Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [278]
"Damned snow, eh?" he gasped.
"Tell me." I glanced at the hook-shaped mountain peak and pointed. "I think we want to bear a little south.”
"Whatever you say." Maslin took off his fur hat, wiping his brow with his sleeve. He shook out his hair, pale and lank. "Elua! I could use a bath.”
"That's what got me into trouble," I said. He gave me an inquiring look. "In Tarkov. They spotted my brand at the baths. And then the Tatars raided the horse-fair. That's why they thought I was a spy.”
Maslin looked perplexed. "Brand?”
"A souvenir of Daršanga, where I was enslaved." I gestured beyond the mountain. "It's…I don't know where, exactly. Farther east and south, abutting the Tatar lands. The ruler there, the Mahrkagir, he was courting the Tatar warlords to aid him in a grand conquest. He gave me to one of them as a plaything. Among other things, Jagun took it on himself to brand my arse with a red-hot iron.”
I don't know why I told him. I'd never told anyone who hadn't asked. There were quite a few people who had asked that I'd never told. Casual lovers; and some not so casual. Claudia Fulvia, for example. I'd told her only a partial truth, not the whole story. In fact, I'd never told anyone except Eamonn and Sidonie exactly how and where I got that scar; and once, in a spate of ire, the Queen's chirurgeon. I'd never even told Dorelei.
Maslin stared at me, his mouth agape. The ruddy color drained from his face. He closed his mouth with an audible click. "That's terrible.”
I shrugged. "You know what else is terrible? Right now, for a hot bath, I'd almost chance being dubbed a spy again.”
He gave a startled laugh. "I begin to think my long envy is misplaced.”
We made the best use of the daylight we could, veering a bit southward and slogging through the endless pine forest. That night, we made camp in a glade so dense we didn't even need to build a windbreak. It had begun to snow again, more heavy flakes spiraling down from the dark heavens. Maslin brought out the starka again and we passed it back and forth between us, sitting beside the campfire.
"We were awful together," he said presently. "Sidonie and I.”
"Why?" I asked.
"Oh, a lot of it was my fault." He tilted the wineskin to drink, then smiled at it as though it held a secret. "It's funny, because I thought we'd be so good together. And you know, we are, as friends and confidantes. She's good at ignoring the petty intrigue and gossip of the Court. All those idiots muttering about her being a Cruithne half-breed, diluting Elua's sacred bloodline. Dealing with it, dismissing it without seeming to. I could always see her impatience, though, even though she hid it well. It was part of what I loved about her.”
"She doesn't suffer fools gladly," I murmured.
"No," Maslin agreed. "So why did I become one in her bed?”
I didn't have an answer. "I don't think she's proud of the way she treated you.”
He sighed and lay back on the snow, folding his arms behind his head. "It's not as though she's blameless. I know. But the truth is, I was an ass. Far, far too much of the time. I just…" He scrunched his shoulders. "I was jealous of you. And I don't know, I wanted her to need me in a way that she didn't. Is that so wrong?”
"Not everything is a matter of right or wrong," I said.
"I suppose so." Maslin gazed at the dark sky, snow falling gently on his face. "My mother always said that my father liked being with her because he was a complicated man and she was a simple woman. He never told her any of his plans, she was innocent. She said it nearly broke her heart.”
"At least you had the solace of knowing he did the right thing at the end," I offered.
"And died a hero." His tone was wry. He sat up, shaking off the snow. "Did you ever meet her?