Fly Up into the Night Air (20 page)

Too Dear a Price

Griff slowly pushed himself up in his borrowed bed at Walford House. "How did you know to come and find me?"

Harte pulled off his gloves and sat down next to the bed. It was two days after they had brought Griff back to Walford's Crossing, nearly frozen. It had been close, but it appeared that Griff would keep his fingers and toes. "It seems there is more to our Peli than we knew."

"Peli?"

"You recall his sleeping troubles?" Harte said. Griff nodded. "It seems he visits others in his dreams. It's as though he is canny, but only while sleeping. That's why his rest is so disturbed at the hospital. He feels every patient's distress."

"Surely he could not have felt me from so far away. I've heard the canny are limited to a furlong or less."

"Perhaps that's only as far as they will admit," Harte said.

"What determines who they focus on? There must be thousands of people within that distance, especially in town."

"Stilian suffers from terrible headaches. He will not talk of them very much, but I see them in his face. He says that drinking shortens his range. I think it a wonder he is not drunk all the time. In any case, Peli woke in the night, convinced you were hurt. He knew you were freezing too, although cold is not an emotion. Perhaps he understood it because your fear centered around it. He actually came to the house and threw rocks at the windows until Cook let him in. I'm grateful she did not brain him with a skillet."

Griff looked at Harte in wonder. "And you believed his wild tale well enough to roust my men and rig a sleigh in the middle of the night!"

"In the end, it didn't matter what I believed." Harte examined the palm of one hand. "It was a simple calculation: could I live with myself if I were wrong?"

Griff swallowed, his voice box bobbing visibly.

Harte jumped to his feet and began to pace. "The clerk of court scheduled the Greer trial today. It will be in two weeks time. The cloak will help. You did well, bringing that back, through the price was dear. Very nearly too dear. We must be more careful. Who knows what Brin's friends may do when they discover we have the cloak. But I still want a witness who can identify Greer at the beating. I have asked Soloni for help again, but he promises nothing."

"Do you think it wise to pressure him? The price could be very high for such a witness."

"I don't know what else to do."

"You could post a reward."

Harte shook his head. "The witness must be credible. If they have been paid ..."

Griff yawned. "I'm tiring you," Harte said. I should take my pacing elsewhere."

"I'm fine." Griff pushed himself up in the bed again.

"No, you must rest. I will go. Have you everything that you need?"

"I'm fine," Griff said, irritably.

"Good." Harte opened the door.

"Thank you, Harte."

Harte waved him off without looking back. "We must have a witness."

* * *

Stilian rode into Bugport remembering the first time he saw the city from the back of a hay wagon. It had seemed impossibly big, dirty, and crowded. Now it only seemed dirty and crowded. Too many horses, wagons, and people had ground the snow into a muddy slush.

"Petar, you are nearly delivered. You will have oats!"
What will I have?
It took nearly one bell from the time the farmer's fields gave way to houses, until Stilian could see the gray stone and verdigris of Blue House. It seemed longer. When he reached the gates, he hailed the gatehouse impatiently, awkwardly sliding off Petar's back.

"Hallo! Watch! There's a weary traveler at your gate."

"Who greets us?" said a voice from within the gatehouse.

"Judge Cast, home from his travels."

"Didn't I say it sounded like him?" said second voice.

"Granted, but it doesn't look like him."

"Who looks like himself after a winter journey?" Two watchmen tumbled out of the gatehouse, like brothers from a tent. "We'll take care of your horse and saddlebags, Judge. The mistress said to watch for you. You're wanted in the infirmary."

"He's not--?"

The watchmen exchanged a look. "He's not dead, if that's what you mean. Beyond that, you'd better see for yourself."

"Thank you." Stilian squared his shoulders and turned for the infirmary. As he did, he threw the blanket off his senses and opened up to the people around him. There were two persons whom he sought. He found Thalia, her usual tight control loosening too, as she became aware of his presence, her worry changing to a muted joy even as he found her. But as he walked towards the room where he expected to find her with Hugh, he found no warmth or glow from his mentor. There was only the faint wash of the dreamer.

