Part 9 (1/2)
”Not one of the Cwalo boys, I hope!” I tried to laugh with the others, but my wrist stung like I'd been burned, and my heart was a hot frantic flame in my chest. I couldn't believe it. I never got caught.
”I think not.” He was looking straight at me, his voice low enough for only me to hear. ”Take care, Lady Celyn. Beware!” That last was for the crowd, and he dismissed me, but it was all I could do to curtsy like I was supposed to and stumble back toward my seat.
The dinner was breaking up. Antoch had risen, and the others had followed, spilling down into the room and covering me with a merry, laughing crowd. I glanced across the hall, for Meri, for Marlytt - for the alcove behind the curtains where the servants slipped in and out - ”Very entertaining per for mance.”
I spun. Daul had me by the arm, and was steering me - with perfect decorum - to that selfsame alcove. My heart resumed its panicked flutter as I stared at him.
”Keep walking or I yell, 'Stop, thief!' Don't make a scene.”
”What do you want?”
He spoke in my ear, in a low voice. ”Satisfaction. You've piqued my curiosity, Lady Celyn. One does not expect a display of quite those skills among Lord Antoch's retainers.”
”I don't know what you mean.” Marlytt could have pulled that off, but I sounded strained and false.
”I'm sure. Sit down.” He shoved me down onto a bench half hidden behind a tapestry and leaned over me. He reminded me even more of a wolfhound now, slavering jowls dripping. ”Pull yourself together. People will be staring.”
I fought for breath. Above us, musicians in the minstrels' gallery had struck up a merry tune, and a knot of people were sorting themselves into a dance. Daul thrust a goblet of wine into my hand as a servant drifted past with a tray. ”That was a neat trick,” he said conversationally. ”You almost got away with it. Another man wouldn't have noticed - you're very good, as I'm sure you know.”
I didn't say anything, just stared at him.
He shrugged. ”Fair enough. Just know, I'm a kindred soul.” He popped open the b.u.t.tons holding his tight sleeve closed. Smoothly he rolled his s.h.i.+rt up to the elbow, revealing a long, iron-black tattoo crudely inked deep into the dark, scarred flesh. I forced myself not to s.h.i.+ver. The scars told me more than the tattoo - the s.h.i.+ny white blots were burns from the scald, the rough skin at the wrist the ”manacle's kiss.” Silver, superheated until it burned off the hair and flesh, cauterized the blood. The star was a brand. He'd spent time in prison as a Sarist.
The tattoo was a footnote compared to all that - a black blade halfway up the forearm, some dungeon brotherhood, the prisoners banded together for mutual protection against other inmates, against rats, against hunger, against loneliness. Oddly enough, I found it calming.
”Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
”Oh, I think it will. I want information.”
”About me?”
”Don't be stupid. Of course not. You're going to do a little job for me.”
I stared at him. ”Here?”
Before I could ask anything else, the end strains of the music slowed. Daul pulled his sleeve back down, smoothly doing up the b.u.t.tons with one hand. ”Come to my rooms tomorrow before the noon meal.”
”I'm not coming to your rooms!” In the s.p.a.ce left by the music, I said that too loudly - surprised faces turned our way. ”What do you take me for?”
”Stop, thief!” His voice was musical, light - not quite loud enough to be overheard. ”And before you say they won't believe me, I saw you slip Lady Cardom's headpiece into your sleeve. So unless you mean to spend the rest of the winter in the Bryn Shaer dungeons, you will be in my chambers tomorrow, before the noon bell strikes. Do we understand each other?”
I understood, all right. Understood the way the boar understands the circle of hunters surrounding it with spears. When the music stopped for good and Daul let go my arm, I fled.
Minutes later, there was a pounding on the door to Meri's room. I had stripped out of my frothy gown and was casting through the heap of clothing she had lent me for something I could run in. It was four days back down the mountain toward Gerse - I could never make that on my own. With no woodcraft and no supplies, I wouldn't even make it to the first settlement. But I might have a chance heading east through the pa.s.s to Breijardarl, which was only a day's walk. It was still raining, but the moons were out and the path was clear, my own shoes were st.u.r.dy, and - d.a.m.n it! There was nothing here but velvet and brocade. Was I going to have to raid the stable boy's wardrobe?
”Digger!”
I glanced behind me. That wasn't Meri. The door - which I had locked, fat lot of good it did me - burst open, and Marlytt tumbled in, in all her iridescent silken glory.
”What are you doing?”
I ignored her. Meri had wool drawers - I could maybe wear those, for a while - Marlytt grabbed me. ”What are you doing? You ran out of there so fast. What happened?”
”I'm getting out of here, that's what I'm doing. I was stupid to think this would work -” I pulled free of Marlytt's grip but stood, panting, at a loss.
She sank onto the bed with some considerable composure. Her eyebrows lifted; she was ready to hear the gory details.
”Do you know that - that Remy Daul?”
A slight frown, no more than a shadow on her smooth forehead. ”I've heard of him. He's dangerous. I wouldn't cross him -”
”Well, he's crossed me. Says I have to work for him, or he'll expose me to the Nemair. You're the only person here who knows who I really am.” I realized it was true as the words left my mouth.
She looked shocked. ”Digger, I wouldn't! You know that. I am the very soul of discretion.”
She might be telling the truth. She wouldn't stay in her line of work long by being indiscreet. I didn't trust her - didn't trust anyone - but I believed her. Maybe.
”You came here with him.”
She shook her head. ”I arrived here with him. I came here with Cwalo, from Tratua. Ask him.”
”I will.” I wouldn't - I was never going to see the man after tonight. I threw open another trunk and cast all its contents onto the floor, digging through the mess of small clothes and stockings. ”He -” I paused, remembering something. ”He said something strange about my brother.”
”Celyn's brother?”
I turned to her. ”I thought so, but -” Marlytt was one of only a handful of people who knew that Digger of Gerse was not simply some nameless orphan with a blank past. She knew about the convent, and . . . other things. ”I don't know.”
”Well, what does it mean?”
I sighed. ”That Celys really does see every thing we do?”
”What?” Marlytt said.
No. It wasn't possible. It was just pure chance Daul had caught me; I'd been drinking and I was careless and I'd slipped up. ”It doesn't mean anything.” I found my blue wool kirtle and wrestled into it.
”What does he want with you?”
I balled up the rest of the clothes and shoved them back in their trunks. Meri must have a bag here somewhere. I ducked under the bed and found my hidey-hole. A nice little stash to get me started on my way to a whole new life. Again. I shoved the coins in my sleeve and the ring down my bodice. I opened the trunk that held the clothes and things the Nemair had given me, and found Durrel's dagger. I weighed it in my hands, then hoisted my skirt and strapped it to my leg.
”Aren't you even curious?” she pressed.
The only way I was going to find out what Daul knew and what he wanted was if I met with him. ”Not a bit. I left my curiosity behind in Gerse. With Tegen. I'm getting out of here,” I repeated. ”Tonight. I don't care how -”