by Connie Ward
Ignoring them, Biddy dropped her gear and placed stubby hands on ample hips to glower down at me. Wispy threads of greying brown hair dangled at her temples, having strayed from the bun beneath her crooked hat. “You look like hell,” she declared, her face bloated and red with temper.
"So do you.” It seemed the only appropriate response.
She arched a brow, and a wry smile appeared. “I like her, Sestus. She's sweet."
Still unconvinced the woman was not a raving lunatic, I asked, “Are you a doctor?"
"I am not,” Biddy retorted with indignation. “I'm a herbhealer. And the best damned one this hellhole's got."
I watched as she rummaged through one pack then another, searching for who knew what. I thought about begging Sestus to take me somewhere, anywhere, else. I even considered crawling for the door myself, but it was an effort simply to breathe. Sestus and Jory, however, seemed unconcerned, peering inquisitively over her shoulder.
Realizing she had an audience the old shrew rounded on the men in a fit of outrage. “Stop gawking at the poor girl! She's been through enough already without having to put up with your rude stares. Well, just don't stand there like a couple of lackwits. One of you fetch me a tub of hot water and some towels. While you're at it, bring a few blankets. Not those old, ratty ones neither, but the good ones you save for the horses. And make it snappy."
Jory scurried out the door, eager to obey Biddy's orders. Smiling reassurance, Sestus came to my side and stroked my brow. “It's going to be all right."
Biddy thrust a jar of weak blue solution at me. “Drink it. It will make you sleep."
I drank, submitting to Biddy as I would to Grezalia. Soon a feeling of lassitude settled over me, banishing all my aches and pains. I fell asleep, cradling Sestus's hand in mine.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I awoke slowly, wary with the sensation of being watched. Without warning I snapped open my eyes. Well, actually, only one eye. The other was covered with a dead fish. Three faces swam into focus, all hovering close. Unpleasant memories of Gryphon soldiers resurfaced. I shrank away, trying to duck under the blanket.
"Get your ugly mug out of her face, boy,” a woman's voice spat. “You're scaring her."
Firm but gentle hands took mine and tucked the blanket under my chin, that same grating voice murmuring, “There, there. You're safe here.” As full awareness returned I recognized the voice as Biddy's.
I opened my eye again, relieved to see Sestus smile. “How are you feeling, Ruvie?"
Ruvie? Ahh, yes. I said something that sounded more like, “Thbltt.” My mouth felt as if it were full of marbles.
"Don't try to talk,” Biddy admonished as she readjusted the fish. “Your lip is still pretty swollen. I'd say you're damned lucky to have all your teeth."
I struggled onto my elbows but a stab of pain lanced through my chest, making me wince.
Biddy nodded. “That'll be your poor ribs. Can't do anything about them, I'm afraid, except bind you up. But that will only make you more uncomfortable. Just be thankful they aren't broken."
Looking down, I saw myself clad in a flimsy nightgown. I'd been bathed and my hair washed. A hint of lavender hung in the air. I felt clean and refreshed, despite the ache of my body and a warm, sleepy feeling. “Thank you, Biddy,” I managed, overcome with gratitude. “I don't know how to repay you."
"Bah,” she snorted. “Don't you worry about that. Payment is up to Sestus."
She removed the fish from my eye to a chorus of oohs and ahhs. “What are you two groaning about?” Biddy demanded, her healer's fingers probing a sizable bruise. “The colour is coming out nicely."
Sestus wrinkled his nose. “What's with the fish? It stinks."
"That's for me to know and you to find out.” She flung the corpse into a bucket, passed it to Jory. “Feed it to the dogs. No sense wasting good food. Go on. Out with you."
Once the boy had fled, Sestus asked, “Are you hungry?"
Hungry? Try famished. I envisioned roast chicken with wine sauce, fresh leeks, and thick slices of bread plastered with butter. What I got was a bowl of broth and a cup of water, much like my last meal in Castle Gryphon.
Biddy poked a slender reed between my fingers. “Drink up. Use the straw so you don't dribble down yourself. It's good beef broth. You should start light. Maybe later you can have a nice pork pie."
