City of Lies - Lian Tanner [56]
“I am here to see the young margrave,” said Frisia, stepping past her.
The maidservant bobbed again. “He’s looking better, Your Highness. He was very cold a while ago, but we put some more wood in the stove and he’s warmed up nicely. And the wound is clean.”
Harmut, the young margrave of Spit, was asleep in his father’s four-poster bed, his head bandaged and the quilts piled to his chin. The stove in the corner of the room gave out a sultry heat.
Frisia peered down at her friend. The maidservant was right; he was looking a lot better. Still, head wounds could be dangerous things. Frisia’s great-uncle Rulf had ended his days a drooling idiot as the result of such a wound.
There was a creak from the four-poster and Harmut rolled onto his side. “Gold,” he mumbled.
“What?” said Frisia. She pushed her scabbard out of the way and sat down on the bed. “Harmut, are you awake?”
The boy’s eyes snapped open. “Frisia? What are you doing here?”
“Were you dreaming of gold?”
“Was I dreaming? I suppose I must have been. Everything was—strange.”
“There’ll be plenty of gold when we beat Graf von Nagel,” said Frisia. “According to our spies, his war chests are bursting. I’ll ask Father to let you have third choice of the treasure after him and me, if you like. That is if you’re still coming to Halt-Bern with us tomorrow.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Harmut moved again and winced. His fingers fumbled out from beneath the quilts and found the bandage. He blinked in confusion. “What’s wrong with my head?”
“You were—” Frisia broke off. Some of the fog had crept into her mind, and for a second or two she had the oddest feeling, almost like a voice speaking inside her.…
(What am I doing here? A castle? What am I doing in a castle?)
Then the fog drew back a little and she said, “You were wounded during sword practice yesterday.”
“Who hit me?”
“I don’t know. We were fighting in a melee with Ser Wilm and my bodyguards. I heard a clang, and you fell”—(in the water)—“in the training yard.”
Why was she thinking about water? Why did she suddenly have this voice in her head? (Cold water … Icy water, lapping at my throat…)
She shook herself. It was probably just nerves. She had been trained in the art of war since the day she learned to walk and had been in several minor battles, but this would be her first proper campaign.
“Are you still going to Halt-Bern?” said Harmut.
Frisia stared at him in astonishment. “Of course I am. Why would I stay behind?”
“I don’t know. I just thought—”
Frisia felt a surge of anger. “You thought what?” She jumped to her feet. “That I’d become a coward since you saw me last?”
“No. But I thought—I thought I remembered you saying Never …” His voice trailed off.
“Nothing would stop me from going!” said Frisia fiercely. “I am the daughter of warriors and the granddaughter of warriors, and it is my destiny to see von Nagel beaten. And when he is dead and the crows have stripped the flesh from his carcass, I will bring his skull back to Merne. It will make a nice spittoon for Father.”
Harmut sniffed. “Ha! Bold words.”
“And they’ll be matched by bold deeds.”
The two of them glowered at each other. Frisia had been intending to show him the paper in her coin pocket, but now she changed her mind.
“Harmut?” said a voice from the doorway. A small dark-haired girl in a nightgown blinked sleepily at them. “Are you better?”
“Hello, Uschi,” said Frisia. “I’m afraid your brother has lost some of his sense.”
“I’ve got enough left to fight von Nagel,” muttered Harmut.
Another maidservant appeared behind Uschi, fluttering her hands anxiously. “The young margravine should not be visiting people in her nightwear.”
“It’s not people,” said Uschi. “It’s my brother.” She dodged the hands of the maidservant and sat down on Harmut’s bed. “I’m glad you’re awake. I wanted to ask you about the voyage to Halt-Bern. Do you think I should take my second-best bow as well as my best one? I don’t want—”
Harmut fell back onto