I could not see her on the ship!
I ran around the dockside like a mad man, looking for her. I searched each face, studied every expression, tried to analyse each stance and gait, as though in my lovelorn lunacy I really believed that she had indeed decided to quit the ship and stay here, stay with me, this whole apparent departure just a maddeningly extended joke, and yet, on relinquishing the ship, for a jest had decided to disguise herself, just to taunt me further.
The galleon slipped out to sea almost without me noticing, letting the cutters come creasing back across the waves while she, beyond the harbour wall, let drop her creamy fields of sail and took the wind about her.
After that, the people drifted away from the quay until there were just a couple of sobbing women left, one standing clutched in about herself, her face quite covered by her hands, the other squatting, face raised to stare emptily at the skies while the tears coursed down her cheeks in silence.
… And I, staring out at the gap between the harbour light-towers towards the distant line that was the jagged far circumference of Crater Lake. And there I stood, and wandered, stunned and unsteady, shaking my head and muttering to myself, and started to leave several times but could not, and so drifted back towards the quayside, assailed by the treacherous sparkle of the water that had let her slip away from me, buffeted by the wind that was blowing her further on her journey with each beat of my heart and hers, and attended by the caustic cries of wheeling sea birds and the quiet and hopeless sobs of women.
24. THE BODYGUARD
The bodyguard DeWar woke from a dream of flying. He lay there a moment in the darkness for the few moments it took him to come fully awake, remembering where he was, who he was, what he was, and what had been happening.
The weight of the knowledge of all that had gone so wrong so recently settled on him like a dozen coats of chain mail thrown one by one upon his bed. He even gave a little groan as he rolled over in the narrow cot and lay with one arm under the back of his head, staring up into the blackness.
The war in Ladenscion had been lost. It was as simple as that. The barons had got all they had ever asked for, and more, by taking it. The Dukes Simalg and Ralboute were on their way home with the tattered and dispirited remains of their armies.
Lattens had edged a little closer to death, whatever was wrong — with him proof against every remedy the physicians could devise.
UrLeyn had sat in on one war council, just yesterday, once the full extent of the catastrophe in Ladenscion had revealed itself through the jumble of reports and coded messages, but he had stared down at the table surface throughout, uttering only monosyllables mostly. He showed a little more animation and a spark of his old self when he had roundly condemned Simalg and Ralboute for the whole debacle, but even that tirade, towards the end, had seemed lacklustre and forced, as though he could not maintain even his anger.
It had been decided that there was little that could be done. The armies would return and the wounded would have to be cared for. A new hospital would be set up to this purpose. The army would be reduced to the minimum necessary for the defence of Tassasen. There had already been disturbances in the streets in a handful of cities when people who had in the past only grumbled over the increased taxes required for the war had rioted when they heard it had all been for nothing. Taxes would have to come down to keep the populace at peace and so a number of projects would have to be suspended or abandoned. At some point negotiations with the victorious barons would have to be entered into, to regularise matters once the situation had stabilised.
UrLeyn nodded all this through, seemingly uninterested in it all. The others could take care of it. He had left the council of war to return to his son's bedside.
UrLeyn still would not let the servants into his apartments, where he passed almost all his time. He spent a bell or two at Lattens" side each day, and visited the harem only erratically, often just talking with the older concubines and especially with the lady Perrund.
DeWar felt a damp patch on his pillow, where his cheek had lain during the night. He turned over on his side, absently touching the fold in the head bolster which he must have dribbled on to during the night. How undignified we become in our sleep, he thought, rubbing the damp triangle of material between his fingers. Perhaps he had been sucking it while he slept, he thought. Did one do that? Did people do such a thing? Perhaps children-
He leaped out of bed, pulled on his hose, teetering one-legged and cursing, fastened his sword belt across his waist and grabbed his shirt as he kicked the door open and raced through the early morning shadows of his small living room and out into the corridor, where startled servants had been snuffing the candles. He ran quickly, bare feet thudding on the wooden boards. He pulled his shirt on as best he could.
He was looking for a guard, to tell him to follow him, but there were none to be seen. Rounding a corner that would take him towards Lattens" sick room, he crashed into a servant carrying a breakfast tray, sending the girl and the tray tumbling across the floor. He shouted back an apology.
There was a guard at Lattens" door, slumped asleep on a chair. DeWar kicked the seat and shouted at the man as he burst through the door.
The nurse looked up from the window where she had been sitting reading. She looked with widened eyes at DeWar's bare chest revealed by the half-tucked shirt.
Lattens lay still in his bed. A basin and a cloth lay on the table by his head. The nurse seemed to shrink back a little as DeWar strode across the room to the boy's bed. DeWar heard the guard come in behind him. He turned his head briefly and said, "Hold her," and nodded at the nurse, who flinched. The guard moved towards the woman, uncertain.
DeWar went to Lattens" side. He touched his neck and felt a weak pulse. Clutched in the boy's fist was the pale yellow scrap of material that was his comforter. DeWar prised it from his hand as gently as he could, turning to watch the nurse as he did so. The guard stood at her side, one hand clamped over her wrist.
The nurse's eyes went wide. Her free arm flailed at the guard, who kept a hold of her and eventually succeeded in grabbing it and bringing it under control. She tried to kick him but he twirled her round and forced her arm up her back until she doubled over and screamed, her face level with her knees.
DeWar inspected the sucked end of the comforter while the guard looked on, mystified, and the woman gasped and wept. DeWar sucked tentatively at the piece of material. There was a taste. It was slightly sweet and a little acrid at the same time. He spat on the floor, then knelt down on one knee so that he could look into the nurse's reddened face. He held the comforter in front of the woman.
"Is this how the boy's been poisoned, madam?" he asked softly.
The woman stared cross-eyed at the scrap of material. Tears and snot dribbled down her nose. Her jaw was clenching and unclenching. After a few moments she nodded.
"Where is the solution?"
"Uh — under the window seat," the nurse said, her voice shaking.
"Hold her there," DeWar told the guard quietly. He went to the window and threw off the cushion in the seat set into the thickness of the wall, pulled open a wooden flap and reached inside. He threw aside toys and a few clothes until he found a small opaque jar. He brought it over to the nurse.
"Is this it?"
She nodded.
"Where does it come from?"
She shook her head. He took out his long knife. She screamed, then shook and struggled in the guard's grip until he tightened it and she hung gasping again. DeWar put the knife very close to her nose. "The lady Perrund!" she screamed. "The lady Perrund!"
DeWar froze. "What?"
"The lady Perrund! She gives me the jars! I swear!"
"I am not convinced," DeWar said. He nodded to the guard, who forced the woman's arm further up her back. She shrieked in pain.