Sanctuary - Lynn Abbey [107]
“What’s he got to do with anything?” Cauvin asked cautiously.
“You know the gods have to be celebrating. He’s cheated Them for years. Afraid to die—and with good reason.”
“A lot of folk call him a hero for what he did to bring the Hand down. You should have seen the crowd at the funeral.”
Leorin took another swig of Cauvin’s beer. “Don’t go to funerals. Don’t like crowds. The Torch was never my hero.”
Cauvin shrugged. “Mine, neither, but you know where we’d be if he hadn’t led Arizak and the Irrune through the gates—where I’d be, anyway. I think about it sometimes, when I can’t stop myself: They wanted me to make vows to the Mother—
“Sacrifice,” Leorin corrected.
“Yeah, that’s what they called it. I said no and thought it was over, but it wasn’t. They said they’d give me another chance, another month. The Irrune come first. I don’t know if I could have said no a second time. If I’d said yes, I’d be dead.”
Leorin reached across the table. She seized Cauvin’s wrists and squeezed them tight, digging her fingernails into his flesh. “No, Cauvin, you would have survived.” Their eyes met, and Leorin explained herself: “I need you, Cauvin; I need you that much. You would have survived. Somehow you would have survived, just so I could find you when I needed you most.” She relaxed her grip.
“Then you’ve got to give the Torch some credit—he’s the one locked me up by myself the night the rest of us died. Shite for sure, I’d’ve gone up in flames like everyone else.” Cauvin freed his hands and closed them over hers. “The old geezer’s not going to live much longer, love. He’ll leave me something, maybe not enough to get us out of Sanctuary, but enough to set us up. I’m about ready to jump that broom and tell Grabar I’ve done it.”
“We can go upstairs and jump it tonight with the gods as our witnesses. The Stick won’t care—there’s nobody here. Can’t compete with roast meat and free wine. Even the regulars are out there, filling their guts for nothing. You could’ve taken a side table … we could go upstairs.”
She was right about the regulars. Not one of the handful of men sitting in small groups or utterly alone was known to Cauvin. One of them looked an utter foreigner with a stiff-necked cloak and a hood that hid his face in shadows. The armsmaster? He’d looked Cauvin’s way more than once, looked his way and looked at his leg where the mask—and the dagger—were on display.
Of course, he’d shot more looks at Leorin. Most men did. A score of women toted the Unicorn’s beer and wine, but only one of them was beautiful, and since no one had ever suggested that Cauvin was handsome, most men would wonder why a drop-dead gorgeous woman like Leorin gave him a special smile.
“C’mon, Cauvin—let’s go upstairs and celebrate the Torch’s death our own way.”
He was tempted—froggin’ gods, he was tempted to finally bed the woman he loved, but his head still rang with ghosts and gods. When push came to shove, this wasn’t the night he’d been waiting for.
Leorin pulled her hands free of his. “What’s froggin’ wrong, Cauv? You just said you were ready. What’s ready, if not tonight? You think Grabar or the Stick’s going to parade us through the streets with musicians and goats?”
“No.” A loud, wedding parade was nothing either of them wanted. “No, just not tonight. Maybe he wasn’t a hero, love, but he was there. As long as you and I have been alive, as long as our parents and grandparents the Torch has been pulling the strings behind Sanctuary. Who’s going to replace him?” Cauvin was hiding the truth about the Torch, but his questions weren’t lies.
“What difference is it to you or me? What did he do, anyway? The Irrune, you see them, but the Torch. If you’d come around here last Ilsday and asked if the Torch was even alive, I’ll give you odds that three people out of four thought he’d been dead for years. People who didn’t know he was alive won’t care that he’s dead now.”
“I can’t explain it, love, but it matters who takes his place. The whole city’s going to