All Fall Down Page 10

  Ourrel’s dark eyes lighted on Auren and me for a moment, and he inclined his head ever so slightly. “My lady,” he said to Auren, “how kind of you to come and greet our visitors.”

  Brushing the compliment aside, she said breathlessly, “Who are they? What have they brought with them?”

  He ignored the rudeness—obviously he was used to the impetuosity of fourteen—and replied, “Traders from Purth, my lady. As to their goods, we are not sure yet. I’m sure they would be more than willing to share that information with you and your father.”

  As he spoke, I saw Lord Shaine enter the hall from the courtyard. I guessed he had been in the dyeing house and had come in as soon as he received word of his visitors. A few flakes of snow dusted his dark hair and the shoulders of his cloak; the merchant train seemed to have arrived just in time.

  As if my thoughts were a summons, they began to make their way into the hall. My count had been correct: They numbered ten. None of their faces were familiar, and I felt my heart fall. And Ourrel had said they came from Purth, not Farendon. Hoping that my disappointment had not shown on my face, I watched as the leader of the merchant group bowed deeply before Lord Shaine.

  He murmured something polite, although I could not make out the words. But the merchant leader bowed once again, then said something to one of the others in his group. That man nodded, and I watched as they opened up one of their packs to reveal lengths of gleaming foreign silks. Another man opened his pack, showing fine pelts: fox, mink, beaver, ermine.

  I began to suspect that they must have gotten wind of Auren’s upcoming nuptials at some point in their travels, as these were the sorts of luxury goods that even a household such as Lord Shaine’s would only purchase in limited quantity. But to further expand the dowry of an only, beloved daughter—

  “Goddess,” Auren breathed, and her dark eyes glowed as she took in the fabulous contents of the merchants’ packs. Without a backward glance toward me, she hurried over to her father’s side and laid a hand on one of the mink pelts, a rich glossy brown that would do very well with her honey-colored hair.

  A period of good-natured haggling ensued, although I was certain Auren would get the best of Lord Shaine eventually. He smiled down at his daughter, obviously happy in her reflected joy, not paying attention to the lead merchant or the sudden, furtive look the man gave his subordinate.

  More quickly that I would have thought possible, the man drew the long knife he wore at his belt and, just as Lord Shaine bent over to more closely inspect the mink pelt his daughter lifted toward him, drove the blade into his side.

  Chapter Seven

  I believe I screamed. I can’t remember for sure—I only know that after a heartbeat’s-breadth of sickened shock, I moved without hesitation across the stone floor of the hall, even as Ourrel outpaced me on his longer legs.

  Until then I hadn’t realized that Ourrel always wore as well the short, leaf-bladed sword common to Seldd. He gave a shout and drew it now, and lunged savagely toward the leader of the merchants. The man had barely withdrawn his own knife from between Lord Shaine’s ribs before he suffered the same fate he had brought down on his victim. The steward’s sword plunged into the man’s side, driven deep by Ourrel’s headlong rush to succor his lord.

  At that point—only a few seconds had passed, but they felt like an eternity—Auren finally realized what was happening and let out a despairing wail. Lord Shaine sank to his knees, hands clutched against his lower ribs as bright blood began to seep out between his fingers.

  The leader of the merchants (hired assassins, more likely) staggered backward, a look of surprise etched on his sharp features. Probably he had not expected to meet with any sort of resistance. At the same time men-at-arms crowded into the hall from the courtyard, no doubt drawn by Ourrel’s shout. By then I had reached Lord Shaine’s side and dropped to my knees beside him, reaching for the fastenings on his doublet as I did so.

  Auren continued to keen, arms wrapped tight around herself as she stared down at her father. But I could not waste any attention on her, nor on the clash between the remainder of the so-called merchants and Lord Shaine’s men.

  The world had shrunk down to just him and me. Fingers racing with desperate speed, I pulled away his bloodied clothing, moving his hand as I did so. “I’m here, my lord,” I said. “You must let me see the wound.”

