Part 28 (1/2)
”My dear friend...” Slowly he unclenched his hands. ”Priscilla, please look at me.”
She was silent, motionless but for the constant s.h.i.+vering.
”Priscilla?”
”I'd rather-talk-to you. Please, Shan... They're going to-to kill me. I-can you stay with me?
Please... Until they come...” She drew a shuddering breath. ”You keep-going away...”
He forced his brain to work, to consider that last. ”Have I been here before, Priscilla?”
”I think-yes. I was talking to you-trying to tell you... I tried to-to reach athetilu, but you were closed and I tried to-to hold you and you went away and I thought I'd made you angry...” She moved a fraction, tightening her arms about her waist. ”Cama se mathra te ezo mi...”
Sintian. He was losing her, crippled as he was, not daring to step beyond the Wall. Shaking, he extendeda hand and stroked the bedraggled curls.
”Priscilla, please look at me. I grant I'm hardly a feast for the eyes, but it would spare my feelings.”
She gave no sign that she had heard him. Then, slowly, almost clumsily, she unbent and sat straight, her right arm cradled in her left, her eyes bottomless ebony pits in a filthy, exhausted face.
He smiled and dropped his hand from her hair to her knee. ”Thank you. Now, since I seem p.r.o.ne to this fading in and out-your hand, please, Priscilla.”
It took a moment for her to manage the movement, but she held a quavering left hand out to him.
”Good.” He tugged the master's ring from his finger and slid it onto her thumb, where it perched precariously. ”If you find I've gone away again, notice that you have my ring. I'll come back for that, at least, won't I?”
She considered it. ”Yes.”
He sighed, holding her hand lightly. ”What a brute I am! It's a wonder I'm allowed your friends.h.i.+p at all, Priscilla; I marvel at you. What's wrong with your arm?”
”I burned it.”
”Throwing fireb.a.l.l.s?”
She jerked. His fingers tightened on hers, and she relaxed, licking her lips. ”Yes. I'm not-accustomed-to throwing fireb.a.l.l.s.”
”I'd think not. Are you well enough to walk?”
”Yes.”
”Good.” He stood. ”Let's go.”
She stared up at him, her hand moving in his. ”Go where?”
”To the Pa.s.sage. You're hurt and sick and tired, and I'm tired and Mr. dea'Gauss is tired and even Gordy's tired.” He grinned. ”The port master's tired, too, but she doesn't come with us.”
She tried to pull her hand away. He did not allow it.
”I can't...”
He frowned. ”Can't?”
”Shan...” Tears welled out of her eyes and spilled over, making streaks down her face. ”Shan, I killed Dagmar.”
”Yes, I know.” Bending to take her other hand, he found her face close, so that he might lay his cheek against her-Priscilla, I love you... He fought the emotion and found the control to address her gently.
”I'm sorry, Priscilla. It should never have come to that. You should never have had the need. Forgive me; I've taken poor care of you.”
”You said-”
”I said 'no murderers,' may my tongue be d.a.m.ned! But self-defense isn't murder-nor is protecting thelife of a friend.” He took a breath, cooling the sharpest of the pain. ”Please, Priscilla-for the friends.h.i.+p we have between us-allow me to take you to the Pa.s.sage. You need care, healing-a sheltered place to sleep. When you are able, I will personally escort you anywhere you choose to go. Let me aid you.”
There was confusion in her face and in her eyes. She was silent.
He raised a hand to touch the platinum hoop in her right ear and stroke the curls above it. ”Please, Priscilla.”
”The trial...”
”Has been performed. Gordy testified. The port master sat as judge. You are acquitted of murder. No one is going to come and take you away to die. Only Shan is come, to take you home.”
”Home.” Her hands clutched his, then relaxed. She looked into his face, her expression unreadable through the grime. ”Please, Shan, take me home.”
”Yes, Priscilla.”
She staggered when she stood, clutching his arm for support. ”Are you well enough to walk, my friend?
Or shall I ask the port master to provide a chair?”
”No.” She straightened, face set.
”Very well.” He slid his arm around her waist, turning her toward the door. ”Mr. dea'Gauss,” he predicted with a merriness he did not feel, ”will be appalled.”
If Mr. dea'Gauss was appalled, he hid it well. The bow he performed was profound. ”Lady Mendoza.”
She inclined her head, which was all that dizziness and Shan's arm about her waist allowed. ”Mr.
dea'Gauss. I'm pleased to see you.”
”You are kind.” He glanced at Shan. ”The physician has given Master Arbuthnot a drug he feels may counteract the worst of the side effects, or at very least allow him to sleep through them. He has also provided a printout of the structure of both drugs.”
”Well enough,” Shan said calmly, as if it were no surprise that Gordy should be lying so white and quiet upon the bench.
”I don't-” She s.h.i.+fted, half intending to go to the boy. The arm tightened about her fractionally, and she turned to look into silver eyes. ”He was all right! They were going to send him to the Pa.s.sage.”
”But he would not go without you,” a new voice explained. ”Afterward it became necessary that he be given the drug, that his testimony might be heard.”
Priscilla blinked, clearing her vision. The tall, handsome woman in glittering evening dress smiled formally and bowed. ”Ms.-Lady-Mendoza. I am Ely ana Ro-minkoff, port master in the regent's service.
Allow me to present my apologies: this should not have befallen you in the city under my care. When you are rested-at your convenience!-please contact me, that we may sit together and discuss fair recompense.”
”Yes, of course,” Priscilla mumbled, unable properly to attend to what the woman said to her. She was sinking into an indigo blur where the only realities were Shan's arm about her and the warm strength of his body steadying hers. Abruptly she pushed at the creeping indigo and reached out, tapping that nearsource of energy.