“Verity. My king.” He stared away from me. “My friend.” His eyes came back to mine. “It is all right. But . . . I should like to see Molly again. Even briefly.”
“It is dangerous. I think what I did to Carrod woke true fear in them. They have not tried their strength against us since then, only their cunning. But . . .”
“Please.” I said the small word quietly.
Verity sighed. “Very well, boy. But my heart misgives me.”
Not a touch. He didn’t even take a breath. Even as Verity dwindled, that was the power of his Skill. We were there, with them. I sensed Verity retreating, giving me the illusion I was there alone.
It was an inn room. Clean and well furnished. A branch of candles burned beside a loaf of bread and a bowl of apples on a table. Burrich lay shirtless on his side on the bed. Blood had clotted thickly about the knife wound and soaked the waist of his breeches. His chest moved in the slow, deep rhythms of sleep. He was curled around Nettle. She was snugged against him, deeply asleep, his right arm over her protectively. As I watched, Molly leaned over them and deftly slid the babe from under Burrich’s arm. Nettle did not stir as she was carried over to a basket in the corner and tucked into the blankets that lined it. Her small pink mouth worked with memories of warm milk. Her brow was smooth beneath her sleek black hair. She seemed none the worse for everything she had endured.
Molly moved efficiently about the room. She poured water into a basin, and took up a folded cloth. She returned to crouch beside Burrich’s bed. She set the basin of water on the floor beside the bed and dipped the rag into it. She wrung it out well. As she set it to his back he jerked awake with a gasp. Fast as a striking snake, he had caught her wrist.
“Burrich! Let go, this has to be cleaned.” Molly was annoyed with him.
“Oh. It’s you.” His voice was thick with relief. He released her.
“Of course it’s me. Who else would you expect?” She sponged at the knife wound gently, then dipped the rag in the water again. Both the rag in her hand and the basin of water beside her were tinged with blood.
His hand groped carefully over the bed beside him. “What have you done with my baby?” he asked.
“Your baby is fine. She’s asleep in a basket. Right there.” She wiped his back again, then nodded to herself. “The bleeding has stopped. And it looks clean. I think the leather of your tunic stopped most of her thrust. If you sit up, I can bandage it.”
Slowly Burrich moved to sit up. He gave one tiny gasp, but when he was sitting up, he grinned at her. He pushed a straggle of hair back from his face. “Wit-bees,” he said admiringly. He shook his head at her. I could tell it was not the first time he had said it.
“It was all I could think of,” Molly pointed out. She could not keep from smiling back. “It worked, did it not?”
“Wondrously,” he conceded. “But how did you know they’d go after the red-bearded one? That was what persuaded them. And damn near persuaded me as well!”
She shook her head to herself. “It was luck. And the light. He had the candles and stood before the hearth. The hut was dim. Bees are drawn to light. Almost like moths are.”
“I wonder if they are still inside the hut.” He grinned as he watched her rise to take away the bloody rag and water.
“I lost my bees,” she reminded him sadly.
“We will go burning for more,” Burrich comforted her.
She shook her head sadly. “A hive that has worked the whole summer makes the most honey.” At a table in the corner, she took up a roll of clean linen bandaging and a pot of unguent. She sniffed at it thoughtfully. “It doesn’t smell like what you make,” she observed.
“It will probably work all the same,” he said. A frown creased his brow as he looked slowly around the room. “Molly. How are we to pay for all this?”
“I’ve taken care of it.” She kept her back to him.
“How?” he asked suspiciously.
When she looked back at him, her mouth was flat. I’d known better than to argue with that face. “Fitz’s pin. I showed it to the innkeeper to get this room. And while you both slept this afternoon, I took it to a jeweler and sold it.” He had opened his mouth, but she gave him no chance to speak. “I know how to bargain and I got its full worth.”
“Its worth was more than coins. Nettle should have had that pin,” Burrich said. His mouth was as flat as hers.
“Nettle needed a warm bed and porridge far more than she needed a silver pin with a ruby in it. Even Fitz would have had the wisdom to know that.”
Oddly enough, I did. But Burrich only said, “I shall have to work many days to earn it back for her.”
Molly took up the bandages. She did not meet his eyes. “You are a stubborn man, and I am sure you will do as you please about that,” she said.
Burrich was silent. I could almost see him trying to decide if that meant he had won the argument. She came back to the bed. She sat beside him on the bed to smear the ointment on his back. He clenched his jaws, but made no sound. Then she came to crouch in front of him. “Lift your arms so I can wrap this,” she commanded him. He took a breath and lifted his arms up and away from his body. She worked efficiently, unrolling the bandaging as she wrapped it around him. She tied it over his belly. “Better?” she asked.
“Much.” He started to stretch, then thought better of it.
“There’s food,” she offered as she went to the table.
“In a moment.” I saw his look darken. So did Molly. She turned back to him, her mouth gone small. “Molly.” He sighed. He tried again. “Nettle is King Shrewd’s great grandchild. A Farseer. Regal sees her as a threat to him. He may try to kill you again. Both of you. In fact, I am sure he will.” He scratched at his beard. Into her silence, he suggested, “Perhaps the only way to protect you both is to put you under the true king’s protection. There is a man I know . . . perhaps Fitz told you of him. Chade?”
She shook her head mutely. Her eyes were going blacker and blacker.
“He could take Nettle to a safe place. And see you were well provided for.” The words came out of him slowly, reluctantly.
Molly’s reply was swift. “No. She is not a Farseer. She is mine. And I will not sell her, not for coin or safety.” She glared at him and practically spat the words. “How could you think I would!”
He smiled at her anger. I saw guilty relief on his face. “I did not think you would. But I felt obliged to offer it.” His next words came even more hesitantly. “I had thought of another way. I do not know what you will think of it. We will still have to travel away from here, find a town where we are not known.” He looked at the floor abruptly. “If we were wed before we got there, folk would never question that she was mine . . .”
Molly stood as still as if turned to stone. The silence stretched. Burrich lifted his eyes and met hers pleadingly. “Do not take this wrong. I expect nothing of you . . . that way. But . . . even so, you need not wed me. There are Witness Stones in Kevdor. We could go there, with a minstrel. I could stand before them, and swear she was mine. No one would ever question it.”