Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [71]
He hustled them inside and led them to a room where a row of cots had been set up. He gave them blankets and wished them a good night.
“May the blessing of Mishakal guard your rest this night, my friends,” he said as he left.
Rhys lay down on the cot, and perhaps Mishakal did touch him gently because, for the first night in many long, weary nights, he did not dream of his wretched brother.
Rhys did not dream of anything.
Rhys was up with first light to find Nightshade happily devouring a bowl of bread and milk in company with a pleasant looking woman who introduced herself as Revered Sister Galena. She invited Rhys to sit down and break his fast. He gladly did so, for he discovered he was unusually hungry.
“Only if I may be allowed to do some work for you in payment,” he added with a smile.
“It’s not necessary, Brother,” said Galena. “But I know you won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, so I accept your offer with grateful thanks. Mishakal knows we can use all the help we can get.”
“The kender and I must take care of some business first,” Rhys said, washing up his dishes, “but we will return in the afternoon.”
“Can I stay here, Rhys?” Nightshade asked eagerly. “You don’t really need my help, and the Revered Sister said she’d teach me how to paint walls!”
Rhys looked uncertainly at Galena.
She smiled broadly. “Of course he can stay.”
“Very well,” said Rhys. He drew Nightshade off to one side. “I have to go find Lleu. I’ll meet you back here. Don’t say anything about knowing one of the Beloved,” he added in an undertone. “Don’t say anything about Zeboim or about Mina or about being able to talk to dead people or that you’re a nightstalker—”
“Don’t say anything about anything,” Nightshade said with a wise nod.
“Right,” said Rhys. He knew his advice would be useless, but he felt bound to try. “And keep your hands to yourself. I have to go now. Atta, watch!”
He pointed at the kender. Nightshade had gone over to help Galena wash up, and of course, the first words out of his mouth were, “Say, Revered Sister, do you have anyone in your family who is recently deceased? Because, if you do—”
Rhys smiled and shook his head and went in search of Lleu.
He found his brother strolling the docks in company with a young woman who had a baby in her arms and a little boy of about four walking beside her, holding onto her long skirts. Lleu was at his most charming. The young woman was looking at him with adoring eyes, hanging on his every word.
She was pretty, though she was far too thin and her face, in repose, looked haggard. Her smile seemed forced. Her laughter was shrill, too loud. She appeared determined to like Lleu and even more determined that he should like her.
“You broke our date last night,” Lleu was saying.
“I’m sorry,” the young woman replied, worried. “You’re not mad at me, are you? The old crone who was supposed to come watch the children didn’t turn up.”
Lleu shrugged. “I’m not mad. I can always find pleasant company …”
The young woman grew even more worried. “I have an idea. You can come to my place tonight, after I put the children to bed.”
“Very well,” said Lleu. “Tell me where you live.”
She gave him directions. He kissed her on the cheek, patted her little boy on the head, and chucked the baby under the chin.
Rhys’s gorge rose at the sight of the Beloved caressing the children and it was all he could do to keep silent. Lleu at last took himself off, heading, undoubtedly, for yet another bar. Rhys followed the young woman. She entered one of the hovels near the docks. He waited a moment, pondering his course of action, then made up his mind. Crossing the street, he knocked on her door.
The door opened a crack. The young woman peered out.
She seemed startled to see a monk and opened the door a little wider. “Well, Brother. What can I