Master and Fool (38 page)

The barber had
turned tutting into an art form, and as he examined Tawl's cheek, he made
several highly telling tuts in a row. "Oh, sir," he exclaimed shaking
his head. "Such a tragedy. A fine face such as yours and now . . . "
several fast tuts followed,
"disaster! Do
you already have a wife,
sir?"

Tawl shook his
head. He winced as the barber began to clean out the wound with clear alcohol.

"Then this
calls for my finest work." The barber began to unravel a large bundle of
black thread. "By the time I'm finished with you, your own mother won't be
able to tell the difference. You will be able to pay the extra, won't you, sir?
Fine little stitches, eight instead of four."

"I'll take
four," said Tawl.

"No,"
said Jack. "Give him the full eight."

Tawl turned a
frown Jack's way. "We've got to purchase a longbow."

Jack shook his
head. "I'll make do with what I've got." Then to the barber.
"Give him whatever it takes." Tawl might not be interested in his
appearance, but Jack wasn't doing it for him. He was doing it for Melli.

The barber nodded
judiciously. "A man of reason, I see." He looked Jack up and down,
and then tutted. "But also, if I may be so bold, one who's badly in need
of a little grooming."

Jack edged nearer
the door. "Stitch him first, then we'll see if we've any money left over
for grooming."

The barber
executed his most expressive tut so far. With one click of the tongue, he said,
Borc save me from these barbarians! They have no sense of refinement
whatsoever.
He did his duty, though, picking out his finest needle and
changing the thread to match. "Brandy, sir?" he asked just before he
put point to flesh.

"Will it cost
me extra?"

"Two
silvers."

"I'll do
without."

The barber
conveyed his surprise by simply not tutting at all. "Very well. Brace
yourself."

Jack looked away.

The barber spoke
as he stitched. "So, have you men come from the north?"

"No,"
said Jack.

"Pity. I was
hoping you'd have some news."

"About the
siege?"

"Hmm."
The barber was silent a moment. Jack didn't want to know what he was doing.
"And about the Lady Melliandra." Jack spun around. "What about
her?"

"Well, she's
the one who married the duke, you know. Quite a beauty by all accounts."

Tawl's arm shot
out and he grabbed the barber's arm. "Get to the point."

The barber tutted,
pried his arm free, and continued his stitching. "Well, her father escaped
and went over to the enemy and is telling everyone that Kylock has captured
her. Of course, it's all just a rumor at the moment."

Tawl made as if to
stand, but the barber pushed him down. "Just another minute, sir."

"How long ago
did this happen?" asked Jack.

The barber
shrugged. "I don't know. News takes a while to reach us here." With
that he finished his job, tied a knot, cut the thread, cleaned the new blood
from Tawl's face, and splashed the skin with a little ointment. "Seven
days and then they come out."

Tawl stood up.
"How much?"

The barber seemed
disappointed that his work hadn't been appreciated. "Two golds."

Jack handed him
the money. "Nicely done," he said. The barber bowed and started to
say something, but Jack didn't catch what it was, for he and Tawl were already
heading out the door.

"We travel
today. Right now," said Tawl as the door closed behind him. "We get
Nabber, change the horses, and leave within the hour."

"Leave for
where?" Jack wasn't sure if Tawl meant to continue on to Rorn or head back
to Bren.

Tawl's normally
light blue eyes were as dark as the sky at midnight. "We go to Larn as
planned."

"What in
Borc's name do you think you're doing? The girl has to be killed."

Melli had been
hearing words for some time now, but these were the first ones that her brain
could be bothered to understand. She was emerging from a smoky haze. Her first
instinct was to cough-to hack and spit and splutter. Her second instinct was to
keep both her eyes and her mouth firmly shut. She took a deep breath and used
it to calm her lungs.

"No, Baralis.
The girl doesn't have to be killed. The child does."

"They are one
and the same right now."

Melli shuddered.
She couldn't help herself. She recognized both speakers-Kylock and Baralis-and
the sound of their voices chilled her to the bone.

