Paladin of Souls - Lois McMaster Bujold [137]
“Yes. I am aware. We have discussed it.”
“Indeed, I had marked that he was pale, and not eating or sleeping well, but I had not expected . . . if he is that ill, should he not be made to rest?” He glanced across at Cattilara as if considering a potential alliance against his forceful commander, for Arhys’s good.
“Rest will bring no cure for what he has,” said Ista.
“I fear his riding about in this weather may worsen his sickness.”
“I don’t see how it can.”
Cattilara, on Ista’s left, glowered at her.
“I did not know you for a physician, Royina.” He let his tone trail off invitingly.
“I’m not. Alas.”
“Quite the reverse,” murmured Cattilara resentfully.
The officer blinked uncertainly, but finally mustered the perception to veer from a subject so clearly unpalatable to the marchess. “Brigands from the princedoms do not normally ride so close to Porifors, I assure you, Royina. But we chewed them well enough this morning, I think they will be discouraged from new attempts.”
“They were rather more than brigands, I thought,” said Ista. “Troops, or so their tabards proclaimed, though I suppose real brigands wouldn’t hesitate to so disguise themselves. Has Sordso the Sot roused himself to some more military posture than heretofore, or do you think someone else in his court may be probing your defenses?”
“I should never have thought it of Sordso, but indeed, since the unfortunate death of his sister Umerue, I have heard that a great change has come over him. We shall have to find him another nickname if this keeps on.”
“Oh?”
Thus encouraged, he turned eagerly to a safer court gossip than his own. “It is said that he has bestirred himself about his army, which he never did before. And given up drinking. And dismissed all his boon companions. And, quite abruptly, he has married, to an heiress of Borsasnen. And taken two official concubines as well, which the Roknari name as wives so as to avoid the stigma of bastardy there. Which he had not troubled to before, for all one hears that his advisors had long urged him to wed. He sounds quite a reformed soul. Not to mention energized, though perhaps the new wives will prove the cure for that. We rather hope this extreme virtue will not last. His poetry was not bad; it would be a shame to lose it.” He grinned briefly.
Ista’s brows rose. “This sounds not at all as Lord Illvin described the man, but I suppose Illvin has not had much chance to follow developments in Jokona, or indeed, anywhere else, in the past few months.”
His head jerked around. “Illvin described—does he speak, now? Did he speak to you, Royina? Oh, that is hopeful news!”
Ista glanced back at Cattilara, listening with her jaw clamped shut. “He has brief periods of lucidity. I have spoken with him almost daily since I came here. There is no doubt that his wits are intact, but he remains very weak. I think he is by no means out of danger yet.” She returned Cattilara’s glower.
“Still—still—we feared his wits were gone for good, when he did not awaken. They were as great a loss to Porifors as Arhys’s sword arm . . . would be.” He caught the marchess’s scowl and covered his confusion in a bite, and another.
The ordeal of dinner was not dragged out with more than a perfunctory musical interlude, to Ista’s relief. Dy Cabon went to his room for some much-needed rest, and Foix accompanied Arhys’s officer to see what help his little troop might lend to Porifors in exchange for their board. And, if Ista’s estimation of Foix held true, to decant from the man most of the pertinent defensive information about the fortress and its denizens. Foix’s next letter to Cardegoss was likely to be very informative. She wondered if he’d yet confessed his new pet to Chancellor dy Cazaril, or if that gap might be smoothly concealed in the very abundance of his tidings.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LISS WAS BRUSHING OUT ISTA’S HAIR BEFORE BED, A TASK THE girl