North Star Guide Me Home (39 page)

Rasten wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and it came away smeared with blood. Wordlessly, Amaya offered him a clean rag, and he wiped the gore away. Rhia crouched down to stare at the quill and the billowing silk. ‘By the Good Goddess,’ Isidro heard her murmur. ‘It works!’

‘Get her sitting up,’ Rasten said, jumping down from the table once again. ‘She’ll breathe easier.’

‘What about the deeper wound?’ Cam said as he levered Sierra upright, supporting her head against his shoulder. ‘Won’t it keep bleeding?’

‘It’ll clot, so long as she keeps still,’ Rasten said. ‘The valve will keep forcing out any air that leaks through, so long as it doesn’t clog.’ He turned to Rhia. ‘Someone should stay with her at all times, and check the quill every hour or so. In a few days, if she’s strong, it can come out. Sirri’s tough. Keep the wounds from turning foul and she’ll be well again.’

After a few moments, she stirred again, coughing weakly and raising clumsy hands to catch the spray of blood.

Rasten leant close, catching his head in her hands. ‘Don’t cough,’ he told her, ‘you’ll tear the clots loose and make it worse. Take shallow breaths, and try not to move.’

‘Can we get her off this cursed table?’ Cam said. ‘She’d be more comfortable if she’s not lying here like a beast on a slab.’

‘Point. But don’t cover the dressing on her side.’ Rasten moved towards her, but Cam’s glare warned him back. With one arm at her back, Cam slipped the other under her knees, ready to scoop her up. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘I’ll take you to the bedchamber.’

She stiffened in his arms. ‘No.’

‘Sirri —’

‘No! The babe. I want to see her. I think I know what’s wrong.’

‘What babe?’ He turned to Isidro. ‘What’s she talking about?’

‘The woman who stabbed her used a sick babe to get close,’ Rhia said. ‘She’s likely down at the temple still.’

‘It’s her foot that’s hurt,’ Sierra said. ‘The right one, I think.’

‘It’ll take too long to bring her here,’ Cam said. ‘I’ll send word, Sirri, I promise, but you need to rest.’

Sierra shivered, her skin ashen-pale, but her lips were growing pink. Isidro hadn’t noticed how dusky they’d become until they brightened again. She let her head fall against Cam’s shoulder. ‘I messed up,’ she said in a whisper. ‘I let you down.’

‘By the Black Sun …’ Cam said. ‘It’s not your fault, Sirri. The guards shouldn’t have let her get close … we’re just cursed lucky that it wasn’t worse.’ He kissed the top of her head, and turned to Isidro. ‘We should have seen this coming. She needs a dedicated bodyguard, someone with more skill than the men of the household guards.’

‘I think you’re right.’ Isidro glanced around for Rasten, only to find the other man had vanished from sight. With a step to the side Rasten came into view, however. He had backed away until his feet brought him to the wall, and there he’d slid down to crouch on his heels, one hand to his brow. He looked strained and weary. The dogs, huge black and white hounds that followed Cam around during the day and guarded the door at night, came over to investigate the newcomer with snuffling noses.

‘Rasten,’ Isidro said. Rasten glanced up, and heaved himself up to his feet. ‘Step outside, please.’

Rasten bowed his head and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

Cam breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Alright, Issey, I’ll grant he knows a bit of medicine, but he still makes me uneasy. Let’s get Sirri settled, and I’ll send for Ardamon.’ He started to gather Sierra up again, but she wrapped a hand around his wrist to stall him. All the while she kept her gaze on Isidro.

‘Cam,’ Isidro said, and then he broke off, unsure just how to phrase what he meant to say. Without really meaning to, he felt himself turn towards the door.

Cam stared at him for a long moment, and then followed his gaze, and blanched. ‘No.’

‘Cam —’

‘By all the Gods, have you lost your mind? You want
Rasten
to guard her?’

‘He’ll defend her with his life,’ Isidro said. ‘And he’s the best offensive mage we’ve got.’

‘Issey, he’s mad as a cut snake.’

