Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [186]
"Yes, my lord," I whispered, making my trembling retreat.
So much for that idea.
"I told you as much," Glaukos said comfortably upon my return. "Do you stick your head in a lion's mouth, don't be surprised if he bites it off. Well, then, my lady, will you take a deep breath, and permit me to listen to your chest? I have a concern about these ribs of yours."
"You may as well," I muttered, ignoring the ogling stares of Illyrian sailors as Glaukos pressed his grizzled head to my breast. He managed it deferentially; no mean feat, on a ship full of pirates. It lent credence to his tale of servitude.
"Your lungs sound clear," he said, pleased. "It is not a stabbing pain when you inhale?"
"No. Glaukos, is it true that we refused aid to Illyria?" I asked him, adding, "Terre d'Ange, I mean."
"True enough. Lift your arms, I'm going to bind your ribs. 'Twill manage the pain a bit, and keep you from doing further harm while they heal. I've a lass I've trained will do it proper when we make landfall." Concentrating, he wound a length of clean, rough-spun cotton about my rib cage, over my clammy dress. " 'Twas some forty years ago, if I remember aright. The Ban of Illyria begged King Ganelon of Terre d'Ange for an alliance, but the King gauged La Serenissima the greater power, and forged alliance with them, marrying off his brother to the family of the Doge. How's that?"
I took an experimental breath. "Better, thank you. I never heard anything of it. My lor... Kazan seems bitter."
"Ah, well now, I doubt most D'Angelines even knew, save the King and his councilors. Illyrians, though; 'tis another matter. One never forgets those who refuse aid in one's time of need. D'Angelines may not be enemies, but you're no friends, mind. And Kazan ... ah, well, 'tis a long story, that." He wound the extraneous bandage into a balland placed it in a satchel at his feet. "Surely you know Terre d'Ange is the envy of a great many nations, my lady. To see so many gifts bestowed so profusely on a single people; it rouses covetousness and anger."
"What we have, we have fought to keep," I said, remembering all too well Waldemar Selig's desire to make my land his own. "Glaukos, how did you go from being a Tiberian slave to an Illyrian pirate?"
"I was sold," he said simply, placing a pinch of herbs in a leathern cup. "When my master's children were grown, he'd no need of a tutor, and sold me to another wealthy citizen, who'd need of a trained clerk. He was travelling with his household on a matter of trade, aboard a merchanter bound for La Serenissima, when we were attacked."
"And Kazan Atrabiades took you prisoner?" I surmised sourly.
Glaukos laughed, pouring water into the cup and swirling it. "Not hardly, my lady. He gave me the choice of fighting for my master and dying, or joining him a free man. Ah, now, I'd lived my whole life in slavery, hadn't I? I thought I'd spend the last years of it a free brigand. Kazan's always found a use for me, and I've never had cause to regret it. Here, drink this," he finished, handing the cup to me.
"What is it?" I took it and sniffed, looking questioningly at him.
" Tis but valerian, to aid the pain and let you sleep," he said gently. "Your body requires rest, to heal itself. Do you not see, there, how your hand shakes?" He spoke true; I noted with surprise how the leathern cup trembled in my grip, the tincture sloshing. "Indeed, you bear it better than a soldier, but you have suffered a trauma this night past, and the telling of it must wait. Drink, and I will ward you." He smiled at me, and his eyes were kind. "No harm will come to you, I promise it."
Foolhardy or no, I had little choice. I believed him, and drank. Soon weariness overcame me, and I slept, and knew no more.
FIFTY
Mydreams were fitful and vivid, filled with