  His blue eyes were slitted with pain but still lucid. “Is Auren—”

  “Auren is fine, my lord. You must let me help you.”

  He nodded, his face pale and tight with pain.

  Once I had his clothing pulled away from the wound, I was better able to see exactly how bad the damage truly was. He bled freely, so I grasped a corner of his linen shirt and tore, pulling loose a strip that I could press down against the knife cut. As far as I could tell, the blade had missed the ribs and slid in just beneath the lung but not caught it. Otherwise, I would have been hard-pressed to save him. Punctured lungs were tricky, and I had never before had the opportunity to attempt to repair one.

  Luckily, it did not seem as if things had come to that pass. Without my aid, Lord Shaine would have bled to death, but as it was, I thought I might be able to save him.

  Pressing my hand and its makeshift bandage of torn shirt against his wound, I risked a glance over my shoulder at Auren. She stared down at us, eyes huge in her suddenly pale face. Past her I could see Lord Shaine’s men-at-arms making quick work of the rest of the merchants, and I gave a brief prayer of thanks to whatever powers might be watching over us that the men had been as quick to respond as they were.

  “Auren,” I said.

  The girl gazed at me vaguely, her eyes not really focusing. I worried that she might be going into shock.

  “Auren,” I repeated, making my voice louder this time, “you must run up to my chamber and get my satchel of medicines. You know—the dark brown leather bag I keep by the side of my bed?”

  She nodded, but somewhat uncertainly.

  “Ask Elissa if you can’t find it. She’ll know where it is. Run!”

  That last word finally seemed to penetrate the veil of shock which had wound itself around her, and she grasped her skirts in both hands and ran toward the steps, disappearing up into the tower.

  I couldn’t waste any more time worrying about her. Lord Shaine reclaimed my attention, and I pressed more firmly against the wound in his side, even though I could tell the pressure pained him. The lines around his eyes tightened for a moment, and the cords in his neck stood out as he swallowed.

  Some patients like to know everything about their condition. Others want only reassuring words, no matter how bad it might be. I guessed Lord Shaine was of the first type and said, “It looks to be a clean wound, my lord. He missed the lung, and the bone as well. As soon as I have my kit, I’ll sew you back together in no time.”

  He nodded. “Arnad,” he whispered. “Bastard. Stake my life on it.”

  Haven’t you done that already? I thought, but said only, “Time for that later, my lord. Don’t try to speak.”

  His only reply was a scowl, but I knew for the moment at least he would heed my words.

  Auren chose that moment to return, closely trailed by an aghast Elissa. Auren thrust my kit at me and asked, “He’s not—is he—?”

  “He’s going to be fine, Auren,” I replied, setting the satchel down on the floor and pulling out the bottle of alcohol I had stowed in there a few weeks earlier, along with one of my smaller needles and a length of catgut. Lord Shaine flinched as I cleaned the wound, but he made no sound.

  As I worked, I noticed Ourrel come up behind Auren. At his shoulder was Master Marus, chief man-at-arms. Their faces were grim and tight with worry, but I knew the immediate danger was over, both here and for my patient as well. Even as I slid the needle in and out of Lord Shaine’s flesh, working as quickly as I could against the ongoing blood loss, the other men-at-arms were at work as well, pulling the bodies of the would-be merchants out of the hall and
unceremoniously dumping them in the courtyard.

  “How is he?” Marus asked at length. His face seemed a little pale, but he managed to keep from averting his eyes.

  “Stop…talking…about me…as…if…I’m…not…here,” slurred Lord Shaine. His skin grew whiter by the moment as blood loss and shock combined to bring him closer and closer to unconsciousness.

  “He’ll survive,” I said briskly. “A clean wound, no major organs touched. He’s very lucky—or the assassin was incredibly unlucky. Look at it how you will.” A few more stitches, and then I was done. I lifted a roll of clean bandages out of my kit and began wrapping them around Lord Shaine’s midsection. Soon the line of neat stitching was hidden from view.

  “The gods smile on you, my lord,” said Marus, and he forced a smile.

  Shaine nodded, but I could tell he hadn’t the strength to utter any more words.

