Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [198]
I had a bath, although I declined the massage.
It was the first proper bath I'd had since Berlik had attacked me. Girard hadn't wanted my injuries submerged, but I reckoned they'd healed enough. I soaked as long as I dared, luxuriating in the warmth and aroma, until the long half-healed scabs raking my torso grew soft. I patted them carefully dry with a towel. They bled in a few places, but only a little. Underneath the scabs, they were knitting cleanly.
When I was done, Urist came to report. He eyed me. "You look more yourself, my lord. In a manner of speaking.”
"I feel it." I'd rummaged in the clothes-press in the master chamber—an elegant room hung about with tapestries of hunting scenes, a tall canopied bed, and a well-stocked flagellary—and found a pair of soft deerskin hunting breeches that sat low on the hips and were loose enough in the waist that they didn't chafe, as well as an oversized linen shirt with carved wooden buttons. I was wearing it open, leaving my chest bare. I'd been able to unwind the bandages myself, but I couldn't rewind them.
"Shall I fetch Cailan?" Urist asked.
I shook my head. "Let the wounds breathe. It will do them good. What did you find?”
"No pursuit," he said. "At least not yet. The lads scouted two or three escape routes toward the north through the woods if it comes to it. A good hunting armory. Longbows and boar-spears. Be good to take with us if your kinsmen won't mind.”
"I'm sure they won't.”
"There's a meal near ready." Urist sniffed the air. "Coneys and capons, all sorts of good things. Odd place, this." He cocked his head. "Do they bring prisoners here?”
"Prisoners?" I asked. "No. Why?”
"Well, there's a room…" His voice trailed off. He put his hands on his knees and fixed me with his direct gaze. "No mind. My lord, what do you plan to do?”
I took a deep, experimental breath, looking down at myself, watching my wounds strain. It didn't feel too bad. They were deepest over my chest and ribs, trailing off at the ends. The scabs were already flaking at my shoulder and hip, revealing pink new skin. "Give me another day. I ought to be able to sit a horse by then. We'll move faster for it.”
Urist nodded. "Fair enough. What about the girl?”
I glanced up at him. "I don't know, Urist. I hope to see her before we leave. She may come, she may not. She may not be able to. She will if she can.”
"And if there's pursuit?" he asked. "If your Queen wants to clap you in chains?”
I took another deep breath, prodding my healing flesh. "I don't think I've a choice. I wouldn't be able to keep up with you on a hard flight. As for you and your men, whether to submit or flee …" I spread my hands. "That's your choice. I'd sooner have you hunting Berlik than waiting for the Cruarch to sort this all out, or at least your part in it. But it could be dangerous.”
Urist snorted. "Life's dangerous, lad.”
"I tried to warn you," I said.
He shrugged. "When all's said and done, you've done naught wrong, nor have we. Queen Ysandre's got a name for being a fair and just ruler. She's angry, aye; like as not, angriest of all at her daughter. Betrayal comes harder when it's blood. 'Tis easier to blame you for it, and she may, but I doubt she'll do aught rash.”
His words made me feel better. "You've a way of putting matters into perspective.”
"You're young." Urist smiled slightly. "You'll learn the trick of it.”
"I hope so," I said.
Sidonie didn't come that day, nor did anyone else. We spent the day making preparations to travel once more; sorting through out stores, tending to our mounts, sharpening our swords, restringing bows. In consultation with Urist, I drew up a list of goods we needed, and spoke to Isembart regarding sending a servant into the City to purchase them at market.
We would need money, too. Drustan had provided Urist with sufficient funds for our journey here, but