Isidro sighed. ‘He’s unstable, I know. Sirri, can you keep him steady?’

‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘I did all I could back in Akhara, but … in the end it wasn’t enough. He’s come a long way since then, though, and I’m not sure I know him as I once did.’

‘But you’d have the best chance of anyone,’ Isidro said. She nodded, head drooping again.

Cam gave a wordless growl of frustration, and without speaking Mira took his place at Sierra’s back while Cam turned away, raking hands through his hair as though he meant to tear it out. ‘This … no. It’s madness. It’s asking a rabid wolf to guard our flock.’

‘If not him, who?’ Isidro said. ‘Who else has the power to protect her? Who else has a loyalty that can’t be shaken?’

Cam glared at him and turned to Mira. ‘What do you say to this?’

‘I … I don’t know what to think,’ she said. ‘I remember seeing him at court, back when Valeria ruled, and the tales that spread back then …’ She shuddered. ‘But what he did in Akhara, then here … he could have walked out of that cell in the tower whenever he wanted. He could have torn this place apart. I … I keep thinking back to that homestead we passed after we left Issey at Drysprings. Do you remember, the one with the little girl? He needed hostages badly, but he left that woman and her daughter alone. I think there’s more to him than the monster the tales speak of.’

‘But do you want him here, in our home? With our children?’

‘He won’t harm them,’ Sierra said. ‘He’d never hurt a child if he had a choice.’

Cam cut his gaze to Delphine. ‘Delphi?’

She was wide-eyed, still pallid and drawn from the strain of the last hour. ‘Oh, by all the Gods, why are you asking me?’

‘You’re a member of this household, you have a say. What do you think?’

She spread her hands. ‘I honestly don’t know. This … look, an attack on Sierra is an act of war, isn’t it? This plan the Akharians have, the one you’ve been worrying about for months, this is it, isn’t it? The first strike. Cam, I don’t know the first cursed thing about war … but he’s powerful and Issey’s right, I honestly believe he’d die for Sierra. I know he’d kill for her. If this is war, shouldn’t we take any weapon we can get our hands on?’

With a sigh, Cam ground the heels of his hands against his eyes and sat heavily on the bench. ‘That’s it, then. The decision’s made.’

‘Cam!’ Mira twisted around to face him. ‘It’s not like that! You’re the king —’

‘And here in these walls, with all of you, that doesn’t mean a cursed thing. You all say we should bring him into the fold … I have my doubts, I truly do, but perhaps I’m the one not being rational here.’ He lifted his head, and caught Isidro’s eye. ‘You’re sure this is the best path?’

‘I don’t see any alternative.’

‘And you’re willing to trust him?’

For a moment there was silence. The weight of eyes upon him made his skin crawl. The day he was brought to Kell’s tent was clear in his mind, and he remembered every moment of it, every touch of the hot iron, every blow of the club and, afterwards, every long moment of pain and humiliation as Kell punished him for letting his prize escape.

He’d spent long nights dreaming of making Rasten pay. It was only much, much later that he realised the price had already been exacted. He’d spent hours hoping he could make sure Rasten would never harm another soul as he’d been harmed, and that had come to pass, too, on the yellow sand far to the west. The demon was slain.

‘I am,’ Isidro said.

‘Alright,’ Cam said, leaning back and rubbing his temples. ‘Call him back.’

Isidro turned to the door. ‘Rasten,’ he said, not bothering to raise his voice. ‘Come in.’

There was a pause — a long pause — and then the door softly clicked open, and Rasten crept in on silent feet.

Isidro had half expected him to be cocky and arrogant, or at least to look pleased, but Rasten slunk into the room like a dog expecting to be whipped. It was only belatedly that Isidro realised a summons like that had never meant anything good in this man’s life.

Cam watched him with narrow eyes. He came to his feet and stepped around the table where Sierra half-lay with Mira’s arms around her. ‘You were listening at the door.’

Rasten shook his head. ‘No. Through Sirri’s ears. She’s too weary to notice.’

