“You’re looking in the wrong place,” said Tobry. “Down below.”
Rix had not noticed the little party because they were already at the gates. Two brightly clad envoys, one in the chancellor’s colours, the other in Cythonian garb. Each envoy was led by a standard bearer who bore an identical truce flag, a blue diamond on a white background, and each had an escort of four armed men.
“A joint embassy,” said Tobry. “Now I’ve seen everything.”
“Let them through,” Rix called to the gate guards. “Have them escorted to the old hall and call for refreshments.”
“Why the old hall?” said Tobry, as they headed down. “Why not the main hall?”
“We fought the mutineers there a few hours ago and there could still be a body lying around — or a head. That’s hardly going to impress our visitors.”
He reached the door and shouted for a housemaid. A girl came running.
“Lord?” she said. Her fingers were blue with cold.
“We’ve got important visitors. Is the hall presentable?”
“We’ve taken out the bodies but half the tables are overturned. And the blood’s still there.”
“Get it cleaned up. You’ve got half an hour; if it’s not finished by then, throw some rugs over the bloodstains.”
“Yes, Lord.” She ran.
Tali twisted her fingers until the joints ached. How was she to confess to Tobry?
She had to tell him. He would never forgive her if he heard it from anyone else. But what would he say? What would he do? He would be furious, and rightly so. How could she look him in the eyes again? She wanted to run away and hide.
No, Tobry was a good man. He loved her and she loved him; he had to be told. Tali was rehearsing what to say when she remembered the look on his face as he had shifted. There had been nothing good left; nothing kind, loving, or even human. Just the predator, hunting meat. She shivered.
It still had to be done. She slipped up to him when he came in from outside. There was snow in his hair and his eyes were dark as bruises; he looked as though he had not slept for days.
“Tobry?” said Tali, “can we talk?”
“Later,” he said wearily. “Ah, I ache all over.” He put a hand inside his shirt, rubbed his chest and winced. “Feels like I’ve been whipped.”
Tali stared at him, stricken. She opened her mouth but no words came out.
“I’m sorry,” he said, shamefaced. “You’ve been up all night, fighting mutineers, while I slept through the whole bloody business, and all I can think about is myself.” He held out his arms. “Come here.”
She wanted to fly into his arms; how she wanted it. But Tali shook her head. She could not bring herself to cross the two yards that separated them. How could she trust Tobry when the monster inside him might burst out at any time?
“What’s the matter?” he said. “Please don’t be angry with me.”
“I’m not angry,” she said hoarsely. Her throat hurt.
He frowned and took a step towards her. Tali let out an involuntary cry and scrambled backwards out of his reach. Her heart was battering against her ribs, a bird trying to escape a cage. Her fingers tingled; her mouth was dry as lime. She fought an urge to bolt.
“Have I done something to offend you?” said Tobry. “If I have — ”
He focused on his outstretched fingers, which had flakes of dried blood clinging to them. “How the hell did that get there? Did someone attack me in the mutiny?” He stared at her frozen face. “Is there something I’m not being told?”
Tali wanted to vomit. Why hadn’t she owned up? She took another step backwards, trembling uncontrollably.
His eyes narrowed. “You’re afraid? Of me? Why would you — ”
All colour drained from his face. He wrenched his shirt open and looked down. His front was covered in dried, flaking blood and there was a raised seam across his chest where the long gash had not properly healed before the potion drove him back from shifter to man.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m really, really sorry. It was a stupid thing to do…”
“You did this to me?” said Tobry, in a low, deadly voice. “You tried to heal me with your blood? After I expressly told you not to?”
She could not meet his eyes. Sick with shame, she said, “I had to help you. I thought… if only I…”
“You never listen, do you?” Tobry said coldly.
“It might have worked,” she said lamely.
“It could never have worked. You’ve been told that by many people — people who know.”
“I love you. I had to do something.”
“But that’s not all,” said Tobry, thinking aloud. “It doesn’t explain why you’re backing away from me; or the terror in your eyes. Why don’t you trust me, Tali?”
“I–I do,” she lied. “But if… if Holm hadn’t come along… you — I mean, the caitsthe, it — it attacked me.”
His blanched face flushed an ugly purple. “Are you an imbecile?” he bellowed.
“I’m sorry — ”
“I could have killed you,” said Tobry. “Or worse. You could have been turned to a shifter, doomed like me. Did you — ?”
“Holm scrubbed me down,” she said hastily. “Head to toe.”
“And then came the mutiny,” Tobry said relentlessly. “Rix begged us to be careful, but you ignored him as well, because you always know best. You came creeping down to my room and the mutineers saw you. You precipitated the mutiny. How could you be such a fool?”
“I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” She reached out to him, so desperate now that it overcame her fear of the shifter.
“No,” he said softly.
“But — what did you say?”
“I don’t forgive you.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Go away. It’s ended.”
“I don’t understand,” said Tali.
“I can’t love you. There’s nothing between us any more, and there never will be. Get out of my sight.”
A howl of anguish burst out of her. Tali choked it off and stumbled away, her teeth chattering; she was freezing and sweating at the same time. One minute of folly had shattered her hopes, her dreams, her life.
She knew he would never relent.
“Lord Ricinus,” said the Cythonian envoy, a small, white-haired woman of uncertain age, “there is to be a peace conference between King Lyf and the Chancellor of Hightspall at Glimmering-by-the-Water in seven days. You are called to attend.” She sat down.
The chancellor’s envoy, a pock-marked veteran with a square head and a turned left eye, said, “Lord Ricinus, there is to be a peace conference between the Chancellor of Hightspall and King Lyf at Glimmering-by-the-Water in seven days. You are called to attend.” He sat.
Clearly, the precise form of words had been agreed between Lyf and the chancellor in advance. It was the way of such events, Rix knew. There was so little trust that neither side would concede the advantage of a single word to the other.
“Why me?” said Rix.
Neither envoy spoke for some time, though the king’s envoy wore a ferocious scowl. Clearly, the question had not been expected and was not included in the protocols.
The chancellor’s envoy said quietly, “You defeated and drove off an enemy attack — our first victory of the war and a great boost to morale. You’ve shown the enemy can be beaten. Naturally, the chancellor requires your presence by his side.”
“So he can take credit where none is due.”
“You are required to attend, along with the key members of your household, including the Lady Thalalie vi Torgrist.”
Rix didn’t like the sound of that. “I’m going nowhere while there’s an enemy battalion outside my gates.”
“The battalion has been ordered to withdraw.”
“How far?” said Rix. “And for how long?”
“Until all participants have returned to their original positions. It’s detailed on your safe conduct.”
“What — ?”
The Cythonian envoy rose abruptly. “Here is your safe conduct from King Lyf.” She put an engraved platina disc on the table.