Shadow War - Deborah Chester [64]
“No,” Agel said without hesitation.
The stranger turned on Elandra so suddenly she jumped. “And you, lady?” he asked desperately. “Could you do it?”
She found herself unaccountably flustered. “Do what?”
“Carry a message to him.”
“I—I—”
“If I wrote it down, would you give the paper to him?”
“Stop it!” Agel said before she could reply. “Leave her alone. She is no one you may address, much less command.”
The stranger glared at him. “In this matter, I would crawl on my belly if it would get me to the throne room. I have asked you, begged you. But you cannot dismiss the past long enough to think of the empire. Now I ask this woman. I beg her.”
“Stop!” Agel cried.
“For once, will you not listen to me? I must speak to the emperor, and as soon as possible. It is vital—”
“Vital for the preservation of your own hide,” Agel said spitefully. “You have finally gone too far. I know how you are. You have ruined your relationship with your master— defied him, insulted him, or attacked him. And now you think you will run to the emperor for clemency. As though the emperor cares one jot for who you are.”
“You’re wrong,” the stranger said. “It isn’t like that. It isn’t—” Breaking off, he put out his hand and braced himself against the wall. He looked suddenly white and spent.
Agel hesitated long enough to make Elandra angry again, but before she could urge him he took the stranger by the arm and steadied him. Gently he probed here and there, checking pulse points, examining more burn marks beneath the mud and soot.
“What has happened?” he asked, his voice softer now.
The stranger winced. “Trouble. Terrible trouble. He brought it on himself.”
“You were with him?” the healer asked cautiously. “At his side, as usual?”
Wearily the stranger nodded. He dropped onto the stool and sat there with his head down. “Sidraigh-hal,” he muttered. “Brought him back. I carried him ... I don’t know how many miles. We lost the horses.”
Agel gripped his arm. “Where is he now? Is he hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Then I must attend him at once. Where is he? Did you bring him here?”
“Gault, no,” the stranger said, horrified. “I left him on the doorstep of his house, for his damned servants to find. He can rot in his bed, for all I care. I’ve done enough—”
“No, you haven’t done enough,” Agel said. He strode to his cabinet and began filling a leather pouch with items. “Why didn’t you inform me of this immediately? To what extent is he injured?”
The stranger glanced at Elandra, and his face grew tight and distrustful. He said nothing.
Agel sighed and came hurrying over to her. “My lady, please,” he said softly. “I think it best if you go.”
She stood her ground. “And I think it better if I understand more of this intrigue, healer. Who is this man who has come to you for help? And who is his master?”
Agel might have a stony face, but his eyes flinched at her questions. Seeing that, she knew she was right to be suspicious.
“Answer me,” she commanded.
“Lady, I dare not.” Frowning, he glanced at the man who had come to him for help. “Until I understand what has happened, I can give you no—”
“Who are these men?” she demanded more loudly.
The blond man rose to his feet and advanced on her. “Put her out, Agel. Already she has heard too much.”
“I cannot put her out, you fool!” Agel said to him. “Have a care.”
“A simpering courtier’s wife? She’s in the way. Already she knows more than is good for her.”
Elandra glared at him and let her veil fall. She’d had enough of this overgrown lout who was clearly up to no good. “You will tell me now who you are,” she said in a voice of steel. “I command it.”
The man glared back, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. His face was mulish with defiance. “Go to—”
“Caelan, don’t!” Agel said with a gasp. “If you value your miserable life ... if you value mine ... go no further.”
The man named Caelan turned white, then a dull shade of red.