Amber and Blood - Margaret Weis [80]
“I am sorry,” Rhys said. “Truly sorry. Sheriff, I hate to trouble you now, but I must ask. Did you”—Rhys felt his throat go dry as he asked the question—“did you see Nightshade anywhere—”
“Your kender friend?” Gerard shook his head. “No, I didn’t see him, but that doesn’t mean much. It was sheer bloody chaos out there, what with the smoke and fire and those horrible undead fiends slaughtering every person they came across.”
Rhys sighed deeply.
“Nightshade’s got more sense than usual for a kender,” Gerard said. “Is Atta with him? That dog’s smarter than most people I know. He’s probably back at the Inn. It’s chicken and biscuit night you know—”
He tried to grin, but he drew in a sharp breath and rocked back and forth, swearing under his breath. “That hurts!”
The best place for Gerard would in be one of the Temples, but Rhys knew how that suggestion would be received.
“At least let me help you back to the Inn, my friend,” Rhys suggested, knowing Gerard would be in safe hands with Laura to care for him. Gerard agreed to this, and he reluctantly allowed Rhys to help him to his feet.
“I have a recipe for a poultice that will ease the pain and allow the wound to heal cleanly,” Rhys told him, putting his arm around him.
“You won’t whip a prayer into it, will you, Brother?” Gerard asked gruffly, leaning on his friend.
“I might say a word or two to Majere on your behalf,” Rhys replied, smiling. “But I’ll make sure you don’t hear me.”
Gerard grunted. “Once we reach the Inn, I’ll put out the word about the kender.”
They had gone only a short distance when it became clear that Gerard could not continue without more help than Rhys could give him. Gerard was by this time too weak from loss of blood weak to put up a fight, and Rhys summoned assistance. Three stout young men came immediately to his aid. Hoisting Gerard onto a cart, they drove him to the Inn and carried him up the stairs to a room. Laura bustled about, fussing over him, helping Rhys make the poultice, cleaning and bandaging his wound.
Laura was deeply concerned to hear that Nightshade had gone missing. In answer to Rhys’s question, she replied that the kender had not returned to the Inn. She hadn’t seen him all morning. She was so concerned over the kender that Rhys didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d lost Mina, as well. He said in response to Laura’s worried questions, that Mina was with a friend. This wasn’t quite a lie. He hoped she was with Nightshade.
Gerard complained bitterly about the smell of the poultice, which he swore would kill him if the wound didn’t. Rhys took Gerard’s complaints for a sign the sheriff was feeling better.
“I will let you get some rest,” Rhys said, preparing to take his leave.
“Don’t go, Brother,” Gerard said fretfully. “Between the stink of that glop you put on me, and the pain, I won’t be able to sleep. Sit down and talk to me. Keep me company. Take my mind off things. And stop pacing about the room. We’ll hear word of your kender soon enough. What’s in that goo you put on me anyway?” he asked suspiciously.
“Plantain, bayberry, bark, ginger, cayenne pepper and cloves,” Rhys replied.
He hadn’t realized he’d been pacing, and he forced himself to stop. He felt as though he should be out there, actively searching, though he was the first to admit he had no idea where to begin to look. Gerard had told his guardsmen to be on the lookout for the kender and the dog and to spread the word among the populace. The first news they had of the missing, they would communicate that news to Gerard.
“Once I find the kender, I don’t want to have to go chasing you down,” Gerard told Rhys, who conceded that this was logical.
Rhys drew a chair near Gerard’s bedside and sat down.
“Tell me what happened on Temple Row,” Rhys said.
“The priests and followers of Chemosh started it,” Gerard replied. “They set fire to the Temple of Sargonnas and then tried to burn down Mishakal’s temple by throwing flaming brands inside, while others started killing. They summoned two fiends that were like some horror out of a fever-dream. They