When Baralis spoke
again his tone was lower. "Look, as long as the girl is alive, she is a
blade in our side. Maybor is running around telling everyone we've got her,
half the people in Bren would rather see her son in the palace than you, and
Highwall is actually claiming to be fighting on her behalf. The girl must
die."

The last words
were taut with controlled fury Not even a second passed before Kylock replied,
"No. She won't die. I won't let her."

"If you want
her, take her now and be done with it Just don't lose sight of what she
is."

"And what is
she, Baralis?"

"She is your
only rival."

Melli became aware
of a splitting pain in her head. The urge to cough grew stronger, but she
fought it.

"No,
Baralis," said Kylock softly. "She isn't my rival, her child
is."

The tension in the
room was unmistakable. The air grew close and heavy, like before a storm. Melli
smelled something metal like sword steel. Her skin prickled as a wave of warm
air passed over her.

There was silence
for a moment, then Baralis said, "Very well, if you insist."

"I do insist,
Baralis." Kylock moved near to the bed. Melli sensed his gaze upon her.
"Oh, and she will stay here for the time being. The tower is no place for
her to sleep."

With light steps
Baralis walked across the room. "She will need to be watched closely at
all times."

"The woman
will do it."

"As you
wish." Baralis' voice was hard. "I will send her here to make
arrangements." With that Baralis left the room, closing the door behind
him.

Melli didn't know
whether to be relieved or frightened. She knew Kylock was close to her,
watching her. She felt something touch her cheek. Opening her eyes, she found
herself looking straight into his.

A black band
ringed his irises. "Aah, the mother-to-be awakens." He was wearing
gloves. His finger trailed from her cheek down beneath the sheets. Slowly it
moved across her breast and down to her belly. He paused a moment and then
poked her stomach as if testing a fruit for ripeness. Melli's hand shot up to
stop him. Kylock grabbed her wrist. He slammed it against the bed. "No.
No, my love, this is not the way to repay a debt."

Melli wanted
desperately to cough. Her lungs felt full of dust. Kylock twisted her wrist so
she couldn't move her arm. "What do you want from me?" she cried.

Kylock shook his
head slowly. "I don't think it's your place to ask questions," he said.
A tiny drop of spittle appeared at the comer of his lip. He dug his gloved
fingers into the bones of her wrist.

A knock came upon
the door. "Who is it?" snapped Kylock.

"It's
Mistress Greal, sire. Lord Baralis bid me come." Mistress Greal. Melli
started choking. Her head came off the pillow and she coughed and spluttered,
unable to stop herself.

"Come."

The door opened
and a woman walked in. Melli's eyes were full of tears. The woman looked
different: smaller, and the lower part of her face was oddly misshapen. Then
she spoke. There was no mistaking her thin, clawing voice. "I see the
little bitch is pretending to be ill." She stepped toward the bed. Kylock
moved away. Grabbing a handful of hair, she yanked Melli upright and then
thumped her hard in the back. "There. That should do it."

Melli stopped
coughing.

Kylock regarded
Mistress Greal with distaste. He crossed the room toward the door. "See to
it that she gets a bath," he said.

"But "

"Do it.
"

Melli had the
fleeting pleasure of seeing Mistress Greal flinch. The door slammed shut.
Mistress Greal turned to face her. "So, landed on your feet again, have
you?"

"What are you
doing here?"

Mistress Greal
snorted. "I ain't answering to no slut." She looked around the room
with a proprietorial air. "They should have kept you in the tower. This
place is too good for you. Fancy bed, carpets ... you'd think you were a
princess, not the biggest whore in Bren."

Melli was trying
hard to keep her sanity. It felt as if she'd woken up in the middle of a bad
dream. Baralis, Kylock, and now Mistress Greal. Who next, she wondered, Fiscel
and Captain Vanly?

She forced her
mind to stay focused. "What do you know about the tower?"

"I picked it
for you, that's what. Nice and bare. No frills. No blankets, no candles-I made
sure of that." Mistress Greal smiled. She looked hideous; two of her front
teeth were missing.

Realizing that
Mistress Greal didn't mind answering questions when they gave her a chance to
show off her authority, Melli continued. "So Baralis left you in charge of
my welfare?"

