Will Shetterly - Witch Blood (30 page)

20

WHEN I SAY
that I slipped into the night, I mean that I slipped into darkness, and when I say that, I mean that my mind became a place as quiet and as dark as the cloudy night. If my body managed to match my mind, that may explain my escape from Komaki’s camp. As I left our besiegers behind me, several tents exploded into flame, telling me that someone had decided to try the trick with owls and clay firepots. The ensuing confusion certainly helped me. Besides, no one was watching for anyone sneaking out of the camp and toward the castle. Deserters would go anywhere but Castle Gromandiel.

This doesn’t explain how I passed the ring of bonfires, where the guards, in their confusion, probably shot at every hint of shadow. But then, I also can’t account for the wound across my buttocks that, Naiji told me later, had to have been caused by a musket ball. I have dazed memories of walking and falling often and in agony. I had functioned after Rifkin Spirit’s kick because I had to. That might also be why I ignored the fact that one of my eyes was almost swollen shut, that my nose dripped blood onto my split lower lip, that my ribs only hurt me when I breathed.

My next coherent memory is of standing in front of Gromandiel’s gate shouting, “It’s Rifkin, damn you! I’ve saved your stupid asses, now get this goat-buggering door open before I get mad!”

Feschian probably thought this was an unlikely ruse for Komaki to try in hopes of gaining admittance. Someone brought me in, I know, because my next recollection is of lying on a rough bed in the dining room infirmary and Naiji saying “Yes, everyone likes Rifkin’s toy boat, now be a good boy and drink your broth.”

‘Toy boat?“ I said.

“I don’t know where it is, Rifkin. Sorry. Drink for Naiji-waiji, okay?”

“Are you crazy?”

“Rifkin!” She dropped her wooden bowl on the floor and threw her arms around me. “You’re all right!” She was crying and laughing at the same time.

“I don’t know,” I said. ‘Toy boat?“

“You kept babbling about—”

I shook my head, which didn’t hurt too much. “Please. I think I don’t want to know.”

“You were very cute.”

“Rifkin Cutie. Lucky me.”

She nodded. “You’re very lucky. Now sit back and drink your broth.”

“You spilled it.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” she said, then glanced down and saw the bowl. “Oops. I’ll fetch more. You rest.” She nodded to herself, then threw herself on me again for another hug and a kiss. “Oh, my,” she said a few minutes later. “I think you are much recovered.”

“If this was a more private place, I’d show you how much.” I watched her walk away, and noted that it was a very good thing to be able to watch her walk away, especially knowing that she would walk back. Then I fell asleep.

I knew it was night when I woke because the room was lit with candles. Sivifal sat near me. “Was I babbling?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“Good. How’s your sister?”

“Better.”

“She’ll recover?”

“Maybe.”

“I hope she does.”

After a moment the red-headed woman said “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. But you came saying you’d saved us, and then Komaki left.”

“When?”

“This morning.”

“Excellent.” I reached out for a mug of water. Sivifal came near to help me, but I shook my head. “I’m fairly strong.”

Sivifal nodded. “Naiji said you were tougher than you look. She said that now she’s rested, she’ll try to speed your healing when you wake.”

“Zowie.”

Sivifal glanced at me. “Zowie?”

“Well, it’s a better thing to say than ‘toy boat,’ wouldn’t you think?”

Sivifal nodded. ‘To be sure. How did you convince Komaki to leave?“

“I appealed to his nobler instincts.”

“I didn’t know he had any nobler instincts.”

“Neither did he.”

She smiled a little, then said, “I’ll fetch Naiji.”

“For the healing?”

She smiled a little more. “Yes.”

“Zowie.” As she stood, I said, “Wait. Help me up.”

She got me to my feet, and I shuffled to my old room. I was wearing a robe that depicted purple, gold, scarlet, and indigo songbirds. Its quality of understated elegance suggested that it was another of Talivane’s hand-me-downs. I carried my weapons belt in barely responsive hands.

I was about to pass Naiji’s door on my way to my own when I heard her voice behind me. “You can step right in there, stranger.”

I turned around slowly because that was easier than looking over my shoulder. “Naiji. You were following me.”

She nodded.

“I suppose I dazzle you with my powers of deduction.”

“Actually, stranger, it’s hardly your powers of deduction that I’m interested in, just now.”