Recollecting my manners, I smiled my thanks. I had forgotten this was a poor Crusader outpost, not Gryphon's dining hall, where I was accustomed to sumptuous food and drink. I slurped my broth, conscious of Sestus's ill-concealed grin.
Biddy packed away her herbhealer's paraphernalia and set a basket filled with odds and ends on the table, then rattled off a list of instructions. “You're to rest in bed for a couple of days. I've stitched the gash in your arm. Sestus can change the dressing tomorrow. There's an ointment of comfrey for your cuts and bruises, and a solution of chamomile to put in your tea if you have trouble sleeping. You have no serious internal injuries, but go easy on your ribs."
With that, she closed up her last bag and held out her palm to Sestus. “My payment, if you please."
Sestus dug around in his purse, coming up with two coins, which he dumped into her outstretched hand. At her quizzical squint, he said, “It's all I have."
As the woman continued to eye him dubiously, Sestus snapped, “Plus the three hens I promised. Is it enough?"
Biddy slipped the coins into an apron pocket. “It will do."
Damn, these people were poor. All thanks to Uncle, and his stubborn refusal to forgive and forget. I'd never felt so ashamed.
As Biddy flounced out the door, I could see she was tickled pink with her meagre payment and somehow that made me feel worse. I stared down at my half-finished broth, my appetite gone. “I can't let you do this, Sestus. I can't accept your kindness and hospitality. Not at your expense."
Concerned, he sat down on the stool beside me. “What do you mean?"
"I mean, you gave that woman your last two coins."
A dazzling smile appeared. “I'd have given her my horse had she asked. Don't worry yourself over a few pieces of silver."
"No,” I growled, shaking my head. “You don't understand. Biddy deserved more for her trouble."
Sestus laughed. “Don't you worry about Biddy. All her remedies and herbs add up to a small fortune. She's probably the richest peasant in the place."
"Exactly. You all have so little. And I have ... had ... so much. It doesn't seem fair I should take your charity. Me, an enemy, of all things."
"An enemy no longer, I'd say. After all, we both have a common foe in Bertrand."
I turned away, unable to bear thoughts of Uncle right now. Though it was correct to assume he and I were now enemies, I had not yet come to terms with his treachery.
"Your friends might not see it that way, Sestus. If I am discovered, my presence also endangers you. From what I know of the Crusaders, they won't approve of your bringing a wolf into their fold. I can't allow you to put yourself at risk for my sake."
Sestus seemed amused. “Do you really believe you have a say in the matter, Little Red? Do you think you can do anything to stop me? I dare say you couldn't walk to the door.” He set my bowl and reed on the table, then taking my shoulders, eased me back down under the blanket. “Rest, Kathedra. We'll talk later."
I slipped an arm under my head, but as he stood to leave, I said, “I don't understand, Sestus. You should hate me for all I have done, all Uncle has done. You should want me dead. Why are you helping me?"
He sank back down onto the cot beside me, smoothed a hand over my newly washed hair. “Why wouldn't I help you? You are my best friend's daughter. To not help you would do a great injustice to his memory. The Gryphon Highlord may be dead, but I will do everything in my power to keep Kathedra alive."
With that he rose and strode to the door. “Rest now, Little Red. We have much to discuss in the morning."
"Wait,” I implored, mustering a firm
voice. “I will repay you, Sestus. For all your compassion and generosity, I will find a way to repay you."
"Get well first, Little Red. Then we can talk about payment."
The door closed behind him, leaving the word ‘payment’ reverberating in my head. For all his noble words, Sestus planned to use me somehow. In that fashion I would be expected to render payment. Of course, anyone in his situation would be a fool not to take advantage of it. The sudden and rather timely advent of the Gryphon Highlord was an opportunity too lucrative to pass up. I represented both Uncle's greatest fear and the Crusaders’ best chance at victory. After all, I possessed invaluable tactical secrets. I had knowledge of Castle Gryphon's defences, weaknesses, strengths, strategies ... there was no limit. More so, I commanded perhaps the most important weapon of all in this revolt against Uncle—my Teki powers.
Hence, two problems for Sestus and me to puzzle out. Will I cooperate? And, if so, how to conceal my identity from the Citizens Risen Up Against a Dread and Errant Regency?