  “He needs to be put to bed,” I said. “If you two can assist?”

  No one made any comments about being ordered around by one who was, after all, merely a slave. Both Ourrel and Marus knelt down on the blood-stained stone floor and then lifted Lord Shaine’s tall form, carrying him out of the great hall and up into the tower. His own sleeping chamber branched out from the study, its door hidden beneath one of the faded tapestries that lined the outer room. Auren ran ahead and yanked the tapestry out of the way as the two men carried him inside, while I hurried past them so I might pull back the heavy embroidered counterpane and other bedding. They laid him down as gently as they could, but I could still hear a hissing sigh of pain escape his lips before he was safely placed against the thick feather mattress.

  “He looks dead,” Auren whispered, staring down at the limp form of her father.

  “But he’s not,” I retorted. “And I intend to keep him that way. If you could help me with his boots—”

  Together we tugged and pulled off his high scarred boots, but since it was so cold, I thought it better to keep his stockings on. I needed to remove the rest of his bloody clothing, but I certainly didn’t require an audience for that.

  “Thank you,” I said, for Ourrel and Marus both stood there awkwardly, as if not sure what to do next. “I can watch him from here. If you could bring up some water?”

  Ourrel tore his gaze away from his master’s still, white face and said, “Of course. Do you need anything else?”

  “At the moment, no,” I replied. What Lord Shaine needed now more than anything else was rest. Of course I would remain by his side, to make sure the stitches held and to be there to attend to his needs when he awoke, but Marus and Ourrel had much to do—and Auren needed to be kept safely out of the way.

  “See that Lady Auren goes back to her rooms,” I went on. “If I need anything, I’ll send for it. For now, I just need to make sure he survives the night.”

  They nodded, but Auren looked down at me with a familiar stubborn expression on her face. “I don’t see why I can’t stay here with him.”

  “He needs rest, Auren,” I replied. “And I am a physician. It falls on me to watch over him. If he calls for you, I will come and fetch you directly.”

  She didn’t much like my words, that I could tell, but at least she offered no further argument and went meekly enough as Ourrel and Marus herded her out of the room. I could hear the sounds of their footsteps as they departed—Auren’s lighter tread as she ran up the stairs to her own chamber, the heavy sound of Ourrel and Marus making their way down to the hall.

  What they would do next, I had no idea. If Lord Shaine’s half-wild words in the hall were correct, and Lord Arnad had been behind this, then what now? Would Lord Shaine retaliate? The men had been hired thugs, I was almost certain, and how it could ever be proved that Arnad had hired them, I did not know. But this was not the sort of iniquity that could be left unanswered. Wars had been fought over less.

  But it was also winter, and war would only come with the arrival of spring. In the meantime, I had Lord Shaine’s health to worry about.

  He lay motionless, eyes shut, hands still on either side of him, for I had tried to avoid putting any pressure on his wounded torso. I could barely see the rise and fall of the embroidered coverlet above his breast. But he breathed at least. Arnad’s plot—if that were truly the reason behind Lord Shaine’s injury—had been foiled.

  It began to grow dark. The room was unfamiliar to me, but I located a trefoil-design candelabra on the large table that stood against the far wall and lit it from the dying embers of the hearth. Before the fire could sink any lower, I stirred up the coals and added a few more logs from the willow basket which sat to one side of the stone fireplace. Once I had reassured myself that the fire would last a few hours longer, I returned to my seat at Lord Shaine’s side.

  His color looked a little better, but that could merely have been the reflected glow of the restored fire. I thought of how recently I had held a similar vigil over the sickbed of his daughter. The circumstances then had been very different, however; they had both been strangers to me, and my concern for Auren had been simply the disinterested desire of a physician to see her patient recover.

  But now—now, I thought, and I sighed. Their faces and voices had become as dear to me as if they were members of my own family. I could not imagine what I would do if my reassuring words proved false, and Lord Shaine did not survive the night. Caught by a sudden impulse, I leaned forward and laid my warm hand on his cold, limp one. The pulse beat still in his wrist. At least I could feel it, weak as it was, and forced myself to take heart from that. Lord Shaine was a vigorous, healthy man of barely forty summers. There was no reason he couldn’t live another twenty or thirty, as long as I was here to see that he took no other harm.

