“But you’ll still be dead,” said Vai.
The door of the front carriage banged open and a man climbed out and strode over to us, expression as thunderous as a looming storm cloud.
“What in the pox-ridden hells is this?” demanded the general in a ringing voice that carried like the boom of artillery.
He marked Drake; he marked me; last of all, he marked Vai and the glittering cold steel that could cut the life out of a man merely by drawing blood. So naturally he planted himself in the path of Vai’s blade, between the two mages.
“I’m waiting. What is meant by this disturbance?”
“Besides the insult to my mother, he called my wife a bitch and a whore.”
“Yet who could say they were false words?” said Drake with a smirk.
Even I didn’t see it coming.
Camjiata backhanded Drake across the face so hard the fire mage staggered back, tripped on his own feet, and dropped on his ass. The wardens and riflemen hissed as in sympathy, and the crowd actually cheered.
“My mother taught me more respect for women than that,” remarked the general.
He raised a hand; the crossbowmen on the walls, the wardens, and the riflemen all lowered their weapons. He surveyed Vai’s fixed stare and steady hand. I could practically see the mansa standing as if with shadowy voice urging Vai forward. Not one person could stop Vai from killing the Iberian Monster and ridding Europa of him and the threat he posed forever. Not even me.
“I take it,” said the general in the tone he would use to a man he had chanced into conversation with at Nance’s over a friendly drink, “that you were coming along either to meet with me or to kill me. I should guess the former, but I am willing to entertain the idea it was the latter.” He looked at me, brows knit down. “Jupiter Magnus, Cat. Your shoulder is bleeding.”
The point of Vai’s sword dropped as he took a step toward me, gaze flashing to my face, then to my shoulder.
The general addressed the restless but notably surprised crowd. “My friends, your generosity is noted. Your courage in standing up for a comrade is evident. But I fear this has been an unexpectedly dramatic altercation between rivals. You know the sort of arseness I mean.”
There is a damper that an older man’s pointed jocularity can put on a younger man’s self-important flash, as unseen as magic but just as effective. That shrank what had just happened down to manageable size, and made Drake look like a man who had lost at love and Vai a hothead who ought to know better than to rub his rival’s face in the fact.
“Magister, I suggest we talk after her wounds are tended.”
“Where is Bee?” I was startled to hear how hoarse my voice sounded and how much it hurt to swallow. A wave of dizziness rent me top to toe. I was going to have to swallow again and I dreaded it, the raw scrape of pain about to rip through me…
“Catherine.” Vai sheathed his sword and swept me into his arms. He looked past me at the general. “She needs to lie down.”
The general beckoned. I hadn’t noticed Captain Tira and Juba, who stood at the horses’ heads. Juba sheathed two knives up his sleeves and walked over to us.
“I have a meeting. Beatrice remains at the house, preparing for her departure. Juba will escort you there. He knows something of medicine. You may rely on him. I shall return at midday.” He shot yet one more frowning look of evident concern at me, and headed for the carriage. “James.”
The look that sparked between Drake and Vai might have been combustion or it might have been hatred or it might have been the vestiges of unspent magic bursting and melting in the air.
“James! With me. ”
Drake followed, staring at the general’s back with a look I dared not interpret, for men might look so when they are thinking of kissing or of killing or of a sudden change of heart betwixt the two.
“Vai,” I said, “Put me down. I need my sword.”
“I am not putting you down until I see you to a safe place,” said Vai in a tone that reminded me that as far as he knew, Drake had gotten to his feet first and unaided.
Why by the starry brow of Noble Ba’al had I so stupidly said, Let him think he’s won?
Fortunately, Juba arrived and spoke to Vai. “You are the fire bane. I am called Juba.”
The two men measured each other and determined on a truce. Juba looked over the crowd, then gestured. A Taino man appeared with a wagon hitched to a donkey. He rearranged baskets of ginger and chilies, and Vai set me in the wagon bed. He had them wait while he fetched my sword, again appearing as a cane; strangely, he was able to pick it up as if it were his own cold steel.
Juba and Vai walking behind, we jolted through the gate with its iron tripods twisted into freakish shapes by the power of Vai’s cold magic, and their lamps completely drained. Swept, quiet streets took us to the general’s town house. Juba paid the Taino man and sent him on his way.
I said to Juba, “You became an exile, for refusing to become what almost killed me.”
His gaze met mine, and I decided I liked him.
“Cat must lie down,” said Vai.
“I return with medicine,” said Juba.
He left Vai and me to go up alone. I had to lean on Vai on the stairs. When we reached the bedchamber I realized Vai was shaking. I shut the door as he collapsed over the bed.
“Vai? Blessed Tanit! Drake used you as a catch-fire for longer than he did me. I didn’t stop him fast enough.”
“I’m not burned,” he whispered. “It was so strange…the fire pouring through me like I was the conduit into another place…I can’t keep my eyes open.”
I pulled off his boots and unbuttoned his dirtied jacket and pried him out of it as he made a faint protest and promptly passed out. I pressed my cheek against his. His breathing remained even and steady, so I stepped back and let him sleep. I scarcely noticed that I handled both my cane and his cold steel until I propped them against the wardrobe and realized his sword had not stung me.
The door opened and Bee appeared. “Blessed Tanit! There’s blood on your sleeve!” She ran to me, but stopped before embracing me. “Your skin looks flushed.”
“Drake used me as a catch-fire.” The words were strangely easy to say, as if I were speaking of someone else. “Vai, too, but it didn’t burn him.”
She swayed, and it was I who maneuvered her to the bed, where she sat with a look of stunned horror. “What happened to Andevai, then?” she whispered.
“He drained himself to stop Drake. He just fell hard asleep.”
She grasped my hands convulsively. When I whimpered, she released me. “How bad is it?”
“I feel like I came up one spit short of being cooked. But it’s not too bad, more the shock.”
“I should never have sent that note. I mentioned it in front of Drake. I will kill him myself?!”
“Leave Drake alone, Bee. I’ll take care of him. Believe me, I can.”
She had left the door open. Juba appeared at the threshold. He carried a tray with a pitcher and basin, a vial, a ceramic jar stoppered with a bit of cork, strips of linen, and a small glass bottle. With a surgeon’s knife he cut away the blood-soaked cloth, careful of my modesty, and washed the wound, which was more of a gouge along the skin. I had been fortunate. Just below my elbow, he paused as a swipe of the cloth cleaned a smear of blood off to reveal the bite scar. He looked up, meeting my gaze although I could not guess what he was thinking. He glanced at Bee and, without a word, finished his nursing. After painting the gash with a white salve, he bound it with linen.
“For the skin,” he said, indicating the ceramic jar. He picked up the bottle. “A cup eases the inflammation. Maybe it makes her drowsy or gives her vivid dreams.”
He and Bee stood together like lovers who mean to argue. Bee glanced at me and back at him from under hooded eyes, and he nodded and left.
“Did you?” I asked.
“I did not.” She turned the key in the lock.
I stripped. The jar contained a sticky clear ointment that cooled my skin gloriously. Bee rubbed it on my back and then combed a light layer of olive oil through my hair, glancing at Vai all the while. “For if he were to wake up and catch you naked, it would embarrass me beyond belief.”