Garth wrapped both of his hands about Maximilian’s. “Do you remember speaking to me about the Manteceros?”
Maximilian frowned. “The Manteceros? No…no. Did I? Garth, I…” He halted, his face now twisted with the effort to remember. “Yes,” he said finally. “Yes, I do remember. You were so demanding. You insisted that I was this Maximilian. You wanted to rescue me.” He sighed, long and deep. “Yes, I remember the Manteceros now. And I remember that I told you the Manteceros would not want much to do with me. I am not worthy, Garth. I can remember that much.”
“You are alive again, Maximilian,” Garth said, low and fierce, his hands gripping the prince’s tightly. “You have your life ahead of you—have the courage to grasp it.”
Maximilian laughed bitterly. “I should resent you, Garth Baxtor, for it is your fault that I have been dragged from a life that I knew and understood and that knew and understood me. The darkness was warm and it was my friend, Garth Baxtor, and you have taken it from me.”
Garth was about to say something more when he felt his father’s hand on his shoulder.
“Peace, son,” Joseph said softly. “Memory can sometimes be a fickle lady. He has been through trauma such as you and I could not imagine, and he has been wrenched—as he has just pointed out—from the world he knew and understood into a world that he suspects is only a bad dream. His loss of memory is a shield, and if he is to lower that shield then he is going to need a friend to help him through.”
“I understand, father.” Maximilian had closed his eyes again, and Garth twisted about to look his father in the eyes. “I do not like what I feel through his flesh, father, yet I cannot understand it. Can you…?”
Joseph knelt down beside the bed. “Maximilian?”
The prince reluctantly opened his eyes to the light. “Yes?”
“My name is Joseph Baxtor. Once I was physician to your father. When you were a boy we played hoopball in the courtyard of your home.”
Something flickered in Maximilian’s eyes, but he said nothing.
Joseph grinned broadly and fingered his beard. “But I did not have this then, and I had fewer lines of care to bracket my eyes. I am not surprised you stare at me so uncomprehendingly. My Prince, both my son and I employ the Touch—you have already felt Garth’s power—and now I would like to Touch you as well. Would you permit me?”
“Surely,” and Maximilian withdrew his hand from Garth’s and gave it to Joseph.
Joseph held it for a long time, running his own hands over it slowly. He kept his head bowed, his breathing slow and deep, and Garth knew that he was concentrating hard on the feelings that flooded into him from Maximilian’s body.
When he finally raised his eyes, his expression was blank. “Prince, may I Touch your arm?”
Maximilian was more doubtful this time, but eventually he jerked his head in assent.
Joseph rolled back Maximilian’s sleeve and exposed the thick burn across his biceps, then wrapped his hands firmly about the prince’s upper arm. He took a quick intake of breath, his eyes fluttering wide before he narrowed them again. After only a moment he let Maximilian go and rolled his sleeve down again.
“I thank you, Maximilian. Now, rest. Close your eyes, embrace the darkness again.”
Maximilian visibly relaxed. “Thank you, Joseph. I…I wonder if one day you would teach me to play hoopball again?”
Joseph guffawed with laughter. “Us? My Prince, I fear we are both too old to play hoopball again, but if it is your wish, then it is my command. Hoopball! Hah!”
Maximilian smiled, and Joseph’s expression stilled at the sight. “Rest well, my Prince.”
Maximilian nodded, and closed his eyes.
Joseph motioned Garth away from the bed.
“What did you feel?” Garth asked urgently. His father was adept at interpreting what he felt from someone else’s body; as yet Garth could only interpret the simplest of sensations.
But Joseph did not answer immediately, taking his elbow and guiding him back to the table where waited the monks—all four of them now—and Ravenna.
They shifted to make room as the two approached, and Garth and his father sat down between Isus and Morton.
“What’s wrong, Joseph?” Vorstus asked for all of them.
Joseph glanced back towards the bed, but Maximilian had turned to face the wall again and appeared to have gone back to sleep.
