Many Roads Home (36 page)

“Shhh, sweetness. Let me help you.” He lifted Yveni’s shirt out of his trousers and sucked in a breath. Yveni wanted to reassure him but he was in too much pain to think.

“Get him to the infirmary, Paole. Outside, downstairs, to the left. Go, man!”

Paole rolled Yveni onto his back and picked him up, which hurt a lot. Paole’s expression twisted with distress at Yveni’s whimper.

He felt…cold, and light-headed, and Paole was carrying him again. That meant he was dying, didn’t it? “Am I dying?”

“No, sweetness. Not tonight.”

“Oh good.”

For the second time that night Paole ran with someone precious in his arms, but Yveni was in a lot worse shape than Serina had been, and it would take more than soup and tea to fix it. He found soldiers on the landing. “Get out of my way, the vicont’s injured!”

One of the men stepped quickly forward. “Follow me, I’ll take you to the infirmary.”

Grateful for the soldier’s wits, he rushed carefully down the elegant stairs after the man. He hoped like hell that the fighting outside would not stop them, and that the infirmary had staff on hand. The bleeding his gift saw in Yveni’s guts would take his lover’s life if it was not stopped, and soon.

Gunfire still sounded in the huge castle precinct, confined to the area near the gate. Wounded and imprisoned soldiers lay or sat close to the infirmary building, but no one blocked Paole’s path. As they entered the infirmary, the soldier escorting him bellowed, “The heir! The heir is hurt!”

Staff rushed out to see what was happening. Paole recognised the doctor who’d joined them as they waited outside the castle, the man who’d said he’d worked here but had been removed. Doctor Kardwil, the former physician to the ducal family.

“Help him,” Paole demanded as the doctor looked at the blood soaking Yveni’s lower back. “A sword thrust has sliced his left kidney.”

The man opened his mouth to question him, and then realisation flooded his expression. “You can actually see it inside him, can’t you? That’s what His Grace meant.”

Paole nodded.

“Bring him into theatre, then scrub up. I need your help.”

A medic led him to the surgical theatre and directed him to lay Yveni face down on the table. Three other medics clustered round the boy, and Paole was hustled back. “Through there. Strip, wash, wear a mask.” Another medic pushed him towards swinging doors, through which he found a washroom with white linen shifts hanging on hooks.

The university infirmary in Horches had a similar facility so he worked out what was needed. He took off his bloodied shirt, wincing at the sight, and went to the sinks. Doctor Kardwil came in and began to do as Paole was, stripping his clothes and washing his hands thoroughly. “We were just about to take our first wounded,” Kardwil said. “I’d been sifting the injured and had only finished a few seconds before you came over.”

“Save Yveni or the soldiers will have been injured for naught.”

“I try to save everyone, my man.”

Thin gloves of a type Paole had never seen, and a mask over his face, meant he was finally clean and fit to be allowed into the theatre again.

Yveni still lay almost face down on the table, but the medics had been busy, and now his body lay draped with clean white cloths. The lad was unconscious, and a medic gave him air through an airbag, while another listened intently to the sounds of his lung and heart. Yveni’s clothes had been cut from him and thick dressings placed over the wound in his gut. A glass jar hung on a hook and a clear liquid dripped through tubing into his arm via a needle. Seeing all the equipment, the preparations, Paole stopped short. This was no healing he knew. What could he do here?

But Kardwil called to him. “Use that gift of yours and describe what you see.”

So Paole concentrated and tried his best to forget
whose
injuries he spoke of, whose blood spattered the dressings, whose pale face the airbag covered. Like Kardwil, he had to be calm, objective and observant. He reported which organs were damaged in what position, and as Kardwil worked with scalpels and clamps and forceps, Paole continued to describe what the doctor could not see, guiding his hands and instruments to the hidden bleeds, the unseen damage Konsatin’s damn sword had caused. Though the medics used equipment to monitor heart rate and blood pressure, Paole’s gift was a far more subtle tool, and Kardwil used his information for everything, rather than seeking reports from the medics. He sent one away, no longer needed, but the rest of the team worked together, calmly, efficiently. Yveni’s life force continued to shine, despite the horrible injuries Paole saw with his eyes and his gift.

The infirmary was far more modern than the one in Horches, and Yveni had spoken several times of Doctor Kardwil’s skill. Would it be enough? In his atheist heart, Paole prayed to gods he didn’t believe in that Yveni would survive, because if he didn’t, he just didn’t know what he’d do.

