would hate to be in this much pain for failing." He went back to eating, digging eagerly into the meats and cheeses and small pastries. Esta laughed, but he barely noticed. Von Adolwulf's comments he did notice, and Beraht paused long enough to shoot him a glare. "Let's see how you feel after destroying magic."

Von Adolwulf gave one of his taunting grins. "But you do it so well, and it's the quietest I've ever seen you."

"Shut up," Beraht said and went back to devouring the contents of his plate. "Do I have time to clean up?"

"Of course," Esta said and stood up. "Take your time. We'll be in Matti's office when you're done. Do you know where that is?"

"I do," von Adolwulf said before Beraht could speak. "We'll be there in an hour's time." Esta nodded her head, shoulders dipping in a slight bow. Gathering the skirts of her dress, she bid them farewell and left.

"So why are you playing nursemaid?" Beraht asked, shoving his plate aside and standing up—slowly. The headache had begun to ease now that he'd eaten, but he didn't doubt for a moment that it would take any opportunity to flare up again.

Von Adolwulf stood with him. "When we finally were able to get inside, you were more dead than alive. We had almost given up when you seemed to revive. Matthias feared a relapse, given how much pain you were obviously in."

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"Three days."

Beraht blinked. "Oh. You decided the best way to make sure I didn't die was to fall asleep?"

"I cannot stay awake for more than two days straight at a time," von Adolwulf said, face clouding. "I would have known if something was wrong."

"Sure."

"Clearly you're feeling better," von Adolwulf said. "Get clean. I'm sure everyone is tired of waiting on your headaches." He turned around sharply and stalked from the room. Beraht half expected the door to slam, but it didn't.

What had put him in such a snit? Bastard. There was a knock at the door and then servants were carrying in a bath and hot water. They looked as haggard as he felt. An hour later, Beraht stepped into the hallway, smoothing down a dark brown coat and matching breeches. The throbbing in his head had receded to a dull ache.

He still wanted to go back to bed.

Von Adolwulf was waiting for him, leaning against the wall like a hulking shadow. Black. Did he never wear anything with colors? Then again, Beraht couldn't really picture von Adolwulf in the jeweled tones that were in favor. But really dark shades… Beraht shook his head, then immediately regretted it. "You always look like you're going to a funeral," he said in an effort to ignore his aching head.

"Indeed," von Adolwulf said. "Ready?"

"Yes, nursemaid," Beraht replied and set off without waiting for von Adolwulf. But he fell into step beside Beraht easily, sword jangling at his hip. "Do you really need to wear that sword everywhere?"

Von Adolwulf grinned in that way that always set Beraht's teeth on edge—because von Adolwulf was about to be painfully, obviously right about something. "As it stands, I'm the only one in the palace who knows how to fight. So yes, I really do need to wear it."

"Like you ever needed a sword to inflict damage," Beraht muttered.

"It's usually enough to discourage."

Beraht rolled his eyes, but bit back pointing out that most people who saw von Adolwulf ran long before they saw the sword. Which drew his attention to an oddity that had escaped him until then. "There's no one running away from you." He shook his head—then winced—and tried again when von Adolwulf looked at him in annoyance. "I mean there's no one around."

"Everyone is recovering. Much like you. Matthias has ordered an entire week of quiet and rest. He sent out dozens of messengers to explain things to the outlying towns, but even they were barely able to function. Tomorrow morning he's arranged to speak to the ministers and a handful of nobility. He and the others were all resting until a day or so ago. Losing the magic was a bit more taxing than anyone anticipated. As you've seen, some of the servants are about, but very few—not even a third the normal number." Von Adolwulf looked tired for a moment, but then his expression was as stony as ever. "Iah was not hit as hard; he and Sol have been managing things while I watched you."