The Perilous Sea (18 page)

When she'd first treated him, she had applied a liberal amount of topical analgesic. But its effect would have worn off quite a while ago, he would not have been able to reach every part of the wound by himself, and the granules would only be halfway effective without the topical remedy calming the wound at the source.

So he had to be in quite a bit of pain—from time to time he sucked in a breath, as if through clenched teeth. But he walked silently and steadily, pulling her along.

She looked behind. Not a boot print to be seen anywhere—he had taken care to erase all traces of his trek.

“You are awake,” he said, turning toward her.

Dirt smudged his face. His eyes were sunken, his voice raspy, his lips badly cracked. She felt a shock of something that was not gratitude alone—something that almost approached tenderness.

“Give me the waterskins now—I don't know how long I can stay awake.”

He pressed the waterskins into her hand.

“How long have I been sleeping?”

“This is the second morning since we met.”

So not yet forty-eight hours since they found themselves in the Sahara.

“Is the coast clear?” They were not in Atlantean custody—that was always something worth celebrating.

“No,” he said. “They are looking for us.”

“Is that why we are abroad only at night?”

“They search at night too. Last night there were riders on pegasi.”

“Did they get close?”

“Not too close. I found some incendiaries in your bag before we started and set them to go off at various times. The riders were mostly circling about those spots.”

“I can't believe I slept through it all.”

“The panacea will keep you asleep as long as you are on the verge of dying.”

Given that she was already feeling sleepy again, that was a sobering thought. The water globule had grown big enough, and she directed a stream to fill the waterskins.

He stopped. “I had better put us down for the day. We will be too visible in daylight.”

She capped the waterskins. “Did you find a cave yesterday?”

“No, I used your tent. Pitched it in the shadow of a sand dune, but it still got hot in the afternoon, when the sun came around. Today I plan to move it at noon.”

He formed the tent into the shape of a half tube and maneuvered her inside.

“I can cover the tent with sand,” she said as he sealed the opening of the tent.

“No, you should not exert yourself any more than necessary. Remember that you were dealt a near-fatal blow less than forty-eight hours ago.”

“I'll just see what I can do before I fall asleep again.”

The flow of sand was rather sluggish, but she could hear it rising against the side of the tent. Titus applied a stream of anti-intrusion spells, all of which were aggressive, some to the level of viciousness.

“You don't actually expect us to be found under sand, do you?” she asked, alarmed.

“I worry about sand wyverns.”

“But the Sahara doesn't have dragons.”

“The deserts of central Asia do. If I were Atlantis, I would send for sand wyverns the moment I realized I needed to be looking for fugitives in a desert. They specialize in sniffing out prey that are hidden under layers of sand—or even rock. And they can burrow at terrifying speeds—so even if you were at full capacity, your ability to get us underground would be useless against them.”

“That is assuming Atlantis would go through that sort of trouble for us.”

He sighed. “I have a feeling they would. I have a very unpleasant feeling that we—or at least you—might actually be important.”

This unnerved her. “I don't want to be important.”

“I have kept track of the armored chariots in pursuit, since each has a unique identification number. That first night itself, I counted twenty-three different ones. Now if we assume that the blood circle forms the center of a coordinate plane, and all the armored chariots I saw were searching one quadrant, that means almost a hundred armored chariots were out looking for us, very possibly more.” He looked at her. “Now you tell me whether we are important or not.”

“Fortune shield me,” she murmured.

“Exactly.”

Sand had covered the entire tent. It was now still and dark inside. He called for mage light and handed her a waterskin. “Drink. You are out in the elements as much as I am.”

It was as she took her first swallow that she realized she was almost asleep again. She closed her eyes. “So what are we going to do?”

“You sleep,” he said, his voice seeming to reach her from far away. “I will take care of everything.”

CHAPTER
16

England

THE PHYSICIAN WAS A QUACK,
of course, but he was a distinguished-looking quack who spouted enough likely sounding balderdash to convince Mrs. Dawlish that Wintervale would wake up rejuvenated—and soon.

Mrs. Hancock, on the other hand, was not fooled. After the physician left, she cornered Titus in his room. “Your Highness, with all due respect, that man was a charlatan if I ever saw one.”

“But the nurse who came with him is an Exile, and very much qualified in the medical arts,” Titus lied fluently.

Mrs. Hancock frowned, possibly in an attempt to recall the nondescript nurse. “And what was her opinion?”

“Same as what the quack told you, that Wintervale's life is not in danger and that when he wakes up, within a few days, he should be fine.”

Mrs. Hancock adjusted the perfectly starched cuffs of her blouse. “That is what panacea does, repairing the body while it sleeps. But what I am interested in, Your Highness, is the root cause of Wintervale's condition.”

“That the nurse was not able to determine.”

“And you?” Her gaze was penetrating. “You do not know of it either?”

Titus propped his feet up on his desk, knowing well such disrespect to furniture annoyed Mrs. Hancock. “This is what happened on Sunday. Wintervale arrived at Sutherland's uncle's house somewhere between half past two and quarter to three. He looked clammy and said he would not mind a nap. He napped for a while, then took some plain toast, which caused him to vomit. Naturally, I suspected poisoning by Atlantis, so I gave him two antidotes.”

Mrs. Hancock raised a brow. “
Naturally
you suspected poisoning by Atlantis, Your Highness?”

“Given the suspicious manner of Baron Wintervale's death, of course.”

“Atlantis had nothing to do with Baron Wintervale's death.”

