Part 6 (2/2)

”My guess is, he fell off the cliff,” Uncle said, teasing a shred of cloth out of the ploughed-field mess of blood and dirt. ”In which case, he's the luckiest man alive. Must be a hundred and twenty feet.”

Furio crossed the room and sat down on a crate, as far from the low table as he could get. He had an entire world to reinterpret, and he found it hard to believe that he was the same person who'd been in despair over saying something stupid only a few hours earlier. Very briefly he toyed with the idea that it was a punishment, but he dismissed it as far-fetched and hysterical. Instead, he experimented with placing other bodies on the low table: Uncle, Aunt, Lugano. The conclusion he was forced to troubled him.

”Are you all right?”

He looked up, and saw his new cousin looking down at him. She looked solemn and sympathetic, and she didn't affect him at all.

”Fine,” he said. ”Thanks.”

”That man's your friend, isn't he?”

Furio nodded. ”Gignomai,” he said. ”Yes. I've known him since we were kids.”

She sat down beside him, perching like a bird on a thin branch. ”Uncle Marzo says he's knocked out but he should be all right,” she said, and he wondered why he hadn't noticed her there before. Probably because she was short, and Aunt had been standing in front of her. ”My father was a surgeon,” she said.

For the second time that day she had his undivided attention. ”Do you know about...?”

She nodded. ”I grew up with strangers bleeding on the kitchen table,” she said. ”It's all right, your uncle knows what he's doing. I watched him. He's rolled back the eyelid to see if one pupil's bigger than the other-that's a bad sign-but there wasn't anything like that. Setting the broken nose shouldn't be too much of a problem, it's not broken in a bad place. Probably just as well to do it while he's still asleep, though. It hurts like h.e.l.l.”

She spoke calmly, as if about ordinary things, and he couldn't help wondering what she'd seen over the years in her house where they ate dinner on a table where people were cut open and sewn back together. One thing he could be sure about. She wasn't just a pretty girl any more. He wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad thing, but he postponed the a.n.a.lysis and the decision.

He remembered something. ”Your father,” he said. ”You said he was-” was-”

”He died,” she replied. ”He caught something from a patient, and it wasn't written up in any of his books. Mother said he died of pique because he couldn't identify what was wrong.” She shrugged; her shoulders were thin and sharply defined. ”Mother died too, not long afterwards. I think it was consumption. So my uncle sent for me to come here.”

He looked at her. ”What do you make of it?”

”I don't know,” she replied. ”We lived in Colichamard-that's a biggish city on the coast. But we always spent the summers on my mother's cousin's farm, so I'm used to the country.”

”It's very quiet here,” he heard himself say. ”You may find it's a bit too quiet, after the city.”

She smiled. ”Maybe,” she said. ”I don't think so. Back home, women don't leave the house much. Not our sort, anyhow. And I a.s.sume the inside of one house is pretty much like another. Actually,” she added, ”this one's bigger. I hadn't realised I'd have a room all to myself.”

The thought that anything here could be better than Home wasn't one he'd had to contend with before. ”One thing we've got here,” he said, ”is plenty of s.p.a.ce. That's about all we've got here, though. Loads of s.p.a.ce but not enough people to fill it.”

There was movement at the table. They were lifting Gignomai, carrying him upstairs. He was awkward to handle, like a large piece of furniture. ”He'll be all right,” she said.

He stayed where he was. ”G.o.d only knows what happened to him.”

She frowned. ”Is it true he's one of the met'Oc?”

”That's right. Youngest son. You've heard of them?”

”I heard them talking about the met'Oc on the s.h.i.+p. I thought they were all traitors and criminals.”

When Gignomai woke up he was lying on a bed, which made him think nothing had happened. But the ceiling was different.

He tried to move, and everything hurt.

There was someone sitting next to him, a stranger, a young woman, looking at him.

”It's all right,” she said.

From time to time there had been accidents on the farm, so he knew perfectly well that if someone says ”It's all right,” there must be something horribly wrong. He tried to breathe in and couldn't.

”Breathe through your mouth.”

”Hm?”

”Your nose is broken,” the girl said, and he remembered. He'd broken it deliberately, to get past the blockage. Had he really done that? ”And you've got a broken rib and a nasty gash on your right shoulder. Are you feeling dizzy or sick?”

He could only see half of her, at the very edge of his vision, so he turned his head a little. ”Who the h.e.l.l are you?” he said.

She smiled at him. Quite nice-looking. ”I'm Teucer,” she said. ”I'm Furio's cousin.”

”He hasn't got a-”

”From Home. I arrived yesterday.”

Too much information and not enough, at the same time. He remembered something extremely important. ”The sword,” he said.

”Sorry?”

”My sword,” he repeated, and he could feel fear gus.h.i.+ng up inside him, like filling a pitcher from a spring. ”I had a sword with me. And a pillowcase.”

She frowned, just a little bit. He knew what she was thinking.

”Really,” he said. ”It's not the bash on the head talking. I had a sword, and a pillowcase with all my stuff in it.”

She didn't say anything, and he thought, No, that's right, I must've dropped them when I dived into the boar's nest. Which means...

”What are you doing?”

”Getting out of bed. What does it look like?”

”Don't be stupid.”

He looked at her, then gave up. ”You don't understand,” he said. ”I've got to go back and get it, before my brother finds it.”

”A sword,” she said, dismissing all swords everywhere as beneath contempt. ”Listen, you've got mild concussion. If you lie still, you'll be fine. If you get up and try rus.h.i.+ng around, you'll do yourself serious harm. Do you understand?”

She was quite possibly the most annoying person he'd ever met in his life. ”Yes, fine,” he snapped. ”I think I'd like to go to sleep now.”

She didn't move. ”Good idea.”

He closed his eyes, counted to 150, and opened them again. She was still there.

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