Scarlet and the White Wolf [01] - Scarlet and the White Wolf (16 page)

"Possibly."

"You maimed me!!" Cadan shouted, pointing to the scars on his face. "You bastard whelp of a she-bitch! One day I was your right hand in the krait, your enforcer, and the next you cut me off from the Kasiri forever! After the famous Wolf drove me out, every atya from here to Minh spit at the sound of my name. No one would take me in or let me join their krait. And over what? Nothing!"

Liall's jaw clenched. "Over two Byzan girls and their mother."

Cadan wiped blood from his face. "Scant fun, they were, screaming and crying the whole time. What are filthy peasant dirt-diggers to you, anyway, eh? Why do you care?"

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Liall's hands curled tight around the axe-haft. "Because I am not a murderer."

Cadan's eyes were tar-black holes of hatred as Liall raised the axe over his head, intending to hurl it and cleave that visage in two, but he should have remembered that a rat is most dangerous when cornered.

"Hah!" Cadan shouted, at the same time, his right hand came up and flung a dagger at Liall. It was a little thing, more suited for a woman's purse than a warrior's belt, but Cadan aimed for his eyes and Liall instinctively took the time to bat the projectile away with the axe. Another little dagger flew at Liall, lodging deeply in the upper part of his right thigh, and he staggered. The axe lowered.

In the stolen moment, Cadan was gone, whirling and throwing himself over the snow-slicked embankment and into the concealing brush of the deep ravine below. Liall jerked the knife out and ran to the edge of the junipers, cursing. There were only trees and brush. The sun was not yet high enough in the sky to touch the bottom of the ravine, and there was a thick layer of mist rising from the dim gloom. Cadan had taken a last chance at life, but there was no possible way he could climb out of that gorge with a broken leg, much less make the journey to a friendly village. He was as good as dead.

Liall spat and threw the axe down, sick with unsatisfied rage. He turned back to look at the crumpled figured lying very still in the snow. His feet moved and he knelt beside Scarlet. The pedlar's eyes remained closed as Liall gathered him in his arms and held him.

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"I did not intend this," he whispered. His eyes stung and he swallowed hard. "I swear I did not."

He pressed a kiss to Scarlet's temple. The pedlar's slender neck, laced with black bruises, lolled over Liall's arm. Liall gave a moan of distress and his hand went instinctively to support. Then he saw the artery beating in Scarlet's throat.

"Oh,"
he breathed. A thread of hope touched him. His fingers pressed to be sure. Yes, the heart still drummed, but there was no breath in the lungs and Scarlet's chest did not rise.

Any man who has spent time at sea knows the mariner's trick of reviving those with water in the lungs, or whose breath has stopped while there is still life in the body. Liall placed Scarlet back on the ground, tilted his chin up, pinched his nose shut and fitted his mouth over his, praying that Scarlet's throat had not swelled and his airway closed up from Cadan's grip.

He had wanted to kiss him, but not like this. Scarlet's mouth was cold under his. Liall blew a long, steady breath into Scarlet's throat and stopped, waited a moment, and then placed his hand firmly in the center of Scarlet's chest, pressing down hard until he heard the air coming back out.

Nothing. He did it again, giving his breath, his hands shaking and sweaty.

Breathe,
he prayed.

A third time, Liall forced air into Scarlet's lungs, but this time, Scarlet hiccupped and Liall felt his lips move. Liall drew back and gave a shout of relief, laughing aloud in pure joy when Scarlet coughed and his eyes opened.

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"Liall?" Scarlet choked, his voice raw and thin. "What happened?"

"Hush. Just breathe, Scarlet. You're safe."

"Safe," Scarlet murmured. "Help me up."

Liall grasped his arm to help him stand, but Scarlet gasped and fell back.

"My shoulder," he moaned. "Oh, it hurts..."

Liall moved his coat and shirt aside and hissed at the purpling bruise that was forming. "Does it feel broken?" he asked.

Scarlet winced. "I don't know," he said in a rasping voice.

"I've never ... broken anything before."

