Steelhands - Jaida Jones [77]
I guessed that meant he’d been worried, so I tried not to get angry at him for being so rude. I also remembered what I’d done—right there, in his room, on his clean floor—and it was hard to be mad at him at all, especially because I couldn’t remember him yelling at me for it.
“Nngh,” I said. I had to clear an enormous, raspy frog out of my throat before I could manage actually talking, but at least I refrained from spitting something gross onto his floor. “Didn’t mean to worry you, Toverre.”
“You have a hardy constitution,” Toverre replied, sounding brusque. “At no point did I believe you were anything other than … mildly incapacitated. You were mumbling in your sleep, however, and you missed your lecture today, which means you’re going to have to speak with both the professors. Are you hungry? I brought you some clear broth.”
“Whoa,” I said, like I was soothing a spooked foal. “Slow down for a moment, let me make sure I’ve got all that.”
“I merely wanted to answer all possible questions you might have,” Toverre said. “Also, it seems your friend Gaeth is missing. I thought that perhaps the fever—this fever—was so bad it sent him home. I wrote your father—”
“Oh, shit, Toverre,” I said, finally opening my eyes; I had to shield them with my hands, because he’d opened the curtains and all this bright sunshine was pouring in, like a full-frontal offensive. “You didn’t have to go and do that.”
“Gaeth might be dead!” Toverre shouted at me suddenly. “You—You might have been—”
“Now, don’t,” I said quickly. My stomach let out a rumble, and I realized the broth Toverre was holding smelled pretty delicious. He saw me eyeing it and brought it over to me, setting it down on the chair by his bed. “It wasn’t anything more serious than a little fever. But … I’m sorry I said you did wrong. I guess I’d’ve done the same, if you were the one taken ill. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, and I’m glad you were here to take care of me.”
“Well,” Toverre sniffed, looking away from me. The tips of his ears turned pink, and his cheeks had gone all blotchy, which I guessed meant I’d pleased him a little with my gratitude.
“I’ll just have to write Da myself and tell him everything’s fine,” I soothed, reaching a pale hand over to the bowl. “I’m feeling a lot better. Just a bit shaky, but I’ll be back to looking after you in no time.”
Toverre didn’t reply but lifted the bowl and sat in the chair, himself, holding it out to me.
For someone who never could tell how a person was feeling, he had his moments of knowing exactly what to do.
“Guess I’ve been giving you a lot of trouble, huh?” I asked sheepishly. “I really am lucky you’re here with me. But what’s all this about Gaeth?”
I should’ve asked it sooner, I thought, but the fever’d left my brain a little bit stupid, and nothing was working as quickly as it should’ve been.
Toverre lifted a spoonful of hot broth to my lips and I sipped it without remembering to blow on it first, wincing when it burned my tongue.
“He’s missing,” Toverre said, not even bothering to be sharp with me about my carelessness. I must’ve looked like the back end of a sow because he was being so gentle with me. “At least, whenever I look for him, he’s gone, and at first I assumed it was nothing, just a matter of coincidence. Only it turns out that others—his friends—have noted his disappearance, as well. Someone named Thib, in particular, who requires him for that beastly game you all play in the hallway, but I know that he hasn’t been to class either, and I … well, considering your condition, and his, and the time I had to think without you to tell me I was being too fanciful …”
I could tell from the way he was getting huffy again that he was worried, and if I’d been in finer fettle, I would’ve probably tried to feed him the soup to soothe his nerves.
“Kinda just assumed he was taking his time getting to know the city,” I said, taking another sip of broth, after