Master and Fool (71 page)

Spying a pastry
seller, Jack darted around the various fruit sellers and vintners and
approached the coarse wooden stall. A tiny, bald man was busy placing sweet
rolls onto a covered tray. Without looking up, he said, "No handouts here,
my friend. The stale stuff goes to the wife's pigs."

"They must be
happy pigs."

"Aye. The
wife cares for those pigs like they were her children. She'd have the skin off
my back if I didn't come home with the leftover pastries."

"How's
business lately?" Jack spotted Tawl drawing close and waved him back with
a small movement of his wrist. The pastry seller still hadn't looked up. He
started on his second tray. "Things have begun to pick up some since they
opened the gates to trade. No one's got much money, though. Grain's running
out, too. It won't be long before I've got nothing left to bake with except
fresh air."

"Some say
things were better under the duke."

The pastry
seller's hand hovered above a pastry. It was shaking. "I'm not one of
those," he said.

Jack nodded slowly.
The man thought he was a troublemaker. Well, it wouldn't do him any harm to act
like one. "'Course with all the goings-on at the palace, the king hasn't
got much time for city affairs."

"I don't know
anything about goings-on at the palace. I hear rumors like the rest, but I pay
them no heed." The pastry seller had stopped placing the pastries on the
tray and simply threw them on, instead. He dumped the trays on his cart and
took hold of the yoke. "I've got to be off now. Can't keep the wife waiting."

Jack caught the
man's arm and squeezed it. "What rumors do you hear?" The pastry
seller was as small as a child. His bones were as thin as sticks. Jack felt
sorry for him, but he had no choice: time was running out.

"I hear that
Kylock's killing off all the nobles who oppose him. That Lord Baralis is a
demon who eats babies, and that the entire palace is being run by a mad woman
with no teeth."

Although scared,
the pastry seller seemed to find satisfaction in uttering the last words. He
yanked at his arm, and Jack let it go. "Is Lord Cravin one of those who
Kylock has killed?" The pastry seller hooked the yoke of his cart over his
shoulders. "He was hung months back now. Hung, quartered, and set to rot
on the walls." He began to move away, his cart trundling after him.

Jack was about to
let the man go when, as an afterthought, he shouted, "What's the name of
the woman who runs the palace?"

"Mistress
Greal," cried the pastry seller. "Her sister owns a brothel on the
south side of the city."

"And the
sister's name?"

"Can't
recall." The pastry seller's voice was lost beneath the creaking of his
cart for a moment. "Thorny something, perhaps."

Jack turned away.
He felt disappointed. The man had told him nothing useful. Lord Cravin was
dead, so that ruled out going to him for information. Now all they had to go on
was some half-remembered brothel-keeper's name in a city full of brothels.

With heavy steps
he returned to Tawl. The drizzle had thickened to snow. The soft flakes clung
to Jack's hair and dripped down his collar when they melted. Tawl was silent
while Jack told him what the pastry seller said. At the end, however, when the
name of the brothel-keeper was mentioned, Tawl's eyes narrowed to slits.

"Thorny, you
said?" Jack nodded.

"Thornypurse."
Tawl made the word sound like a curse. Despite the flapping felt hat, he
suddenly looked like a man whom no one would want to cross.

"You know who
she is?"

"She nearly
killed me." Tawl swiveled around, and seeing Nabber lurking on the
opposite side of the square, he beckoned him over.

Nabber ran through
the slush and dirt with a dancer's grace. "What is it?" he said,
skidding to a showy halt. "We're going to pay a visit on an old friend,
and I think you'll want to come along for the ride."

The clawing noise
outside the door went on for a few minutes. It sounded like rats. Only higher.

Melli scratched
her arm. She had just taken the splint off because the skin underneath was
itching so much. In the pale light that seeped under the door, she could see
the uneven line of her forearm. A knot of bone pushed against the skin. The
break was rehealing, but it wasn't a clean join, and Melli knew her left arm
would never be the same again. If a surgeon could only get to it, he might be
able to limit the damage, but every day that passed lessened her chances of
having the bone reset.

