Chapter 39

 

“M’lady?”

The skull had cracked. Hearing that sound had done it, had made her slide to the floor for a moment of merciful oblivion. The jaw appeared to have been dislocated as a secondary effect of the blow. Impressive damage for such a short blade.

“M’lady!”

She had only fainted briefly, then woken eye-to-eye with Breen. His eyes were already glassy, all animating force departed. Hard to believe he had been alive so recently.

“Rhia! Are you all right?”

She sat up. There was surprisingly little blood around the dagger in Breen’s ear. Presumably that clear liquid running down his cheek was the “essential water” anatomists talked of. Not her area, anatomy.

“M’lady, we have to go.”

All very well for him to say, this man of action. He had called her Rhia just now but that was a forgivable lapse, under the circumstances. She tore her attention away from Breen’s body.

“Please. We must leave now.” Sorne made to touch her arm, then paused. “Can I help you up, m’lady?”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Thank you.” Her own body felt heavy. Despite the thing lying next to her, she wanted to rest here a while, though the captain was having none of it. “Where is…?” She looked up to see someone bending over her brother. She opened her mouth to cry out, before realizing it was Lekem.

“That’s right, let’s get you up, m’lady.”

She let Sorne haul her upright, then called, “How is he, Corporal?”

“Alive, with no sign of injury, m’lady,” said Lekem. “He appears to be asleep.”

Rhia exhaled. Beside her, Sorne kept hold of her arm. She gave the bodies on the floor one last look. A vile smell was emanating from one or more of them, presumably due to relaxation of the bowels. She had read about that somewhere, with sudden death. She rocked back on her heels, then stabilized herself against Sorne’s firm grip.

Seeing the cut on Sorne’s arm, she remembered being wounded. Yes, but not much more than a spindle-prick in the side. She could ignore that.

Lekem hoisted Etyan onto his shoulder and they set off, one on either side of her. Somewhat to her surprise, her legs knew what to do.

Sorne released her arm. He examined the wound on his elbow as he strode beside her, then raised his arm to look at the nick in his side.

“Anything serious?” asked Rhia in what passed for polite conversation in the current situation.

“Scratches. You’re all right?”

“Oh yes. I’m fine.”

They stopped at a door. It was ajar. Rhia tensed, remembering the last such door and what had been within, but worse had happened since, and she was still on her feet.

This door, however, gave onto the drying room. The ladder lay under the high window. Sorne raised it, then climbed up, pausing at the top to check outside.

“Let’s get the boy up,” he said. Lekem raised Etyan’s limp form; Sorne caught his shoulders and they manhandled him out like a sack of grain. Rhia let herself look at her brother for the first time, noting how he had a rash on his face and hands, making the skin look red and raw, how his hair was long but clean, how he looked relaxed, almost content, even if he was limp as a doll. Something began to uncurl in her chest.

She went last. She did not look back.

Outside, Sorne was there to steady her. He helped her into the boat then pulled the ladder down, sliding it off the ledge into the water, where it began to float off.

They laid Etyan in the bottom of the boat, amongst the baggage. It was damp down there, due to drips from Lekem’s inexpert poling. He’d get wet.

As Lekem raised the pole and pushed off, Sorne bent down beside her.

“Let’s look at your side.”

“My side?”

“Yes, you’ve been wounded.”

“Ah, that. Nothing serious.”

Sorne lifted her shirt, and she made to slap his hands away before catching herself. She looked down to see a thin smear of blood on the waistband of her breeches.

Sorne grunted. “This’ll stop the bleeding.” He pressed a leaf to the cut. Numbweed, if she was not mistaken.

While Sorne treated his own cuts, Lekem built up some speed and they cleared the priory isle. The water around them remained deserted. There was noise in the distance. She had no idea what that was. She felt as though she was observing herself, unable to quite connect with reality.

They sat as they had on the way here: she faced Sorne, Lekem faced forward. Except there were two important changes. No Breen – yes, the dagger had gone in through the ear and the skull had cracked; she would never forget that sound – and the addition of Etyan, who did indeed appear asleep.

The first time Rhia had watched her brother sleep she had considered killing him. She had sneaked into the nursery and peered into his crib. She had wanted a brother for so long. Then she had given up wanting one, accepting she was an only child. And finally, after so many confinements ending in whispered sorrow, this tiny pink wrinkled thing had come into the world, taking Mother away in the process.

