Lorcan sat down on the edge of his bed, trying to regulate his breathing. After a moment's uncertainty, the King mumbled something about getting Razi, and fled. Wynter shut the hall door behind him, blocking out the curious faces of the guards. She leant against the wood for a moment, her eyes shut, her head spinning. Then she went back to her father.
Lorcan was trying to undo the buttons on his shirt and failing. Wynter brushed his hands away and took over. He let her for a moment, sitting quietly as she undid four or five of the fiddly little bone buttons. Then he shook himself and abruptly knocked her hands away. He pushed her from him, his cheeks flaming.
"Dad!" she protested. "Don't be stupid!"
"I'm not a bloody cripple!" he said harshly. "And I won't make you my nursemaid!"
"Have some sense!" she cried. "Who will help you if I don't? Let me undo your shirt!"
"No!" He pushed her away and then dragged the shirt over his head with a ping and scatter of many buttons. Wynter flung her hands out in frustration.
"Oh great! That's just great! You're a stubborn wretch, Dad! You need a toe up your backside!"
Lorcan didn't respond. He let the shirt slip from his fingers and sank down onto the bed.
Wynter realised, with a pang of sympathy, that Lorcan hadn't the strength to lift his legs onto the bed. She lifted them up and over for him, and he rolled onto his back.
She reached to take off his boots, but he pulled his legs out of her grasp and moved them away.
"Jonathon will do it," he sighed and then shifted slightly and gritted his teeth against another stab of pain. She stood uselessly watching him for a moment and then began to creep quietly to the door.
Lorcan's breathing became abruptly deep and unnatural, and Wynter bit her lips and fled out into the receiving room, intending on running into Razi's suite and dragging him in by his hair.
But he was already on his way down the corridor when she ran out her door, his bag in his hand, his father on his heels. Razi nodded curtly to her under the glare of the guards, but his eyes were soft and reassuring. He put his hand on her shoulder when he came level with her, turned her smartly on her heel and guided her back into her chambers. The King followed, and shut the hall door behind them.
"Come on, sis," Razi said, and he marched her into her father's room and shut the door in the King's anxious face.
Razi pulled off Lorcan's boots and handed them to her, then she turned her back and fidgeted in the corner as Razi stripped Lorcan of the rest of his clothes and examined him. Finally she heard him pull the sheet up and Razi murmured that she could turn around now if she wished.
She was amazed to see that Lorcan was awake, lying on his side and watching heavy-eyed as Razi mixed a tincture in a beaker of water. Razi glanced down at him as he was putting some vials back into his bag, and seemed surprised to find Lorcan's green eyes open and aware. He finished what he was doing and then knelt down by the bed, his face level with her father's.
"Well," he said gently. "You haven't been resting at all, have you?"
Lorcan just smiled. Razi shook his head and patted the big man's shoulder. "I have mixed you a draught. It's much stronger than the last; it will force your body to take the rest it needs and you--"
"No..." Lorcan's fierce response caused Razi's lips to tighten and the young man to sit back.
"Lorcan--" he began sternly.
"No, my Lord! I cannot take your draught. And Razi... I am so sorry..." There was such heartfelt sincerity in this simple apology that Razi stared at him, his eyes growing huge in anticipation of something terrible.
"For what, good friend?"
"Tonight. The banquet. I must attend..."
Razi looked as though he had been hit. Wynter stepped from the shadows, appalled. She was about to say, you can't! You haven't the strength! And then the full import of what her father was saying struck her. Her father meant that he must show his support, his public support, for the King and his terrible decision to put Razi on the throne.
"Please, my Lord," Lorcan's words came out in a dry, urgent rasp and he moved his hand slightly as if trying to reach for Razi. "I beg of you, I beg of you. Forgive me?"
Razi shut his eyes. Wynter thought he was going to turn away from her father. She could tell that Lorcan thought so too.
"I know..." began Razi, his head down, "that you are my good friend, Lorcan. You have always been a most..." His voice failed him, and he put his hand on her father's suddenly and squeezed hard. When Razi opened his eyes, they were glittering. "He has us both, dear friend. Does he not?"