The surgery took nearly an hour. An agony for Paole, but as the medics wheeled Yveni away, and Kardwil insisted Paole come out and wash up again, the doctor smiled. “Never treated an injury of that kind that fast, my man. Can you stay? I have many wounded, and you’ll speed things up. Your gift will mean the difference of losing men, or not.”

“Of course. But I’m not trained.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re worth two medics to me, which means we can spare them to treat the less seriously wounded. Hurry, we have people waiting for our care.”

“Yveni?”

“Will be fine. Concentrate on the task in hand, Paole, for you can do no more for him now.”

So Paole did, and all through the rest of the night and into the morning, he worked beside Kardwil, acting as his eyes and spare hands, monitoring conditions, and in one case, telling him that there was no point in working on the soldier before them as his injuries had gone too far to save.

When the last man had left for recovery, and Paole and Kardwil washed up for the final time, he felt his exhaustion to his very bones. “How do you do it?” he asked the doctor.

“I don’t have to very often. I could use you, Paole. We could learn so much from what you can tell us of what’s happening in the body. Have you plans to stay?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”

“Think about it. But find some rest first.” Kardwil blinked as if waking up suddenly. “Oh. I don’t know what’s happening. Did we win?”

Paole had lost track of what was happening outside hours ago. “No idea. I guess we didn’t lose, since no one’s come in to interfere.”

“True. Don’t leave without speaking to me, I beg you. But leave our vicont to rest a little longer before you come in to see him. You saved his life, you know.”

Paole flushed. “No, you did with your surgery.”

“Man, I’m telling you, the speed and accuracy of treatment makes a difference, and he owes all to you. Now we have to make sure he doesn’t ruin our work by getting an infection. Don’t look so worried. We have excellent antibiotics here in Tuelwetin. He’ll be fine.”

Paole smiled, but the worry still gnawed at him. Kardwil told him to have someone make him some tea and if he could find nowhere better to sleep, he could grab a cot in the infirmary. Paole wanted to find his friends before he slept.

Outside, the bright sunshine shocked him, as did the peace. It was as if a storm had passed over, leaving no trace but wet stones.

“Paole!”

He turned, and grinned in relief to see Gil. “What happened to your arm?” He had a bandage wrapped around his forearm.

“Oh, I collided with someone’s knife, but it’s nothing. Yveni?”

“Alive. Kardwil says he’ll be fine, but…”

Gil touched his shoulder. “Then he will be,” he said gently. “Sofia’s at our old house over there. She’s set up cots and a field kitchen. Come. You look worn out.”

Paole followed him, too tired to ask about alternatives he didn’t want anyway. “The regent?”

“In custody. Lord Timur, the chief minister, is dealing with all that. You left Konsatin rather less handsome than before.”

“I wish I’d killed him.” Paole clenched his hands, remembering the give of the bastard’s flesh under his fists.

“No, you don’t, and neither will Yveni. He’s humiliated and all his intrigue is for naught. That’s a much worse punishment.”

“And who rules now?”

Gil smiled. “Sardelsa. Leave politics for the politicians. Today, the victors have earned their rest.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

By the time Yveni could spend more than a few minutes a day awake, and without the deadening grip of heavy pain killers, he’d discovered that he’d lost nearly two weeks, during which time things had changed a great deal in the duchy. His first visitor was Lord Timur, first minister, and for now, the new regent. The man was quite gleeful as he made his report. “The Margrave Konsatin has been returned to Enholt in disgrace, along with the Enholt soldiers, and his brother the duc has been advised that if he strays beyond Enholt’s borders, he will find a most hostile reception.”

“Thought it better not to try him?” Yveni wished he could have this conversation in a chair, not a bed, and with a stronger voice, but Doctor Kardwil had told him it would be some time before he was up to that, before muttering something to one of the medics about the lad not knowing how lucky he was.

“Frankly, yes, given the nature of the evidence we had against him, and the political difficulties. The Council of Unity sanctioned the action, and has agreed to place Enholt on strict supervision. I hope you’re not disappointed, Your Grace.”

Yveni waved a weary hand. “So long as he’s out of the duchy and has no claim on my sister.”

“Oh no, he doesn’t. Your Grace, I think the constitution might need amending to reject foreign regents and to give betrothed partners greater freedom.”

“Agreed.” He shifted in pain. “My sisters?”

“Both well, and soon to visit. I, ah, have restored Master Gil to his previous position, and his good wife. I believe it would be a healing thing for the duchy if the margrave’s innovations were undone as soon as possible.”

“Indeed. Gil agreed to stay?”

“After consideration, yes. He said, and I quote, ‘I miss Uemire, but the hunting’s better in Sardelsa.’”

