One Land, One Duke

by Emerson, Ru

  Jennifer nodded, let Dahven give her another sip of water. “I—yeah. Didn't think I'd get that sick, seeing blood."

  "I don't wonder, when it's yours. You're fortunate to have had a Wielder who could deal with it."

  "I know.” I could have bled to death, Jennifer thought bleakly. “But I think I ruined my shirt. The rest—when they're gone, I don't have any others."

  "I know, it took me years to adapt to what the locals wear for underpants. But don't worry about it,” Caro said. She wrung out another cloth and set it aside, brought the bowl where she could immerse Jennifer's fingers in the water. “It's only blood, after all, not ink or acid. With so many boys I'm quite good at getting blood from clothes. And I've a spare nightshirt you can put on for now, if you like.” She turned her head, found Robyn sitting cross-legged against the wall, chin resting on her knees; she was staring across the room at one of the bound men, or possibly through him. “Birdy, dear, why don't you get those men to do something useful, like get the rest of those brutes out of this room so we can get your poor sister into bed? Help them shoo everyone else out, too, why don't you, dear?” She turned back and gave Dahven a determined look. “That really does include you, you know."

  "He doesn't go,” Jennifer said faintly but as firmly as she could manage.

  "I'm not leaving,” Dahven said at the same moment.

  Caro laughed and shook her head. “Well—if you're both going to be that way about it. And I suppose there isn't much of you left to the imagination anyway, is there, young woman?"

  Jennifer refused to allow them to cut the tee-shirt off her; Robyn lost her temper. “Don't be stupid, Jen, it's only a damned shirt, after all!"

  "It's only my damned shirt,” Jennifer pointed out. “And you put one more hole in it, it'll come out of your hide."

  "Stubborn, arbitrary, dumb,” Robyn began. Dahven shifted ominously; Jennifer tightened her grip on his hand and he stayed put and quiet. Robyn scowled at him, turned the scowl on her sister. “You break that thing open again, trying to salvage a tee-shirt—"

  "It's my material possession,” Jennifer said flatly. “And I bought it because I liked it, all right? If you're not going to be helpful, go find Lialla and compare notes on how stubborn and dumb I am."

  "That's not fair,” Robyn said.

  "I'm not feeling fair, damnit. Either help or split, got it?"

  Robyn's eyes narrowed; her mouth twisted then and she nodded. “Hell. It's your damn arm, after all. I hear one bitch or moan out of you, though—"

  Jennifer sighed, loudly exasperated. “Shut up and get it off, all right?” It cost her, despite the extreme care the two women used in working it off her right arm, over her head, stretching the ripped sleeve even wider to ease it over her left arm without touching it.

  Dahven shifted so he could brace her from behind while they worked the shirt off, holding her up as Caro dropped a very loose, lightweight thing like a cotton shift over her head, and Robyn eased off the remainder of her underthings under cover of the nightshift. She managed a smile, blotted her sister's forehead. “Hey. Just like the beach; remember how good I was at changing into a bikini under my coverup?"

  Jennifer forced the corners of her mouth up. “Modesty preserved.” She didn't much care at the moment; Dahven probably didn't either. Caro still looked vaguely scandalized by his presence, though, and the remark was Birdy's way of apologizing for her earlier anger. Dahven edged himself partway up and pulled her to her feet. She leaned against him, breathing hard, eyes closed, finally managed a faint nod. “Don't try to carry me, I can use my feet if you can hold me up."

  He pushed away from the wall, wrapped an arm around her waist. Robyn darted around them to pull the comfort and sheet down; somehow Jennifer wound up under them. Dahven sat rather heavily on the end of the bed, hand wrapped around the footboard. Caro edged past him to lay a hand against Jennifer's cheek, then smoothed a wrung-out cloth across her forehead. Jennifer managed a smile. “Thanks. I'm sorry about the fuss—"

  "We'll worry about all that much later,” Caro said very firmly. Her eyes were anxious, though. “Are you going to be all right in here? I hate to shift you any farther, but—"

  "I'll be right here with her,” Dahven said. “Robyn—?"