  I knew I shouldn’t be thinking such things. I knew I should be trying to get myself away from here, back to a land I understood, where I was respected and no man’s chattel. How on earth could I be considering staying here to watch over Lord Shaine, a man who had survived several decades without any assistance from me?

  The answer had been there for some time, even if I had been too foolish to see it. Even in that tense little interview following my run-in with Lord Arnad, somehow I had hoped against hope, wondering whether he would say the words I had longed to hear: I would not let Lord Arnad take you, for I love you myself and could not bear to see you go.

  What an idiot I was. As if a man of Lord Shaine’s importance could ever come to care for someone like me. Even if I were not his slave, even if I had come here of my own volition, as a physician of the Order offering my services, still I had been born humbly, the daughter of a merchant. Oh, occasionally those of the nobility might stoop to marry one such as me, but only if their fortunes had failed and they needed to bolster their sagging finances with an infusion of merchant gold. Lord Shaine did very well for himself and could have had the pick of every eligible young woman in the region, had he desired it. Obviously he wished to expend his energies in other areas. Love was not something that mattered much to him, as far as I could tell.

  I felt the strength of his hand, even cold and still as it lay beneath mine. Perhaps this would be the only time I could touch him so, pretending that I had every right in the world to keep my hand on his. If anyone intruded, they would probably just think I touched him to ascertain whether he had a fever or not. No one would ever think I held his hand because I couldn’t bear not to.

  This was madness. I should fall to my knees right now and pray to the gods—whoever and whatever they might be—to deliver me from this place before I found myself even more lost than I already was. In matters of the heart, I knew myself to be as green as Auren. Oh, once when I was still training at the house of the Order in Lystare, I had found myself attracted to one of the young men there, someone who was a year or two ahead of me and impressively worldly, at least to my unschooled eyes. But the farthest I had ever gotten in the infatuation was a brief kiss in the courtyard of the school before we were found out and threatened with expulsion if such a th
ing were ever to happen again. The kiss had been pleasant, but certainly not worth risking my future career over, and that had been the end of it.

  Once I was out in the world, I had taken care to present myself as aloof, coolly professional, not the sort to be pursued or encourage such attentions. Not that I felt myself to be the sort of woman to attract the undue notice of men, as always I contrasted the strong bones of my face and my unfortunate height with the more conventional prettiness of my sisters. But a woman journeying alone always had to take care, even in Farendon and Purth, where members of the Order were respected and appreciated. I thought I had divorced myself from my heart, but apparently it was not content to be cast aside so coolly.

  I looked down at Lord Shaine and wondered if I had done anything yet to betray myself. I didn’t think so—I had trained myself in professional courtesy and detachment for so long that, until these past few moments, I had not even understood that what I had merely thought was respect toward a man of intelligence and determination was actually far, far more. But now I knew, it was only a matter of time before I revealed my feelings. And what then?

  I could not imagine. At best I could probably hope for a sort of bemused pity, the sort that would lead him to tread carefully around me, and eventually seek to have me removed to a different situation. Perhaps if things got bad enough he would finally regret not allowing Lord Arnad to take me off his hands.

  No, that I would never believe. As to what would happen next, once Lord Shaine was well enough to assess the situation and decide what action to take...again, that lay well beyond my scope. I probably had a better education than anyone on the estate, Lord Shaine included, but my only training in war had been the means to treat the wounds it caused.

  My studies of Seldd (what I could recall of them, at any rate) had painted a bloody picture of minor squabbles between local lords. The king rarely interfered in these disagreements, preferring to let the matters be solved through strength of arms. So there was a very real chance that once the spring thaws came, Lord Shaine would lead his men against Lord Arnad. If he won, Arnad’s lands would be forfeit, and added to Shaine’s own holdings. But if he lost—