Yveni grinned. “This is true. I want to see him. And I want to see Master Paole
now
. Why has he not been to visit, my lord?”

Timur coughed. “Er…he was, of course, constantly at your side while you recovered, Your Grace. I can’t speak for his absence now. I haven’t seen him in some time.”

“Has he left the duchy?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I believe he’s staying with Master Gil. Perhaps he’d know?”

“Perhaps.” Yveni could order Paole brought to him. Could order that he not be allowed to leave the country. But to do that would be a gross violation not only of their trust, but Paole’s right as a free man. Waiting was an agony, but he needed to be patient a little longer, and hope Paole would come of his own will.

Damn, he wanted to be out of this bed. The minister waited for Yveni’s instruction. Yveni tore his mind off Paole himself and onto the arrangements which needed to be made concerning him. “Speaking of Paole, there’s another matter which the cabinet will have to agree upon…”

“Paole, wait!”

He turned and obediently stood still as Serina ran across the cobblestones to him. “Your Grace, what can I do for you?”

“Stop calling me ‘Your Grace’ for a start.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Where are you going?”

“Ah, I thought I’d take a horse and go herb collecting, if Gil can lend me a mount.”

“Have you been to see Yveni? He asked after you again.”

“Uh…no. Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not ready.”

“Can I come with you? Doctor Kardwil says I should take as much fresh air and exercise as I can cope with.”

He assessed her. In the five weeks since the restoration, she’d made great progress, though she was still very thin and occasionally prone to panic and sudden mood swings. Sofia had taken her directly under her charge, and Olana had also designated herself as her sister’s nurse. Paole wondered how the older vicontes had escaped their attention.

“If Sofia agrees,” he said cautiously. “And you don’t overdo it.”

“I won’t. Let’s take a picnic.”

It was more fuss than he wanted, but he couldn’t deny this girl anything, and she knew it. Like brother, like sister, but then his heart contracted a little at the thought of Yveni, so he stopped thinking about it.

Sofia was quite content for Serina to go out under Paole’s protection. Olana was off having a music lesson so they didn’t have to worry about her being jealous of Serina spending time with the man Olana had something of a crush on. Gil gave Serina Yveni’s mare, Ande, since the horse needed the exercise and she was a very well-mannered mount who wouldn’t need a stronger hand to control her. Paole rode a big gelding that reminded him of Peni. He wondered if he could convince them to let him keep him when he went home.

Serina was content to ride in silence out into the woods near the castle. The place looked so peaceful now, though the damage from the brief but bloody battle could be detected if one knew where to look. The locks on the big wood and iron gate into the castle had been repaired, but the walls bore bullet chips here and there, and in the centre of the yard, a statue of Grand Duces Elaini, the founder of Yveni’s family line, had suffered damage from a poorly aimed bomb. She now gazed at her missing hand with a most irritated expression, but somehow Paole doubted she’d have let it slow her down in real life.

He took them to a favourite spot, a sunny glade by a pretty stream. Not the best area for herb collecting but he’d only used that as an excuse, and Serina liked the place, so he was content. He helped her down from the mare, and laid out their blanket and cushions. She insisted on acting as his serving maid with the food. The doctors and Paole had encouraged her to eat little and often, and Sofia worked hard to provide nutritious and tasty treats to tempt her small appetite. She’d only begun to fast once Kardwil had been thrown out of the castle, because she couldn’t rely on him covering up her fakery. Paole was thankful she hadn’t had to go on any longer. It would take some months before she returned to full health.

But here in the warm sun, she looked healthy and calm, and quite beautiful as she served him pie and poured out cold fruit juice from a wicker-covered jug. “So when will you visit him?” she asked as she picked up her plate. She spoke in Uemi, as was the sisters’ habit in private. He found it rather endearing.

“When I’m ready, Serina. I told you.”

“But when will that be? He’s becoming quite upset, you know.”

Paole did know, but that was part of the problem for him. “I’m not ready. I haven’t decided if I want to stay or not.”

“Can’t you talk to him about it?”

“No, I can’t. Because I take one look into those big brown eyes, same as yours, and my brain stops working.”

She laughed. “Oh. So we have gifts too.”

“All too many, Your Grace. I can’t be a consort. I need a role. But if I can’t marry him, your country offers me none.”

“I know. It’s not fair. That prick, Konsatin, would have had more official position and duties as my husband, even if I never became the duces.”

“Language, dear. Sofia will blame me.”

“But he is.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Sorry.” He gave her a smile. “I’m glad it’s all over for you.”

“Me too. Go see my brother. Dear Paole, maybe you do have to go home because it’s best for you, but it’s not fair to keep him waiting for you. He’s been through a lot.”

