Sanctuary - Lynn Abbey [227]
“Try not to move,” and squeezed out another knuckle-sized dollop.
The pain spread up his arm, worse than the first time, and then, thank all the god-damned gods, Cauvin felt nothing at all.
Chapter Nineteen
“Furzy feathers! Dog! Stop pulling!”
Bec put both hands on the leather strap binding him to the huge brindle dog. The dog looked over its shoulder but, rather than give Bec another chance to loosen the strap that bound them together, the dog lowered its head and pulled harder.
Bec had had a chance to get free at the bottom of a pit that turned out to be inside the old Temple of Ils on the Promise of Heaven. The dog hadn’t wanted to climb the shaky, rope ladder hanging in the pit. With nowhere to go, Bec could have sat in the dirt and worked the knot loose, climbed out, and left Soldt’s dog behind. But there at the bottom of the pit, when he hadn’t been certain whether the Hand was chasing him, Bec hadn’t wasted time on the knot, he’d gotten behind the dog and pushed it up the ladder.
Truth to tell—Bec didn’t really want to loosen the knot. He’d welcomed the dog’s strength and its confidence underground. He’d been living a nightmare—caught in a sack, dumped in a cage, yelled at, threatened, dragged in front of a horrible statue that was halfman and half-woman. Then—when he’d thought the nightmare couldn’t get worse—there was Cauvin side by side with Leorin (who was Hand, through and through), saying things that couldn’t be true, knocking him down, and telling him to get out … or else.
Bec had run for his life. He hadn’t wanted to leave Cauvin, but Cauvin was so different, and he was so scared. He’d even forgotten which hand Cauvin had told him to keep on the wall by the time Soldt found him.
Follow Vex. Soldt had said, tying the strap around Bec’s wrist. He’ll take you to the stoneyard.
Bec tried to tell Soldt what had happened, but Soldt whispered a few foreign words to the dog. It started pulling, and it hadn’t stopped.
“Dog! Slow down!”
Bec pulled back on the strap again. It was morning—maybe a couple hours past dawn—and they were charging toward Pyrtanis Street—which was good. Except people were coming out of their houses with night jars and there’d be trouble if a boy and a dog tripped someone carrying a night jar. Especially a big, ugly dog and a filthy boy who’d lost his shirt. Momma always said that the safest children were the cleanest children, the quietest children, the children who didn’t race about or get in the way of adults. Bec couldn’t control the dog, replace his missing shirt, or wash away the soot he’d picked up in the underground, but he could keep quiet.
He did more than keep quiet, he prayed to Shipri because She was supposed to take care of children.
Shipri must have been listening because none of the scowling mothers or fathers along the Split tried to stop him or the dog. Better still, the stoneyard dog sensed them coming along Pyrtanis Street. It barked up a challenge which Soldt’s dog answered with bone-chilling howls. That led to best of all, Momma and Poppa coming out the gate to meet him!
Bec didn’t recognize the stout woman who opened the gate, but the dog did. When she said, “Vex!” and another word Bec didn’t catch, the dog planted its tail on the ground and sat like a statue until Poppa cut through the knot at Bec’s wrist. Momma was crying. Her eyes were so red, it was a wonder that her tears weren’t red. Because she would touch him, then pull her hands away as though he was steaming hot, Bec feared she was more angry that he’d run off than glad to see him home.
He shouted, “I’m sorry!” and promised that he’d never run away, but that only made her cry harder.
Then Poppa scooped him up, and all the fear and pain, the cold, and even the hunger Bec had kept hidden from himself since Grandfather told him to hide in the bushes escaped. He forgot that he was too old for hugs and clung to his father with arms and legs together.
All of upper Pyrtanis Street must have known he was missing and must