  "She's already gone across to the other room.” Caro leaned over and gave the cool cloth a final smoothing. “Don't you worry about anything, Jennifer, you just sleep. Everything is all quite under control.” She went out, taking the lamp with her, pulling what was left of the door into place. Jennifer could see light all along the latch side and across the top; then Dahven's hunched-over form came between her and the light. She reached up to adjust the damp cloth so it lay across her eyes, and let sleep take her.

  When she woke, the inn was quiet once more. The room was very dark: By that and the stuffy feel of the air, someone had locked the shutters.

  Dahven was a still weight on the wall side of the bed; he'd fallen asleep on top of the comfort.

  The arm was hurting her rather badly; she thought that was probably what had wakened her. It lay outside the comfort, across her chest. Her fingers felt like balloons and the back side of her elbow, of her shoulder, ached from the weight of the arm itself. “I can't take this,” she whispered. Faint as the sound must have been, Dahven stirred and groaned; his hand stole across the pillow to touch her cheek.

  "Jen?"

  "I'm sorry. Go back to sleep."

  "S'all right. What—” he coughed heavily. “Damn, sorry. What can I get you? Do you need Lialla again?"

  "No—” Jennifer considered this. “I think she's done all she could manage. She—I know she tried, she probably kept me from bleeding to death. It's—I wish I knew what time it is. Oh, God, I just remembered, my watch—"

  "The time piece? It's all right. Chris found it on the floor; the band was cut through. I think he's still got it."

  "Damn—oh, just that I can't tell—"

  "It's late,” he offered.

  "I guess it doesn't matter. I'm going to have to try and finish the job myself. Right now it would be a lot easier if it was still night."

  He shifted onto one elbow. “I don't know what I can do to help—"

  "I don't either,” Jennifer said. “Be there when I finish."

  Thread didn't want to respond; she had to pinch one earlobe with her good hand to force herself awake and aware enough to concentrate on access. It was even more difficult to locate the healing stuff, and in the end she had to utilize the same red Thread she'd used on Aletto's arm. Not as effective or as quick to work as the yellow Neri had shown her, but she hadn't the physical strength to Wield that, even if she'd been able to separate it from the rest. The arm itself—she flinched away from it twice before she was able to disassociate herself from it. Not mine, she told herself. It could be anyone's arm. Just a cut, like Lialla said. Any cut.

  It might still scar. She put that thought out of her mind, fought to concentrate on laying more Thread over what Lialla had already done. She did good work, she thought dispassionately; it hadn't been enough, but what was there had been neatly done. Probably a combination of exhaustion on Lialla's part and fear of causing pain. I hope she doesn't realize what I've done. Anyone else might handle it all right, but she'd be right back in the dumps again. Well, that wasn't her problem just now.

  It was even more difficult separating herself from Thread once she was done; the wrench left her shaking and nearly ill again. She swallowed an evil taste, experimentally flexed her fingers. Stiff. Still swollen. Sore, but not as painful as they'd been moments before. She drew a deep breath and let it out in a rather shaky sigh, gripped the fingers that lay against her right arm. “Lord, that's better.” She turned her head and squinted, trying to see him. The room was too dark for more than shadow and outline. “Are you all right?"

  "Of course,” he began, spoiled it with a cough. “Tired."

  "That's all? You'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

  "I—"

  "Never
mind,” she said. “Save you having to lie. What happened?"

  He shifted so his cheek rested against her shoulder. “A lot happened—too much. The wine was tampered with; at least, we presume the wine, since you and I, and Edrith, drank the most of it. Chris said he had a swallow of it; I know Aletto and your sister scarcely touched it. Chris woke immediately when he heard Robyn at the door; a moment later there was a hellish din in this room and that got me on my feet. Chris had to roll Edrith onto the floor and Aletto wasn't too steady. Robyn wasn't making a lot of sense until someone came through our window and hit Aletto between the shoulders."

  "He wasn't hurt—?"