“All right. Later, perhaps.”

“Later, definitely.”

He gave a little sigh. Dogged, that was the word for this family. “As you wish, my lady.”

She had a nap after lunch, which meant he couldn’t leave her to go herb collecting. Instead he kept watch and thought about all the things that he needed to talk to Yveni about, the things that had stopped him talking to his lover. Serina thought it was so easy, but it wasn’t.

Still, it would become no easier, and he was well past the stage where he could pretend Yveni wasn’t up to his visit. He needed to show some of the courage that came so easily to Yveni and his sisters.

Serina only slept for an hour and insisted he do what he had come to do, so he spent some time collecting common herbs that were some use in the kitchen if not the infirmary. Then he said they should go back as she still looked tired.

Olana scolded him for not waiting until she was freed from her lesson before they went on their picnic. He had to promise it was her turn the following day before she’d forgive him. The two sisters went back to the residence, and Paole slumped onto a stool in Sofia’s kitchen.

“They run me ragged,” he complained.

“And you love every minute of it, don’t pretend you don’t. Are you going to visit Yveni?”

“It’s a conspiracy, isn’t it? He set you all on me.”

“Yes, he did. Paole, my dear man, the worst that can happen is he’ll be upset. But you’ve both endured worse and survived.”

“Yes. I’m a coward.”

“You’re not. None of us are. We’re Uemirien, and we’re not cowards.”

He could only nod. The reputation of their people was a cause close to Sofia’s heart, and one of the reasons she and Gil had decided to stay, whatever their sons did. She wanted to show the Sardelsans they were completely wrong about the Uemirien race, and shove their noses in their mistake as often as necessary.

She changed the subject onto the herbs he’d collected and the ones she still sought, but then she gave him a little push. “You’re hiding and procrastinating. Get it over with, and come back here and we’ll bind your wounds.”

“Are you sure you’re female? You’re tougher than any man I’ve ever dealt with.”

She grinned. “Oh, I’m female. There are more like us than you think. Now wash your hands, remake your braid, change your shirt and put on a smile.”

“Yes, mother.”

She swatted his arm and he left smartly. Should he change his shirt? No, damn it. It was clean enough and not covered in Yveni’s blood. He’d had to burn the one he’d worn that night, though he’d wept as he did so. He’d felt a little like he was burning Yveni, which only showed how stupid he became when he was upset.

He nodded to the clerk at the entrance to the infirmary, thinking to walk straight in as he’d done while Yveni was still under sedation, but the clerk held up his hand. “Master Paole, His Grace isn’t here.”

“What? Did something happen?”

“No.” The clerk leaned back a little and Paole realised he was looming. He stopped. “He’s been released to his own chambers. Doctor Kardwil felt he’d be more comfortable.”

“And will he be attended there?”

“Of course.” The clerk sounded offended at the very notion that he wouldn’t be. “Do you want to speak to Doctor Kardwil?”

“Not now, thank you. I, uh…good day.”

He escaped before he made a fool of himself. Yveni’s chambers. Where the hell would they be?

He hadn’t set foot inside the castle residence since that night and couldn’t help thinking he was about to be seized as a horrible Uemirien intruder as he passed through the huge open doorway. All that happened was that a young maid came up to him and curtseyed. “Master Paole? Do you wish to go to His Grace’s rooms?”

He stared. “Uh, yes. How did you know?”

“Her Grace, the Vicontes Serina told me, sir. And Her Grace, the Vicontes Olana. Oh, and His Grace, the vicont, and Doctor Kardwil.” She grinned at him. “I think Mistress Sofia, Master Gil, and one or two other people might have also mentioned you might be coming over, sir.”

“I understand.” He couldn’t help grinning back. “Am I tidy enough for His Grace?”

“Oh yes, sir. Would you like to follow me?”

Like the girls’ bedrooms, Yveni’s was on the ground floor. Paole wondered where Konsatin had slept and if they’d had to fumigate the room before it could be used again.

The maid opened the door to the bedroom. “Master Paole, Your Grace.”

“Thank you. Come in, Paole.”

He stepped inside, realising he really had left this too long. Yveni sounded quite unfriendly.

He found his lover sitting on a low-backed couch, propped up by pillows but otherwise looking normal. He was dressed tidily in a white shirt, open at the neck, and loose dark trousers with a tied and folded waist of the type many of the Sardelsan nobles preferred. No sign of his injuries other than the long fine scar across his left cheek. He was perhaps a little paler, a little thinner, but considering how seriously hurt he’d been, Paole was amazed by how healthy he looked without and within.