He was eyeing her in a speculative way she did not like, obviously taking in the richness of her velvet gown and fur-lined cloak. Her veil had come loose in the struggle. She tried to pull it back in place, but it would not stay.
“Where is the healer, my lady?” he asked with a little more respect in his voice. “Is this his room?”
She nodded. “He went to make a potion for me.”
The thief pushed himself away from her with a scowl. He crossed the room in two long strides and came back again. “Agel, Agel, where are you?” he muttered, shoving back his tangled hair from his face. “How long has he been gone?”
“Only a few minutes,” she answered.
The thief, if he was a thief, grimaced impatiently. He seemed very nervous, and he was limping. She noticed his footgear was worn through as though he had walked a long distance. He looked half frozen as well. He had no cloak, and what remained of his tattered tunic was silk. One of his hands looked burned; the flesh across the back was puffed an angry red.
“This was the only window,” he said. “Tell me, is there more than one entrance into the infirmary? Or must I reach it by the passage outside?”
“I do not know,” Elandra replied calmly. She had revised her original estimate of him. By his speech, he was provincial but not lowborn. He looked worried rather than insane. A thief did not refer to his intended victim by name and fret because he had stepped out for a few minutes. She decided he meant her no real harm.
“My guards are outside in the passage. You must wait until the healer returns.”
He pulled at the back of his neck, tipping back his head in a weary motion. “There is no time,” he said.
Without further hesitation he went to the medicine cabinet and started picking through the bottles there, examining one after the other as though he could read the arcane symbols on the labels.
“Ah,” he said finally, lifting one to the light. “That will do for a start.”
Tucking it in his pocket, he started for the window.
“Wait!” she said. “What is your need, stranger? Why do you come here in this clandestine way, asking for our healer by name? Why do you hurry away, when you need care for your hurts?”
With one hand on the open windowsill, he hesitated. The thin sunlight slanted across his face, picking up the molded angles of cheekbone and jaw. His nostrils were etched fine, and there was a hint of tender fullness about his mouth.
The door opened without warning, and the healer walked in.
Startled, Elandra whirled with a gasp and pulled her veil across her face. The stranger dropped to a quick crouch, looking as though he would attack.
Only Agel kept his composure, although he stared very hard at the stranger for a moment. Then he shut the door as though his were an ordinary visitor. He glanced once at Elandra with a frown, then held back what he had intended to say.
“Well,” he said at last. “This is unexpected.”
“Agel! At last.” The stranger hurried to him and gripped his sleeve. “You must help me at once.”
“I am with a patient.”
“Gault above, don’t be an ass.” The stranger didn’t even throw Elandra a look, although Agel kept glancing at her. “Put her out, and listen to me. There can be no delay.”
“I will not dismiss her Maj—the lady,” Agel said severely. Red crept into his face, and Elandra could have throttled him herself. The idiot would give her away yet. “Her well-being is of the utmost importance.”
“Nothing is more important than what I need you to do.”
But Agel was drawing back with a stern shake of his head. He looked angry, embarrassed, and disappointed. They obviously knew each other. In fact, there was a similarity to the shape of their heads and the cast of their eyes. They might be kinsmen. Watching, Elandra let her curiosity grow.
“Get out,” Agel said coldly. “You are clearly up to no good. I will not get involved with—”
“It concerns my master,” the strange said impatiently. He cast Elandra a worried look, as though she might know whom he referred to. “There is trouble.”
“You are always in trouble,” Agel said with asperity. “Have you run away?”
“Only you can help me. I need an audience—”
“If you have run away, or done something even worse, I cannot help you,” Agel said. “I have no influence in that quarter.”
“You have the ear of the emperor,” the stranger said. “I must speak to him.”
Agel’s gaze shifted nervously to Elandra. “Impossible,” he said.
“May Faure burn your ears!” the stranger said. “Don’t say ‘impossible’ in that pompous tone. It must be done. Every moment is vital. Give me your spare set of clothes and some wash water. While you ask for an audience, I will get cleaned up.”
The healer looked exasperated, and Elandra had to smile behind her veil. This filthy stranger clearly had no idea of how the emperor was approached.
“Well?” he demanded.
Agel sighed. “You are mad to come here like this. Why didn’t you send for me in the normal way?”
Even Elandra lost patience with him. He was stodgy and stupid, for all his professional skill. She could see the stranger was rapidly losing the scant shreds of temper he had left.
“Healer Agel,” she said imperiously, stepping forward.
Both men glared at her as though they wanted no interference.
“If this man is known to you, why do you deny him your assistance?”
Agel’s mouth dropped open before he hastily closed it. “But I cannot—”
She gestured to silence him. “The man is hurt, and cold, and has obviously walked many miles to come here. He is in trouble and has need of you. Will you refuse him care?”
“No, of course not, my lady,” Agel said, looking confused and frustrated. “But I must attend you First.”
“If you will give me the potion I came for, I will consider myself satisfied.” She reached out her hand, and he reluctantly gave her the bottle.
“Thank you,” she said. “Now care for this man.”
