Sanctuary - Lynn Abbey [219]
“They made me, too, and I’m …”
“You’re what, Cauvin? You’re cleverer than your ladylove? Well, maybe you are, but she’s not giving the orders, she’s taking them. The Hand’s come back to Sanctuary. They’ve killed me. Don’t let them kill you, too—”
Cauvin said, “The froggin’ Hand never left, pud,” because it might shut the Torch up, not because it was true.
“Nonsense—Maybe we missed a few … your woman. Vashanka’s mercy—you aren’t thinking she’s the chosen one in Sanctuary? Two days ago you swore she wasn’t with them at all.”
“Leorin left Sanctuary with the Whip; she came back with him. Froggin’ sure, she’s been chosen.” Cauvin swallowed hard. His throat was tight, but he got the words out: “The Whip chose her long before you bribed the Irrune.”
“Cauvin,” the Torch drawled, making the name an insult. “Cauvin, shake that notion out of your head. You didn’t see the Whip or any other priest of the Mother at the palace dressed as an Ilsigi merchant. His hands were stained bloodred, weren’t they? He’s not doing business with the majordomo, not with bloodred hands.”
“Wouldn’t you say the Whip’s beloved of Dyareela?” The words seemed to form in Cauvin’s mind; he merely repeated them. “Then there’s no telling what he might be with the Mother’s blessing, right? If the Bloody Mother can quicken Leorin, She can cleanse the Whip’s hands. I know what I saw yesterday afternoon. Unless you’ve got an idea that doesn’t rely on treasure, bribes, or stealing a relic from Land’s End, I’m going after Leorin, and I’m not giving up until Bec’s back here at the yard.”
“Think of Sanctuary—” The Torch began, but didn’t finish. “No, why bother? Why should you care about this gods-forsaken city? Because it’s your home? No, I’ve lived here longer than you, and hated every moment.” The fire dimmed in the old pud’s eyes. His hand trembled, and for the first time in their acquaintance, it was the Torch who couldn’t hold a stare. “We’re tired, Cauvin. You’ve been on your feet for a day and a half and I’m … I’m dying.” He said the last word softly, as though it were the first time the idea was more than a means to an end. “Get some rest before you go acting rash.”
“Can’t,” Cauvin shot back, unimpressed by the old pud’s sudden meekness and not trusting it, either. “You’re in my bed.”
“I only suggest that you reflect on your plans.”
“I did all the reflecting I need to do outside Leorin’s window while they pounded the snot out of her. I don’t know why I bothered to come back here—except to realize that confronting Leorin and getting Bec out is something I’ve got to do myself.”
Cauvin swung a leg onto the ladder and began his descent. The Torch tried to call him back with dire warnings about “unforeseen consequences,” but Cauvin kept going, out of the work shed and onto the streets of Sanctuary. Frog all, if a man started worrying about unforeseen consequences, he’d waste himself worrying and that would be the consequence.
Leorin had found her way to her bed when Cauvin popped her shuttered window open. She moaned softly as he stepped down into her room, but didn’t make another sound until he’d lit the lamp on her dressing table.
“You!” The word carried many meanings, not the least of which were that Leorin blamed Cauvin for every bruise, every ache.
“Surprised?” he replied, which wasn’t what he’d planned to say. “I was when I woke up and found you’d gone.”
“I wanted more wine. I didn’t think you’d notice.” Leorin covered herself with a blanket and excuses. “You were sound asleep.”
“I should have been, shouldn’t I? After drinking the wine you’d dosed for me.”
“Frog all—what are you talking about?” She tidied her hair. If Cauvin hadn’t known what she’d been through, he wouldn’t have guessed from how much each movement must have hurt. “Come over here. Sit beside me. Lie beside me. I