"Let me." He slipped his hand inside the fabric and tried to feel around the raised flesh for blood or splinters of bone, but Scarlet gasped and moaned loudly the moment Liall's fingers probed the egg-sized lump. Liall readjusted Scarlet's shirt tenderly, leaving the injury alone. There was nothing he could do here.

"You need a
curae,"
he said. "I think he knocked a chip out of the bone."

Scarlet nodded and Liall saw the bluish-white ring around his pale mouth. He was close to fainting again. "Stay awake!"

he commanded, harsher than he wanted to be. "I do not know the village. You must show me where you live."

"Wainwright's Lane," Scarlet whispered. "Have you seen my dagger? I lost it..."

Liall helped him to stand, but Scarlet swayed even as he got his feet under him. "Forget the dagger, where is the lane?"

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"Third cottage ... on the right ... past the..."

And then his eyes rolled up in his head and he fainted. Liall caught Scarlet before he fell and hauled the pedlar up in his arms, carrying him through the snow like a child.

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9.

Two Coins

"Hello in the house! Open up, for Deva's sake!"

The door was thrown open and a middle-aged man stood there. He had a shock of dark hair gone steel gray at the temples and he clutched an iron fire poker in his hand. The man opened his mouth to speak, then he saw what Liall carried and his jaw dropped. Behind him were a black-haired woman and a slip of a girl with features very like Scarlet's, and Liall knew he was at the right house.

"A brigand," Liall explained hastily when the older man hefted the poker menacingly. "I found him on the road. Let me in, old man, your son is injured!"

"Scaja!" the wife flailed at his shoulder. "Open the door!"

Scaja backed down and swung the door wider, though he did not put the poker down. Linhona darted to the back of the small dwelling and moved aside a heavy woolen curtain.

There was a narrow bed behind it and Liall moved to lie Scarlet down. He settled Scarlet on the covers and turned to her. "Have you a healer in the village?"

Linhona shook her head, white-lipped with fear, her eyes all for her son.

"He may be badly hurt," Liall said.

Linhona pinched the staring girl. "Annaya, get the midwife!"

"Midwife!" he exclaimed.

"There is no other," Linhona snapped at him, her eyes filling with tears as she took in Scarlet's state. She moved 142

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aside the blanket to examine the bruises on his throat and leaned her head near to listen to his breathing. "We are lucky to have even her."

Annaya raced out the door. Liall frowned. It was true that no trained curae would spend years of his life learning medicine only to go hungry in a poor tradesman settlement, but he doubted a midwife would be of much use with broken bones. He moved the blankets around, settling the warm fabric up to Scarlet's chin. Behind him, he could feel the eyes of the man and woman on him. When he turned back to them, Linhona nodded to her husband in silent consent. Scaja looked suspicious and eyed Liall up and down. Scaja still had the poker in his hand.

"There's blood on you," Scaja stated, looking at Liall's leg.

"A knife throw," he answered, "from the man who tried to kill Scarlet."

"A brigand, you say. Not one of your people?"

Liall shook his head. "No." Scaja looked doubtful. "I swear to you, no."

"And where would this bastard be now?"

"In hell, if there's any justice."

Scaja's lips thinned and he nodded in satisfaction, and Liall saw that his words had pleased the old man. This rough Byzan would not pretend a gentility he did not possess, not when it came to his own flesh and blood. Now Liall knew where Scarlet had come by his plain speech and honest manner. These people were devoid of guile. No wonder their son was so poor a trickster.

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The father sighed and reluctantly replaced the fire poker by the hearth. He drew himself up to his full height, which was only a few inches more than Scarlet's. "My name is Scaja," he said formally. "My wife is Linhona."

"Liall," he returned simply.

Scaja sighed, dropping his pose. "Well,
Liall,
let us get you cleaned up before old Hipola comes. She's already going to be nosier than a hound, no sense giving her more to gab about."