Mistress Greal
almost simpered. "Yes, he did. Told me anything I saw fit to do, just go
ahead and do it. He didn't want nothing to do with you. Can't say as I blame
him, either."

Melli sat back
against the headboard. The picture was becoming clearer now: Mistress Greal had
been the one supervising her imprisonment, not Baralis. He had washed his hands
of her. Melli felt a tiny spark of disappointment, then told herself she
hadn't. Quickly, she moved on. "Baralis must trust you a lot."

Mistress Greal was
helping herself to a glass of wine. The bones around her wrist jutted out at
odd angles. "He owes me, does Lord Baralis."

"Owes you for
what?"

Mistress Greal
whipped around. "Getting a little nosy, ain't you?"

Melli tried a
different approach. "You must have done him a great service to be given
such responsibility."

"D'you think
me a fool, missy? I've been managing young girls since before you were born. I
know every trick a slut like you can pull, and flattery is just the first of
them."

As she spoke,
Mistress Greal's grip slipped on her wine cup, and wine went spilling down the
front of her dress. She shot Melli a venomous look. Coming toward the bed, she
held out the cup in front of her. The damage to her wrist was plain to see.
"So you want to know what I did to get here, do you?" She leant over
the bed and thrust her wrist under Melli's nose. "Well, take a good look
at that, missy. That should tell you all you need to know."

Melli refused to
be frightened by her. She pushed the wrist away. "An unhappy client,
perhaps?"

Mistress Greal
slapped Melli with her good hand. Melli's head snapped back. Her skull hit the
headboard. The impact wasn't great, but the pain it produced was dizzying.

Slowly, she
brought up her hand to feel the back of her head. She winced as her fingers
touched the sore spot. Her hair was stiff with blood.

"Your father
did this to me." Mistress Greal thrust the wrist back into Melli's face.
"And my teeth. Robbed me of my good hand and my looks he did, and that's
something I'm never going to forget"

Melli hid her
surprise. Her father must have found out what went on in Duvitt! She felt a
moment of pure, spiteful pleasure. He must have given the old witch quite a
blow to take out her teeth.

"So you've
been extracting what petty vengeance you can through me?" she said.

Mistress Greal
waggled a bony finger. "I wouldn't say finding the most wanted woman in
Bren is such a petty thing. Would you?"

"You found
us?"

"Your father
was wenching in my sister's establishment. Can't take his ale, you know."

"He got away,
didn't he?" said Melli casually, trying not to betray the importance of
the question.

"That old
bastard's got the luck of the devil."

Melli's whole body
relaxed. Up until now she hadn't realized just how tense she had been. All her
muscles ached, her head was pounding, and her heart was beating wildly against
her ribs. Somehow none of it mattered anymore. She was all right, her baby was
still alive, and Maybor had managed to get away.

"A scalding
bath will soon knock that smile from your face, missy," said Mistress
Greal on her way to the door. "Bring out your hottest tub, woman,"
said Melli. "It'll take more than boiling water to kill Maybor's
daughter."

"Tawl, go
back to Bren," said Jack. "I'll go to Larn on my own."

They were in the
stables. The new horses were saddled and ready. Nabber was wiping the sleep
from his eyes. The tavern-keeper's handsome son had just returned with the
supplies Tawl had asked for, and now, just when they were ready to leave, Jack
came out with this.

Every day Tawl
learned more about Jack, and every day he realized he'd underestimated him once
more.

Tawl shook his
head. He didn't trust himself to speak just yet. He knew a genuine offer when
he heard one, and he also knew the sound of fear well hidden. Jack couldn't be
aware of what he was volunteering to do. Or could he? Tawl didn't want to
underestimate him again.

Catching hold of
Jack's arm, Tawl guided him into the dark area beneath the hayloft. "Jack,
I can't let you go to Larn on your own."

"Do you know
what I'm supposed to do when I get there?"

"No."

"Then you
can't help me." Jack spoke calmly. "So you might as well return to
Bren and try to rescue Melli "

His words sounded
rational, but Tawl doubted if Jack actually believed them.
He
didn't.
"It's not as simple as that. Larn is no place for a man to go on his
own."