Part 54 (1/2)
She paid half in advance, then waited while two grey horses were harnessed to the light barouche she had hired. Minutes later the carriage was brought around and she took her seat. The driver shut the door, raised the collapsible top, lit the lanterns, and ascended to the box. His whip snapped and they were off.
Luzelle settled back in her seat. The tripart.i.te domes and triple-forked spires of Lis Folaze sped by unnoticed. Girays's semiparalyzed face filled her mind's eye. She came within a breath of ordering the driver to turn north toward Wolktretz, and only with an effort of will managed to contain the command.
He wouldn't die, he'd promised he wouldn't.
But he wouldn't finish the race, either-or at least, he wouldn't win it-and neither would she, unless she took care. Whoever had doctored the food at Wolktretz Station, presumably aiming for both Vonahrish Ellipsoids, had partially failed through happenstance. That individual was still out there and would probably try again, perhaps with better luck the next time. Beyond doubt a Grewzian sympathizer, someone supporting Karsler Stornzof's victory. Karsler himself she did not suspect for a moment.
Lost in her comfortless thoughts, she scarcely noted the alteration in the pa.s.sing scenery, but eventually looked out to find that the city of Lis Folaze had given way to fog-smothered fields and hills. She could barely see anything out there, and there was nothing worth seeing, anyway. She did not care about Upper Hetzian scenery, she did not care about anything beyond Girays's safety and winning the race.
There came the inevitable rest stop to breathe and water the horses, and grudging every lost minute, she did not bother to set foot from the barouche. Fog crept in the window. She watched the swirling eddies illumined by the coach lanterns, and hated Upper Hetzia.
Progress resumed. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but her mind revolved unstoppably and Girays's face was with her always.
She shouldn't have left him. No matter what he had said.
He would be all right. And if not, all the more reason to win.
The hours pa.s.sed indistinguishably until at last the carriage veered from the Dhreve's Highway into the driveway of a vine-covered old inn, where the driver pulled up beneath the porte-cochere.
Shaken from her unhappy reveries, Luzelle stuck her head out the window to demand, ”Why do we stop again?”
”We have reached the outskirts of Groeflen, madame,” the driver replied. ”See, there is the town before us.”
She followed his pointing finger and made out a cl.u.s.ter of lights winking in the middle distance.
”Well, the train station, then,” she commanded.
”Pardon me, madame,” he returned, ”but it is only just eleven o'clock. This inn, the Three Beggars, offers a good table. Will you not eat and rest comfortably until dawn?”
She considered. She was not hungry, but she had not touched food since breakfast and she should eat. With appropriate caution. And rest? Far better to spend the remainder of the night, however brief, lying in a comfortable bed, as opposed to sitting upright on a wooden bench in the station waiting room.
”Very well,” she consented, ”provided you're ready to leave by four o'clock sharp.”
”My word on it, madame.”
Valise in hand, she alighted from the barouche and walked into the inn.
The evening was well advanced, but the place was still well lighted and well peopled. The innkeeper-a rotund, round-faced, amiably innocuous-looking young man-advanced at once to greet her.
”Welcome to the Three Beggars, madame. Klec Stiesoldt, proprietor.” He bowed, all smiles. ”How may I serve you?”
No animosity, no disapproval, no disguised or undisguised suspicion of an unescorted female traveler arriving by night. A certain natural curiosity, but nothing offensive in that. Luzelle returned the smile, liking him at once. ”Dinner, if you're still serving,” she told him.
”We are, madame. Rabbit stew with fennel, lorbers, and my wife's special herbs. My Gretti is the finest cook between here and Lis Folaze. You will be pleased.”
”I'm sure I will. And a room, private, and a knock on the door at three forty-five.”
”Three forty-five A.M. A.M.?”
”Please.”
”It will be done, madame. My Gretti will see to it herself. I myself will be soundly asleep at that inhospitable hour. Three forty-five-A.M.! You're for the four forty-eight southbound express, I expect.”
She nodded. ”You've memorized the train schedule, Master Stiesoldt?”
”Not I, madame. This poor head could scarcely contain so many numbers. Gretti's head, now-that head holds endless endless numbers, you ought to see her with the account books, it's like magic-but mine does not. But I note the four forty-eight southbound, because you are the evening's second guest to request an appalling predawn awakening for the sake of that particular train. Your fellow traveler-a Grewzian military gentleman, you know-is easier on himself, practically a hedonist. He doesn't ask to be awakened until four.” numbers, you ought to see her with the account books, it's like magic-but mine does not. But I note the four forty-eight southbound, because you are the evening's second guest to request an appalling predawn awakening for the sake of that particular train. Your fellow traveler-a Grewzian military gentleman, you know-is easier on himself, practically a hedonist. He doesn't ask to be awakened until four.”
”Grewzian military, did you say? Is he tall and blond?”
”Aren't they all?”
”Well-”
”Believe me, I know. Those Grewzian peacekeepers are everywhere, and I tell you I've never seen so many tall blond beings in my life. I think they must drown the small dark ones at birth.”
”Peacekeepers?”
”That's what those ruffians choose to call themselves. But we Hetzians have a different name for them.” The innkeeper's voice dropped. ”We call them-”
”Master Stiesoldt, the topic is unsuitable.”
”Listen, the Grewzian presence in Upper Hetzia is unsuitable, the Grewzian att.i.tude toward the townsmen is unsuitable, the entire so-called peacekeeping force is unsuitable. unsuitable. The-” The-”
”Perhaps you could show me to the dining room?” she cut him off, alarmed at the danger resident in this Hetzian's unguarded tongue.
”Oh, certainly. Forgive me, madame. Sometimes my Hetzian heart gets the better of my head, at least that's what Gretti says. Here, let me take your bag.” He relieved her of her burden. ”This way, if you please.”
She followed him to a pleasantly old-fas.h.i.+oned common room with a vast stone fireplace, dark-beamed ceiling, and unevenly worn stone floor, where he bowed and left her. She spotted Karsler Stornzof the moment she crossed the threshold. He was sitting alone at a small table in the corner, the light from the old iron chandeliers overhead glancing off his bright hair. He looked up as she entered, their eyes met, and she was struck as always by his appearance, but tonight there was a difference. Karsler was splendid as ever, but this time the image of Girays haunting her throughout the day did not vanish at sight of him.
She went straight to his table. His eyes never left her face as she approached, and something in his expression troubled her, a certain dark intensity of emotion much at odds with his usual serenity. Disappointment, chagrin that she still kept pace? Somehow she did not think so.
He rose politely as she drew near, and smiled at her. Her heartbeat quickened as always, but somehow Girays stayed put in her mind.
”Luzelle. I am glad to see you here, very glad.” Voice and eyes conveyed the same unaccountable depth of feeling. ”You are well?”
”I am. Girays isn't,” she announced flatly. They seated themselves and she continued, ”He was poisoned or drugged, around noon today at the Wolktretz Station. His limbs went dead, he couldn't stir, his face was twisted, and he could barely speak. It was horrible. It was-” Her voice broke.
”He is alive?” Karsler asked.
She nodded, and saw him draw a sharp breath.
”A physician was summoned?”
She swallowed hard. ”Yes.”
”His diagnosis?”
”I don't know. I didn't stay. My train was pulling into the station, and I ran for it. I left him there. Girays told me to go, but I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have.” Tears spilled from her eyes.
He watched her in silence for a moment, then observed quietly, ”That choice was difficult. I am sorry.”