If she killed it now, perhaps Mother would come back.

But at twelve years old, she knew that Mother was gone forever, and that her brother was here to stay. Her fingers had still itched, for a moment. But then he’d stirred and yawned, and opened huge eyes, and she’d wondered what was going on in that tiny head, and what might go on in there in future, and realized that this was her brother, the only one she would ever have. And neither of them had a mother.

She loved him in that instant, fully and unconditionally. She would do anything to keep him safe.

“M’lady?” She looked up to see Lekem staring at her. “Are you all right?”

Her eyes prickled. She nodded.

“It’s shock,” said Sorne. “It will pass, you’ll be fine.”

She made to shake her head, to say that wasn’t it, but lacked the energy to argue.

The noise was clearer now. Cheering, and music. The regatta. She looked up as Lekem brought the punt to a halt. Ahead, the waterway narrowed to a gap between two islets, blocked by a low bridge. A wider passage led off right.

Lekem looked round; Sorne turned in his seat. The noise was getting louder, and seemed to come from all around.

Lekem called down, “I’m not sure it’s wide enough to turn safely here.”

“Let’s go right, then.”

Lekem set off. The waterway curved to the right, and narrowed. Lekem slowed, scanning for other options.

The curve sharpened. They came around the corner to find the path ahead blocked. At first Rhia thought this was a dead end, that what they had taken to be a passage was just a long thin inlet. Then she saw what blocked their way. People, dozens of people standing up in punts, facing away from them.

Lekem planted his pole and stopped the punt, then edged it across to one side of the channel.

“Are you going to turn us around?” Rhia had to raise her voice to be heard above the din.

“I can’t risk getting stuck halfway, m’lady, so, no.”

“Then are we getting off here?” It would not be the most unexpected thing to happen today.

“No,” said Sorne. “We’re going to wait.”

“For what?”

“For the regatta procession to pass and the crowds to leave. Then we’ll be able to manoeuvre without attracting attention.”

“Ah.” Looked at objectively – and she was regaining such abilities – this was the logical course of action.

The music grew louder, and the watchers at the end of the channel began to wave. Many of them had green branches in their hands.

A barge appeared, as big as a skykin wagon, its deck so high that she had no trouble seeing it above the crowd’s heads. A small group centred round an elderly man sat under a rich awning. The boat’s rails and the awning’s poles were adorned with flowers. Everyone on the barge wore pure white robes and gold-coloured headdresses of varying height and complexity. The man waved regally as he passed; those with him smiled.

Although she doubted anyone could have seen them even had they looked their way, Rhia sat low in the boat until the barge passed. Sorne did not even turn in his seat; Lekem’s eyes were closed and his lips moved silently.

After the first barge came more, another six in all, carrying courtiers, musicians and various dignitaries. Lekem kept up his prayers.

At last, the final boat passed. As the cheers faded Sorne looked Rhia in the face. “Now we need to remember what we’re meant to be.”

It took her a moment to register what he meant; reason might have returned but she was damnably tired.

Movement began at the end of the waterway. Most people went forward, out into the larger channel, but one, then a second, punt headed back towards their boat.

The first punt had a family in, the mother and three youngsters chattering excitedly. The father spared a brief, bemused glance for their punt as they passed, leaving a wash of white petals in the water.

The second punt had two young couples in. The man facing their way called out as they approached, “Did you miss it?”

Rhia held her breath.

Sorne answered, “We saw a bit.”

“Not from there you wouldn’t!”

The punt came alongside and one of those in it, a young woman with flowers in her hair, saw Etyan lying in the bottom of their punt. Her eyes widened, and she turned to her companions.

“We were late,” said Rhia with an explosion of pent-up breath. She pointed at the unmoving body in the bottom of their boat. “He got blind drunk.”

The couples, who from the smell of spirits were not entirely sober themselves, laughed at this. Then the boy said, “Goes out drinking in his nightclothes, does he?”

“You wouldn’t believe what he gets up to,” said Rhia, with feeling.

The other punt carried on. From the glance its boatman gave them as he passed, he did not hold a high opinion of foreigners and their odd habits.

Finally, the way ahead was clear. Lekem pushed off.

Rhia’s head sank onto her chest.