Lorcan glanced quickly at Wynter and then back to Razi. Razi turned to look at her. She shook her head. No, she thought. No. Do not lay this at my feet! I can make my own way! I don't need you to betray Alberon for me! Don't blame me!
"I too have been forced to make a similar bargain today," Razi said, looking Wynter up and down, but not really seeing her.
"Your friend," whispered Lorcan. "How fares he?"
Razi's eyes were huge and threatening to overflow. Then he tilted his head up and took a savage breath through his nose, gritting his teeth until he regained some composure.
"Christopher is in the keep." He patted Lorcan's hand, then pulled away. "I have not seen him since my father tried to murder him by pounding his head against a tree." He stood up and began to busy himself with his instruments.
"Jonathon will not kill him," said Lorcan. "Not if you do what--"
Razi flung a vial into his bag with sudden vicious force and slammed his hands onto the table. "If he touches him again! If he so much as--"
"Shhhhh," hissed Lorcan.
Razi glared at him. "Shhhhh," said Lorcan again, softer this time and Razi relented, nodding.
"My father cannot bear up to another feast, Razi," Wynter said quietly.
Neither man looked at her. Instead they locked eyes - green to brown - both knowing what was at stake. Both knowing that she was right.
"Give me a moment," said Razi suddenly. He strode quickly past Wynter, opening the door as though he expected his father to be lurking at the keyhole. But the King was sitting on the other side of the retiring room. He stood up expectantly, and Razi shut the door behind him as he stepped into the other room, leaving Wynter burning to know what was going on.
She glanced at her father, ashamed to eavesdrop in his presence, but to her surprise, he shifted his hand in a shooing gesture, urging her forward. She hurried to press her ear against the door, straining to hear the conversation in the next room.
Jonathon was exclaiming in exasperation, "We are all tired, boy!"
"No, Father! Not tired! Not bloody tired! Why aren't you listening? The poor man is exhausted! He has nothing left! Can't you understand? He has barely the strength left to keep his heart beating. He..."
"I cannot cancel the banquet. The arrangements..."
"What are they saying?" murmured Lorcan from the bed, and Wynter relayed the conversation in whispers.
"I need Lorcan by my side, boy!" The King was pacing, and Wynter could hear his voice, louder then quieter, as he passed to and fro. "I need him in public. I need him to be seen. The people love him. If they are convinced he supports me..."
"If you make that poor man take to the hall tonight, looking like he does now, everyone will be convinced that you have beaten him into submission, or poisoned him. He is not fit. He will shame himself and turn the people against you."
Wynter reported all this faithfully, though she stumbled on the words shame himself and glanced over at her father. Lorcan just listened quietly, his arm back over his eyes. What she could see of his face was expressionless.
There was a long moment of silence and Wynter realised that Razi might finally have found an argument that made sense to the King.
"Father," asked Razi cautiously. "Why are you doing this?" He spoke very quietly, Wynter could imagine him skirting warily around the King, who she envisioned hunched and snarling like a great beast, smoke dribbling from his nost
rils. She held her breath.
"What are they saying?" murmured her father again and she opened her mouth to tell him, but Razi had resumed speaking and she pressed her ear to the door once more.
"What is worth this? The gibbets. The repression. Inquisitors, for Godssake? You were never a brutal man, Father... now it seems you will sacrifice anything, anyone... and no one knows why..."
Wynter related all this in a rapid whisper, then paused as Razi waited for his answer.
Lorcan shifted his arm slightly, his eyes gleaming slits. "Has he replied?" he asked quietly.
Wynter shook her head. The other room was silent. Then Razi spoke again. "Where is my brother? Where is Alberon?" There was still no reply from the King and Razi pressed on, his voice hard. "What is The Bloody Machine?"
"He has asked the King, 'What is The Bloody Machine?'"
At her words, Lorcan let out a tremendous howl of shock and despair, startling Wynter and making her spin around to stare at him, her back pressed to the door. At the same time Jonathon released a similar roar of horror from the next room.
"NO!" cried Lorcan, clutching the sheets in big gouging fistfuls and goggling at Wynter with terrified eyes. "NO!" He hoisted himself onto his elbow, his face scarlet, utterly distraught. "Get him in here!" he shouted, "Get him here now!"