‘Why?’ Cam demanded.

Rasten drew a deep breath, and through the link Isidro could feel his heart beating hard. His power was running high, too. ‘Forewarned is forearmed.’ He swallowed hard and looked around at Sierra and Isidro, Cam and Mira, and then twisted around to glance back at Delphine. Then, he sank to his knees. ‘I’ll do it,’ he said. ‘I’ll guard her with my life.’

‘Will you swear to do everything in your power to see that no harm comes to any member of my household?’

‘I do. I swear it on … on …’ He glanced up at Isidro. ‘I don’t know what oath to swear.’

‘Just give your word.’

‘But … what use is that? Words are cheap.’

‘They’re worth what you make of them, Rasten.’

He frowned briefly at that, and bowed his head again. ‘I give you my word. I’ll defend your household and those under your protection to my last breath.’

‘In return, I pledge to treat you with honour. You’ll have a place at my table and at my hearth, and I’ll look after you and yours as you do me and mine. But by all the Gods, if you cross me, I’ll have your cursed head, you understand, even if I have to come back from the fucking grave to claim it.’

‘I understand,’ Rasten said. ‘My king.’

Cam gazed down at him for a long moment before turning away with a toss of his head. ‘Good. Alright, Sirri, let’s get you comfortable.’ He picked her up and turned towards the rear chamber, with Amaya running ahead to open the door and Rhia at his heels.

Watching them go, Mira began to pace. ‘The tale of what happened must be through the city by now. By all the Gods, there must be panic out there — they’ve heard nothing, they’ll assume the worst. We need to do something.’

Rasten had taken a few steps after Cam, as though already unwilling to leave his charge, but at her words he hesitated, glancing back.

‘What is it?’ Isidro asked him.

Rasten nodded to Delphine. ‘Your woman had the right of it. The Akharians are behind this, it’s an act of war. Do you want them to know their gambit failed? Or would it be better to let them think they hit their mark, and that she’s dying right now?’

Cam appeared in the doorway, drawn by the conversation. ‘And send people into a panic?’ he demanded.

‘Maybe,’ Mira laid a hand on her throat, frowning, ‘but maybe not. We need to be clever with this. Our enemies will be waiting for news along with everyone else. All we have to do is choose the right words, make them read into it what they want to hear …’ She turned to Rasten. ‘How long until she’s strong again?’

‘Fully healed? A few weeks, at least. You don’t have that kind of time.’ He shook his head. ‘We. We don’t have that kind of time.’

‘No. But you said before, a few days —’

‘Until the quill comes out. By then she should be up and about so long as she’s careful, but she’ll be weak.’

‘And if she were dying, how long would it take?’

Rasten studied her, his head tilted to one side. ‘Sirri’s tough, she doesn’t give up easily. Three or four days would wear her down.’

‘And that’s what they’d want. They’ve faced her before, they know what she can do. They’d want her weak, dying, if not dead.’ She turned to Isidro. ‘It’s all in the wording, do you see?’

‘I … I think so,’ he said.

‘Come and help me put it together, Issey,’ she said, fetching her writing box. ‘We don’t have much time.’

It was barely after noon when Isidro left their quarters, the scent of blood and the sound of Sierra struggling to breathe still fresh to his senses. It was well after dark by the time he returned, having spent hours repeating the phrases he and Mira had hastily drafted.

The city was desperate to know what was happening. Dozens had witnessed the attack on Sierra, and the news had spread like wildfire. Everywhere he was met with fearful, worried faces, asking the same questions — was she badly hurt? Would she live?

He could hear the real questions under their words. They cared about her, true — but they also wanted to know if they were in danger, if the city would fall, if they could expect to see the Akharian legions marching through the north again.

He told them all the same thing. She was fine. It was barely a scratch, she wasn’t hurt at all. There was nothing to worry about.