In her head she
counted the number of days that had passed since she put Kylock off. Eight.
When he finally came to her in two nights time, she had another plan ready to
postpone him further. For a week now she had been saving odd scraps of food,
nothing much-an apple here, a sliver of chicken fat there-but enough to fester
along nicely under the bed. The day that Kylock was due, she was going to rub
the moldy meat and vegetables over her clothes and thighs. If the smell alone
failed to put him off, then Melli intended to claim the ghones or worse.

It wasn't at all
ladylike, but then Kylock was no gentleman. Melli was rather pleased with her
plan, and as no one entered her chamber these days except the guards, there was
little chance of discovery.

The scratching on
the door stopped abruptly. Melli's abdomen squeezed a ghost contraction. Since
the baby was born, she always felt fear first in her belly. All was quiet for a
few seconds, but shadows bobbed under the door with the light, and Melli could
tell someone was moving on the other side. Was it Kylock? or Mistress Greal?
Melli shot her good arm out to feel for the splint. Once she had it in hand,
she began the lengthy and awkward process of rebinding it to her arm. She felt
vulnerable with the damaged bone on show.

Biting one end of
the bandage with her teeth, Melli wrapped the other round with her right hand.
She had to move slowly, for the slightest sudden movement might cause the bone
to break.

"Playing doctor,
I see."

Melli looked up.
Baralis stood in the doorway. She hadn't heard him enter.

He brought the
light forward. "Has no one tended to your arm?"

"Has no one
cut your throat yet?"

Baralis' laughter
was surprisingly warm. "Such a proud little girl. I would have thought
five months of captivity might have blunted your sharp little tongue."

Listening to his
rich, cultured voice brought back glimpses of the past to Melli: fingers
running down her spine, a breath taken deeply, a scent so heady it drew her in.
This was, she realized, the first time they had been alone together since the
day at Castle Harvell when he'd moved her to a storeroom for safekeeping. Years
ago now, yet why did she remember it like yesterday? Her stomach sent her a
warning, but the blood in her head pumped fast, as if she were drunk.

Forcing herself to
stay calm, Melli continued to bind the splint to her arm.

"Here."
Baralis was beside her before she knew it. "Let me take a look at the
bone."

She pulled away
from his touch. Another memory, older, fainter, chased up her nostrils along
with his scent. A hand upon a silk dress-a child's dress. The stiff fabric had
been out of fashion for ten years.

"Not afraid
of being touched, are we?" Baralis' voice was mocking. "Don't wont',
I'm not Kylock. I'm not about to please myself with petty torture."

"No. You have
a taste for far worse." Melli was shaking. The ghost contractions pumped
away at her empty belly. "What did you do to my baby?"

Baralis took hold
of her arm. The bindings came apart and the splint fell to the bed. "You
know what I did. He's dead."

He.
Melli
closed her eyes. She'd had a son. Learning that one small fact was like losing
the baby all over again. The pain of the first morning flooded back; her throat
tightened and her stomach snatched itself in. Her breasts-dry of milk these
past two days-ached with a sharp, sickening pain. She fought the desire to
wrench herself away. Baralis had hold of her arm and one pull could break it.

Baralis ran his
thumb over the lump of bone. His nails were smoothly filed, but there was
something appalling about them: they were too large for the thin, bloodless
fingers they capped. The lack of such a basic human proportion unnerved Melli.
It turned Baralis into a monster.

His touch became a
caress. "Such a nasty join, such an unsightly little bulge-it all but
ruins the perfect line of your arm."

Melli's chest was
heaving. Her throat had tightened to a pinpoint and airflow to her lungs was
constricted like sand in a glass. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "How did
my baby die?"

Baralis tapped the
bone.
Tht. Tht. Tht. Tht. "I
don't think, my dear Melli, that you
are in any position to ask questions." Baralis' gray eyes met hers. He pressed
his thumb against the bulge. "Do you?"

"What do you
want?" To Melli her voice sounded high, almost hysterical.

"Aah."
Baralis let up the pressure. On the underside of her arm, his fingers nuzzled
her flesh. "Ladies who play games should expect them in return." His
fingers traveled up her arm and then along the bodice of her dress. The palm of
his hand came to rest against her belly. "And games always end with a
loser."

