by Ben Cassidy
“No.”
“So then your mayorship, not to beat the point,” Belvedere said, “but what do you want us to do with the blighter if he won’t scare off?”
Lord Blackstone, mayor of Redemption, turned in his chair. “Then kill him.”
Chapter 16
The metal shard chinked down into the small dish on the counter. It was red, about the size of a small splinter. In the light of the kitchen it seemed to glow softly, though perhaps it was just Joseph’s imagination.
Silvanus exhaled the breath he had been holding. He put the metal tweezers down. “That’s one. It looks like there are two more. Both are deep.”
Joseph swallowed. He tried his best not to look down at Kara’s face. It was white like death.
The dull thud of a knock echoed down the passage from outside the kitchen door.
Joseph’s head shot up. “Someone’s at the front door,” he whispered. “That’s the second time I’ve heard a knock.”
“Focus,” Silvanus ordered. “Keep the pressure up there, or your girl will bleed to death. You have the water ready?”
Joseph glanced at the steaming water on the counter beside him. It was filled with healing herbs that he had put into it. “Yes.”
Silvanus looked up and caught his eyes for a moment. “Stay with me, Joseph. Two more slivers, that’s all we need to get. Just one at a time and we’ll have them out.” He reached for a scalpel.
The distant sound of the knock came again. Someone shouted something, though the exact words were lost through the heavy wooden door of the kitchen.
Joseph felt a stab of fear in his heart. “Who would be at the door?”
Silvanus looked up, his scalpel hovering over Kara’s exposed chest. “At this time of the morning?” he asked gruffly. “Only vagabonds and intruders forcing me to do surgery at sword point. Now be quiet and let me work.”
Another loud voice echoed out from the hallway.
Gendarmes.
Joseph glanced over to where his sword lay next to the fireplace. It would take just a second to snatch it up, then to move out into the corridor.
“I have to go,” Joseph said quickly. “If those are the gendarmes—”
Silvanus snapped his eyes up. His gaze was harsh and fierce. “If you leave now,” he said in a deathly calm tone, “Kara will bleed out and die in less than a minute. I can’t do this by myself.”
Joseph felt sick. He kept the pressure up on the cloth under his hand. “I can’t—”
“You have to.” Silvanus looked down again. “Otherwise Kara is as good as dead. It’s that simple.”
Joseph glanced over at this sword. He felt trapped, helpless. “But the gendarmes—”
“If it is the gendarmes,” Silvanus said, “then you’ll have to trust that your friend Maklavir can handle the situation. Because if you leave this room now, all of this will have been for nothing. Now please shut up and let me work.”
Joseph licked his dry lips. His hands were shaking, his heart beating like a drum.
It was up to Maklavir now.
Eru help them all….
“This is highly irregular,” Hetty said. One of her hands was still clutched firmly on the front door. “Do you have any idea what time—?”
“We know this is an odd request,” the first gendarme said, looking past Hetty suspiciously. “But our orders are strict, ma’am. No house in the area is exempt. These fugitives are dangerous.”
“Well, I assure you,” said Hetty with a weak smile, “there are no fugitives in this house. You are the first people who have come to the door all night. Now, please, I must insist—”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but I’m afraid that it’s I who must insist,” the gendarme said again. He put a solid hand against the door and pushed it open wide, then turned and nodded to his companion.
The second gendarme loosened the carbine on his shoulder and started forward.
Hetty fell back into the entryway, obviously flustered. “Please, gentlemen, I told you before, there are no fugitives here!”
“Excuse me,” the first gendarme said roughly, as he shoved his way into the entryway, “but you could be under duress, ma’am. We’ll only take five minutes or so, and then—”
“Eru in Pelos, woman!” came a thundering voice from the drawing room, “what is all that racket?”
All three heads turned towards the drawing room in surprise.
Maklavir appeared around the corner. One of Silvanus’ rich red lounging robes was draped over him, and an unlit pipe dangled from his mouth.
Hetty appeared too stunned to speak. “I—I—” She stammered.