Thalia met him at the door of the infirmary. "Stilian! I'm so glad you're here. I have missed you so." She wrapped him in a great hug and nearly lifted him off his feet.

"Careful, you will cover yourself with mud. I've not washed in four days."

"Yes, you smell like wet horse. How is Petar?"

"Ready for a warm stall and a bag of oats, I should think. The gatekeepers are taking care of him." As he spoke, he looked into the room with a mute question.

"Please, go on in," she said, her voice thick. "He sleeps, as he has since he fell."

"Come in with me. Tell me what happened." Peevishness gave his voice a minor key. "Your note was lacking somewhat in detail."

"Well, we don't really
know
what happened. He was alone in the library and must have fallen. Some of his students found him at the bottom of one of the ladders, unconscious. The doctors say he hit his head. That appears to be his only serious injury. He had a few bruises, but they are nearly healed."

Stilian knelt by Hugh's side and brushed the hair from his forehead. "What are you up to Gray Beard? Is this a scheme to get me to visit? If so, it worked, so you may wake."

"They sent a pigeon to tell me he was hurt," Thalia said. "Just like in the old days, before the peace. They were the longest three days of my life, coming here."

Stilian straightened in surprise. "Three days! How did you manage the trip in three days?"

"I rode a sled down the Ramp--tied a pack to it and held on for dear life. I slid like an otter on a river bank. It took me one bell to do what takes the drays a whole day to do. Then I borrowed a horse at Bug Station and rode like a jockey."

"Wasn't that dangerous? A woman your age, sledding down a mountain?" Thalia glared. "Never mind," he said. "He's been unconscious for nine days?"

"Yes. He began to moan and talk in his sleep yesterday, but he won't rouse."

"Perhaps he rises slowly to the surface?" said Stilian.

"The doctors say that if he doesn't wake in the next few weeks, he will probably never do so."

"That's their idea of doctoring! To tell you such a thing--better you attend to Hugh, and ignore those charlatans."

"You are probably unfair to them," said Thalia, gently.

"I have reason."

"It was not their fault, what happened to Kit. Nor was it yours."

They were silent for a time. Stilian was embarrassed by Thalia's concern. She certainly knew it. "I
am
fine," he said.

"You met someone at Walford's Crossing."

Stilian sighed. It was fruitless to try to hide anything from Thalia. "Yes. I told you he's a presenter advocate for the town council--that he takes up cause with the downtrodden." He laughed. "My very sort, abandoning his peers to play in the mud. I don't think he will retain his position long. I hope to carry him away with me."

"Has he family there?"

"Yes." Stilian nodded. "They come slowly to understand him--and he them."

"Will he leave them?"

Stilian sighed. "I don't know."

"Does this altruist have a name?"

Stilian tried to project confidence. "Walford. Harte Walford."

"Walford? As in Walford's Crossing?" Thalia's shoulders sagged.

"The very same."

"Oh, my dear. I fear you are star-crossed. You cannot expect to spirit away a scion of the local gentry?"

"Why not? I may be starry-eyed, but I'm
not
insensitive. He's unhappy there. He feels caged."

Thalia shook her head and looked down at the lined face of her bonded. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to discourage you."

"No. I should not be troubling you with my concerns. You're burdened enough."

"Burdened? Oh no. You will
not
start that talk again. I could not bear it. We are your family. You are not a burden to us!"

"But I hurt you. I know it! I feel it."

"Of course you do. There is no love without pain. You are old enough to know that. You would deprive us of your love and company, just to save us your pain? You have no right." She wrinkled her nose. "Go take a bath. Then come back here, and we'll talk some more. You will
not
leave me now." She turned away from him, her shoulders quivering.

