The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [122]
“By order of the emperor,” a heavy voice thundered above the general din, “you are all arrested for collaboration against the throne.”
Leoff tried to rise, but a boot struck him in the head.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SWANMAY
NEIL TENSED HIMSELF AND saw all his roads go black. If he killed Swanmay, he would protect Anne’s destination and serve the queen in the only way he now could. But to kill a woman he had promised not to harm would be the end of any honor he could claim.
Either way, he was certainly dead.
He stared at Swanmay’s white throat, willing her closer, wondering how he could have been so wrong about her.
She bowed her head slightly, and wisps of her short hair fell across her face. “I wish I could grant you your wish, Sir Neil,” she said. “But I cannot take you to Paldh. I am nearly free, do you understand? If I help you more than I have, I jeopardize everything. And you would probably be killed, which I would not see.”
He let his head relax on the pillow. Bright spots danced in his vision, and for a moment he wondered if she had enchanted him somehow.
But he recognized the onset of the battle rage. It was leaving him now, but his blood was still moving too fast, and he was beginning to shake.
“Are you well?” she asked.
“I was dizzy for a moment,” he said. “Please. What did you mean—about me being killed?”
“I told you that your friends’ ship escaped the harbor, and that much was true. But they were followed—I saw the ship sail after them. If they are not caught at sea, they will be caught at Paldh. I imagine there will be a fight then, and you are in no condition to fight.”
“I beg you, lady. Take me to Paldh. Whatever your trouble—whatever it is you are fleeing—I will protect you from it. But I must reach Paldh.”
“I believe you would try to protect me,” Swanmay said. “But you would fail. Don’t you understand? The people who attacked your friends—I flee them also. Your enemy is my enemy. I took a greater risk than you can know saving your life. If they had noticed me, recognized my ship, all would have been done. If I follow them, they cannot fail to know me.”
“But—”
“You know you would not be able to protect me,” she said softly. “The nauschalk cannot be slain. He beat you when you were hale and whole—do you think you could do better now?”
“Nauschalk? You knew him? Know what he is?”
“Only from the old tales. Such things are no longer supposed to exist, and until a short time ago, they did not. But now the law of death has been broken.”
Her voice had gone a little eerie, as if she spoke to him from a great distance. Her eyes were mirrors.
Neil tried to sit up. “Who are you, lady, to speak of such things? Are you a shinecrafter?”
She smiled weakly. “I know something of those arts, and others you will not have heard of.”
“I cannot believe that,” Neil said, feeling cold. “You are too kind, lady. You cannot be evil.”
Her brow dropped in a frown, but her mouth bent up at one side. She steepled her fingers together. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t think I’m evil. But why would you think I am?”
“Shinecrafters are evil, milady. They practice forbidden arts, abhorred by the Church.”
“Do they?” she asked.
“So I have always been told. So I have always believed.”
“Then perhaps you have been wrong. Or perhaps I am evil, and we merely disagree on what evil is.”
“There can be no disagreement there, milady,” Neil said. “Evil is what it is.”
“You live in a simple world, Sir Neil. I do not begrudge you that. In truth, I envy you. But I believe things to be more complicated.”
He was about to retort, when he remembered the choice he had been facing only moments before. Maybe it was more complicated. He was no churchman, to debate such things.
The law of death has been broken. Fastia had said that, in Eslen-of-Shadows.
“Lady, my apologies. You speak of things I don’t understand. What is the law of death?