“I don’t want that,” the stranger said, interrupting. “The emperor must be warned.”
“Of what?” she asked. “What news do you bring?”
He glared at her.
“Answer her, you fool,” Agel said.
The stranger whipped his head around suspiciously. “Why?” he asked the healer. “It’s no concern of hers.”
Agel’s face went red again. “You lout. You have no manners. A savage would be better than—”
“You can correct his manners later,” Elandra said, losing patience with both of them. She pinned the stranger’s gaze with her own. “What would you tell the emperor?”
His blue eyes were stubborn. He made no answer.
“See?” Agel said to her. “He is hopeless, no one for your Maj—for you to concern yourself about. Just a stupid, troublemaking slave who has run away from his master and wants protection.”
“The law forbids harboring a runaway,” she said severely. However, when she looked into this man’s fierce blue eyes, she had difficulty believing he could belong to anyone. He looked like the hunting eagles of Gialta. Even with tresses on their legs, their talons blunted, and their wings clipped for training, their eyes remained untamed. “Have you run away?” she asked gently.
His eyes did not flinch from hers. “Not yet,” he said.
There was darkness in his voice, a tangle of undercurrents and emotions she did not wish to unravel. As interesting as this was, she could not tarry here for long.
“Take care,” she said in warning to the healer. “Your oath is to help the sick, the injured, and the helpless, but you may not extend that to sheltering runaways or those who have broken the law.”
Agel’s eyes narrowed. His face remained red. “I shall not break the law for this man, my lady. I shall not harbor him, and I cannot give him what he asks for.” He turned on the stranger with open resent
ment. “Always you cause trouble. Go! Whatever you have done, I want no part of it.”
The stranger looked frustrated. “Yes, you have always been more interested in preserving yourself than in doing what is right. What hope have I of reaching the emperor, if you will not help me? Would you at least carry a message to him?”
“No,” Agel said without hesitation.
The stranger turned on Elandra so suddenly she jumped. “And you, lady?” he asked desperately. “Could you do it?”
She found herself unaccountably flustered. “Do what?”
“Carry a message to him.”
“I—I—”
“If I wrote it down, would you give the paper to him?”
“Stop it!” Agel said before she could reply. “Leave her alone. She is no one you may address, much less command.”
The stranger glared at him. “In this matter, I would crawl on my belly if it would get me to the throne room. I have asked you, begged you. But you cannot dismiss the past long enough to think of the empire. Now I ask this woman. I beg her.”
“Stop!” Agel cried.
“For once, will you not listen to me? I must speak to the emperor, and as soon as possible. It is vital—”
“Vital for the preservation of your own hide,” Agel said spitefully. “You have finally gone too far. I know how you are. You have ruined your relationship with your master— defied him, insulted him, or attacked him. And now you think you will run to the emperor for clemency. As though the emperor cares one jot for who you are.”
“You’re wrong,” the stranger said. “It isn’t like that. It isn’t—” Breaking off, he put out his hand and braced himself against the wall. He looked suddenly white and spent.
Agel hesitated long enough to make Elandra angry again, but before she could urge him he took the stranger by the arm and steadied him. Gently he probed here and there, checking pulse points, examining more burn marks beneath the mud and soot.
“What has happened?” he asked, his voice softer now.
The stranger winced. “Trouble. Terrible trouble. He brought it on himself.”
“You were with him?” the healer asked cautiously. “At his side, as usual?”
Wearily the stranger nodded. He dropped onto the stool and sat there with his head down. “Sidraigh-hal,” he muttered. “Brought him back. I carried him ... I don’t know how many miles. We lost the horses.”
Agel gripped his arm. “Where is he now? Is he hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Then I must attend him at once. Where is he? Did you bring him here?”
“Gault, no,” the stranger said, horrified. “I left him on the doorstep of his house, for his damned servants to find. He can rot in his bed, for all I care. I’ve done enough—”
“No, you haven’t done enough,” Agel said. He strode to his cabinet and began filling a leather pouch with items. “Why didn’t you inform me of this immediately? To what extent is he injured?”
The stranger glanced at Elandra, and his face grew tight and distrustful. He said nothing.
Agel sighed and came hurrying over to her. “My lady, please,” he said softly. “I think it best if you go.”
She stood her ground. “And I think it better if I understand more of this intrigue, healer. Who is this man who has come to you for help? And who is his master?”
Agel might have a stony face, but his eyes flinched at her questions. Seeing that, she knew she was right to be suspicious.
“Answer me,” she commanded.
“Lady, I dare not.” Frowning, he glanced at the man who had come to him for help. “Until I understand what has happened, I can give you no—”
“Who are these men?” she demanded more loudly.
The blond man rose to his feet and advanced on her. “Put her out, Agel. Already she has heard too much.”
“I cannot put her out, you fool!” Agel said to him. “Have a care.”
“A simpering courtier’s wife? She’s in the way. Already she knows more than is good for her.”
Elandra glared at him and let her veil fall. She’d had enough of this overgrown lout who was clearly up to no good. “You will tell me now who you are,” she said in a voice of steel. “I command it.”
