Fanuilh by Daniel Hood (ebook reader with highlight function TXT) 📗

maid, though? l'd've never credited it, had you told me before." There was a note of admiration in the Aedile's voice, as if he thought Liam had suspected Rora all along. It set Liam's teeth on edge, but he only grunted noncommittally.

In order to get his antidotes down the merchant's throat, Viyescu needed him upright, and he called Liam to help him. He spooned semiliquid pastes into Necquer' s slack mouth while Liam held him behind the shoulders.

Boult had returned to looking out the window, and suddenly called for Coeccias. The Aedile went to the window, and their voices were drowned out by the rain. Viyescu took the opportunity to speak.

"Hierarch Cance," he said in a voice so quiet Liam almost did not hear, "I needs must beg your forgiveness for my sins." He did not look up, staring rigidly at the spoon he was inserting between Necquer' s teeth.

Liam had been expecting something else, and it did not help that he had almost forgotten the name he had used. How could the apothecary still think he was a Hierarch? But it seemed he did, because he waited for a moment, and when Liam did not answer, went on, tight-lipped.

"There're things I've done, Hierarch. I'm sure you know—the woman and I—I beg your forgiveness. The woman and I ... "

Not able to stand anymore, Liam spoke, more harshly than he meant to.

"Save this man and all is forgiven." It sounded silly to him, melodramatic and, worst of all, unpriestly. He cringed, but Viyescu merely paused, and then nodded.

"My thanks, Hierarch," he said after a moment. "Uris grace you," he added. He gave the merchant a few more mouthfuls, and then motioned for him to be let down. Then he waved Liam away and set to checking under Necquer' s eyelids and taking his pulse.

At the window, both Coeccias and Boult were leaning out, careful of the jagged glass still left in the sill. The Guardsman was pointing something out. Liam wandered over as the two men· pulled their heads back in.

"Something?"

"The maid," Coeccias said. "Caught on a gable, I think." Liam blanched. Fanuilh had not taken her, of course. It was ridiculous to think he could have. Still, the thought unnerved him. He asked if he could go, and Coeccias nodded after a moment's thought. He and Boult could handle getting her up, or they could get another member of the Guard.

"Will y'attend me at my house? Burus'll let you in. There's still the Uris's Eve fast to break."

Liam refused, as politely as he could, but the Aedile pressed him to come to the feast the next day at his sister's.

"There're matters," he had said in a gruff, strangely gentle tone, "that require our discourse, if not this night, then tomorrow." He was obviously concerned about Liam's distracted air and pale face. "Come to my house at midday tomorrow."

Liam agreed, and left as quickly as he could, ignoring the glance Viyescu threw at him. He sat in the dark on the stairs and pulled on his boots. Miraculously, the broken glass had not cut his feet, but he did not think of this.

He knew that Coeccias had let him go because he thought him a weak scholar who had never seen blood before. It did not bother him: better to appear a coward than face Fanuilh' s handiwork, and the corpse to which he had unwittingly led the dragon.

The rain pelted him as he walked slowly back through the Warren, but he only hugged his cloak closer to him. Perhaps the worst of it was that he had not expected anything like this, that the adventure he had so blithely embarked on only a few days before had turned out so very different.

Unable to face the ride out to Tarquin's in the rain, and unwilling to face what might be waiting for him there, he went to his garret. Mistress Dorcas was not in the kitchen when he entered; he heard her conducting the Uris's Eve meal with the other boarders in the dining room. Relieved, he slipped upstairs, not bothering with a candle.

He threw off his cloak and sat in his chair in the dark. The window bothered him, however, with the rain pelting it, and he decided to try his luck with sleep.

His luck held, and he only had time before he slipped off to think one thought three or four times.

I'll have time to think about it tomorrow.

A weak, underwater light filled the room when Liam woke. The rain had stopped sometime in the night, and the clouds, now only light gray, had retreated much higher into the sky. It was almost ten, he guessed.

He was stiff and sore, much sorer than the day before. The tattoo on his chest had begun to tum a sickly yellow at the edges.

Healing well, he thought, and turned a groan of pain into a laugh.

Moving slowly, he dressed and packed his few belongings into his seachest. It was light, even with all his possessions in it, but he managed to bring it downstairs only at great expense to his aching muscles.

The boy from the stables brought Diamond round to the kitchen door, and helped him lift the chest to the horse's withers and tie it tight. The boy's generally merry air and the nonchalant way he accepted a large tip reminded Liam that it was a holiday. It also explained the small number of people in the streets, and the fact that Mistress Dorcas was not up yet. On Uris-tide, she obviously believed she could sleep in.

This suited Liam well; he did not want to see her. He mounted Diamond slowly and set him to a gentle, easy pace. It took almost an hour to reach Tarquin's house, but Liam was not unhappy with the ambling gait. There was plenty of light, even with the clouds, but he knew even if it had been a beautiful, sunny spring day he would not have wanted to approach the house.

Fanuilh, however, was