“Oh,” I said, and reached a hand for her door. When she nodded again, I opened it.

I noted that it was a sumptuous bedroom of the sort I expected Naiji to have, and that the bed, which was large and covered with quilts, looked very soft. I shuffled toward it, set my weapons belt on one corner, shucked the robe and let it drop, then fell forward.

“What grace,” Naiji said. “What style.”

“Heal me, sweet vision,” I said. “Heal me all night long.” Then I fell asleep again.

Something was doing very nice things to my thigh as I woke. I thought I should look to see what it was, but that might scare it away. I lay still while it moved higher up my leg. I looked down, and Naiji grinned wickedly at me.

“I don’t exactly feel healed,” I said, “but I’m not complaining.”

“You also aren’t concentrating,” Naiji said.

“I am.”

“On healing.”

“On what? Oh. That.”

“You’ve got to help me, Rifkin. Think of something warm inside you.”

“I’d rather think of something warm inside you.”

“Rifkin!”

“Yes, Lady.”

She began to peel bandages away. I saw how many I wore and said, “I don’t see why Sivifal bothered to put me in the robe.”

“Because she thought that if anyone else saw your cute little buttocks, you wouldn’t have reached my room.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Rifkin!”

“Yes, Lady.”

I tried to focus on my wounds as things independent of my body. The warmth began to grow again. I wondered if Talivane’s lightning was anything like whatever it was that Naiji and I shared. Fire seemed to race through us both, and when I finally entered her, the world faded in a flare of light.

It continued as a simple game of pleasure. I don’t know how or when it became something more, but at one point I said, “I love you, Naiji,” and she said, “Yes. Thank you.” And later, when we both lay in sheets damp with shared sweat, she said, “I love you, Rifkin Freeman,” and she hugged me tighter.

After a while, I said, “How did it go?”

“Wonderfully.”

“Not that. The day.”

“Oh. What do you remember?”

“Almost nothing since leaving Komaki. Tents burning, which I first thought I’d imagined.”

Naiji touched my nose, perhaps for the pleasure of doing so, smiled, and said, “You made a horrible ruckus at the gates.”

“I remember a little of that. Nothing after.”

“Feschian brought you in. She was upset. I think she likes you.” Naiji kissed my cheek. “Sivifal and I took turns caring for you. There really isn’t much to say. Komaki left soon after sunrise.”

“Who sent the owls with the firepots?”

“Feschian.”

“I should’ve guessed. How’s Talivane?”

“Better.”

“I have to talk to him.”

Naiji snuggled closer. “In the morning.”

“No.” I sat up. “Now.”

“No,” she said again, suddenly urgent. “Please.”

“It’s important.”

“I’m sure. But not now, Rifkin. I beg you.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you.” She began to cry into her hands.

I stroked her hair. “Why?”

“I can’t tell you! Please, Rifkin. Just wait. Please.”

I shook my head and tried to explain. “It’s about Komaki. He left because I threatened him, told him what I would do if he stayed. So he went. But he won’t forget about us. He’ll be back, better prepared. All I’ve won is time, and if we waste that—”

“Talk to Talivane in the morning. Not tonight,” Naiji whispered. “Don’t make me choose between you, Rifkin. Please?” Her eyes were wide and moist.

“I’m sorry.” I stood and found the robe.

“Rifkin?”

“Yes?”

“If I tell you... what he does, will you promise to wait?”

“I’ll listen. But I won’t wait all night.”

“Decide that later. Agreed?”

I nodded. “As you wish.” Her pale hair had fallen about her face, so I brushed it back behind her ears. She kissed my wrist as my hand passed by her.

“He’s in his room with the last Spirit. He practices magic. Magic of ... of passion. To increase his power. Like when I healed you tonight, but different.”

I think I understood then. Still, I said, “How do you mean?”

“It...” She bit her lip.

“Yes?” I insisted, beginning to hate her for her part in this, even if I did not know what that part was. “How?”

“His lovers die.”

I turned to face the wall and tried futilely to meditate. I remembered the screams that I had heard each night. Perhaps there should not be a hierarchy of the types of death, since all are routes to the Black Shark or the White Lady. So I told myself while I lay there, aware of Naiji and not caring whether she remained in the room or left.