Angus Wells - The God Wars 01 (38 page)

 
          
She
pushed her sleeves back and set the palm of her right hand flat against the cut
on his belly, her eyes closing as she murmured softly. Calandryll experienced a
faint stinging, then the woman removed her nand and he felt nothing.

 
          
"There's
no poison," she remarked casually, and set both hands about his knee.

 
          
Her
eyes closed again and a look of intense concentration gripped her face. He
grunted as her hold tightened, then signed as the pain abated. She loosed her
grip and opened her bag and began to rummage through the contents. Calandryll
watched as she produced a pot from which she smeared some pungent ointment over
his bruised flesh. It burned a little, then dulled to a pleasant warmth as she
wound a bandage about the joint.

 
          
"Drink
this." She passed him a phial of colorless liquid. "You have
money?"

 
          
He
nodded and drank. The potion tasted bitter. Sulei- mana said, "Good, you
owe me two varre. One more for each visit. Now, let me dress that cut."

 
          
She
daubed some other unguent over the wound and wrapped a bandage about his waist.

 
          
"Clean
that blood," she advised, "then sleep. Stay here until I say you can
walk. Raimi will bring your meals."

 
          
Mother
Raimi nodded as though accepting an order. Calandryll said, "Thank
you."

 
          
The
healer smiled again and shook her head.

 
          
"Your
money's all the thanks I need." She closed her bag and stood up.
"Now—unless there's another needs me—I'll return to my bed."

 
          
"No,"
the lictor said, standing aside as she strode regally past him. He fixed a stem
eye on Calandryll. "You'll remain here. Your companion comes with
me,"

 
          
His
men moved closer to emphasize the order. Mother Raimi asked, "What about
... that?" pointing nervously at the body.

 
          
"Two
of you haul it out," commanded the lictor.

 
          
Calandryll
watched the body dragged unceremoniously from the room. Mother Raimi stared
aghast at her ruined carpet. "You," the lictor said to Bracht,
"come with me. And leave your sword here."

 
          
The
Kern glowered, and for a moment Calandryll feared he would refuse. He sighed
his relief as Bracht unlatched his swordbelt and flung it irritably to the
floor. The lictor beckoned him. His men angled their pikes menacingly. Bracht
nodded, offering no further protest. Instead, he looked to Calandryll.

 
          
"Visit
me when you can walk."

 
          
Calandryll
ducked his head, understanding the message.

 
          
The
next two days passed slowly. When he tried to stand, pain lanced his damaged
knee and he was forced to acknowledge Suleimana's diagnosis, reluctantly
accepting her advice and remaining supine on the bed. A nervous Lyhanna came in
the morning to scmb the soiled carpet, avoiding his eyes and answering his
questions with grunted monosyllables until he gave up the attempt to engage her
in conversation. Mother Raimi brought him food, Surinim at her back with a stout
cudgel, and they were no more forthcoming than Lyhanna. It seemed he was
allowed to remain only because the healer had spoken against moving him, and he
spent the day alternately cursing his immobility and worrying about the attack.
He had too much time to think, and his thoughts spun circles about themselves,
like mad dogs snapping at their own tails.

 
          
Was
the Chaipaku sent by Tobias?

 
          
Or
by Azumandias?

 
          
If
by the latter, then why send the warboat after the
Sea Dancer
? Had
Azumandias sought to further his chances of success by employing both the woman
and the Chaipaku?

 
          
Or
was it Tobia who sent the assassin?

 
          
Would
his father use such methods?

 
          
He
was not sure Bylath would stoop so low, but Tobias ... Yes, his brother would
not hesitate to eliminate a threat to his accession. But that had to mean
Tobias had known he was in Aldarin—could he have found out so fast? Or did the
Chaipaku themselves have some means of passing information that swiftly?
Carrier pigeons, or perhaps magic. He ransacked his memory for information, but
could not recall any mention of the Brotherhood using magic.

 
          
He
lay on the bed, staring through the opened window at the small yard behind the
hostelry, feeling the dry heat of the gaheen, lost in the maze of his troubled
thoughts. Had Mehemmed simply recognized him as one sought by the assassins and
seized the opportunity to strike? That likely meant his face was known to all
the Chaipaku: that particular thought chilled him, for it magnified the dangers
of his journey to horrible extent. Magic and Bracht had saved him this time:
the next time, the Kem might not be so quick. Certainly not while he was
incarcerated in the Rotor's jail. Calandryll clasped the sword rested across
his hips and cursed his injury. Fit, he had been no match for the killer.
Unable to walk, he had no chance at all should a second appear.

 
          
That
night he slept with the sword cradled in his arms, fitfully, and his hand was
on the hilt when Suleimana came back.

