Felisin drained half the cup, her eyes veiled as she studied Heboric. 'I entered my sixteenth year last month,' she said.
His eyes looked suddenly very old as he met her gaze for a moment before returning his attention to the hearth.
Felisin refilled the cup, then joined Heboric at the square, raised fireplace. The burning dung in the groundstone basin was almost smokeless. The pedestal the basin sat on was glazed and filled with water. Kept hot by the fire, the water was used for washing and bathing, while the pedestal radiated enough heat to keep the night's chill from the single room. Fragments of Dosii spun rug and reed mats cushioned the floorboards. The entire dwelling was raised on stilts five feet above the sands.
Sitting down on a low wooden stool, Felisin pushed her chilled feet close to the pedestal. 'I saw you at the carts today,' she said, her words slightly slurred. 'Gunnip walked beside you with a switch.'
Heboric grunted. 'That amused them all day, Gunnip telling his guards he was swatting flies.'
'Did he break skin?'
'Aye, but Fener's tracks heal me well, you know that.'
'The wounds, yes, but not the pain — I can see, Heboric'
His glance was wry. 'Surprised you can see anything, lass. Is that durhang I smell, too? Careful with that, the smoke will pull you into a deeper and darker shaft than Deep Mine could ever reach.'
Felisin held out a pebble-sized black button. 'I deal with my pain, you deal with yours.'
He shook his head. 'I appreciate the offer, but not this time. You hold there in your hand a month's pay for a Dosii guard. I'd advise you to use it in trade.'
She shrugged, returning the durhang to the pouch at her belt. 'I've nothing I need that Beneth won't give me already. All I need do is ask.'
'And you imagine he gives it to you freely.'
She drank. 'As good as. You're being moved, Heboric. To Deepsoil. Starting tomorrow. No more Gunnip and his switch.'
He closed his eyes. 'Why does thanking you leave such a bitter taste in my mouth?'
'My wine-soaked brain whispers hypocrisy.'
She watched the colour leave his face. Oh, Felisin, too much durhang, too much wine! Do I only do good for Heboric to give me salt for his wounds? I've no wish to be so cruel. She withdrew from beneath her tunic the food she had saved for him, leaned forward and placed the small wrapped bundle in his lap. 'Sinker Lake has dropped another hand's width.'
He said nothing, eyes on the stumps at the ends of his wrists.
Felisin frowned. There was something else she wanted to tell him, but her memory failed her. She finished the wine and straightened, running both hands back through her hair. Her scalp felt numb. She paused, seeing Heboric surreptitiously glance at her breasts, round and full under the stretched tunic. She held the pose a moment longer than was necessary, then slowly lowered her arms. 'Bula has fantasies of you,' she said slowly. 'It's the.. possibilities … that intrigue her. It would do you some good, Heboric'
He spun away off the stool, the untouched food bundle falling to the floor. 'Hood's breath, girl!'
She laughed, watching him sweep aside the hanging that separated his cot from the rest of the room, then clumsily yank it back behind him. After a moment her laughter fell away, and she listened to the old man climb onto his cot. I'd hoped to make you smile, Heboric, she wanted to explain. And I didn't want my laughter to sound so. . hard. I'm not what you think I am.
Am I?
She retrieved the wrapped food and placed it on the shelf above the basin.
An hour later, with Felisin lying awake on her cot and Heboric on his, Baudin returned. He stoked up the hearth, moving about quietly. Not drunk. She wondered where he'd been. She wondered where he went every night. It would not be worth asking him. Baudin had few words for anyone, and even fewer for her.
After a moment she was forced to reconsider, as she heard the man flick a finger against Heboric's divider. He responded promptly with low words she could not make out, and Baudin whispered something back. The conversation continued a minute longer, then Baudin softly grunted his laugh-grunt and moved off to his own bed.
The two were planning something, but it was not this that shook her. It was that she was being excluded. A flash of anger followed this realization. I've kept them alive! I've made their lives easier — since the transport ship! Bula's right, every man's a bastard, good enough only to be used. Very well, see for yourselves what Skullcup is for everyone else, I'm done with favours. I'll see you back on the carts, old man, I swear it. She found herself fighting tears, and knew she would do nothing of the sort. She needed Beneth, that was true enough, and she'd pay to keep him. But she needed Heboric and Baudin as well, and a part of her clung to them as a child to parents, denying the hardness that everywhere else filled her world. To lose that — to lose them — would be to lose … everything.
Clearly, they thought that she'd sell their trust as readily as she did her own body, but it wasn't true. I swear it's not true.
Felisin stared up into the darkness, tears streaming from her eyes. I'm alone. There's just Beneth now. Beneth and his wine and his durhang and his body. She still ached between her legs from when Beneth had finally joined her and Bula on the innkeeper's huge bed.
It was, she told herself, simply a matter of will to turn pain into pleasure.
Survive each hour.
The quayside market had begun drawing the morning crowds, reinforcing the illusion that this day was no different from any other. Chilled with a fear that even the rising sun could not master, Duiker sat cross-legged on the sea wall, his gaze travelling out over the bay into Sahul Sea, willing the return of Admiral Nok and the fleet.
But those were orders even Coltaine could not countermand. The Wickan had no authority over the Malazan warships, and Pormqual's recall had seen the Sahul Fleet depart Hissar's harbour this very morning for the month-long journey to Aren.
For all the pretence of normality, the departure had not gone unnoticed by Hissar's citizens, and the morning market was increasingly shrill with laughter and excited voices. The oppressed had won their first victory, and all that would distinguish it from those to follow was its bloodlessness. Or so ran the sentiment.
The only consolation Duiker could consider was that the Jhistal High Priest Mallick Rel had departed with the fleet. It was not a difficult thing, however, to imagine the report the man would prepare for Pormqual.
A Malazan sail in the strait caught his eye, a small transport coming in from the northeast. Dosin Pali on the island, perhaps, or from farther up the coast. It would be an unscheduled arrival, making Duiker curious.
He felt a presence at his side and glanced over to see Kulp clambering up onto the wide, low wall, dangling his legs down to the cloudy water ten paces below. 'It's done,' he said, as if the admission amounted to a confession of foul murder. 'Word has been sent in. Assuming your friend is still alive, he'll receive his instructions.'
'Thank you, Kulp.'
The mage shifted uneasily. He rubbed at his face, squinting at the transport ship as it entered the harbour. A patrol dory approached the craft as the crew struck the lone sail. Two men in glinting armour stood on deck, watching as the dory came alongside.
One of the armoured men leaned over the gunwale and addressed the harbour official. A moment later the dory's oarsmen were swinging the craft around with obvious haste.
Duiker grunted. 'Did you see that?'
'Aye,' Kulp growled.
The transport glided towards the Imperial Pier, pushed along by a low bank of oars that had appeared close to the hull's waterline. A moment later the pier-side oars withdrew back into the ship. Dockmen scrambled to receive the cast lines. A broad gangplank was being readied and horses were now visible on the deck.