The man glared back, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. His face was mulish with defiance. “Go to—”
“Caelan, don’t!” Agel said with a gasp. “If you value your miserable life ... if you value mine ... go no further.”
The man named Caelan turned white, then a dull shade of red. He turned on the healer with unmistakable menace and gripped him by the front of his robe.
“You fool!” he snarled. “You had courage once. Now you quail and quiver even before a woman—”
“She’s not just a woman,” Agel retorted, pulling free. “She is the empress!”
Caelan jerked back from him, and looked from the healer to her and back again in plain disbelief. Then his gaze returned to her, standing there haughty, angry, and unafraid. Consternation filled his face.
He went to one knee, bowing low, and said nothing.
The instant obeisance and humility in a man so fierce, so masculine, so rough absurdly pleased her. She hid that, however, and turned her gaze on the healer.
He looked as though he wished the floor would swallow him whole.
For her part, Elandra was busy thinking. The name Caelan sounded familiar to her. She had heard it before, in passing, perhaps from the guards or some of the servants. A wager ... ah, that was it. He was a gladiator, the champion of the seasonal games. A participant in a hideous, bloodthirsty sport she was not permitted to view. He belonged to Prince Tirhin.
Both men were watching her. They read her face as she reached her conclusions, and they exchanged a swift glance of dismay. Caelan, unbidden, rose to his feet once more.
“I see,” she said coldly, putting it all together. She turned her gaze on Caelan. “You are known to me, by reputation and through my knowledge of your master. Tell me now, with no evasion, of what has occurred.”
He swallowed, his throat working convulsively, but he met her gaze steadily enough. “Forgive me, my lady, but I can speak only to the emperor.”
The refusal, mild though it was, was like a slap. She realized again that she had no real authority. Even a slave such as this—arena meat, her guards would call him—knew that.
“Mind your stupid tongue,” Agel said to him sharply. “You have done enough harm to yourself already without adding defiance to it.” He turned to Elandra with a bow.
“Your Majesty, I ask forgiveness on his behalf. My cousin is a coarse knave, untrained in—”
Caelan tipped back his head and laughed. Only then did the healer seem to realize what he had said. Looking confused and embarrassed, he broke off his sentence and stood there.
“Agel of the big mouth,” Caelan said, his face still alight with derision. “First you betrayed who I was, then you betrayed who she was, and now you have betrayed yourself. As an intriguer, you are hopeless.”
Agel pushed away from him in outrage. “I am not an intriguer!” he said vehemently, glancing at Elandra as though to see if she believed his denial.
She gazed at him with disgust. He had pretty manners for her, but question his authority even the slightest, or even thwart him, and he grew petty and arrogant. He was a toady, ready to flatter but equally quick to check everyone’s reaction before he committed himself to any opinion. If she ever acquired any influence at court, he would not rise far.
He stepped toward Elandra, his face filled with consternation. “I swear to you that I had no knowledge of these events. Our relationship is a coincidence. Whatever has occurred—”
“Yes, healer,” she said without interest in his continued denials. “Why don’t you confine yourself to your duties?”
“Yes, Majesty,” he said in visible relief. “If I may be permitted to excuse myself, I think I should go to his highness and attend him if he will receive me.”
She looked at this man, so eager to rush to the aid of the emperor’s son while remaining impervious to his own kinsman who stood here injured and pushed to the limits of his strength.
She could not resist saying “But the prince has not sent for you.”
Agel’s eager expression faltered.
Did he not realize the mistake he made before her? Suddenly she was weary of the man.
She made a gesture of dismissal. “Go. Do what you feel is necessary. Certainly the prince must stand in need of your skill at this time.”
The healer smiled. “Majesty, forgive my haste,” he said. “Is there any other way in which I can serve you?”
“No.”
“May I have leave to attend you later, Majesty? To inquire about your headache?”
“Yes.”
He bowed to her, frowned dreadfully at Caelan, and vanished, closing the door with a Firm snap.
She found herself alone with the gladiator. He eyed her like a predator, wary and dangerous. For a moment she felt afraid again, but she refused to show it.
“As for you—”
“My lady, let me speak,” he said urgently. “What I have asked from my cousin, now do I ask you. Have mercy and help me reach the emperor. This is important.”
“I’m sure you think it is, but I cannot do as you ask.”
His face hardened. “You mean you will not.”
“Do not censure me!” she snapped. “There are protocols and procedures. I cannot rush up to the emperor and demand he give you audience.”
“Not even when the safety of the empire is at stake?”
She refused to be flustered and eyed him coolly. “How would a slave know whether the empire is in jeopardy?”
He went pale, and for the first time his eyes seemed to show realization of what he faced.
“You have pushed your way into the palace in a clandestine manner, like a thief. That is a grave offense,” she said, making her voice curt and harsh. “You have come here without the permission of your master. That is another offense. You have dared attack my person. Now you make demands that cannot be met. How do you answer for yourself?”
“My lady—”
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