Kai smirked. "Sure he did."
"You don't remember?" Alaire asked, annoyed.
"You don't remember when the assassin ran you through? Or falling? You don't remember bleeding all over the snow, or me singing over you?"
"Well -- I -- " For a moment, the arrogance was gone. Then it returned. "Prove it to me!" he demanded belligerently.
Humph. "All right," Alaire said immediately. "I will.
Lift your shirt up."
Boldly, the Prince did, without hesitating, revealing a flat, white belly. "What are you looking at?" Kai asked with a smirk, then looked down.
When he saw the fresh scar, still red and a little puckered, he sucked his breath in. "Gods," he whis- pered. "How did that happen? That wasn't there yesterday."
"That was where the assassin ran you through," Alaire informed him grimly. "I came just in time to see him do it, too. He saw me and, I guess he assumed his job was done. He turned and fled. You were lying in the snow, with a gut wound, and bleeding enough to fill a lake."
The revelation, and the proof, clearly disturbed Kai.
"All that blood," he said, weakly. "I thought it was the robbers."
Alaire snorted. "No. It was yours. I knew you would die if I didn't do something about it, so I took my harp and wove a spell I saw my Master perform once. It brought you back." He spread his hands wide. "I had to," he said simply. "You're my friend, Kai."
Kai stared at him in disbelief. "You risked every- thing so I would live," he said slowly. "Nobody's ever done that before. I can't think of anyone who would, except maybe Captain Lyam." He looked away, wiping his face with a sleeve. When he looked back, a tear rolled down a cheek.
"I was dead?"
Alaire hesitated before nodding. "Something in my magic, something I don't understand yet, brought you back." He didn't know what else to say. "I guess that was why I passed out," he finished.
At first Kai simply sat and stared at him. His face grew pale, then he began to tremble; his stony facade melted, and tears began to trickle slowly down his cheeks.
At first Alaire thought he might still be drunk; he certainly still reeked of aakaviit. He'd seen many drunks get weepy this way.
But then Kai collapsed into a ball, leaning to Alaire, sobbing. This is different, the bardling thought then. He's not just drunk.
Hesitantly, he patted Kai's back, and offered his shoulder for support. Kai took it without pride.
Alaire held him closer he broke down completely, burying his face in Alaire's shoulder, stifling the sobs in the fabric of his They held each other for a long time in the cold loft, Alaire listening to Kai's incoherent grief and the sounds of sleeping livestock. He kept silent, knowing the value of it, as any Bard would. Finally the la Kai's grief drained from him, and Kai pulled away.
He peered at Alaire through swollen eyes. "If I hadn't been drunk you might not have had to do that.
If I had been sober that assassin wouldn't have stood a chance. And you wouldn't be in trouble for saving my life."
"I don't know that," Alaire lied. "Those two were experts."
"Horseturds," Kai said. "It finally got the better of me. I never thought it would."
"The sword?"
He shook his head. "No. The bottle." Kai frowned, and looked down at the gore stiffening his clothes, with growing horror. "Demondogs! This is my blood!"
He started shedding the clothes, as Alaire watched in amusement. Now he believes me. He's willing to freeze his behind to get those bloody clothes off his skin!
Pale, skinny and naked, Kai hopped over to the sec- ond bag he'd brought with him and pulled out a pair of leather trousers, boots, a flannel shirt, a leather tunic. In his already disheveled state, and with these new garments, he looked like an ordinary peasant boy.
"Now tell me," Alaire said. "How did you get me up here?"
Kai shrugged. "After that -- spell, I guess it was, you got all wonky. Like you were walking in your sleep. I got you as far as this stable, and you sort of helped yourself up the ladder, flopped over on the hay, and passed out. I thought you were going to get cold, so I covered you with hay."
Alaire managed a smile. The spell took a lot out of me, I guess. I'm better now, and the food helped.
Thanks."
Kai flung clothing at him from the canvas bag.
"You'd better change. If we don't look like peasants, we'll stand out like peacocks on a chicken farm."
Alaire hesitated before exposing himself to the frigid air, then started dressing quickly. Kai's a native here. He knows more about this place than I do.
"Where are we, and where did you get the food?
"The stable is in the care of Gallen, the own The Dead Dragon Inn, and belongs to a Count on the eastern border. He comes into Rozinki twice a year, and he's not due back for months. The dieren down there belong to traders who come into town for sup- plies. I chose this place for two reasons, one being if any of those traders saw us, they would look the other way. They'll want nothing to do with the Association, or the reward. I know too many things about them, things that they do that aren't exactly legal, like using unlicensed mages when they're on the edge of the kingdom. They know I know, and they know I wouldn't hesitate to turn them in if they turned me in, so we're pretty safe. But not for too long. By daybreak, this street will be crawling with Swords."
"Then where will we go?" And what will you do?
Kai looked thoughtful. "Well, Gallen is on our side.
For months I've been bribing him with promises of protection and favors once I'm King. My father taxes these places heavily, and I've promised to cut their taxes down to almost nothing. And besides, I know that half of the liquor he serves there hasn't got a tax stamp. I know who smuggles it to him, and how."
Which explains why most of these places let him in the door.
Kai looked a little more confident now. "He has a warm basement where we can hide for days, if need be. The Swords and the Constables have already searched there. They might go back, but I don't think so. They believe Gallen is loyal to the Crown. It's the best place I can think of."
Alaire considered his options, saw that he had very few of them. Do as the natives do. He pulled the last of the clothes on, a tunic that was a little too big. The boots were better than the ones he'd had before, since they were fur lined, and designed for the cold. Long, threadbare woolen scarfs were wrapped around their heads and necks, giving them an undeniable poverty- stricken look.
But Kai still hadn't really answered his question.
"Kai, what's going to happen? What are we going t Kai finished tucking the scarf into his tunic, then said slowly, "We're both wanted for 'questioning,' but that really means they've already convicted us." His brow creased with thought. "I might be able to explain what happened. I can say a mage came along, that it wasn't you. Or something. As soon as I con Father someone tried to assassinate me, it might make a difference. Father has the power to pardon us both."
Kai said nothing about the Prison of Souls, but the omission emphasized it, highlighted it, drew circles and arrows around it. Prison of Souls. He desperately wanted to ask Kai more about it, but was more afraid of what the answer might be.