Scholar of Decay (25 page)

Then the door closed.

The boatman jerked at the sound, suddenly realizing he was alone in the night. Breathing a fervent prayer to whatever benevolent gods might be listening, he cast off and stroked strongly for home. In order to return in the morning for his reward—and, though his lack of doubt surprised him a little, he believed the reward would be given as promised—he had to survive the night.

Buttoning his beribboned vest, Dmitri walked out onto the second floor landing and frowned down into the entryway. “Who’s banging on the door at this hour, Edi—
Zima veter
!” Astonishment jerked out the Borcan exclamation, though upon crossing
the border Aurek had self-righteously insisted for fluency’s sake they not speak their native language. Dmitri threw himself down the stairs, touching maybe one in three. “What happened to my brother?”

“The boatman says he came out of the Narrows in this condition.”

“The boatman?” Dmitri frowned, trying to place the man and finally touching a dim recollection of a shadowy, faceless figure standing at the stern of the canalboat. “And you believed him?” He tried to push past, but Edik left him no room. “Get out of my way, and I’ll deal with this boatman. We’ll see what he knows.”

“Had he injured the master, he would not have been so stupid as to bring the body home.” Edik shifted Aurek’s limp weight across his shoulders. His face wore no more expression than usual, but the edge in his voice betrayed a certain amount of inner agitation. “I will continue straight to his bedchamber.”

“You can’t carry him upstairs like that.”

Edik set one foot carefully on the first step. “I believe there is room, sir.”

“No!” Dmitri grabbed his sleeve. “I mean, you can’t carry him like that!” His emphasis laid indignation over horror that his brother should come home in such condition, to be draped like a slaughtered stag across Edik’s broad shoulders.

“If I do not carry him like this,” Edik said, continuing to climb, his sturdy linen sleeve pulling out of Dmitri’s grasp, “I cannot carry him at all. If you will note, sir, his back has been laid open and cannot be touched.”

Dmitri spread his hands, unable to argue but needing to rail at something. “Well, yes, but …”

“If you could keep the master’s skull from impacting with the wall, sir.”

“I can do that!” He leaped forward and gently cupped one palm over Aurek’s head, knuckles brushing the flocked black roses in the wallpaper. Unfortunately, this brought him distressingly close to the three slashes across his brother’s back—their edges drying, their centers still seeping blood. Every movement cracked open the few scabs that had formed. “He looks …” Dmitri swallowed and tried again. “He looks as if he’s been attacked by a big animal of some kind.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But what kind? That’s the question.”

Edik carefully maneuvered down the second floor hall, his steps becoming more and more deliberate as the space grew narrower. “I suggest you ask your lady friend, sir.”

“My lady friend?” Dmitri ducked past Aurek’s head and opened the bedchamber door. “What are you implying, Edik? Why would Louise know anything about this?”

“Servants hear things, sir. And I have heard that both the
sestra
Renier know everything that occurs in the city.” He stopped, knees pressed against the side of the huge bed. “If you could take the master’s feet, sir.”

Together they slid Aurek facedown onto the bed.

“Should we send one of house servants for a doctor?” Dmitri asked as Edik deftly peeled the shredded clothing from his brother’s torso. He vaguely thought that with Aurek injured, he should be taking over, making the decisions, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate.

“No.” Edik’s contempt of the local practitioners rang clear in that single syllable. “I will take care of the master, as I always have.”

“But …” Then he remembered some of the stories he’d heard about what happened around the sickbeds of Pont-a-Museau.

“… so while the learned doctor is pouring medicines past this poor
sot’s teeth,” Georges laughed, the fingers of one hand playing negligently with a strand of his sister’s hair, “the rats in the mattress have eaten off the toes and are working their way up to the ankles. The idiot couldn’t see the blood through a pile of filthy blankets, and he thought all the twitching had to do with his useless potions.”

Most were probably exaggerations, some outright lies. But if any were true, then the loyal Edik’s care would be infinitely preferable. “What can I do to help?”

Edik stared at him for a long moment, and Dmitri found himself feeling somehow wanting—as if the servant’s steady gaze saw into his heart and didn’t much like what it saw. He began to bridle. “Look, Aurek and I might not always get along, but he’s my brother.”

Meeting his gaze, Edik weighed the emphasis, then nodded and said, “If you would go for the brandy, sir, while I get boiling water and clean cloths.”

Outside in the hallway, Dmitri had to lean for a moment against the wall. All he could see was his brother’s pale and bloodstained body lying still and helpless on the bed. Aurek had never been much of a fighter—their sisters had often remarked on it. So what if he was a wizard? He’d still spent most of his life with his nose in a book. What kind of training was that for a fight? He had no business going into the Narrows by himself. If he’d taken me with him, I could’ve protected him.