“No, no, of course Atlantis would not seek to strike at a leader of the January Uprising who was still young enough and ambitious enough to have a second go at rebellion someday.”

Mrs. Hancock was silent for a moment. “I see Your Highness's mind is made up. Please continue with your account.”

“The antidotes made Wintervale's vomiting worse, so I gave him a different remedy, which unfortunately contains bee venom as an ingredient, and Wintervale, unbeknownst to me, is highly allergic to bee venom. At that point he went into a seizure and I had no choice but to administer panacea.”

Titus had deliberately painted a picture of incompetence. Much better to give the impression that his physicking had made Wintervale devastatingly ill than to let Mrs. Hancock suspect that something was truly the matter with Wintervale.

And if she were to question Kashkari, the latter would probably tell her that Titus denied giving Wintervale anything with bee venom, but then it was not as if the Master of the Domain would admit such a stupid mistake on his part to a nonmage nobody.

“I would advise that Your Highness not practice medicine on the boys of this house in the future,” Mrs. Hancock said wryly.

Titus scowled. “Wintervale only received help because he is a second cousin. The other boys of this house are not worth the excellence of my remedies.”

“Then Mrs. Dawlish and I must consider ourselves fortunate. We will keep a close eye on Wintervale.”

Titus glared at her. “And why are you so interested in Wintervale all of a sudden? Are you not here just to report on me?”

Mrs. Hancock was already at the door. She turned around a few degrees. “Oh, is that why I am here, Your Highness?”

And then she was gone, leaving Titus to frown at that unexpected question.

 

“You don't suppose he has the African sleeping sickness, do you?” Cooper asked Kashkari.

They were in Wintervale's room, which had been too full earlier for Cooper and Iolanthe to get in. But now, only Kashkari remained, doing his schoolwork on Wintervale's crowded desk.

“Mrs. Dawlish asked. The physician said no,” answered Kashkari.

“Well, either way, it's a magnificent feat of dozing,” said Cooper, leaning over Wintervale.

Awake, Wintervale was on the fidgety side, a boy of tremendous energy who didn't always know how to get rid of it. Asleep, he seemed calmer and more mature. Iolanthe gazed at him, willing him to be a different person when he woke up, a person to whom she dared entrust the life of the one she loved.

Don't you dare listen to what he says about his early death. Don't you dare believe it and leave him behind.

Cooper nudged her. “Shall we to our Greek homework?”

She started. “Right-o. After you.”

They went to her room and opened their books.

“I envy the Greeks,” said Cooper. “They didn't have to learn Greek—they already knew it.”

“You are right—lucky them,” said Iolanthe. “God, how I hate Greek.”

“But you are good at it.”

“Only because you are terrible at it, so my mediocrity looks good by comparison.”

Cooper tittered. “I know what you mean—you make me look like a decent card player.”

Iolanthe laughed in spite of herself. She
was
hopeless at nonmage card games.

The prince opened her door and walked in. Her laughter fled. He looked at Cooper, who was predictably awestruck.

She wondered whether Titus was making an extra effort for Cooper these days: he was always more aloof, more majestic whenever Cooper was around.

The thought hurt, as if someone had stuck a needle into her heart.

Without Titus having to say a thing, Cooper had gathered up his books and notes, bid him a rather breathless good-bye, and closed the door after himself.

“Can I help you?” she asked, keeping any inflection out of her voice.

“I need to speak to you.” He set a sound circle. “Mrs. Hancock was asking about Wintervale's condition, and that made me remember I actually had a diagnostic tool in the laboratory.”

From his pocket he took out something that looked like a mercury thermometer used by nonmages.

A Kno-it-all gauge. “I thought nobody used these anymore.”

“Because they do not offer an instant diagnosis, not because they are inaccurate.” He handed the gauge to Iolanthe. “I checked Wintervale just now.”

Iolanthe held it up to the light. Instead of the tiny lines that marked degrees of Fahrenheit, the gauge had tiny dots with equally tiny words written next to them. As she rotated the triangular glass rod, lenses built into the rod magnified the letters and the readings.

Heart function. Liver function. Bone density. Muscle strength.
So on and so forth, dozens and dozens of vital signs and metrics evaluated.

She must have gone past fifty acceptable readings when she came to one that showed red.
Gross motor skills.
Not surprising, as Wintervale currently could not even get out of bed on his own.

Almost to the end of the long list, another unacceptable reading.
Mental stability
.

Iolanthe squinted. But no, she had not misread. “Are you sure the gauge is properly calibrated?”

“I tested on myself first. It was fine.”

“But there is nothing wrong with Wintervale's mental stability.” Wintervale might not possess an extraordinary mind, but he certainly had a
sound
one.

“That is what I always thought.”

“Maybe he was shocked by what he managed to do.” She certainly couldn't get it out of her mind. All those powerful currents of water, spinning around that monstrous, ever-deepening eye. The
Sea Wolf
, so small in comparison, so helpless.

Titus looked away. “His mother is not quite right. Not outright insane, at least not all the time. But you have had dealings with her. You know she can be unreliable.”

Iolanthe had indeed dealt with Lady Wintervale, who had once almost killed her. But then it was also Lady Wintervale who had later saved her—and the prince by extension. “If she is sometimes unbalanced, it is because of her Exile and the death of her husband, not because of anything inborn for Wntervale to inherit.”

He was silent. Suddenly she wondered whether he had hoped the Kno-it-all gauge's reading could be his way out of a partnership with Wintervale.