"Who?" Wynter asked, confused.
"The King! The bloody King!"
When Wynter flung open the door Razi and Jonathon were on opposite sides of the room, both of them shocked and staring at each other, the King wild-eyed and devastated. "Majesty..." she began but her father roared from behind her, his voice filled with rage.
"Jonathon! Get in here, goddamn you! Come here!" He was gripping the mattress in a furious effort to keep himself up, and the sight of him had Razi exclaiming in horror and striding towards him. But Lorcan waved him aside and glared past him to the King, who was stepping warily forward, his face pale, his eyes hollow.
"You! You..." Words failed Lorcan and he ground his teeth in anger. The King just kept staring at him, his face unreadable.
"Dad," whispered Wynter, but she and Razi had been washed aside, left stranded by this far darker, older storm. Razi reached for her, and she took his hand.
"You promised me!" Lorcan growled, spitting fire. Jonathon tilted his head away as if to avoid some of the sparks. Then Lorcan's sudden burst of energy deserted him, and he sank abruptly to his side, his lips white. "You promised!"
Jonathon stepped towards the bed and stared down at his friend. Lorcan was the very image now of an angry corpse. His eyes glittering with rage, he glared up at the King. Then Wynter saw realisation dawning slowly in his white face.
"Jesu, Jonathon! You always intended to, didn't you? That's why you sent me away! It wasn't to negotiate with the Northlanders! It wasn't to play hostage of faith to that cur Shirken! It was so I wouldn't be in your way... It was... aaggh!" He lifted his fists to his face and keened inarticulately with fury. "And you dragged Alberon into it! Your lovely shining boy! And Oliver! Oliver! Oh. You bastard! Oh, Jonathon, you bastard!"
"You built it," hissed Jonathon accusingly. His fists were balled up, his shoulders hunched and he loomed over the recumbent man like a cliff about to fall. "You built it, you poxy hypocrite. Don't..."
"I was seventeen!" howled Lorcan. "And you promised! After the first time, you took an oath...!"
"Things got desperate here, Lorcan, you've no idea."
Lorcan snarled up at the King, "Nothing could be that desperate!" Lorcan's cheeks were wet with tears. Wynter had never seen her father cry like this before. She squeezed Razi's hand so hard that she felt his bones move under the skin. She felt like they were witnessing some form of combat. Some quick, murderous battle in which the King and Lorcan tore strips from each other's armour, exposing an unexpected depth of darkness beneath.
Suddenly Lorcan shifted his gaze to where she and Razi were standing pressed side by side at the foot of his bed, their eyes enormous, their faces those of frightened children.
"Get them out!" he hissed, "get them out!"
Jonathon turned to them then, his face aghast, as though he too had just realised they were still there. "Out!" he cried. "Out! Into the hall!"
Wynter felt Razi steel himself to stay. He kept her hand in his, but moved forward slightly, putting her behind him. He said nothing, but the King must have seen the defiance in his face because his lip curled and he clenched his jaw.
If he hits Razi again, thought Wynter, Razi will hit back. He will really let fly. And the King won't know his own name for a week.
She didn't think the King had any idea of the amount of raw strength Razi had hidden in his sinewy body.
"Get out!" Lorcan was waving his arms at them, "OUT!"
"Please, Razi." Wynter tugged her friend's hand, her eyes on her father's terrible colour, his desperate clutching at the sheets.
Razi followed her eyes, "Lorcan..." he said hopelessly.
"GET OUT!" screamed the two men, and their children backed rapidly from the room. Jonathon pushed and bullied them out into the hall and slammed the door in their faces. After the briefest of moments they heard more shouting from Lorcan's suite as the two men tore into each other again.
The guards watched them from carefully neutral faces, their spear heads gleaming in the slanting night. Razi was staring at the door, his posture combative, his breathing rapid. He was wound up, ready to burst.
Wynter looked at the guards. Their blood was already high from the incident on the hill and the shouting from Lorcan's room had them on edge. She feared for the consequences to Razi should he start an argument with the King now. As it was, he could barely contain his rage, she could feel it trembling through his body like a river, raging deep underground. If he went head to head against the King there would be violence. And the way he was now, whatever he started he would damn well finish and that would be treason. He'd be hung, drawn and quartered without mercy or reprieve.