* * *

Dear Stilian,

How apt that you should inquire of Peli, for I have much news of him. You may recall that Sister Grace sent me a note describing Peli's troubled sleep. Well, it seems that Peli may have been visiting hospital patients in his dreams and sharing in their suffering. Perhaps this is common among the Canny, but it is not a phenomenon known to me, and Peli shows no sign of being canny when conscious. Before you come to any conclusion, there's more. After the hearing, I sent Griff off to interview a servant girl who had been dismissed from Greer House. About the time Griff should have been on his way back, Peli woke from a dream absolutely convinced that Griff was injured and in need of rescue. I rousted Griff's patrol and went haring off into the night in a sleigh to find our missing comrade. Perhaps you won't be surprised to hear it, but we found him by the side of the road, nearly frozen, with a twisted ankle. His horse--my horse--gone, dead or taken by the highway men who knocked Griff from the saddle. (We are certain they were hired by Brin or his friends, but there is no proof.) Don't worry, Griff's mending satisfactorily.

Peli slept a little in the sleigh and could even tell us, upon waking, when Griff could hear our bells. Have you ever heard of such a thing? Peli would be relieved to know that he is not some freak of nature. Please advise us immediately.

Awaiting your reply,

Harte

P. S. They got me too, on the way home from the town hall, but I'm fine. They were only trying to scare me.

* * *

Dear Harte,

You are unendurable. I hardly know how to respond to your letter. I invite you to run away with me, and you ignore me completely and go on about some wild adventure with Peli and Griff. What do you mean,
they got you too
? You serve ale by the thimble.

I'm very glad Griff survived his ordeal, and I'm intrigued to hear that Peli is canny. Yes, that's right; Peli is no freak. His form of sensitivity is rare, but not unknown to us. We must talk about his future when I return. For now, reassure him that he is neither ill nor a monster. It would also help, if you could find him some other place to stay besides the hospital. He is likely to become more sensitive over time. Until he learns to block, he will need as much peace and quiet as you can find him. Do not introduce him to spirits! They would tempt him terribly.

Although you do not ask, I will tell you the news of my adopted family, what little there is of it. Hugh is still unconscious. He apparently hit his head falling off a ladder. Thalia, my adopted mother, is distraught. But there are signs of improvement. I hope to have better news soon. I may berate you, my dear, but I have stumbled around like a drunk pig since my arrival, leaving everyone with fresh bruises.

I wish you were here with me. I would winch up the Bug like a hawser and bring your dock nearer mine, if I could.

Your battered captain,

Stilian

P. S. When you write next, perhaps you would be so kind as to indicate the outcome of the hearing? And though it won't help, tell me how they tried to scare you.

* * *

Dear Stilian,

I am so sorry. I wrote in haste and with little thought for your circumstances. I hope your next letter has better news of your family.

I hardly know how to respond to your proposal. Except for my legal training in the capital, I have never been anywhere but Walford's Crossing. It is my home, but no longer feels like it; what was familiar and comforting is now small and mean. I would miss my family and friends were I to leave. I will find it easier to come to resolution after the trial. I am sorely distracted now. You once asked me for patience. I must ask the same of you now.

I must tell you that your words about Peli have been a great reassurance. Even so, Peli reels about like a sailor fresh off his vessel. It is good he is young and resilient.

The hearing, as you must have guessed, went well. My father presided, although he admitted to me privately afterwards that he should not have done so. He forwarded the case for trial, but I will present to another judge. The clerk of court has scheduled the case for eight days from today. There was one other outcome from Griff's adventure: he found Griff's cloak from the night of the beating in the possession of the servant girl. It is more indirect evidence of Brin's perfidy. But it may help.

As for the other matter, I shouldn't have mentioned it. They just hit me a couple of times. In truth, I'm fine. But it is a warning that Brin and his friends will not eschew violence, if they believe it will serve their cause.

Your poor excuse for a friend,

Harte