The Quartered Sea (47 page)

As annoyed by her cousin as by the interruption, Xaan Mijandra shook her head. "And start a new rumor that he's a warrior of Tulpayotee; I don't think so."

"Don't take the whole robe off him, then." One hand clutching hood and hair, Hueru hauled Benedikt to his feet and flipped the bottom half of the robe up over his head.

The crowd roared back. As the guards closed ranks again, Xhojee knew he'd spent the one chance Benedikt had and bought nothing more than a short delay in the inevitable.

As Benedikt was thrown to his knees again, Xaan Mijandra patted her cousin approvingly on the arm. "Well done." Reaching out, she dragged the bottom half of the robe down into place and held Benedikt's wildly staring eyes with hers. "Your defiance has created quite a spectacle for the people of Atixlan, and I don't appreciate it." Still staring into his face, she beckoned to Hueru. "Since he wants to run away, take his legs."

This was more than just a beating. Benedikt jerked back, unable to help, himself then fought for calm.
Evicka has no legs. And is no less a bard
.

Sword half drawn, Hueru stepped forward only to be stopped by the xaan's hand on his chest.

"You can live with that, can't you, Benedikt? Interesting." Her fingernails tapped thoughtfully against Hueru's tattoo. "If he can't see, he can't run," she said slowly, allowing her arm to fall back by her side. "Take his eyes instead."

Breathing heavily, Benedikt found his gaze locked on Hueru's hands. The big man flexed them as he advanced, jabbing the thumbs into the air the way he'd jab them…

Stop thinking about it! Tadeus is blind, and he's certainly no less a bard.

But Tadeus has eyes
! The second thought was a silent wail, inside his head.

I said, stop thinking about it!

Motioning for Hueru to move aside, the xaan stepped forward again. She stroked one finger up the column of Benedikt's throat then ran it along his lower lip. "You really would rather die, wouldn't you? And because you'd rather, you won't. But…" The finger tapped against the gag."… if I can't use you, neither will anyone else."

Her eyes were very black. Unable to look away, Benedikt felt as though she had his kigh squirming on the ends of two dark daggers.

Voiceless.

The dagger caught the light as Hueru turned the edge toward him.

Forever.

If the gag had removed hope, this shattered it into a million pieces that shredded Benedikt's resolve. He threw himself at the xaan's feet, screaming, crying, begging.

Rough hands grabbed him and hauled him back to his knees. Terror took over, and he fought them with everything he had left, shrieking his surrender through the gag.

When Benedikt looked up into her face, he knew he'd lost. He swallowed and forced the words through chattering teeth. "I'll sing for you. Just, please, don't…"

He didn't actually believe it was going to happen until Hueru grabbed his hair in one hand and pressed his thumb against the bottom of his right eye.

The xaan watched it grow, and when it reached the height of a tall man, Benedikt's height perhaps, she tapped her cousin on the shoulder. "Get him into the warehouse. Now."

Benedikt stopped screaming as Hueru threw him over his shoulder, one bloody hand bright red against the white robe. He moaned once as his head flopped down against the shorter man's hip. Again as blood dripped onto the stone. One final time as Hueru dropped him on the warehouse floor and turned to help the guards with the door.

They got it shut just as the wave hit.

"Is he doing that?" Hueru demanded.

"He was." Xaan Mijandra looked down at Benedikt and prodded him gently with one toe. "He isn't doing anything now. I expect the waters will retreat."

"You
expect
, peerless one?"

When they opened the door, the stones of the harbor front were steaming in the morning sun, washed clean of Benedikt's blood.

* * *

Dagger in one hand, Bannon crouched by the side of his bed. Not even such a dream could make him break years of training and cry out, but it had been close. Breathing heavily, he stood and slipped the dagger back into its sheath with trembling hands.

Karlene had been wrong. Benedikt was still alive. He'd bet his life on it.

Assassins' hands never trembled.

Chapter Thirteen

«
^
»

OTYPEZ straightened and, wiping his hands on the damp cloth his assistant held out to him, turned to face the xaan. "I assume you want him to live, peerless one."

Her expression hardened at the interruption although her tone remained reasonable. "Lubricated. You're the physician, you figure it out. If he loses his voice, you lose yours. I need him functional as soon as possible."

"Begging your pardon, peerless one…" Otypez glanced back at the motionless figure on the bed and continued without sounding remotely apologetic, "… but how do you define functional."

"Able to function—walking, talking, standing, singing, thinking." Gathering the trailing edges of her robe up over one arm, she paused on her way to the door. "You've done this before, Otypez. Just do it again."

"She's never wanted them thinking before," Otypez told his assistant dryly as the bells noted the xaan's departure.

Without the senior physician's protective history, his assistant pretended not to hear.

* * *

Five days later, Benedikt stared at the xaan's feet without really seeing them. The world had taken on a flatness, a permanent reminder of his weakness and his betrayal of his oaths. Because it was easier than thinking for himself, he'd done everything the physician had asked of him and his eye was healing well. His kigh still bled, would bleed, he knew, for the rest of his life.

"I want the solution to the Song of Sorquizic by Xaantalicta's next rebirth. Twelve days, Benedikt. That's all."

He wanted to say he'd forgotten the song, that the terror and the pain had driven it right out of his head, but he didn't have courage enough to lie to her. "Yes, peerless one."

* * *

Second Quarter had been kind to the Broken Islands with lots of warm sunny days and very few of the devastating storms that blew in so suddenly from the Western Sea. Leaning over the railing on the third-floor deck of the combined Bardic/Healer Hall, Adamec squinted against the reflected sunlight and watched a small boat sail into Pitesti Harbor.

"Lisbet's in early. If she's full, she must've run into an early school."

Tomas grunted distractedly as he wondered just how much of young Aniji's last recall he needed to put into the quarter's report. "The trouble with remembering everything," he sighed, "is that nothing becomes trivial enough to leave out."

"Tomas, are you listening to me?"

"You said it's too early for Lisbet to go to school. I don't think Elbasan needs to know what the Captain of Shatterway fed her for dinner, do you?"

Adamec sighed. About to turn and offer his assistance, he took a closer look as the crew leaped out of the fishing boat and began dragging it high onto the pebble beach. "I think something's wrong."

* * *

"And I'm tellin' you, Tomas, it's
not
a storm. Sky's as clear as it is over your head, but there's somethin' right wrong about those waves." Lisbet rubbed a scarred hand through close-cropped hair, shaking her head. "I've been sailing out of this harbor 'most every day since I was sixteen, and I've never seen waves act like that before. It was like the regular waves were bein' overtook by these other waves."

"I'm sorry." The bard spread his hands apologetically. "I don't understand."

"Okay." She took a deep breath. "Waves got rules. I don't need to tell you that, you Sing water, you probably know it better'en me. These waves were not followin' the rules. It was sorta like a big, big ripple catchin' up and ridin' right over the waves that were already there."

"That's what I've been tryin' to tell you—I took a look through my glass, and behind them little waves there's something big comin'."