"I'll give you some copper..." She hurried over to her treasure chest.
He laughed. "I don't need copper. Horold gave me gold."
"Don't be absurd. You can't buy clothes with gold. Here, don't argue." She found a pelf string heavily laden with twists of copper, some large, some small, and looped it over his head. "Bury the gold somewhere safe and don't forget where. Now, please, will you go?"
He reached for her and she evaded him.
"Not yet." He was broad and stark, as stubborn as a team of onagers. "Ingeld, heart of my heart, Horold is not going to storm out of his assize to rush over here and decapitate me. You know him. If murder is his aim, then he'll take a long time to plan it and savor it beforehand. He loves a good hate."
She drew breath to argue, but he was quite right. The dreamer could be perceptive when he bothered.
"He knows what happened six years ago," Benard said. "His tame seers will tell him we've been nothing but friends since. If he does decide to kill me, he will; no doubt about that. If I worried about it, I'd have gone crazy years ago."
"He would have done it years ago if you weren't the bloodlord's hostage. But he'll get his chance eventually. Listen. Werists come here with dispatches from Stralg. Usually I don't meet them, but Horold wasn't around and I had a chance to be hostess and hear their gossip. The war's going badly, Benard. One man let slip that Stralg lost more ground in the winter. He's being driven back toward Celebre."
The sculptor shrugged his big shoulders.
She resisted an urge to try shaking him, which would not have worked. "Listen to me! You know the slaves and hostages and gold stopped coming years ago. Now it's just more and more Werists going out, about twenty sixty a year. And still he's losing!" She feared that Cutrath would be next—Horold would not commit himself on what Stralg had written, but the bloodlord had drawn all the other young males of his family into the abattoir, so why should the last one be favored?
"You know I care nothing for the war."
"You'd better start caring. Your father's been true to his word all these years, ruling the city as Stralg's puppet, but if the Florengian partisans are at his gates, then everything may change."
Benard's polite indifference did not change, so she switched to more drastic means. "Remember Tomoso?"
"Of course. Great kid." His smile curdled into suspicion. "Why?"
"His father was a Stralg puppet, like yours, ruler of Miona. Cavotti's rebels surrounded the town while Stralg was there and burned it down on his head. He lost..." she shrugged "... many, many men. Stralg's orders to Horold were to roast Tomoso over a very slow fire."
Benard winced. "No! No! Even Horold... He didn't!"
"No," Ingeld agreed. "He didn't. He cropped Tomo's ears and sold him to slavers."
Benard swung around to stare out at the garden. He could hide his face, but the muscles in his back were taut as ships' cables. She longed to put her arms around him. Why must the gods be so cruel to someone so gentle?
"Why?" he said hoarsely. "What harm had he done? What good did that do?"
"Just spite. You'll never understand how a Werist thinks, Benard, so don't try. Saltaja's worse. Horold was being as merciful as he dared. It's the truth." Horold was the best of the whole horrible Hrag brood.
Benard said, "He won't be merciful with me. If it happens, it happens. There's nothing I can do about it."
"I hear he's sending you to Whiterim quarry."
"Me and a Werist or two to make sure I don't run. Thanks for the news. I had better go now."
"There's more."
He glanced around, trying to look exasperated instead of showing whatever he was really feeling. Just old bitterness, probably. He never seemed to fear the future, but he detested any mention of his past. "More murdered hostages?"
"I think so, but I'm not sure. None in Kosord. No, I mean that I asked the couriers about Celebre. They said your father was in poor health."
"Ingeld!" He sounded exasperated. "I care nothing for the war and less for my parents. They gave me away, remember? The only person I care about in all Dodec is you. You I love more than life itself. You were a mother for me; mother and lover and the only woman I want, but I can't have you. I should go." He headed for the garden.
"The others?" she said.
He stopped in the arch, without turning, a dark shape against the light. "What about them?"
She could not recall him ever showing even this much interest before, so deep was his hurt. "I've heard nothing recently, I admit. The young one, who stayed in Tryfors with Therek?"
"Orlando."
"He was still alive a year or so ago, when Therek came by here. He said something like 'The duckling that follows the dog thinks it's a puppy.' "
"Doesn't sound promising. Dantio's dead?"
"So Saltaja told me. She wouldn't bother to lie. If she'd cut his throat herself, she'd admit it."
"And Fabia? She's a smelly little bundle that cries all the time."
"I expect she's past that by now. She went to Jat-Nogul, to Karvak. Saltaja told me that she disappeared in the sack, when the rebels killed Karvak. She was assumed to be dead. I think you're the last, Benard, you and possibly Orlando." She longed to hold him.
"I wouldn't know him if I saw him and I'm sure he's forgotten me." He began to move, paused. "My mother?"
"She is acting as regent for your father, they said. Oh, Benard, listen to me! They will send one of you back to succeed your father, and it looks like it must be you or Orlando. The moment Horold hears you aren't needed as a hostage anymore, you're dead. Somehow we must get you out of Kosord. I know it will be difficult—"
He swung around and came to her in two long steps. Black eyes blazed down at her with a fury she had never seen in them before. She cringed back, amazed to realize that even Benard might be dangerous.
"No it won't; it'll be impossible. Horold's warbeasts will run me down and kill me. But I'll risk it on one condition."
She shook her head: No!
"Yes!" he said. "You come with me. Just us two. You're married to nothing human, your son is grown up. We can slip away together. If I have to work as a peasant or chop wood all my days, I won't care."
She smiled despite herself. Being Benard, he might even believe what he said. "That would be nice, wouldn't it? Except for Horold's seers telling him where we are and the fact that I am a Daughter, bound to Kosord's hearth. Good idea! And if by some miracle it were possible, strangers would congratulate me on my handsome son and ask why he wasn't married."
"Wouldn't bother me."
"Yes it would. Go and visit the Nymphs, and then you'll see things more clearly for a day or so."
Strangely, he flushed. "No I won't."
She shook her head. "It's a wonderful dream, but it's futile and dangerous even to discuss."
"I'll bring the chariot to the steps at dawn."
"I'll send a girl of about your age. Be careful, Benard!"
He shook his head and was gone.
Ingeld went after him to bolt the gate. On the way back, she stopped to watch the fish, which often helped her find calm.
She needed to scream.
That stupid ox of a boy! How could anyone so observant be so blind? He paved streets with broken hearts and did not realize. His work made every other artist in the city weep tears of envy, but he gave it away without a thought. He walked through walls while dreaming of clouds. He flatly refused to admit the frightful danger hanging over him. Why, suddenly, was he so important to Kosord? A baby, a ship, a letter, and Benard. Why Benard?
Her husband and her son were undoubtedly planning to kill the man she loved. Cutrath had always known that she loved Benard more than him. Poor Cutrath! He had never been able to match the twins in his father's eyes or the hostage in his mother's.
The golden fish did nothing to help, and when she stepped back over the threshold, she saw a plank leaning against the wall. That was the drawing that had caused all the trouble, the face of the man she had married. Why had Horold ordered that sent to her? Her temper flashed out in a curse. The wood exploded in a blaze of sparks and billowing smoke, leaving only drifting flakes of white ash and a black smoke stain on Cutrath's image in the mural above.