The first gendarme narrowed his eyes. “We’re searching the house, sir. Looking for fugitives—”
“I don’t care if you’re looking for a lost spice caravan,” Maklavir roared. “I’ll be dipped in the Void if I let a bunch of unshaven soldiers tromp through my house as if it were a barn.”
The first gendarme stiffened. “I—sorry, sir, but we have strict orders—”
“Oh, do you?” Maklavir chewed furiously on the stem to his pipe, and strode full into the entryway. “Do you indeed? And who exactly gave you those orders? King Luxium?”
The gendarme blinked, then his face burned red. “No, sir. Captain Potemkin is our commanding—”
“Captain Potemkin?” Maklavir swung towards the stairs in obvious agitation. “Let me see if I understand this, gendarme. You’re banging on the door of an esteemed diplomat and ambassador of the Royal Court of Valmingaard at Eru only knows what hour in the morning on the order of some backwater captain who I’ve never even heard of?”
The two gendarmes glanced at each other nervously.
“Please, sir,” the first gendarme started again, looking much more ill-at-ease than before. “I’m sure you can understand—”
“Understand?” Maklavir thrust his face right into the gendarme’s, causing the startled man to retreat a pace or two. “Oh, I understand all right. I understand that you are interrupting my sleep, disturbing my valuable rest.” He grabbed the pipe out of his mouth and jabbed the stem at the man as if it were a rapier. “In the morning I have to negotiate with envoys from the Republic of Arbela, and in the afternoon I have to facilitate a meeting of the blacksmith guild from all of southern Valmingaard.” Maklavir jammed the pipe back in his mouth and bit the stem so hard it seemed he would crack it in two. “But I have no doubt, gentlemen, that whatever ridiculous search you are conducting in the home of one of the King’s most trusted servants is more than justified, isn’t it?”
The gendarmes both looked completely terrified. The first one opened his mouth, but didn’t manage to say anything sensible.
“Well, by all means,” Maklavir said as he spread his hands wide towards the house behind him, “search my home. Tear though my bureaus, rip open my mattresses. But first—” He stabbed his finger right into the chest of one of the gendarmes, “I’ll have your name and rank, gendarme.” His finger swung towards the second man. “And yours too. I want to know who I should tell the Lord Mayor was stupid enough to pound on my door in the dark hours of morning.”
The two gendarmes backed out the door.
One tipped his bear cap with a trembling hand. “Our mistake, sir. We didn’t know—”
Maklavir stood still, his arms still splayed wide. “Didn’t know what, gendarme? I’m still waiting for that name and rank.”
Both gendarmes hurriedly touched the brims of their caps.
“No—no need for that, sir,” the first gendarme said hurriedly. “Our mistake. It won’t happen again.”
They both turned and scurried back into the darkness, towards the waiting shapes of their nags.
Maklavir gave a mighty snort, then slammed the door shut.
Hetty gave out a great breath, then crumpled down onto the first step of the stairs leading to the second story.
Maklavir leaned back against the closed door. He plucked the pipe out of his mouth with a grimace
. “I can’t stand the taste of tobacco.”
Hetty put a hand over her heart. “That scared me half to death.” She looked up at Maklavir. “That—was quite the performance. I didn’t know you were an actor, Maklavir.”
The diplomat chuckled. He folded the pipe into the pocket of the lounge robe. “Well, they say the best acting comes from life.” He looked directly at Hetty. “You could have turned us in, Hetty.”
Hetty straightened, and got shakily back to her feet. “With that poor girl back in there, under the knife?” She gave a solid shake of her head. “I’m not heartless, Maklavir.”
“Well, we owe you our thanks either way.” Maklavir held out a hand. “I don’t know how to repay you.”
Hetty took the man’s hand with a smile. “If your girl comes through this, Maklavir, tell her how you feel about her. Then we’ll call it even.”
A hand on Maklavir’s shoulder woke him suddenly. He sat up straight in the chair, blinking his bleary eyes.
Joseph stood over him. He looked half-dead, his eyes bleary and red.
“Joseph?” Maklavir shook the last vestiges of sleep off him. He glanced around the drawing room. Shafts of watery sunlight peeked around the closed curtains. “What are—?” His eyes widened, and he felt his heart suddenly quicken its pace. “Kara. Is she—?”
