Boy? Faint, but true. A paw and a nose, and a door edged open. He padded toward me, his nose telling me how bad I smelled. Smoke and blood and fear sweat. When he reached me, he lay down beside me and put his head on my back. With the touch came the bond again. Stronger now that Rurisk was gone.
He left me. It hurts.
I know. A long time passed. Free me? The old dog lifted his head. Men cannot grieve as dogs do. We should be grateful for that. But from the depths of his anguish, he still rose, and set worn teeth to my bonds. I felt them loosen, a strand at a time, but had not even the strength to pull them apart. Nosy turned his head to set his back teeth to them.
At last the thongs parted. I pulled my arms forward. That made everything hurt differently. I still could not feel my hands, but I could roll over and get my face out of the straw. Nosy and I sighed together. He put his head on my chest and I wrapped a stiff arm around him. Another tremor shook me. My muscles clenched and unclenched themselves so violently that I saw dots of light. But it passed, and I still breathed.
I opened my eyes again. Light blinded me, but I did not know if it was real. Beside me, Nosy’s tail thumped the straw. Burrich slowly sank down beside us. He put a gentle hand on Nosy’s back. As my eyes adjusted to his lantern I could see the grief in his face. “Are you dying?” he asked me. His voice was so neutral, it was like hearing a stone speak.
“I’m not sure.” That was what I tried to say. My mouth still wasn’t working very well. He rose and walked away. He took the lantern with him. I lay alone in the dark.
Then the light came back and Burrich with a bucket of water. He lifted my head and sloshed some into my mouth. “Don’t swallow it,” he cautioned me, but I couldn’t have made those muscles work anyway. He washed out my mouth twice more and then half drowned me trying to get me to drink some. I fended off the bucket with a wooden hand. “No,” I managed.
After a bit my head seemed to clear. I moved my tongue against my teeth and could feel them. “I killed Cob,” I told him.
“I know. They brought his body out to the stables. No one wanted to tell me anything.”
“How did you know to find me?”
He sighed. “I just had a feeling.”
“You heard Nosy.”
“Yes. The howling.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
He was quiet a long time. “Sensing a thing isn’t the same as using a thing.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say back to that. After a while I said, “Cob is the one who knifed you on the stairs.”
“Was he?” Burrich considered. “I had wondered why the dogs barked so little. They knew him. Only Smithy reacted.”
My hands screamed suddenly to life. I folded them to my chest and rocked over them. Nosy whined.
“Stop it,” Burrich hissed.
“Just now, I can’t help it,” I replied. “It all hurts so bad, I’m spilling out all over.”
Burrich was silent. “Are you going to help me?” I asked finally.
“I don’t know,” he said softly, and then, almost pleadingly, “Fitz, what are you? What have you become?”
“I am what you are,” I told him honestly. “A king’s man. Burrich, they’re going to kill Verity. If they do, Regal will become King.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If we stay here while I explain it all, it will happen. Help me get out of here.”
He seemed to take a very long time to think about it. But in the end, he helped me to stand and I held on to his sleeve as I staggered out of the stables and into the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Wedding
THE ART OF DIPLOMACY is the luck of knowing more of your rival’s secrets than he knows of yours. Always deal from a position of power. These were Shrewd’s maxims. And Verity abided by them.