Miles Errant - Lois McMaster Bujold [362]
"Rowan, m'love," he muttered muzzily, nuzzling into her scented hair and wrapping himself around her warm, long body. "M'lady." A Barrayaran turn of phrase; he knew where that milady came from, at long last. She flinched; he recoiled. Consciousness returned. "Ak! Sorry."
Lilly Junior sat up, shaking off his ugly-little-man grasp. Grope, actually. "I am not my lady!"
"Sorry, wrong referent. I think of Rowan as milady, inside my head. She is milady, and I'm her . . ." court fool "knight. I really am a soldier, you know. Despite being short."
At the second knock on the door, he realized what had awakened him. "Breakfast. Quick! Into the bathroom. Rattle around in there. I swear we can keep this going another round."
For once he did not try to engage the guards in conversation leading to bribery. Lilly Junior came back out when the door closed again behind the servant. She ate slowly, dubiously, as if she doubted her right to food. He watched her, increasingly fascinated. "Here. Have this other roll. You can put sugar on it, you know."
"I'm not allowed to eat sugar."
"You should have sugar." He paused. "You should have everything. You should have friends. You should have . . . sisters. You should have education to the limits of your mind's powers, and work to challenge your spirit. Work makes you bigger. More real. You eat it up, and grow. You should have love. A knight of your own. Much taller. You should have . . . ice cream."
"I mustn't get fat. My lady is my destiny."
"Destiny! What do you know about destiny?" He rose and began to pace, zig-zagging around bed and table. "I'm a frigging expert on destiny. Your lady is a false destiny, and do you know how I know? She takes everything, but she doesn't give anything back.
"Real destiny takes everything—the last drop of blood, and strip out your veins to be sure—and gives it back doubled. Quadrupled. A thousand-fold! But you can't give halves. You have to give it all. I know. I swear. I've come back from the dead to speak the truth to you. Real destiny gives you a mountain of life, and puts you on top of it."
His conviction felt utterly megalomanic. He adored moments like this.
"You're insane," she said, staring at him warily.
"How would you know? You've never met a sane person in your life. Have you? Think about it."
Her rising interest fell. "It's no use. I'm a prisoner anyway. Where would I go?"
"Lilly Durona would take you in," he said promptly. "The Durona Group is under House Fell's protection, you know. If you could get to your grandmother, you'd be safe."
Her brows drew down just like Rowan's had, when she was knocking holes in his escape plans. "How?"
"They can't leave us in here forever. Suppose . . ." he walked behind her, gathered up her hair, and held it in a messy wad on the back of her head. "I didn't get the impression Vasa Luigi meant to keep Rowan past the point of need for secrecy. When I go, so should she. If they thought you were Rowan, I bet you could just walk right out."
"What . . . would I say?"
"As little as possible. Hello, Dr. Durona, your ride is here. Pick up your bag, and go."
"I couldn't."
"You could try. If you fail, you'll lose nothing. If you win, you'll win everything. And—if you got away—you could tell people where I've gone. Who took me, and when. All it takes is a few minutes of nerve, and that's free. We make it ourselves, out of ourselves. Nerve can't be taken away from you like a purse or something. Hell, why am I telling you that? You escaped the Dendarii Mercenaries on nerve and wit alone."
She looked utterly boggled. "I was doing it for my lady. I've never done anything for . . . for myself."
He felt like crying, strung up to the point of pure nervous collapse. This was the sort of all-out exalted eloquence he usually reserved for persuading people to risk their lives, not save them. He leaned across to whisper demonically in her ear. "Do it for