But Sestus is wrong about one thing. The Gryphon Highlord is not dead. She is very much alive, in temporary exile only. If Uncle should learn of my survival, Averi will wish Sestus had finished him. For my own sake, I prayed he doesn't—not until I am ready to pull the gold-braided cushion out from under him.
I have never indulged in cruelty, but that does not mean I do not understand it. My years in Uncle's company and on the battlefield taught me it. Excruciating tortures await Uncle and Averi—torments of the mind. I want them alive to witness my triumphant return, to watch me retake Castle Gryphon. Most of all, I want them to see me seated on my throne, Mother's crown upon my brow.
* * * *
I did not see Sestus again for the rest of the day, nor anyone else, save Jory when he delivered my pork pie. I had plenty of time alone with my thoughts—all confused, all unpleasant. Ever present on my mind was Valleri.
I missed him terribly, yearning for a comfort only he could provide. This ache for Valleri, deeper and stronger than physical pain, troubled me beyond sleep. Finally, I weakened and added Biddy's chamomile sedative to my tea. It soothed my nerves and numbed my mind, enveloping me in a warm fog, which soon deepened into slumber.
Indeed, the potion worked so well I slept through the night and far into the morning, never stirring until a commotion in the adjacent room woke me with a start. Alarmed, I pushed myself up on my cot, straining to hear the voices of men, all talking at once. My heart was in my throat when purposeful footfalls approached the door. It opened without a knock of warning and a man stepped through it.
A gasp escaped me before I'd realized who entered.
"I'm sorry if I startled you,” Sestus said, closing the door. “How are you feeling?"
"Much better, thank you. What's going on?"
He swept a hand through his dark curls and sighed. “I've just received word ... Ginger is on his way. He'll be here tomorrow. I'm glad to see you're awake. We have a lot to cover before his arrival."
His agitation surprised me. He seemed more haggard since last I saw him. I gathered his anxiety had something to do with how this Ginger person would react to my presence. “Who's Ginger?"
"A Crusader captain. This is his post, which he shares with Repachea. They're both coming."
I slumped under the blanket. Perfect. Just what I needed. Not one outlaw leader but two. How many were there? Sestus talked as if there were more posts, therefore more commanders. How can this be? Either Castle Gryphon's intelligence operates on the same level as a simpleton's or I had not been privy to all the facts.
"Anyway, Ginger is upset,” Sestus continued. “And if there is one person I do not want to be around when he's upset, it's Ginger. He and Repachea left a week ago to lend their assistance in a standoff with one of Bertrand's Royals near Bolta. I can only assume something went wrong."
I slid further beneath my blanket, wishing I could disappear, sick with the feeling I'd just been kicked in the stomach. Sestus did not need my silence to alert him to the possibility I knew something he didn't. He need only recall who I am. He caught an inkling, and jerked up his head like a hound on the scent of my guilty conscience.
"I don't suppose you'd happen to know something about this?” he queried, folding his arms across his chest.
"Um ... not much, I'm afraid,” I stalled, trying to recall Valleri's report. “Only that Captain Tock defeated an enemy commander at the southern crossroads. He is reported grievously injured if not dead. I considered it a major victory for Uncle since I believed there to be only two outlaw leaders of significance. But now I know different, and I wonder if perhaps I was given misinformation."
Sestus muttered an oath. “Belvemar is one of our best, a fearless Crusader. And a good friend, too. No wonder Ginger is fit to be tied."
"Bad tempered is he?"
"Did I give you that impression?” he snorted. “Let's just say he's about as forgiving as Bertrand."
"I can't wait to meet him. Remind me to watch my step."
"It won't be that easy.” Sestus's cow eyes took on a sombre cast. “Ginger's Umagi, too. Wizard calibre."
A wizard? That sickening sensation in the pit of my stomach moved all the way up into my throat. I began to wonder which of the Fates I had offended to earn His or Her personal grudge. Sestus was right; it would not be easy. How to conceal my erratic Teki powers from a full-blown wizard who was, in all likelihood, several times more powerful than myself?