They wanted desperately to believe him, but scepticism was plain in their eyes. The tales from the temple said the knife was buried in her chest … that was no scratch. And why then was she hidden away in the royal quarters? Why had the palace servants been sent to gather more bandages, more hot water and more medicines from the hospital’s supplies? And why had servants been seen carrying baskets of bloody rags away to be burned? Why had Rasten been summoned to attend on her, and remained in the royal quarters still?

A few were brave enough to ask those questions, but Isidro repeated the useless platitudes. He met with the guardsmen, the Mage Corps, with folk from the city and countless others, and with each assembly he studied the faces gathered around him, trying to determine which of them were spies. They were out there, he had no doubt of it, waiting for news. Waiting for the right time to put their plans into action.

When he returned to their chambers he was weary beyond measure, heartsick with anxiety and the lies both.

He was the last to return — the others were there already, about to sit down to the evening meal. There were a few newcomers in the sombre gathering. Cam had a baby in his arms, though it was only on the second glance that Isidro realised it wasn’t Cade. He was talking to a woman Isidro didn’t know, though her features were vaguely familiar. She had a babe of her own in a sling tied across her chest, and Rhia stood at her side, holding her hand with a smile of shy pride. As Isidro entered, Cam waved him over.

‘Issey, this is Kavra,’ Cam said. ‘I decided we needed a wet nurse and Rhia has vouched for her.’

With one look at them, the way they stood close together, the way their hands were interlinked, Isidro could guess the connection between the two. ‘Kavra,’ he said with a bow of his head, ‘welcome. I hope you realise this may be a dangerous posting.’

‘I understand, sir. I swear I won’t breathe a word of what I see inside these walls. Whatever happens, I know Rhia will be in the thick of it. I’d rather help than turn tail and flee.’

Isidro knew where he’d seen her, now; she was one of the midwives who’d attended Delphine after Illiana’s birth. He was glad Rhia had found someone after all these years, but her presence here was still something of a mystery. He turned to Cam with one eyebrow raised.

‘Oh,’ Cam said. ‘And we need a wet nurse because we’re taking in the poor little lass Sierra’s attacker used to get close.’ He shifted the baby in his arms. She was fast asleep, as limp and heavy as a sack of flour. ‘She’s an orphan, as far as we know, so it’s our duty to make provision for her.’

‘True,’ Isidro said, ‘but is it wise, with everything that’s going on now?’

‘Probably not,’ Cam said, ‘but after I saw her down in the temple I couldn’t bear to leave her there. Ardo and I looked over the woman Sierra killed. She was a slave, with shackle-marks on her wrists and old whip-scars on her back. We can’t even be sure if the babe was truly hers. Sierra was right. They sank a fish-hook into her heel to make her cry. The wretched woman only had to squeeze her foot.’ He passed the sleeping baby to Kavra, who took her with a smile and turned away to the nursery. ‘I’ve called her Eshta, after the foundling from the children’s tales.’

Rhia retreated to the bedchamber where Sierra was resting as Cam waved Isidro over to the table. Amaya and Anoa were setting out a dish of torn bannock and a pot of stew, and soon everyone gathered around to eat.

Everyone except Rasten, Isidro noted. He emerged from the bedchamber a few moments after Rhia entered, and though he looked them over, he skirted around the table heading to where the dogs sat. The hounds thumped their tails in welcome as he drew near.

Isidro noticed Cam watching him. He was not the only one. Mira paused in her eating, and then set her spoon down. ‘Rasten, come here,’ she said.

He froze, and turned to face her with wariness plain in his face. But when she beckoned him in an imperious gesture, he obeyed, padding towards her. ‘My lady?’ he said.

‘You don’t have to sit on the floor with the dogs,’ she told him in a low voice.

He looked surprised. ‘I don’t mind, my lady. They’re good company. Better than what I’m used to in this place.’

‘Perhaps. But you’re not a beast, and I won’t have you treated like one. You’re a member of the household, and that means you eat with us. Here,’ she pointed to the end of a bench, ‘sit.’

As he obeyed, she stood to reach for a spare bowl and ladled out a portion of stew and added a generous chunk of bannock.