“He has been through great trauma during his life.” Joseph glanced about the table. “In part he has learned to deal with that trauma by forgetting. His rescue from the only life he could remember today has proved further trauma for him. He will need time and trust and friendship to have the heart to remember all that has befallen him.”
Joseph fell silent, folding and then unfolding a table napkin in his hands. “But that is not all. Garth, you felt something strange.”
His son nodded.
“And I saw you both look at his flushed cheeks and over-bright eyes,” Ravenna said softly, her grey eyes intense.
Joseph looked at her strangely. He had seen her many times on his visits to the marsh, but it was strange to see her here now, and in this company. And her mother was so strange. “Yes, Ravenna. He is consumed by a fever, but it is no ordinary fever. My friends,” Joseph looked about the table, meeting each in the eye, “he is consumed by an inner sickness. I think…I think it is the mark of the Manteceros struggling to break free of the scar tissue that surrounds it. If it cannot escape, then I fear that Maximilian will burn up.”
“Die?” Gustus asked, aghast.
Joseph nodded. “Eventually, yes.”
“Can we help?” Garth asked urgently, leaning forward.
Joseph hesitated. “Yes, perhaps…but not here.” He looked Vorstus straight in the eye. “We—he—will have the best chance in the place where the mark was originally engraved.”
Vorstus smiled, but it was cool. “What are you saying, Joseph?”
“I am saying that Maximilian needs to be taken back to the forest. For many reasons.”
Vorstus’ smile warmed a little. “You are more acquainted with the customs of the Persimius family than I realised, Joseph Baxtor.”
“I knew Maximilian’s father well.”
“Very well.” Vorstus’ tone was dry. “Yes. I agree. Maximilian needs to be taken back to the forest from where he was originally snatched. For many reasons, but I agree with Joseph that the fever that builds within him is currently the most urgent.”
“And we will help you,” Garth said, his tone daring his father to disagree with him.
Joseph frowned. “Yes, we must. But Garth, if we disappear into the night then we will be too readily connected with Maximilian’s disappearance.”
“So?” Garth cried. “Are you afraid to have your name connected with that of the true king of Escator?”
“Fool boy!” Joseph cried. “Don’t think to question my courage! But think of your mother! Have you forgot that Cavor will shortly have her within his grasp? I, at least, don’t want to put your mother in any danger.”
“Joseph,” Vorstus said urgently. “What are you talking about?”
Joseph gave his now-subdued son one last glare, then explained to the others that Cavor had ordered he and his family to move back to the palace. “He said he would be sending for Nona while Garth and I were here at the Veins.”
“And you think that Cavor would exact retribution if he thought you were connected with an anonymous prisoner’s disappearance from the Veins?” Vorstus asked carefully. After a long pause he spoke again. “Are you suggesting Cavor knew Maximilian was Lot No. 859?”
Joseph was silent many minutes, staring into a space somewhere beyond Vorstus’ shoulder. “I cannot know for certain, Vorstus. Garth has his doubts regarding Cavor, and I…well…” He was silent again, then cleared his throat. “But even helping an anonymous prisoner escape from the Veins is a crime, Vorstus. I do not want to put Nona in any danger through my or,” he shot Garth a hard glance, “my son’s actions.”
“I may be able to help,” Ravenna said quietly, so quietly that it took the others a moment or two to realise that she’d spoken.
“How?” Joseph asked doubtfully.
“Venetia,” Ravenna said, staring him in the eye, “can spirit her into the marsh. No-one will ever find her there unless she wants to be found.”
“But you will have to send Venetia a letter,” Garth began, “and Cavor’s men will surely be on their way south now. They will reach her before any word from you can.”
“They will not have had time to reach her yet?” the girl asked, her colour high and her eyes sparking. She shook her black hair back from her face.
“No,” Joseph said, staring at her. “No. It will take them another two or three days to reach Narbon from Ruen.”