"What in hoolies for?"
A single long step and he put a hand on my chest. "This," he answered gently.
I didn't get sick. I didn't vomit up the ocean, or the contents of my belly. I simply lost control of every working part in my body: of the eyes, the ears, the voice, the movements of my limbs, the in– and exhalation of my lungs, the beating of my heart.
And died.
ELEVEN
I JERKED bolt upright, sucking air into starving lungs in one long, loud, spasming gasp. Once I had it, I held the air so as not to let it out again, to know the horrific helplessness of simply stopping. I clutched both hands over my heart, blind to the world until I felt the steady, if pounding, beat, and then I became aware that I was no longer in the big, arch-roofed reception room, but in a smaller, round room with a dome huddled atop it.
And in a bed. With people around it.
I let my breath out and fixed the blue-headed first mate with a baleful glare. "What in hoolies did you do to me? "
Casually he replied, "Killed you."
I thought that over, reassuring myself that my heart yet beat and my lungs yet worked. "Then why am I alive now?"
"I resurrected you."
"Can you do that?"
"You are breathing, are you not?"
"How did you do it?"
His lip was swollen from where the woman had struck and split it. "I am ikepra," he said simply, "but there remain those things of the Order of which I do not speak."
I noticed then that the Stessa metri sat in a chair beside the bed, hands folded in her linen-swathed lap. Beyond her, leaning casually against the wall, was Prima Rhannet.
The first shock had worn off. And I knew … I whipped my head to the right and saw her there, waiting. "Bascha!"
She was unsmiling, but the relief in her eyes was profound. There were many things I wished to say to her, but I offered none of them now. Not until we were alone again. But she understood. We both of us understood. It's handy when you know someone well enough, intimately enough, that many things pass between you with no need for actual words.
Relief brought with it an outward rush of released tension. Feeling wobbly, I scootched back in the bed and leaned against the headboard. A quick automatic self-inventory within a moment of waking had told me I was still unclothed, but modesty was served by a linen coverlet, which I yanked up over my lap as I noted Prima Rhannet's crooked smile and laughing eyes. And why was she looking, anyway? I scowled at her; was rewarded with a wide, mocking grin.
The Stessa metri sat very still in her chair. I looked at her, weighed the extreme degree of self-containment evident in her posture and expression, and sighed. "I take it you paid them."
Her gaze was steady. "Nihkolara proved beyond a doubt you are Skandic," she said. "Whether you are my grandson is as yet unknown, but I dared not take the chance."
I blinked. "Grandson?"
"It is possible," she said calmly.
"Grandson," I repeated, astonished by the complexity of emotions that single word-and its context-roused. "But-" But. There was nothing to say. I just looked at her, stunned, and shook my head.
One dark eyebrow rose a fraction. "No?"
No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know. Ask me later.
Hoolies.
I focused on something else. "You paid them, so why are they still here?" I flicked a glance beyond her to the red-haired woman in the corner. "You didn't seem too enamored of the idea of receiving a slaver's daughter in your home."
I was rewarded by the slow bloom of color in the freckled face. Prima glowered at me, all trace of mocking amusement wiped away.
"And so I am not," the metri replied. "But there is more involved in this enterprise than coin."
I glanced at Del. "Get your feet washed?"
That baffled her utterly. "My feet-?"
Prima Rhannet laughed harshly. "We were denied the honor," she said in a clipped tone, "but be certain the floors shall be cleansed when we have gone, and the carpets reblessed."
"But…" I looked now at Nihko. "I don't get it."
"I am ikepra," he answered steadily, "and all know it. But they had rather take no chances."
"Any more than I," the metri put in quietly.
I cleared my throat. "So. Here we are." I glanced around, marking faces one by one until I came to hers again. "What happens next?"
"You shall be accorded the hospitality of my house, you and your woman."
"And your new friends," Prima said pointedly, a certain amount of malicious glee underscoring her tone.
The metri didn't miss the point. "As well as your companions."
"Now, wait," I said. "They aren't my companions. They are my captors. There's a difference."
"But of course there is not," replied the woman who might-or might not-be my grandmother. "Because if it is true you are my heir, then of course your companions must be treated with honor, received as my guests before the Eleven Families of Skandi."
"Kind of a rock and a hard place, isn't it?"
The spark flickered in her eye, was gone. "Such braises heal."
I grinned. "So they do."
"As for now …" She rose. "I will have your companions conducted to rooms worthy of their status, while you and your woman reassure yourselves that you are indeed both whole."
Even Nihko and his captain capitulated and followed her out of the room. With their departure I felt the last bit of tension drain from my body. My skull thumped against the wall. "Gods, I'm tired." I stretched out my hand; Del took it. Tightly. "Was I really dead?"
She hitched a hip onto the bed and perched beside me. When I tugged insistently at her hand, she moved closer, finally matching her length to mine as she settled shoulders against the headboard. "You weren't breathing when I came here, nor was your heart beating. If both of those symptoms constitute death, then yes, you were dead."
I felt at the flesh of my chest, seeking answers. The heart continued to beat, and I was aware of steady breathing. Not dead, then. Now. "I don't understand. How did Nhiko do such a thing?"
"Let us be more concerned with the fact he undid it," Del suggested. "It took him two days."
"Two days?" I stiffened. "You're not saying I was dead for two whole days!"
"I am."
"No."
She shrugged.
"This is impossible, bascha!"
"Be grateful it's not," she replied, "or you would likely be buried somewhere on this rock."
"Oh, no. If I'm buried anywhere, it'll be in the South."
She slanted me a sidelong glance. "You might be somewhat rank by the time we got you there."
"Too bad," I retorted. "At least I don't have to smell me!"
"Of course, I could have you burned," Del said consideringly, "and take you back in an urn. That would be more convenient."
"Oh? And what kind of urn would be appropriate for a man who is also messiah?"
Her expression was guileless as she looked at me. "Likely an empty aqivi jug."
"Empty!" I glared at her aggrievedly. "Hoolies, bascha, if you're going to drag my remains around in an aqivi jug, at least let it be a full one!"
She broke then, laughing, and turned hard against me, setting her head down into the hollow of my shoulder. I hooked an arm around her and contemplated the immensity of being alive after one has been dead. And the simple, unadorned joy of having this woman here beside me, as glad of it as I was.
"Del-"
She breathed it into my neck. "I know."
"Del-"
She put fingers across my lips. "If you say anything, you will regret it."
I extruded my tongue and licked her fingers purposefully. She removed them hastily. I grinned. "Why will I regret it?"