Sitting only a few places away, Anoa glared at him with a kind of hostile curiosity. Rasten returned her gaze guardedly, until Mira offered the bowl to him and he stood to take it with both hands. ‘Thank you, my lady,’ he muttered.

‘You’re welcome.’

Cam watched the whole exchange with his expression carefully neutral. ‘How’s Sirri?’ he asked as Rasten settled again. Rasten glanced up, as though uncertain at first that Cam was speaking to him.

‘Feverish,’ he said, ‘but it’s to be expected. Her breathing is strong, and the quill in her chest is clear.’

The meal was quiet and subdued, while Cam and Ardamon talked of what they’d learnt. The dead woman had been carrying a pot of bloodroot salve, a preparation that prevented blood from clotting, but it hadn’t been touched. The would-be assassin, it seemed, hadn’t wanted to succeed.

Cam shook his head at that news, and muttered a curse. ‘Why in the hells didn’t she come to us for help?’

‘We’ll never know,’ Ardamon said. ‘The folk who saw her said she came alone, but they said she was acting scared, always seeming to be afraid someone was watching her. They must have had some sort of hold on her.’

‘Any other sign of enemy activity?’

‘None. I doubled the guard, but palace and city both have been dead quiet.’

‘They’ll be waiting for news,’ Mira said.

‘Most likely.’

As the remains of the meal were cleared away, Rhia came out to find him. ‘Issey, could you talk to her? She will not sleep. I made her a sleeping draught, but she will not take it. She is growing more upset, but she must rest to heal. Can you calm her down?’

Once, perhaps, he could have, but now with the distance between them grown so great, he wasn’t so sure. He’d tried a week ago as she stared into the flames, but it seemed he’d done little good. But when he closed his eyes he could still see her with a knife in her chest, struggling to breathe, and his heart twisted at the memory. ‘I’ll try,’ he said.

‘Rasten did well for a time, but I feel it’s not him she wants,’ Rhia said as she led him to the back room.

‘What do you make of him, Rhia?’

She glanced back at him, lips pursed. ‘He is a fine surgeon, but his knowledge of herbs and medicine is greatly lacking. Amaya knows more than he does, but I suppose I ought not be surprised. I should like to show him my anatomy text. From what he said I think it has grave inaccuracies. Perhaps he can correct them.’

‘I don’t doubt he could,’ Isidro said.

Sierra’s bed lay at the far end of the chamber, a screen of blankets strung up around it. When Rhia waved him through, he felt a tingle of energy — a shield? It was Rasten’s working, he knew that at a touch. Perhaps it was more a ward than a shield to tell him if Sierra tried to get up, or if there was any change from within. It made a kind of sense. Rasten wasn’t used to relying on anyone but himself.

Inside, Isidro found Sierra propped up on a mound of cushions. She’d pulled one of the pillows from the pile and restlessly toyed with the fringe applied to it. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked up at him with eyes that shone unnaturally bright.

‘Isidro has come to sit with you a little while,’ Rhia said, ‘but do try to rest.’

She made no reply, but simply watched as Rhia left, then switched her gaze to Isidro as he settled into the chair beside her bed, shifting until he found a position that didn’t press the hardware of the shoulder-harness against his spine. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Wretched,’ she said. ‘Did they send you to make me drink that cursed potion?’

‘Something like that. I’m surprised Rasten didn’t threaten to hold your nose and pour it down your throat.’

‘And risk having me struggle and reopen the wound? He’s too clever for that.’ She shifted, awkwardly holding her left arm away from her side, and he wondered how it felt to have that piece of feather lodged between her ribs. ‘But you’re wasting your cursed time. I won’t drink it. What if they came while I was drugged to oblivion? Can’t risk it.’

‘That’s fair enough,’ he said. ‘I hated that stuff, too. Even when I needed it, even when it made things bearable, I still hated it.’

She craned her head to meet his eyes, but something in his face seemed to satisfy her, for she lay back with a sigh. ‘Any sign of trouble?’

‘No, none. It’s all quiet.’