  "Mad clear through; probably that helped get him on his feet right. Chris had his weapon by then, he was the only one who'd had sense enough to keep his handy last night. My sword was hanging on one of the pegs, under half a dozen things, I think I nearly died twice before I got it loose.” He laughed faintly. “I don't care much for that kind of fighting—dark room, not enough room for my feet, a madly aching head. All the same, we finally took care of the men who'd come in after us, and Chris saw three or four riding away. There was still an uproar over here."

  "I know about that part. Who were they?"

  "No one's for certain,” Dahven said. “Hired, Aletto thinks, and I agree. Probably bought on Podhru's docks. One or more of them might have been among the common room guests yesterday; anyone might presume we'd stay here overnight, coming from Bez overland. It wouldn't be too difficult to discover the innkeep had private guests, even if she didn't tell anyone. Or her children might have mentioned us—they do the serving, of course."

  "God,” Jennifer said quietly. “Surely she wouldn't have—!"

  "No? Because she's outlander also?"

  "I—no. Your father's wizard was outland, remember; it doesn't automatically make us friends or allies. I just can't see it, though."

  "She has several children and no future for any of them but this inn."

  "God.” Jennifer was silent for a long moment. “I can't recall for certain; I think she drank as much of that wine as I did, though.” She shook her head impatiently, dislodging the still damp cloth. “Leave it for now."

  "All right. Whoever paid those men was down in the courtyard; they were the ones who rode off when they realized it wasn't going to work. Chris thought they were clad like guards but he couldn't make out colors."

  "Stupid. Attacking an inn like this. What did they think it was going to get them?"

  Dahven managed a faint, humorless chuckle. “If we'd all drunk as much of that wine as you and I did, they might well have ridden away with unconscious prisoners, leaving behind two empty rooms and a very puzzled innkeeper."

  "Or two rooms of dead guests,” Jennifer said. Her mouth had gone dry.

  "Or some of each.” Dahven sighed quietly, fought a cough. “If it was my brothers, using that kind of violence against all of us so they can deal with me—"

  "Don't,” she urged and gripped his fingers, hard. “Please. Not just now, I don't think I can handle that argument again."

  "They nearly killed you! Do you think I can take that?"

  "They didn't."

  "Not for lack of trying. I—all right, leave it, we're quarreling to no point and there's a more important problem: Three dead men and six prisoners, plus an innful of witnesses to an outrageous breach of law. The innkeep has to send for the Andar Perighan guard, and there are going to be questions."

  "Questions. Oh, God. What do we tell them?"

  "Not the truth, at least, not all of it. Aletto killed a nobleman, his uncle may not have signed a warrant but the Emperor might choose not to ignore such a murder."

  "I know, Lialla tried to explain. They'd keep him; it's the last thing we can afford.” Jennifer sighed. “He'll have to hide, and so will you."

  "No—"

  She brought up her good hand to lay across his cheek; it was too warm. “Don't. Not now. Please. How long do you think we'll have?"

  "I don't know, but probably less than a day."

  "If we just left—"

  "Very bad mistake, believe me. It would raise suspicion of us. We don't need the Emperor's guard out looking for us also."

  Silence. Jennifer tried to gather scattered wits enough to think. Ugly situation; all they'd needed. “I don't think sneaking off is an option, anyway. We can't leave Enardi behind, particularly not after this.” She considered this, shook her head. “God, poor kid. I surely hope he slept through it all."

  "I think someone said—gods, I can't remember. The eldest boy said, just before he and Chris tore into each other."

  "Oh, Lord.” Jennifer drew a deep breath, let it out in a sigh. “Don't tell me, I don't think I can handle any more right now."

  "No.” Dahven turned his head away and coughed.

  "I don't think I'll be able to ride anywhere tomorrow. I think if I tried to sit up right now, I'd throw up or pass out. I lost blood and Thread doesn't replace it. But after what I've heard, I'd just as soon glue myself together the hard way as have that heater Menij. He'd probably consider me some kind of heretic and let me die."

  "I wish I could say I have a plan,” Dahven said vexedly. He coughed again and when he went on his voice sounded too thin. “I'm supposed to be good at them. I—to be honest, I'm too tired to care."

  "Oh, Lord. Tell me—swear to me you weren't hurt?"

