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to the proper time of things you leap ahead and dart back like a hare with
hounds after it. Now begin again, from the time I
fell unconscious until this moment."
When Sylvo had finished Blade fell into a deep study and stared for a long
time out the open port.
Finally he said: "It has been ten days?"
"More like to twelve now, master. You have been very ill."
Blade started to speak, then only nodded. Yes. He had been very ill. Only he
knew how ill. And only
he would ever know of what transpired for he would never tell a living soul.
He turned on Sylvo again, warily because the rib that Redbeard had cracked
still hurt, and asked the question that he must ask.
"The silver Dru fell overboard?"
Sylvo shrugged and rolled his eyes. "What else, master? And none so strange it
happens often enough at sea, or so I am told. I am no seaman myself, not of
deep water anyway, and I was dreadful sick for two days. It is my thought the
the Dru came on deck for air the cabins are not fit for slaves and
was swept overboard. Simple enough. But why question it, master. Let us be
grateful and "
Blade silenced him with a hand. "You say the silver Dru had a servant? Another
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Dru of a lesser rank?"
Sylvo looked puzzled and scratched himself. "Ar, master. That is the truth of
it. Why?"
"You have too many whys," Blade said curtly. "Leave off and go fetch me this
other Dru, this servant. Unless, of course, you are afraid of her also?"
"I
am afraid of her," Sylvo admitted, "but not so much as of the silver Dru. Her
glance gave me a gallows feeling, I swear. But the Dru servant will know
nothing, master. No use to talk to her. She saw nothing, heard nothing, and
anyway she is in a screaming fit such as ordinary women get. I doubt you can
make sense of her."
Blade stared at his man. Obviously Sylvo did not want him to talk to the
servant.
"Go fetch her to me," Blade snapped. "And no more of your clack or, by Thunor,
I will regain my strength on you. No stay and help me dress."
He decided on the instant. It was time to be up and doing. Sylvo put a fresh
dressing on the wound, which was healing nicely, and helped Blade into clean
clothes and a corselet, then combed his hair and beard. Blade badly wanted a
bath, but there was no water to spare.
Sylvo clasped the scarlet cloak about Blade's big shoulders and stood back in
admiration. "There, master. You are your old self again. Lord Blade. King of
the Sea Raiders!"
"And shall be," Blade muttered, "until we come safe to Voth. Then no more. Now
go fetch me that servant, Sylvo. And my bronze axe as well. I want it with me
when I first appear on deck."
Sylvo lingered. "Ar, master. It would be as well. They are a surly lot of
brutes, these raiders, and
Captain Jarl is hard set to keep them under hand. They know there is no loot
in Bourne, and they cry that
Voth is too far and King Voth too strong they would turn back and loot Alb.
Which is all right with me, for I am all in favor of "
Blade, now steady on his feet, moved toward him and doubled up a great fist.
"I gave you an order, man! Still you linger and defy me?" He raised his hand.
"Nay, master. I go." Sylvo backed hastily out of the door. "But I wish you
would not do this for you will rue it unless I am more fool than I think."
Blade, left alone to ponder that enigmatic remark, had still no answer when
Sylvo returned with the woman in question. He pushed her into the room and
fled without a word.
The woman stood quietly in the middle of the cabin, her work-worn hands
clasped before her. She
was thin and stoop shouldered, yet her eyes peered from the cowl at Blade with
the bright alertness of a sparrow. Her robe was soiled. Blade guessed her to
belong to the lowest, working order of the Drus.
She was not hysterical. One lie to Sylvo's credit. Blade, to put her at ease,
motioned to a stool. She refused, saying she would stand. Her voice was flat
and unmelodious and her eyes never left off searching
Blade's.
"You know who I am?"
Her head inclined. "I know, Lord Blade."
"Good. I want truth from you. This is understood?"
"I have no reason to lie, Lord Blade."
"We all have reason to lie at times," he said harshly, "but never mind that.
Tell me, quickly and simply, of what befell your mistress the Dru called
Drusilla. The silver-haired woman who cared for me. What do you know of this?"
"Not much," said the woman. "And yet more than most." She squeezed her bony
hands together and the tendons cracked.
Blade frowned and left off pacing. "I do not want riddles."
"I make none. I know more than most because I have not been asked until now.
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Only you ask, Lord
Blade. For the others it is enough to believe that my mistress, the High
Priestess, fell overboard. They have not dared ask."
Blade tugged at his beard, black and curling now. "So I ask. What have you to
tell?"
do
"The Drusilla did not fall overboard. One came and tapped at our door in the
reaches of the night. I
had just fallen to sleep, so the Drusilla answered. I woke then, but did not
speak or stir, and I heard them whispering at the door. What words I did not
hear, but I understood that the caller wanted the Drusilla to come on deck.
There was great urgency to the whispering. So the Drusilla put on her robe and
cowl and left the cabin. She did not return. And that is all I know, Lord
Blade. Unless it be this bit more my mistress did not fall overboard. She was
pushed overboard by the one who came to the door and whispered. Perhaps the
Drusilla was slain first. Perhaps not. But she is dead. Murdered. This I
know."
Blade remembered the golden sword stabbing down at. the screaming,
terror-crazed serving wench of Lycanto. A deed conspired by the Lady Alwyth?
But what matter now
A sudden pang struck Blade, an electric pain slashing at his head like a
lightning bolt. He staggered and clung to the wall for a moment, bemused,
dazed, his head buzzing with a thousand bees. For a micro-instant he saw words
blazoned on his memory:
He who lives by the sword dies by the sword
!
The old Dru was staring at Blade. "You are ill, Lord Blade?"
It had gone. Blade rubbed his head and frowned. How strange. For a moment he
had been nearly blind, with a tempest raging in his skull and his body light
as feathers.
"It is nothing," he told her gruffly. "A headache. I have been in darkness too
long and perhaps the sun But back to our business. This one who came and
whispered. You recognized the voice?"
"No."
"Was it man or woman certainly you could tell that."
"I could not, Lord Blade. They spoke too low. I could not say, in truth, that
it was a man or a woman."
He considered her for a moment, scratching his chin. "You may go then. Do not
speak of this to anyone. I will look into it in person."
"And see the guilty punished, my Lord Blade? Man or woman?" There was no
mistaking the doubt and mockery in that dry old voice.
"That is my affair," he said, turning to stare out the port. "I said I will
look into it. Go." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]