‘Quiet as the grave,’ she muttered.

He could feel her power running high, though it was a jittery, thready thing, an iced-over stream rather than the deep, wide current he was used to. It made his nerves jangle in sympathy. His ribs itched and ached, and he scratched them absently before he realised that it wasn’t his sensation, but an echo from Sierra. There was no power behind it — at least, none that he could gather — but this close, he could feel the pinch of the stitches, and the dull sting of the quill in her side.

‘Do you want anything? Tea, some food …’

She shook her head. ‘No. I just want to be well again.’

‘Sirri, you need to rest. I know you don’t want to hear it. Believe me, when I was wounded I wanted to strangle anyone who said those cursed words, but it’s the truth. Rest and healing go hand in hand.’

‘I know,’ she growled, still plucking at the knotted fringe, ‘but I can’t. Every time I doze off, I think I feel them coming. I have to be ready.’

He started to reach for her hand, but the chair was too far away, the bed too wide. Instead, he shifted to sit beside her, kicking off his boots and stretching his long legs alongside hers, leaning on her pile of cushions as he caught her hand and held it. ‘By the Black Sun,’ he said, ‘there was a time I could have made you feel better. I wish I could do it now, I truly do.’

Her hand had grown tense and stiff as he pulled it away from the cushion.

‘Do … do you truly mean it, Issey?’

‘What? Of course I mean it. I wouldn’t lie to you, Sirri.’

‘Even if I’m feverish and ill, and you need me well again?’

He leant close, catching the perfumed scent of the soap she’d used to wash her hair. ‘Especially then.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘I wish we could go back to what we had. If I could wind back the months —’

She stirred against him. ‘Don’t say that. Fires Below, going through it once was bad enough. I couldn’t face doing it again.’

‘No, that’s not what I mean. Sirri …’

‘You told me. I remember. But …’ she trailed off. Her hand had grown tense again.

‘But what?’ he said.

She didn’t answer, and he leant forward to peer at her face, to see if she’d gone to sleep. No, her eyes were open, dark and shining in the lamplight. She met his gaze briefly and then flickered away.

‘You told me,’ she said, ‘but your words say one thing. Your face, your hands, your power … they say another. You said you forgave me, but you’re still angry, Isidro. I can feel it.’

‘I’m
not
…’ He broke off with a sigh. ‘I’m not angry at you. At the time I couldn’t think straight, I was out of my mind. You did what you had to do. Fires Below, if I could forgive Rasten for what he did, why wouldn’t I forgive you?’

‘But you are still angry. Don’t try to deny it, I can feel it in the way your heart’s beating.’

He looked down at her small form, swamped by cushions and furs. ‘You truly are feverish.’

‘Curse you, don’t change the subject.’

‘Alright, then. I am still angry. I just don’t know at what.’

‘If it’s not me and it’s not Rasten, then who?’

‘I don’t know. I just know that I’m still furious that I lost my arm, that I have this tainted power, that these cursed scars on my back still sting sometimes …’
That they tied me down and raped me,
he thought, in the silence of his skull. ‘Maybe it’s Kell I’m still angry at.’

‘Maybe. That makes sense. I still hate him. Sometimes I sit back and think about how the axe felt, the sound his skull made when it hit … it helps, sometimes.’

No, that’s not right,
Isidro thought, biting his lip. He never thought back to that moment, never called upon it for comfort. What did that mean? If it wasn’t Kell, then who was owed this bundle of fury beneath his heart?

‘Look, forget about him,’ he said, slipping an arm around her shoulders. She let her head tip against his shoulder, and her hair tickled the bare skin of his neck. ‘He doesn’t deserve any space in your thoughts. Think of something else, something calm and peaceful. There’s got to be something more worthy of your time.’

She sighed, softly. ‘You’ll think I’m a fool.’

‘I won’t, I swear.’

‘You remember the night you came to me after I joined your camp, when we had to flee with Rasten on our trail. You made me forget him, forget about all of it.’

He remembered. ‘We made each other forget,’ he whispered.