Joseph sighed, and took his hand off Maklavir’s shoulder. “She made it.”
Maklavir felt a surge of emotion, a lifting of a weight that he hadn’t even realized had been on him. “Praise Eru.” He covered his face with both his hands, then looked up at Joseph again suddenly. “But…is she—?”
Joseph glanced down at the floor. “I don’t know, Maklavir. We can’t know for sure until she wakes up.”
Maklavir rubbed a hand over his face, hoping that Joseph couldn’t see him wiping away the tears that were stinging his sleep-starved eyes. He looked up at his friend. “Thank you, Joseph. Whatever happens, you did everything you could for her.”
Joseph sighed. “It’s you I should be thanking. Hetty told me about the gendarmes. If they had barged in on us—”
Maklavir swallowed, terrified at the thought. “Yes, well that didn’t happen, thank Eru.”
“I don’t give you enough credit, Maklavir,” Joseph said suddenly. “You’ve given up everything for Kara. You’ve stuck with her and me like a hound dog. That takes courage.”
Maklavir grinned. “You say that like you’re surprised, Joseph.”
Joseph returned the smile. “Maybe just a little.” The smile quickly vanished, and he stretched his shoulder with a groan. “Ugh. I feel terrible.”
“You need sleep, old bean.” Maklavir nodded up at Joseph’s shoulder. “How’s the wound?”
“Hurts.” Joseph lowered himself into one of the chairs across from Maklavir. “Standing hunched over a kitchen table for several hours didn’t really help it, either.” He rubbed his shoulder gently with his hand. “It doesn’t seem to be getting infected, though, and that’s miracle enough with all the mud and dirt we’ve been through the last couple days.”
“Go ahead and get some rest,” said Maklavir. He rose to his feet and gave a cat-like stretch. “I’ll get you if anything changes with Kara.”
Joseph nodded wearily. “Yeah, that sounds tempting all right.” He patted his pockets self-consciously, then looked around the room sheepishly.
“What’s wrong?” Maklavir asked.
“Well—” Joseph scratched the side of his neck. “I thought I should—it’s been a while, since I’ve read the Scriptures. But I—” His face turned a scarlet hue behind his dirty blonde beard. “I seem to have misplaced my copy.”
Maklavir grinned. He reached into his own pocket, pulled out a tattered and rat-eared handbook, and tossed it to the pathfinder. “Here.”
Joseph caught it. “This is mine.”
Maklavir shrugged. “You left it lying around the last time you left for the fighting. I thought you might want it back at some point.”
Joseph weighed the Blessed Scriptures in his hand, then looked up at Maklavir. “You’ve been holding onto this…all this time?”
Maklavir beamed. “Welcome, back, Joseph.”
“Gentlemen,” Hetty said loudly. She gave a swift kick to Joseph’s boot, then Maklavir’s.
Joseph started awake. The copy of the Blessed Scriptures that had been lying open on his lap tumbled off onto the ground in a heap of bent pages.
Maklavir jumped up in his chair as well, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know this girl—” he started to say, then sank back in the chair with a blush. “I—sorry, just a dream.”
“I thought you might like to know,” Hetty said patiently, “that your friend Kara is starting to stir. Also, there’s breakfast laid out in the kitchen if you’ve an appetite. The eggs and coffee are a bit cold, I’m afraid, but I had no idea you were planning to sleep the day away.”
Joseph snatched his book off the ground and scowled at Maklavir. “I thought you said you were going to keep watch.”
Maklavir rubbed the last cobwebs out of his eyes. “I only sat down for a moment.” He straightened in his chair. “Oh, give me a break, will you Joseph? I’ve been running on about two hours of sleep for the last two days. How am I supposed—?”
“Yes,” came the sudden voice of Silvanus, “well you’re right lucky we didn’t summon the gendarmes while you were napping.” He came into the drawing room, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Some home invaders you lot are. More like imbeciles.”
Joseph got to his feet, blinking his eyes. “Kara, is she—?”
