I looked out from under the clean wet hair Oreg had thrown over my eyes. For a minute we grinned at each other.
"Does she have a name yet?" I asked, stammering a bit.
"Leehan," he answered. "After the spirit of the woods."
"There are a lot of your men here. Is she at Hurog?" Surely they wouldn't have brought her all the way to Hurog when she was so near to delivering.
"No. We left half the guard there—she said she was fine. The king's men left as soon as Mother convinced them that Father and I were on our way to Hurog."
I rubbed my face tiredly. It was so hard to gather my thoughts, harder still to order my tongue.
"I think it's dangerous," I said. "You need to get her to Hurog."
"Ward," Duraugh said, "she's just given birth. She's not up to the ride to Hurog. What makes you think she's in danger?"
"Jakoven," I said. "Get all of our blood out of Iftahar—it's not a fortress. Hurog is better defended even now."
"I would think Jakoven more likely to lick his wounds and try again," said my uncle.
"No," I said, rubbing my forehead. "It's important to him now. He'll act immediately. We need to get Ciarra and the baby to Hurog."
"I'll go," said Beckram, hearing the urgency in my voice. He stood up as his father started to argue. "If Ward says they're in danger, I'll move them to safety."
Duraugh shook his head at both of us, but said only, "Sleep the night, then, and leave at first light. It won't help her if you break your neck galloping off in the darkness."
Oreg helped me stand and poured warm water over my head as Duraugh and Beckram worked out the details. Shivering even in the warm room, I huddled in the toweling Oreg brought me and wished I felt clean. Tosten handed me fresh clothes and I struggled into them.
They managed me into another room, complete with fire and bed, and Oreg bullied everyone else out. He stayed, a silent sentinel. But even his presence couldn't make me feel safe.
I didn't sleep. Didn't want to sleep. There were too many things running about in my head. I just lay still with my eyes closed.
Jakoven wanted power and he thought my blood might be the key to using Farsonsbane. My blood, or the blood of someone in my family—descended from dragons as we were. Oreg had said as much to me.
Jakoven wasn't going to let us retreat in peace for long. Gods forbid he find out what Oreg was.
Alone, Hurog could not stand against the king, but if I threw Hurog behind Alizon, some of the Shavigmen would follow me. And if the rebellion took fire before Jakoven managed to get me or another Hurog-blood in his hands again to activate the Bane, we might be able to hold the king off for a few months.
But my objections to the rebellion were still valid. Essentially, there were too many nobles who would stand behind the king. In the end we would lose.
While I tried to chart a course with a possibility of survival, I was dimly aware of the door opening quietly and a murmured argument. The door shut and I was left once more in silence with my fears, but not left alone.
Every plan I came up with led to disaster sooner or later. I was in the middle of trying to see how we could lure the Seaforders to Alizon's cause (something I wouldn't have dreamed of without the Warder of the Sea's little speech), when I experienced another of the debilitating bouts of miserable shaking. This time I itched as well.
A cool damp cloth wiped my face and then the rest of my body as armies of imaginary bugs trooped over my skin, driven away by the clean water and Tisala's soft crooning.
She waited until the fit left me before she spoke. "Ward? Are you all right?"
"What are you doing here?" I asked. She was supposed to be safe at Hurog. Jakoven had taken her once already.
She lit a small candle from the banked fire and set it in a holder on a table near my bed. The flickering candle lit her dark hair with red tones. The darkness of the window coverings told me I'd lain with my eyes closed longer than I'd thought—or I'd fallen asleep.
"As if I would sit in safety when I could help," she said crisply. "I came to help get you out of the Asylum—though you got yourself out in the end."
The Asylum. The drugs had left me with a pitiful handful of clear memories amidst the nightmare images. I closed my eyes in embarrassment. "You came while I was there. I thought I had made it up." I thought of what a fool I must have looked like, hiding under the straw, and laughed.
"What?" she asked.
"I was just wishing I had some straw to cover my head," I said with more bitterness than humor.
Her hand, as callused as mine, touched my temple and trailed down my sweat-streaked cheek. "Oreg says that you should feel better in a few days."
"He told me," I said.
"After I found where they had you, Oreg tried to get you out." She took her hand away suddenly, as if she had just noticed she was touching me.
Though the king's men had scrubbed and soaped, and I'd done it again here, maybe the smell of the Asylum still clung to me. "I know he did." I remembered the call of Hurog magic as I tried to drown myself—had it been this morning or last night? "The Tamerlain couldn't get me out, either. The part of the Asylum I was in was designed to hold mages."
"The Tamerlain?" she said.
She would know what the Tamerlain was, of course, but I doubted she really believed in it. I shouldn't have said anything about the creature—not coming out of an asylum for crazy people. I glanced around the room, but the Tamerlain, having done what she could, was gone.
"You really saw the Tamerlain?" she asked, but more in wonder than if she truly doubted me.
"She made it possible to carry out that little farce in Jakoven's court," I said.
"Who are you that Aethervon takes an interest in your deeds?" she asked.
I wasn't ready for undeserved admiration. I felt fouled and small, so I snorted and told the truth. "A pawn. Don't get your hopes up, Aethervon has done all he intends to."
Tisala crouched beside my bed and looked hard into my eyes. "Tell me again what you feel about Alizon's rebellion."
I sat up and rubbed my face wearily. "If this is a serious conversation, would you mind lighting a few more candles so I can see you when I'm talking?" The shadows in the room reminded me of the cell in the Asylum.
When she was through I made her drag a chair over near the bed. Between the candle lighting and the rearranging of furniture, I bought myself enough time to decide I didn't have to be entirely honest with her, but I was going to do it anyway.
"The time is still wrong for a rebellion," I said. "The harvest was good this year, not only in Shavig, but Tallven and Oranstone as well. My father used to say that full bellies make for happy subjects, and he was right. Jakoven's tithe is fair. He hasn't overtly oppressed anyone who would incite the nobles. It's unlikely Alizon can draw any of the Avinhellish lords away from Jakoven, and the Tallvenish and Avinhellish lords can raise larger, better-trained armies than Shavig, Seaford, and Oranstone combined, even if Alizon could gather them all together—which he can't. In return for battling a superior fighting force, Alizon offers to replace one Tallvenish king with another, himself. And Alizon is base-born. I suspect that your father is not the only Oranstonian who's refused to follow Alizon."
Her face was carefully blank while I talked. Toward the end of my speech she turned her face away.
I shrugged. "I'll tell you what has changed, though. Jakoven has made it impossible for me to do anything except join the rebellion."
Her eyes snapped back to me and ran over my bare chest and shoulders looking for wounds that weren't there. For all the pain I'd endured, the only blood I'd lost in the Asylum had gone to the lice—and the Bane.