"Yes,” Sestus agreed, reading my alarm. “You see why it is so urgent we talk? First, I have some questions for you. And,” he added in an undertone that suggested he had long experience in matters of interrogation, “I expect straight answers."
"Yes, by all means. You deserve them. But I have a question to ask of you, Sestus.” Indeed, it was a question that had popped into my head and stayed there since our reunion in that roadside ditch. “Why did you desert me? Why, when Mother died and Uncle launched his mad quest for justice, did you abandon me?"
"Kathedra, I did not abandon you. I—"
"Yes, Sestus,” I interrupted, trying to control the anger that rose inside me, anger I hadn't even known existed. “You did abandon me. You were a surrogate father to me and ... well, you just left. You can call it nothing else."
"You're right,” he admitted. “And I'm sorry. I did leave you."
"And Val,” I muttered. “You left him, too. We grew up together, never trusting anyone but each other."
Sestus sighed. “Yes, and Valleri, too. I did not mean to hurt anyone. But try to understand, Little Red. It was not safe for me to remain. Bertrand had lost all reason, all sense of right and wrong. Although I possessed very little in the way of magic, it made no difference to him. I had to flee. I had no choice."
"Yes, you did have a choice,” I hissed, struggling for composure. “You could have taken us with you."
That must have struck him with all the impact of a broadaxe, for he slumped back in his chair, a shocked expression on his face. Wonderingly, he said, “Kathedra ... you know that was impossible."
"Do I? You knew what I was, an Umagi, a Teki just like you. You know better than I do what can happen to an untrained, unskilled mage when ill luck and inexperience collide. You can see for yourself what Uncle has done to me, what his hounds tried to do to me. Could life as an exile with you have been any worse?"
His tone of disbelief matched mine. “Kathedra, think. Had I taken you and Val from Gryphon, Bertrand would have hunted us to the ends of the earth and beyond. You are the rightful heir to your mother's throne!"
I dismissed his words with a shrug. “And yet still an exile."
After a quiet moment, he said, “Don't be angry with me, Little Red. I swore to myself that I would return to set things right, to avenge myself, and Mauranna, and all Umagi. It is a vow I intend to fulfill even now, all these years later."
"Is this your revenge, Sestus? To incite unrest? To birth a civil war?"
"I didn't start it. You know that,
Kathedra. It started a long time ago, back when Bertrand ordered Mauranna's execution. It's only been recently that a handful of brave souls, tired of his tyranny and madness, decided to end it. I merely offered them my assistance. As a former Halberdier captain I could provide invaluable aid. So I dug out my uniform, dusted off my warrior's skills, and recalled long-buried memories."
"But don't you see? None of this has solved anything. It has only done more damage. Instead it's divided a realm, inflicted untold carnage, and sullied my family's name. Look at me, Sestus. I have lost everything."
"You still don't understand, do you, Kathedra? No, I can't expect you to; you consider yourself my enemy. My role here has nothing to do with you. I stand with the Crusaders for the same reasons as Ginger or Repachea or anyone else—to free Thylana from Bertrand's hands, to defeat the oppressor and to liberate the oppressed, to ensure a decent life for our children, to take back our homes."
Though his face remained expressionless and his voice calm, I saw clearly the grief and torment the years had etched into his eyes. “No, Little Red. I need no revolt to exact my revenge. My only instrument of vengeance will be the knife I use to plunge through Bertrand's black heart."
One does not change loyalties overnight. Sestus's tirade still sounded like so much treason to my ears. Nor could I justify bloodshed with more bloodshed. That might seem silly coming from a soldier, but it was how I felt. How I'd always felt.
"You don't approve?"
"Revenge is a very personal thing. Heaven knows I have reason enough to carve my name in Uncle, but because he broke the law of our ancestors does not give me the right to break the same law."
Sestus smiled. “I've known others who thought much the same as you. That is why they are all dead. That is why you very nearly died as well. But, go on. Tell me. What are your plans for revenge?"
"I, too, want only to take what is rightfully mine. The difference is I want Uncle alive to watch me do it. Otherwise, it would not be half as sweet."
Sestus pulled up a chair, sat down and crossed his legs, prepared to stay awhile. “Perhaps I would better understand if I knew the whole story."