"Razi," she said quietly and tugged his hand.
Razi grunted and pulled his arm away, reaching for the door.
Suddenly the shouting stopped. They froze, their attention focused solely on what might be happening inside the now silent room. Razi's eyes widened, and Wynter suppressed a little whimper of fear as they listened in vain for some form of conversation. Razi lifted his hand to the door handle, but the door flew inwards before he could touch it, and Jonathon stood there, his face appalled.
"Help him," he said.
Razi rushed past him and Wynter followed.
"I've killed him, haven't I? He's dead!" The fear and regret in Jonathon's voice would have had Wynter gaping at him, had her father not taken up all her attention.
"Oh Razi! Razi! He's dead!"
"Shhh!" Razi held up his hand and they forced themselves to be very still. He bent over Lorcan, his face grim. Then he turned quickly, rummaged in his bag and drew out his little wooden trumpet and a small mirror.
"Son..." began Jonathon, but Razi rounded on him and snarled at him to shut up. The King stepped back, pressed his lips together and watched with tear-filled eyes while Razi held the little mirror to Lorcan's partially open lips.
Razi watched the mirror carefully, frowning. Then he put the trumpet to Lorcan's chest and listened. Wynter gripped the footboard and held her breath, concentrating hard, as though by being still enough and quiet enough, she too might hear what Razi strained to detect.
Lorcan was as still as stone. His eyelashes, his eyebrows, the fine, sleek beginnings of a beard on his unshaven cheeks, gleamed in the sun that streamed through his window. They gave a bright and fiery illusion of life to his motionless face. But his powerful chest lay unmoving. His big hands, heavy as marble carvings, rested on the white sheets.
Dad. Oh, Dad. Wake up.
Razi cast aside the listening device and bent over her father again, pressing his ear directly to the man's chest. His jaw twitched rhythmically as he ground his teeth. His expression was growing des
perate.
Suddenly Razi reared up, lifted his fist over his head and brought it down in a fierce hammer blow to the centre of Lorcan's chest. Jonathon leapt and yelled in shock, but Razi completely ignored him as he bent and pressed his ear to Lorcan's chest again. Wynter sobbed as Razi's face drew down in tight frustration and despair. But once again he swung back and slammed his fist down hard onto Wynter's father's chest, yelling with the impact as if raging at Lorcan.
He pressed his ear to the big chest again, his face taut. Wynter and Jonathon held their breaths. Razi grunted and shifted position suddenly, putting his eye to Lorcan's lips. He stayed motionless for a moment, his face intense, and then Wynter saw his eyelids flutter, and a tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
"Good fellow..." he whispered, and lay his forehead against her father's. His hand lifted slightly as Lorcan's chest rose in a shallow breath. Wynter lost sight of them then, because her eyes were blinded with tears. But she heard Razi murmur "good fellow" again. Then he began to shuffle his vials and potions about in a calm, methodical manner, and Wynter felt herself sink to the floor.
"Pick her up," she heard Razi say from far away, "bring her to her room and lie her on the bed, raise her feet on a pillow."
Distantly, as if in her sleep, Wynter felt the King lift her, carry her and gently lay her on her bed.
There were no dreams.
"Wynter."
She felt the weight of someone sitting beside her on her bed and knew at once that it was Razi. He stroked her hair and she opened her eyes. The light was dim, he'd lit a candle. She looked down; someone had taken off her boots and her belt, and covered her with a blanket.
"What happened?"
"You collapsed from exhaustion."
"I mean about my father, Razi. What happened to my father?"
"Lorcan is doing well, sis. His heart beats constant. He roused to consciousness a while ago, and Father and himself had a long, calm discussion. Then he agreed to take that draught. He should sleep until late tomorrow morning, and then we shall see how things are."
"Will he die?"
"He might." She closed her eyes. Razi stroked her hair. "But, in reality, Wynter, he's more worn out than anything else at the moment. If he does as I tell him, he might live a good long while yet. It just depends on his staying calm and resting."
The Poison Throne (The Moorehawke Trilogy) Page 16