* * * *

Linhona tended to Scarlet while Scaja led Liall to the pump near the small, winter-stripped garden outside the little cottage. It was a real iron pump, costly and a nuisance, for in the cold months its iron base would freeze the water inside and burst if it were not kept warm and primed. The pump looked old but well tended. These were people accustomed to work and making do.

Scaja pumped the handle and Liall splashed water cold as needles of ice onto his face and over his bloodied hands. The leg wound had bled freely and he scrubbed at his breeches with the thin towel Scaja handed him before rinsing his hands a last time. The wound could wait to be cleaned and bandaged. Through all this, the father said nothing, only handed him another towel when he was done. It was threadbare but clean, and Liall thanked the man courteously when he handed it back.

Scaja took the cloth and looked at him for several moments, saying nothing. Liall began to speak and then decided that, as every man is a monarch in his own house 144

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and he was in another kingdom now, Scaja should have the first say.

"So," Scaja said at last. "You're the Kasiri who tried to make a whore of my child."

Liall bowed his head. It had been a long time since he felt shame. This deliberate man had taken his game with Scarlet, the very one he had covered with excuses and laughter, and shown him for the mean, squalid thing it was.

"I crave your pardon, sir," Liall said lowly. It was all he could say.

Scaja shrugged. "It's not my pardon you need. Scarlet's a forgiving lad, even when it's not deserved. For me, I can't see the back of you quick enough."

Scaja's words cut deep, as truth often does. He had been nothing but trouble to Scarlet since they met. There was no reason to believe that would change. "Would you like me to leave?" he asked.

Scaja thought about it for a moment. "I would, but it's not my decision. Come inside, then, if you're set on this." Scaja turned and left Liall standing in the bare garden with a forlorn look on his face.

* * * *

The ancient midwife pronounced Scarlet's shoulder unbroken and Liall had to accept her verdict, there being no other. Scarlet had awakened and he watched with a bemused expression while Liall fidgeted nervously under the hard looks of his parents and the midwife.

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Hipola, the midwife, fed Scarlet an herbal sedative and bound his shoulder tightly, forbidding him to move from the bed for two days and from the village for two weeks. Liall could see the last command irked Scarlet, but the pedlar did not argue with her, for his throat had swelled and it pained him to do more than whisper. Liall attempted to pay Hipola, but she shoved the silver sellivar coins back at him and took the copper bit offered by Scaja instead. Liall was very aware of Scarlet's eyes on him when she did this, and of how it made him feel.

Hipola shoved the slip deep into her apron and threw Liall a wizened glare of dislike. She smoothed her fuzzy, iron-gray hair about her face. "There is a wolf in your house, Scaja,"

she announced loudly to the walls. "Beware his fleas."

She left and Linhona went to make a healing tea. Scaja drew a chair for Liall next to Scarlet's bed, for it was obvious he was not leaving, and sent the girl to a neighbor's for the day. With a last look at his son, who smiled wanly and nodded in reassurance, Scaja drew the woolen curtain closed and went into the outer room, leaving them alone.

Liall did not know what to say. Scarlet looked at him for a long time, seeming to study every feature.

"You saved my life," Scarlet got out, his voice so hoarse and small that Liall winced. "How am I supposed to pay the toll for that?"

"You should not try to speak."

"I'll speak if I like," he growled, then wheezed in a breath.

"Answer my question."

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Liall spread his hands. "Your life was in danger only because of me. Cadan is ... used to be ... a Kasiri. And a friend, but he became my enemy and sought vengeance on me through you. You owe me nothing for my interference with that outcome," Liall said. He cleared his throat in sympathy. It must have been agony for Scarlet to talk.

"Why does he hate you?"

"Perhaps because I finally saw him for what he was and rejected him. Men do not forgive that easily. It matters not. I only wish you to know that there will be no toll for you as long as my krait holds the pass. It is a scant offering, but something tells me you would not accept more."

"I would, but not for the reasons you think," Scarlet said in that cracked voice. He moved and shifted in the bed, sitting up as he began to search his pockets with his good hand.

"Here."

Scarlet opened his palm, showing Liall two copper bits.