Gwen hugged her. Not like before, not like when Stane left. This time she squeezed as if Rose was all that kept her from being sucked away in the storm. She continued to cry, repeating, “I’m so sorry.”
CHAPTER 19
Dawn rose gray over Lake Morgan. Only the lap of water and the honk of geese broke the stillness that, with the rising sun, had replaced the roar of rain. Drifting in the river, the showers made it hard for Royce to see. The splashing surface threw water, making him blink. Most of the time he left his eyes closed. At least he didn’t need to worry about being soaked. They couldn’t get any wetter. He and Hadrian had drifted the remainder of the night, clinging to the box like rats as behind them the peal of bells faded. Both had fallen asleep or passed out-it was hard to tell which. The river had ushered them along at a fine pace, but with the morning light they and their box bobbed in still water amidst a silent world of mist.
“You alive?” Hadrian asked.
“If I were dead, I don’t think there’d be geese.” Royce tilted his head up to catch the arrow of birds heading south. “But maybe they’re evil geese.”
“Evil geese?”
“We have no idea what goes on in the water fowl world. They might have been a gang that stole eggs or something.”
“I’m guessing you have a fever.” Hadrian looked around, and when he spoke he sounded both surprised and happy. “This is Lake Morgan. That tavern we were in is along this bank somewhere.”
“It’s right there.” Royce pointed to the cluster of buildings to their left. The slight movement jolted him with pain.
“All I see is a hazy clump,” Hadrian said, squinting.
“Remind me when we get back and I’ll see if Arcadius will lend you his spectacles. And we can’t go to the tavern, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Dougan will help us.”
“Did you hear the bells last night? The roads will be filled with soldiers, and they’ll be swarming that tavern.”
“We could go to Lord Marbury’s home. He invited me last time. He’d help us. He hates the church.”
“Where’s Marbury’s home?”
“I don’t know … but Dougan would.”
“We can’t go to the tavern.”
“Only for a minute. We just need to ask. Besides, no one will be there at this hour.”
“You’re being stupid again.”
“Like I was when I came back for you? Like when I hauled you down the rope, and when I insisted we jump in the river?”
“Yeah, like that.”
“We need to get dry. I need to wrap your wounds better.”
“Is that your belt squeezing the life out of me?”
“You wouldn’t have lived the night without it.”
“I can barely breathe.”
“Better than bleeding to death.”
Hadrian’s shoulders were covered only by his wool shirt.
“Your cloak?”
“Part of it,” Hadrian replied. “Hey, if we’re going to survive, we need food, dry clothes, and proper bandaging. So we’re going to the tavern, unless you know someplace else we can get those things?”
“Normally I’d steal them, but normally I can walk.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I like being able to walk.”
“Okay, just hang on.” Hadrian began to swim, jerking the box, dragging Royce. Each pull sent bolts of pain through Royce’s stomach. He was thankful for the buoyancy. He let himself hang limp and felt his legs drag and sway as Hadrian splashed and panted.
The village looked dead. The only sounds came from a barnyard where sheep bleated and a goat’s bell clanked with a lonely sound. Hadrian crawled out of the lake along a rocky beach across the street from the tavern. It was daylight, they were in the open, across the way from the village common, and they were conspicuous. Anyone looking from a window, alley, or distant hill would notice them.
“I don’t think I can carry you,” Hadrian said. “So I hope you can walk with some help.” He unhooked the harness that had tied them together and slowly lifted Royce to his feet. The water had been cold, but as soon as he was out of it, the air hit him with a gut-wrenching blast that cut like ice. He shivered, sending dizzying stabs of pain through his body. His head grew hazy again. The darkness crept in, but he managed to hang on to both Hadrian and consciousness. He had little strength in his legs. They refused to work properly so that his toes often dragged. Almost all his weight was on Hadrian, who favored his own left leg as together they scraped across the gravel road toward the door of the pub.
Hadrian pushed on it. “Damn it. Locked.”
“Push me up against the door, and I’ll fix that.”
“No, we’re not breaking in. We’re looking for help.” Hadrian pounded on the wood, his fist making a soft muffled sound. They waited with Hadrian propping Royce against the doorframe. He pounded again. Behind them came the lonesome call of a loon. Hadrian turned to look out at the lake. “I hear they have good fishing.”
Royce lifted his head to look at him. “You’re a very odd man.”
“You were the one talking about evil geese.”
The door opened to reveal a sleepy-looking Dougan, who peered out with squinting eyes.
“Dougan,” Hadrian said, “we need help.”
The bartender took a quick look over their shoulders, then waved them in and closed the door.
“We just need some bandages, a needle and thread, some food, and maybe some dry clothes,” Hadrian said. “I’ll pay for everything.”
Hadrian pulled Royce over to the biggest table in the main room, a nice long maple with four sturdy legs, and laid him on it. While much warmer in the tavern than on the beach, Royce couldn’t stop shivering, and his head was clouding up.
Dougan, who was dressed only in a long wool shirt, wiped his eyes and yawned. “What did you two do this time?”
“Robbed the treasure from the Crown Tower,” Royce said, and caught a stunned look from Hadrian. “But it’s okay-we put everything back.”
Dougan smiled. “Ha! I don’t remember you being so funny.”
“Oh yeah,” Hadrian said, “he’s a hoot once you get to know him.”
Royce felt his cloak being pulled free of his arms. Then he was alone. He could hear Hadrian speaking to Dougan in another room. They were looking for cloth and a sewing needle. Water was dripping nearby as if the roof had a leak; then Royce realized he was the source. He lay like a sponge soaking the table with water … or was that blood?
The room was beginning to spin as Hadrian returned. “Okay, ah … we’re going to take a look now. This might hurt.”
Royce felt Hadrian jerk on the belt wrapped hard around his waist. It was like being stabbed again and for a moment Royce forgot where he was. He thought he might still be in the lake. It felt like he was drowning; then everything grew dark.
Pain.
He’d been out again. He didn’t know how long. He didn’t care. Royce knew he was awake because of the harsh ache that whirled around his body. He was certain that if he moved, the ache would change to something far worse. Lying still, his eyes closed, he heard nothing, smelled nothing. He could be anywhere, at any time. Back in Manzant, the loft in Colnora, the room in Glen Hall, somewhere on the road, in prison, in a coffin-so long as he didn’t open his eyes, no single possibility was any more likely than any other. He lingered in a state of possibilities until he heard the creak of a nearby chair.
“How you feeling?” Hadrian asked.
Royce wondered how he knew, or had he been asking that same question for hours? His breathing pattern had likely changed. Royce didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Like someone tried to kill me by slicing my stomach open, and then someone else tried to finish the job by drowning me in a river. How am I actually?”
“Not as bad as I expected. Not nearly as deep. Just cut through muscle and hit your lower rib, but I don’t think it broke.”
“Is that all?” he asked sarcastically.
“I’m sure it hurts.”