“I don’t know,” Silvanus said gruffly. “She’s still coming out of the anesthesia. Might be a few minutes until she’s fully awake.”
“Thank you for everything you did,” Joseph said.
“You’re thanking me?” Silvanus laughed and tossed the towel aside. “Like I had any choice in the matter? Surgery in a kitchen.” He gave a fierce shake of his head. “I never heard of anything so reckless and absurd in my whole medical career.” He lifted a finger at both men. “If she dies of infection it’s just what you deserve, mark my words.”
“Come, dear,” Hetty soothed, taking her husband’s arm. “You shouldn’t talk like that. They were only trying to save their friend.” She turned back to Joseph and Maklavir. “Don’t forget about that coffee. It’ll be stale soon.”
Silvanus stared at his wife. “You made these vagabonds coffee?”
Hetty stared defiantly at her husband. “And breakfast, too. They have to eat, dear.”
“Tuldor’s beard, Hetty!” Silvanus cursed. He rolled his eyes. “Well, gentlemen, feel free to stay as long as you like in my house, eating my food, bewitching my wife, and forcing me to do surgery at sword point!”
“Of course they can stay as long as they need,” Hetty said with a reprimanding arch of her eyebrow. “Now you’d better come with me and get something to eat as well, dear. You look positively famished.” She took him by the arm and led him out of the drawing room.
“If you think I’m eating anything you made in that kitchen—” Silvanus blustered, his voice moving into the hall, “why, I operated on that table, Hetty!”
“Well, don’t be silly, love. Of course I cleaned it first—” Hetty’s voice slowly faded away in the direction of the kitchen.
Joseph and Maklavir both looked at each other, then shot up from their chairs.
Kara’s room was one of the spare bedrooms on the first floor. The curtains had been pulled, but the daylight peeking around the edges gave enough light to see by.
Joseph and Maklavir both entered, their booted feet shuffling on the wooden floor.
Kara lay motionless in the bed. Even in the semi-darkness of the room her skin looked sickeningly white. Only her short-cropped red hair gave any semblance of color.
Joseph and Maklavir moved over to the side of the woman’s bed. They exchanged uncertain looks.
Kara moaned.
The two men waited, standing as still as
statues. Both felt the same sickening sense of worry.
Joseph sat in a chair by the bed. He reached out and took Kara’s unmoving hand. Her skin was as cold as ice. He squeezed gently.
Maklavir watched him, then looked at Kara’s face.
She groaned. Her eyes blinked slowly.
Both men held their breath. Time seemed to slow into the space of a breath.
“Kara?” Joseph said softly. He tightened his grip on her limp hand. “Kara, can you hear me?”
Her eyes opened, one at a time. The pupils were glazed, her gaze distant. She stared straight up at the ceiling.
“Kara?” Maklavir managed to say. His mouth was so dry he could barely mouth the words. He tried to swallow, but couldn’t.
Kara stared straight up, directly ahead, through eyes that seemed as if they were still dreaming.
“Eru, no,” Maklavir whispered. He put a hand over his face.
Joseph let out a sobbing sigh. He put his forehead down on the edge of the bed.
Kara blinked again, heavy and slow. Then she moved her head ever so slightly.
Joseph lifted his head.
Maklavir dropped his hand.
“J-Joseph?” Kara murmured. She looked drowsily at the pathfinder, then closed her eyes for a long second before opening them again. “Mak-Maklavir?” She turned her head slowly to look at the diplomat.
Joseph opened his mouth, but he couldn’t say anything. His eyes shone in the dim light of the room.
Maklavir hurriedly wiped his own eyes, and tried to steady his voice. “We—we’re both here, Kara. You’re safe.”
She sighed, and closed her eyes again. “Where am I?”
Joseph and Maklavir looked at each other quickly.
Joseph sniffed and wiped his sleeve across his face. He coughed. “You’re in the house of a doctor, Kara. We had to perform—” He caught himself as his voice began to break again. “Perform surgery.”
“I’m tired,” Kara mumbled. Her eyes were still closed.
“Yes,” said Maklavir, clearing his throat and standing up straight, “well you’ve been sleeping for quite some time, Kara. It’s good to have you back”
