He ran around the building, searching for the stables. He had the horrible Black Mary feeling of running without getting anywhere, and his pulse deafened him to whoever might be coming after him. The thing from the room seemed all around him, and all he could think to do was run until he found someplace where the sun was up and would never go down.
He found the stables more by their smell than by memory, and once inside, he began hunting for the horse he’d been riding since Ever.
He wished he had light.
That wish suddenly was granted as he heard the grating of the shutter on an Aenan lamp and its fiery eye turned to reveal him. He couldn’t see who held it, but whoever it was had a sword; Stephen could see it projecting into the cone of illumination.
“Hold there,” the voice commanded. “Hold by the word of his grace the praifec of Crotheny.”
For an instant, Stephen stood frozen. The lamp started toward him, wavered, and then dropped to the ground, casting its beam sideways.
Stephen bolted for the open door of the stable. He’d gotten only a few paces before someone grabbed his arm. Gasping, he tore at it, and it fell away.
“You’ll want my help,” a soft voice said urgently. He knew instantly who it was.
“Sister Pale?”
“Your Decmanian memory doesn’t fail you,” she replied. “I’ve just killed a man for you. I think you should listen to me.”
“I believe my friends are in danger,” Stephen said.
“Yes. But you can’t help them now. Maybe later, if they live. Not now. Come on, we have to go.”
“Where?”
“Wherever you’re going.”
“I need some things from my horse.”
“The books? The praifec has them. His men had taken them before you even met with him. Come, or he’ll have you, too.”
“How can I trust you?”
“How can you not? Come along.”
Helplessly, mind whirling, Stephen did as he was told.
9
Skin
Leoff woke to screaming and a damp rag on his brow. The screams, of course, were his own, and for a moment he didn’t care about where the rag had come from. But when it moved, he swatted at it and jerked himself up in the bed.
“Hush,” a feminine voice whispered. “You’ve nothing to fear. Just wait a moment.”
He heard the sound of a lantern. A tiny light appeared, then brightened into a flame, illuminating ash-blond curls framing a heart-shaped face. It was odd, Leoff thought, how he’d never really seen the origins of Mery in her mother, but in this light the resemblance was obvious.
“Lady Gramme,” he mumbled. “How—” He suddenly realized that his upper body was exposed and drew the covers up.
“I’m sorry to trouble you, Cavaor Ackenzal,” Lady Gramme said, “but I really need to speak to you.”
“Have you seen Mery? How did you find us?” An ugly thought occurred as the words slipped off his tongue, that Lady Gramme somehow was involved in the whole affair. It made a certain sense. She was a highly political creature, after all.
He didn’t voice it, but she must have seen it in his eyes. She smiled, dabbing his brow again.
“I’m not in league with Robert,” she assured him. “Please believe me when I say I would never lend him Mery for any purpose.”
“Then how did you come to be here?”
She smiled again, a melancholy grimace, really.
“I was mistress to the emperor for almost twenty years,” she said. “Did you know that? I was fifteen when I first shared his bed. I did not spend all that time on my back. There are few places on Eslen, Ynis, or Newland where I don’t have eyes, ears, and pending favors. It took me a while to find you and my daughter after you were moved from the dungeons, but I managed it. After that it was merely a matter of paying the right bribes.”
“How was Mery when you saw her?”
“Sleepy. Concerned about you. She doesn’t think you’ve been well. Now that I see you, I understand why.”
“I’ve been working. It’s taxing.”
“I daresay. Roll over.”
“Milady?”
“Onto your belly.”
“I really don’t see—”
“I’ve risked my life to speak to you,” Lady Gramme said. “The least you can do is obey my every whim, especially when it’s for your own good.”
Reluctantly, Leoff complied, careful to keep the sheet over him.
“Do you always sleep without a nightshirt?” she asked.
“It is my habit,” he said stiffly.
“Lack of habit, I would rather say,” she replied.
His back felt cold. He wondered if she had been sent by someone to slip a knife or poisoned needle into his spine so he couldn’t write Robert’s singspell.
He should have cared, but he didn’t; his outrage was still around someplace, but his dreams tended to misplace it. It took some waking distance from them for him to recall it.
Lady Gramme’s fingers brushed against his back, and to his horror he heard himself moan. It was the first really nice thing his skin had felt in a long time, and it was incredibly good. The tips began to tease gently into his muscles, pressing out soreness and tension.
“I was never trained for much of anything,” she said softly. “No coven education for me. But William hired me tutors, to train me in certain arts. The one who taught me this was from Hadam, a thick-fingered girl with dark, dark hair named Besela.”
“You shouldn’t—it isn’t—”
“Proper? My dear Leovigild, you’ve been imprisoned by a mad usurper. You think that proper? We’ll decide—you and I—what is proper. Do you like this?”
“I like it very much,” he admitted.
“Then relax. We have things to discuss, but I can practice this upon you while we do so. Are we agreed?”
“Yes,” he groaned as she worked up either side of his spine, then sent each hand kneading in a different direction along his shoulders and upper arms.
“It’s nothing very complicated,” she went On. “I think I can help you escape, all three of you.”
“Really?” He tried to sit up and engage her gaze, but she pushed him back down.
“Just listen,” she said.
When he didn’t protest again, she went on.
“An army has laid siege to Eslen,” she said. “An army commanded, or so it seems, by Muriele’s daughter, Anne. What chance they have of defeating Robert I do not know. He will have help shortly from both the Church and Hansa, but if Liery weighs in, this war could last for quite some time.”
Both of her hands had gone to his right arm now, her fingers digging deeply into the twisted tendons of his forearms. He gasped as he felt small spasms in his fingers, where he thought no feeling remained. His eyes dampened with mixed pain and pleasure.
“My larger point being that Robert is at the moment quite distracted. I have a few friends in this castle, and I believe I can take advantage of them to spirit you, Mery, and the landwaerden girl to someplace safe.”
“Surely that is too much to hope for,” Leoff said. “I would see Mery and Areana safe. As for me—”
“It is all the same,” she said flatly. “If I can get them out, I can liberate you, as well. But it is a noble thought. And there is only one thing I would ask of you.”
Of course, Leoff thought.
“What is that, lady?” he asked.
“Muriele likes you. You have her ear. I admit that once I thought I might place my son on the throne—he is, after all, William’s son—but now I only wish protection for my children. If Anne wins and Muriele is again queen mother, I only ask you to put it in her ear that I helped you. Nothing more.”
“I can do that without reservation,” Leoff said.
She was massaging him with only one hand now, and he was wondering about that when she pressed down on him and he felt something sticky and warm against his back that sent a thrill all the way to his toes. A ridiculous gasp escaped him. She’d been using her other hand to undo her bodice and was pressing her naked breasts against him. What kind of bodice could be opened with one hand? Did all women have them, or did courtesans have specially designed clothing?