  "I promise you were the only one of us hurt, except for a few bruises, and Aletto had a nosebleed from when he fell.” He yawned again. “Maybe if I sleep on it, an idea will come."

  "Sounds good,” Jennifer murmured. It felt good to close her eyes, to let her head roll to the right so her cheek rested against his hair. Tell him to get under the comfort, she thought. After all, he's dressed, I'm covered, there's the sheet— As if anyone cared, as if either of them were capable of doing anything more than holding hands right now.

  He drew a deep, shuddering breath, let it out as a very faint snore. Sleeping already. He was doing it all wrong—out of necessity, she knew. Still, a man just over the fever he'd had shouldn't be riding long hours, worrying constantly, exposed to chills—fighting for his life. If he fell ill again, out here, with only that healer Menij to care for him! I can't take this, she thought suddenly. The hand resting against Dahven's shoulder was shaking; she freed it with extreme caution and he sighed in his sleep, rolled away from her. She wrapped the arm around her ribs, accidentally knocked cut and scabbed fingers against her forearm. Blood, pain, violence and death—she suddenly wanted nothing so desperately as to be home again, where pain was a stress headache, violence something on television. “Oh, God,” she moved her lips soundlessly, and turned her head away so Dahven wouldn't hear her cry.

  He was gone when she woke again—to a cool room, sun pooled on the floor under the edge of a dark blue curtain that looked as though someone had jerry-rigged it back in place. The door was slightly ajar; she could hear familiar voices out in the hall or possibly in the room across it. She shifted, managed to roll onto her right arm and edge up on her elbow. The room tilted rather alarmingly and she groaned, let herself down again.

  She heard rather than saw the door creak open. “Jen?” Robyn's tentative voice.

  "Mmmm—yeah, that's me, isn't it?"

  "Most of you. Got some warm bread and things for you if you think you can handle them. Caro made you and Ernie chicken broth this morning and she said she'd add veggies to it later if you kept the liquid down.” Robyn came across to sit on the edge of the other bed. “You feel any better, kiddo?"

  "Sure. That's not too difficult, though. Last night was pretty ugly."

  "Tell me.” Robyn shook her head. “Listen, if you do feel better, we'd probably better get some food down you and like that. Caro sent Colin into Podhru for guard to deal with those guys that jumped us last night. I guess she had to—"

  "Dahven explained; she's right. We don't want to look like we're the bad guys."

  "Yeah. Suppose so.” Robyn pushed to her
feet.

  "How are you holding up?” Jennifer asked her. “I thought I heard you out there, last night—"

  "You did. I got really pissed, it just happened. Can you believe one of those guys shooting arrows into a room when he couldn't even see what he was hitting? One jammed in the end of Chris's bo, and that was all it took. Look, let's not talk about it, why don't I go get you something, all right? Unless you're up to going down—"

  "Don't think I'll even try; sitting up was a big enough thrill. Besides, I don't think this thing of Caro's is decent wear for mixed company, and I feel damned flimsy without my underwear."

  Robyn laughed, paused in the doorway. “I'll see if your stuff isn't maybe dry, it came pretty clean. Caro's down there right now trying to darn the holes in your tee-shirt."

  "You're kidding."

  "You made enough of a fuss over it last night, she figured it was important. Besides, she knows how it feels, having real clothes start to wear out."

  "I'll really owe her for that one."

  "I told her that. She says you can pay her by eating what she's fixed.” Jennifer let her eyes close, heard Robyn's retreating footsteps. All right, she thought tiredly. How are we going to deal with a suspicious pack of guards?

  Instead of Robyn, Chris came in with a large, steaming mug and a wedge of bread. “Mom says she's gonna get your skivvies spread out in the sun. Think she wanted me out of the kitchen anyway, so she could apologize to Caro.” He settled on the edge of the bed. “This all right, or am I joggling you too much? Cause you look like you're gonna need help sitting up."

  "You're joggling but that's all right. Yeah, I can use an arm.” She took a sip of the broth. Chicken, and very plain, not even peppered. Bland, but probably all her stomach would accept anyway. “Why apologize?"