He doesn’t want you with him, murmured a voice in his head, a voice that took on the tones and cadences of Louise Renier’s. He never even told you he was a wizard. He’s been lying to you all along.

He’s still my brother, Dmitri thought as his hands curled into fists. And for the first time in my life, he needs me.

Aurek woke to pain—searing lines of it across his back, a hot ache in one hand, and dull throbbing over most of the rest of his body. He thought for one terrifying moment he was still in the workshop, that he had to move, to dive out of the way or the bone golem would tear him apart. He jerked, rolled onto his side, felt the rough familiarity of the blanket beneath him, and realized where he was.

Home. He’d made it home.

“Natalia …”

His news—his glorious, magnificent news—couldn’t wait. Teeth clenched, he slid his lower body off the bed and allowed his knees to drop to the floor. He tried to rise, fell back; tried to rise, succeeded. With his left hand leaving bloody handprints against the wall, he staggered into his study one pain-filled step at a time. When he arrived at the alcove holding his Natalia, his naked torso dripped sweat the color of cheap red wine.

“I found it, Lia,” he gasped. “I found your freedom.” He drew in a deep breath, ignoring the way it burned in his throat. “There’s a workshop in the catacombs, and a book, and the spell we need is in that book. I hadn’t strength enough to open it but I will, Lia, my love, my life. We are so close. I promise you, so close …”

The fine hairs on the back of his neck—or, at least, those few not stuck down in a gory mat—lifted. Slowly, Aurek turned to see Dmitri standing little more than an arm’s length away. “What are you doing in here?” he demanded.

“The door was open,” Dmitri began, but Aurek cut him off.

“I told you never to come in here!” As he swayed, the bloody braid swept across his chest, leaving a pinkish red smear. “Never!”

Dmitri fought against his immediate, defensive reaction. His
brother was injured. Hurting. He didn’t know what he was saying. Gesturing toward the adjoining bedchamber with the bottle of brandy, he murmured, “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“I should be exactly where I am!” Eyes rolling, voice sharp, Aurek felt as though he were on the edge of a precipice. For Natalia’s sake, he had to stop himself from toppling over. “I have work to do. Important work. Get out! Leave us alone!”

“Us?” Dmitri glanced around the study. “There’s no one in here but you and I.”

“Natalia …”

“Is dead! She died over a year ago! Her body was completely destroyed!” Concern and irritation combined to override sense. Dmitri strode across the room and snatched up the figurine before Aurek could stop him. “This,” he declared, waving it in the air, “is a piece of morbid statuary. It’s not your wife!”

Moving faster than his wounds should’ve allowed, Aurek grabbed the figurine. Eyes blazing, he straightened to his full height and, in his rage, towered over Dmitri. “Get out!”

Raising the bottle of brandy like a shield, Dmitri stepped back and shook his head in hurt disbelief. “You-you need help.”

“Get! Out!” Each word was a separate, barely controlled explosion of rage.

Dmitri stared at his brother, saw nothing in his expression that acknowledged either him or their relationship in any way, turned on his heel, and nearly ran from the study. By the time he met Edik in the bedchamber, his hurt confusion had merged with the emotions of a lifetime of injustice, of not ever being quite good enough, and turned to anger. “Apparently,” he informed the frowning servant bitterly, “I am of less importance to my brother than a bad depiction of his dead wife.”

“Young sir …”

“Forget it.” Throwing the bottle on the bed, Dmitri stomped out of the room. “You’re on your own. If he dies, don’t imagine I’ll care.”

Slumped on the plank floor of the study, Natalia cradled protectively on his lap, Aurek jerked as the bedchamber door slammed. He had the strangest feeling that he’d just pushed his younger brother across a bridge into a dark and violent place—that he’d made a very grave mistake. His thoughts spun round and round and round.

“Too tired,” he murmured to the auburn braids wrapped around the top of his wife’s porcelain head. “And too close to success. I’ll deal with him when you are free, my love.” With his right thumb, he rubbed at a drop of blood rolling down the full folds of her skirts. No matter how much he rubbed, he couldn’t seem to rub it off.

“Once you are free,” he repeated, wondering how one drop of blood could spread so far, “I’ll make everything right with Dmitri. I promise.”

“You’re looking very cheerful tonight.”

Louise draped an artistically disheveled curl over the notch in her ear and smiled at her sister’s reflection in the mirror. “I guess I am pretty cheerful tonight at that.”