Whatever . . .
“I have been deprived of my realm by sorcery. I wish to appeal to the Four, in Hub.”
Amiel’stor glanced at Azak, and then back to Inos. “You are with him?”
“He is my husband. Forgive his prevarication. He merely wished to keep my troubles secret.”
Azak growled and was ignored.
“Another story?” the girl asked skeptically.
“I will swear by any God you wish,” Inos said. The elf was disconcerted—she could not keep her eyes off those burns. “Your face?” she whispered. “Sorcery. A curse.”
Amiel’ looked back at Azak. “You agree with this now?”
Cheeks burning like flame, Azak nodded.
“That is different!” She hesitated, frowning at Inos’s scars. ”Beauty always . . . The ship will not sail until the morning tide. Tonight the two of you shall dine with me. I will refer the matter to higher authority—my son is Port Warden for Elmas.”
Her son? She looked about fifteen.
“You are most kind,” Inos said sweetly. She began to loop her hair up again, preparing to cover it. Amiel’ nodded, then turned and vaulted nimbly upon the rail. She raised her arms, leaped out in a dive as graceful as a seabird. She was gone, and there had been no sound of a splash.
Inos looked up to meet Azak’s fury. “I think I saved the day?”
“You are a meddlesome slut!”
“But it paid off.” She would not let him cow her. His fists were balls of murderous bone and the curse he bore made them especially dangerous to a woman. He was shaking with the effort of self-restraint. “Don’t be childish, dear,” Inos said, barely keeping the tremor out of her voice. ”It takes a woman to deal with a woman. It worked!”
“But only because it was a woman! Cover your face! Zana tells me she never heard you ask a sailor for a pen! If you ever again dare to speak to a man when I am not present, I will have you flogged!”
Inos had jotunn blood in her, and she could only stand so much. Remembering the onlookers, she managed to keep her words low, for him alone. “You arrogant bastard! Had I not intervened, we would be on our way back to Qoble right now! A marriage is a partnership, and the sooner you learn it the better, Azak ak’Azakar!”
“Not where I come from!”
“But where you are now. And since I have just done you a considerable favor, there is something you owe me .”
“If you are referring to that lover of yours . . .”
“He is no lover—” Their voices were rising.
“He is dead!”
“What?” She reeled back. Looking at Azak’s face, she did not doubt.
“Dead!”
“You promised no bloodshed!”
He stepped forward to loom over her, his mouth working with rage, bloodred eyes almost starting out of his head. “There are ways to kill a man without shedding blood! The family men understood me, even if you did not. Do you want me to list all the things they did to him? They—”
“No!” She put her hands over her ears.
“As you will. He took a surprisingly long time to die, but he is most certainly dead now.”
Sudden wrenching nausea wiped away her anger. She should have guessed why Azak would not talk about Rap.
He nodded in gruesome satisfaction at her dismay. “And be warned, sultana! For you to as much as smile at any man is to sign his death warrant! Do you understand now?”
7
Shandie giggled softly. When he moved his headlike this—the whole room moved—like that! Funny! He did it again. And even in between times it was going up and down and sometimes round and round, and everything was all very nicely woozy.
He was lying on his bed, legs dangling over the edge, nothing on but his tunic. Silly tunic. Mookie had been trying to put Shandie’s toga on him, and Shandie had kept dropping it, or falling over, and now the toga was a rumpled mess and Mookie had given up. Much better. Poor Mookie.
Woozy woozy woozy!
Mookie had been weeping. Valets were not supposed to weep! Mookie had gone away, and now here he came back again, with Moms. Oh, dear! Moms would not think it funny, maybe.
Moms was shaking him . . . the room going wild, all ways at once! Very funny—now he was trying to explain about the room, but his tongue was tying itself around his teeth, tangling itself up like his toga, and he had started to giggle again and couldn’t stop. Maybe the wardens would think it was funny. He would tell them. Going to see the wardens, going to see the wardens . . .
Mustn’t move when the wardens come.
And here was Ythbane, nasty butt-beating Ythbane. Beat all you want today, Ythbane. Can’t feel a thing.
“What’s the matter with him?” asked Ythbane. Moms: “He’s been at his medicine again.”
“Gods! Can’t you keep him away from it for a single morning?”
“He’s sneaky! He hides it and then says it’s run out, asks for more . . .”
“Well, he’s got to be there! Try some black coffee or something. Brainless brat!”
“You! Leave us!” That was Moms speaking-to-the-servants voice. Oh, dear, was Mookie in trouble? Poor Mookie.
“Now you listen to me, Yth!”
Yth? Surely Moms never spoke to Ythbane like that? In her speaking-to-the-servants voice?
“. . . is all your doing! Gods forgive me, why did I listen to you? That foul stuff was your idea—what is it anyway, laudanum?—and you’ve turned my son into a—”
“Of course it isn’t laudanum! Laudanum? Don’t be crazy, woman! It’s a gentle elvish nostrum. And you know how much our future is going to depend on . . . a suitable attitude?”
Words words words . . .
“But you’re making him into a—”
“Never mind now. Gods, the investiture’ll be starting in—”
“Even if it isn’t laudanum—I don’t care what it is, we’ve got to stop him taking it—”
No, not the medicine! Not take away the medicine! Then the scratchy-twitchy feeling would come, and he’d feel sick, and his head would throb . . .
Hear himself making a funny noises, trying to sit up. Trying to talk. Can’t talk to say not to take away the medicine, please not take away the medicine . . .
“Looks like he’s coming round a bit. Get him dressed up, and we’ll put him on a chair over at the side and maybe nobody will notice.”
“But it’s not just today! He’s like this half the time now, whether there’s a ceremony on or not, and—”
“Maya! Beloved!”
“Er . . . yes?”
Oh, good. Ythbane using his sweetie-pie voice. Calm Moms down. Wonder if they’ll do it on this bed? Awful small for three.
“I’ve been neglecting you, my darling. But you do understand how busy I’ve been, don’t you? And from now on I’m regent, and things will be a lot easier—and a lot better between us two. You’ll be wife of the regent, and first lady again, and you and I can have a lot more time to ourselves again. In fact, I’ll promise you—right after the state dinner, you and I will slip away . . .”
Sweetie-pie sweetie-pie sweetie-pie . . . Going to see the wardens . . .
Maybe formal. ceremonies weren’t quite so terrible, Shandie thought, if you could sit down for them. And Moms had said he could move if he wanted to, as long as he didn’t fidget too much. She was sitting beside him, on a gold bench thing, and she would nudge him if he fidgeted too much. He was still woozy, but a very nice woozy.
He kept wanting to yawn. Mustn’t yawn.
He was hardly trembling at all today. Must be the medicine, or else the sitting down.
Nobody was paying much attention to him, over here near the east door. Today was a north day. He could see all of the Rotunda instead of just half of it. Important day! All of the Senate seemed to be here, filling up the whole north half. Some of them were right behind him, even—noisy old men, coughing and wheezing all the time over his head. The south half was all junior nobles and important people and a few assemblymen. For weeks and weeks the court had talked of nothing except who’d got tickets and who hadn’t.
Important day. Going to see the wardens!
Getting quieter. There was a very loud senator just behind Shandie. He kept saying things in a voice like a hoarse trumpet, and whoever was with him was trying to hush him.
“ . . real Evilish disgrace, that’s what it is! Everyone knows he’s a mongrel. Merman blood in . . . Mm? Well, it’s common knowledge. Mongrel sitting on Emine’s throne? Mm! Can’t think what Emshandar was thinking of when he made him a consul. Told him so myself. Well, hinted anyway. What? Speak up, man!”