Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [275]
Maslin laughed. "It wasn't easy.”
"I believe it," I said.
We rolled ourselves in blankets and retired to our respective snow wallows. It felt strange having him there. It would have felt strange having anyone there. I'd grown accustomed to the solitude. But of all the people I might have expected to find me in the midst of the Vralian wilderness, Maslin de Lombelon ranked very, very low on the list.
Unless, of course, he meant to kill me. After all, no one would ever know. It was only the two of us, alone in the wilderness. If he left my bones for the scavengers, like as not, they'd never be found. And in her grief, Sidonie might just turn to the one person she believed had done his best to aid me.
"You don't, do you?" I asked drowsily.
"What?”
"Plan on killing me in my sleep?" I yawned. "Because if you do, I'd just as soon you get it over with tonight.”
There was a pause. "No," he said in a dreamy voice. "But I would have liked to save you from mortal danger, and force you to spend the rest of your life knowing that every beat of your heart, every breath you drew, every moment of happiness you enjoyed, you owed to me.”
I smiled. "That's a touching sentiment.”
"You asked," Maslin said.
Chapter Sixty-One
We made better time on horseback.
After the endless days of trudging, it was like heaven. We even had a spare mount to carry our gear. I didn't have to worry about slogging through the snow, shifting my pack from shoulder to shoulder, Berlik's frozen head banging against my legs.
It was such a relief, I didn't even mind the cold.
On the first day, Maslin told me how he had come to find me. He had arrived in Maarten's Crossing some three weeks after Urist and I had left, spoken to Kinadius, and resolved to follow our route. But Adelmar of the Frisii had refused to grant him passage to Norstock; had refused, indeed, to grant any further aid to any Albans or D'Angelines until a sufficient bribe arrived. Maslin offered his services as a mercenary to any number of merchants travelling to Norstock, all of which had refused him, wisely discerning that a D'Angeline guard was more likely to draw trouble than prevent it in Skaldia.
"Believe me," I said. "The wool-merchant was none too happy to have us, either.”
"I wasted days," Maslin said glumly. "Lots of them.”
In the end, he'd given up and struck out on his own. By the time he departed, Talorcan had arrived with a contingent of Alban warriors; and so had some bribe from Queen Ysandre. Maslin didn't know the details, but whatever it was, it was enough to convince Adelmar to grant passage through Skaldia to Talorcan and his men, following Berlik's trail along the pilgrims' route.
"Why didn't you go with them?" I asked, curious.
Maslin shrugged. "I'd heard the sea route was faster. And I was looking for you, not your wife's killer.”
He'd made the short trip to Norstock without event, but his luck had failed him there. Unable to communicate in Skaldic or Rus, he'd managed to book passage to Vralgrad aboard a northbound ship; but he'd not understood its purpose nor its course. The ship had stopped at every single trading-post along the coast of the Eastern Sea, sometimes lingering there for days. The journey Maslin had thought would take two weeks took well over a month.
And he had arrived to find Vralia at war.
"It's funny," he said. "Once I realized the ship was stopping at every damned port between Norstock and Vralgrad, I reckoned that was it. I might as well enjoy the adventure, because there wasn't any other point to it. Then I got to Vralgrad, and no one could have cared less about anything but the war. Except for Urist. I'd managed to learn a few words of Rus aboard the ship. He heard I was asking after you and sent for me.”
"How is he?" I asked. "Is he well?”
"Fine." Maslin shot me a glance. "A guest of the palace. Walking, with a stick. Worried.