Like a_ drug,
Baralis' scent heightened her senses. Even through the fabric of her dress,
Melli could feel the rough texture of his palm. His touch was firm and cool.
Slowly Melli's body began to relax; her throat widened, letting in air, and her
stomach settled down beneath his hand. "Good, good," said Baralis.
"Now listen very carefully. I don't know what you've said or done to
Kylock, but I do know that you're playing him for a fool. When he comes to you
next, I expect you to be more than accommodating." Melli had a dim feeling
she'd been through this before with Baralis. Him touching her, telling her what
she would do. Even the sensations were the same: attraction, confusion, a vague
thickening of her thoughts. What was he doing to her?

His hand was no
longer on her arm, so Melli pulled away from him. As she moved, she caught a
whiff of his breath. She paused a moment, waiting to feel his fingers trailing
down her spine, before she realized it was a memory. Why did she feel so
attracted to him? She didn't understand. Clenching her teeth together and
contracting the muscles in her neck and jaw, Melli forced herself to think
clearly. It was so hard, though: her thoughts were heavy and her body was slow
to move. She pressed the thumbnail of her good hand into the soft flesh of her
index finger. The pain sent a shock wave through her head, and in the moment of
vivid clarity that followed she managed to stand free from the bed. He followed
her up, and as she tried to back away from him, he matched her step for step.
Finally she could go no farther, her calves pressed against the chest by the wall.

"You
disappoint me, Melli," he said. "I so much wanted to keep things
pleasant between us."

Gone. The muddling
of her thoughts cleared in an instant; the hot pulsing in her temples stopped
as quickly as it started In the cold, pain-filled world that emerged, Baralis
looked like a sharp-edged, sharp-eyed demon. He wasn't a mysterious lover come
to woo her. he was a man prepared to use all his powers to get what he wanted.
She felt attracted to him because he willed it. Just like the time at the
storeroom, only she hadn't realized it then. Foolishly, she had flattered
herself into thinking he felt something for her, but looking at him now-his
face cast with shadows from the lamp behind his back-she realized Baralis felt
nothing for anyone except himself.

He didn't have a
sensuous nerve in his body. He found his pleasure exclusively in control.

The myth of the
powerful man succumbing to her charms died. Melli was left feeling naive and
angry: Baralis had manipulated her with the force of his will not once but
twice, maybe even three times, if the vague childhood memory was to be relied
upon. He had pried his way into her brain and made himself master of her
thoughts. It was a kind of rape, an invasion of the most intimate sort, and he
did it without blinking an eye.

Baralis made a
grab for her arm. Melli jerked backward. Her knees collapsed and she landed in
a sitting position on the chest. In the second it took to settle herself,
Baralis seized hold of her wrist. Straightaway his fingers slid to the break.

"Such a
foolish, headstrong girl," he said, stroking the lump of broken bone.
"You should learn to be better behaved." Melli's right hand was
trailing over the side of the chest. Very slowly, she moved it around to the
back. In the space between the chest and the wall lay the supplies she had
stocked for her escape. To distract Baralis' attention, she kept him talking.
"What will you do if I turn Kylock away?"

A push upon the
bone. "Oh, you won't turn him away, my dear. You most certainly won't do
that."

Melli stretched
her hand down along the back of the chest. Tilting backward to increase her
reach, she said, "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I
will have to punish you if you do."

Melli's hand
closed around the cool stem of the glass. "Really. And what will that punishment
be?"

"Warning
and
punishment, I think." Baralis clasped her forearm just below the
elbow, and with his other hand grabbed her wrist. He meant to break the bone.

Panicking, Melli
raised the glass. She smashed it against the wall, sending splinters flashing
into the air. The fragment that remained in her fist she thrust straight for
Baralis' face. Dropping her arm, Baralis jumped back. The shard of glass caught
his chin, drawing blood. Melli saw his lips move. The smell of metal in a
furnace filled the room.

"No!"
she screamed. "Hurt me now and Kylock will destroy you."