 
          
"I
am no Chaipaku," the healer declared. "Had I wished to kill you, that
draft I gave you would have been poison. Philomen is not very bright and I
could have told him the blade that cut you was envenomed."

 
          
He
nodded, relinquishing the sword as she settled herself on the bed and opened
her bag.

 
          
"Why
do they seek you?"

 
          
She
unwrapped the bandage as she spoke, her eyes critical on his knee. He saw that
her rich auburn hair was streaked with strands of grey.

 
          
"I
travel on secret business," he replied vaguely. "There are trade
contracts to be negotiated."

 
          
The
woman snorted, turning skeptical eyes toward him.

 
          
"Ghombalar
and Vishat'yi are
Kandahar
's trade centers, and the
Sea Dancer
sailed for Ghombalar
yesterday."

 
          
He
shrugged, watching as she prodded his kneecap. It felt only slightly sore now.

 
          
"We
travel inland."

 
          
Suleimana
applied fresh ointment.

 
          
"There's
nothing inland save farms. Unless you travel to Nhur-jabal."

 
          
"We
do."

 
          
He
was reluctant to reveal even that much, but it seemed that further
prevarication would merely heighten her obvious suspicion. She nodded and wound
a clean bandage about his leg.

 
          
"Now
let me see your belly.”

 
          
He
leaned forward so that she could unwind the cloth. The wound was already
healing, the skin puckered and pink.

 
          
"A
fraction lower ..." She chuckled; Calandryll blushed. "But you were
lucky. It's little more than a scratch—in a day or two it'll be no more than a
story to tell your children."

 
          
She
smeared a salve over the cut and encircled him with a fresh swathe of linen.

 
          
"And
my knee?"

 
          
"More
serious," she said briskly. "I'll have Surinim cut you a staff and
you can walk a little tomorrow. But not for long! When it begins to ache, you
must rest. Strain it and you'll limp all your life. You were lucky it didn't
break."

 
          
"How
long before I can travel?" he asked.

 
          
"You
Lyssians." She shook her head. "Do you think of nothing but
business?"

 
          
"How
long?" he insisted.

 
          
"At
least a week before you can walk unaided. Probably three before it's
full-healed."

 
          
His
face registered his alarm. Suleimana shrugged, returning her unguents to the
bag.

 
          
"Your
comrade remains in Philomen's care until then at least. The podesta makes his
circuit and he's not known to hurry. And he'll want to interview you."

 
          
"Three
weeks," he muttered.

 
          
Suleimana
nodded.

 
          
"There
are stables in Mherut'yi?" he asked. "I can buy horses?"

 
          
"Old
Dahammen has horses for sale," she said, "but riding will do that
knee no good. And Philomen will not permit you to leave."

 
          
"He's
the only authority in Mherut'yi? Is there none higher?"

 
          
The
healer chuckled.

 
          
"No.
Philomen is our lictor and a lictor's the highest official we merit here. You
should have stayed aboard the
Sea Dancer
and traveled on to Ghombalar if
you're in such a hurry."

 
          
"But
I didn't."

 
          
"No
_;
and now you must remain here until the podesta declares you free to go."

 
          
"You
think he will?"

 
          
She
pursed her lips, then ducked her head.

 
          
"The
one your fellow killed was Chaipaku, and killing them's no crime. Aye, the
podesta will release you once the formalities are done. But Philomen will hold
you until then—he likes to demonstrate his authority from time to time."

 
          
"Might
he change his mind?" He paused, not sure how she would take it, or if she
would report back to the lictor. "Might money change it for him?"

 
          
"No.
Philomen's none too bright, but he's honest. Don't try to bribe him."

 
          
He
nodded. Suleimana smiled again, rising.

 
          
"Curb
your impatience. Three weeks is not so long."

 
          
A
lifetime, he thought. Long enough for the Chaipaku to find me
_;
or
the warboat to reach Mherut'yi. He said, "I suppose I must."

 
          
"Yes,"
she said, businesslike again. "And now—you owe me three varre."

 
          
He
handed her the coins.

 
          
"Thank
you. I suggest you visit me in two days' time. And be careful not to exert
yourself."

 
          
He
nodded again and she quit the room, leaving
him
alone.

 
          
Three
weeks! It was too long to wait: an impossible time. He must test his knee, and
when he could walk, purchase horses; free Bracht. He lay back, wondering how he
would do it. Presumably the Kem was held in that stronghold on the mole. With
Varent's magic to aid him he should be able to gain entpr ... find Bracht ...
the key... Was the freesword held in a cell? How to bring him out? The talisman
would render only one of them invisible. He shook his head, refusing to be daunted.
He would succeed! He had to, because the fate of the world depended on it. As
soon as he could hobble he would penetrate the fortalice and decide a
stratagem.