The Curse of Chalion - Lois McMaster Bujold [136]
“Does he still breathe?” asked Teidez, advancing to peer over Cazaril’s shoulder. “The captain hit him with his sword pommel, when he would not give way…”
“Fool, fool, fool boy!”
“No fool I! He was behind it all.” Teidez nodded toward Umegat. “A Roknari wizard, sent to drain and kill Orico.”
Cazaril ground his teeth. “Umegat is a Temple divine. Sent by the Bastard’s Order to care for the sacred animals, who were given by the god to preserve Orico. And if you have not slain him, it is the only good luck here.” Umegat’s breath came shallow and odd, his hands were cold as a corpse’s, but he did breathe.
“No…” Teidez shook his head. “No, you’re wrong, that can’t be…” For the first time, the heroic elation wobbled in his face.
Cazaril uncoiled and rose to his feet, and Teidez stepped back a trifle. Cazaril turned to find Palli, blessedly, at his back, and Ferda at Palli’s shoulder, staring around at it all in horrified amazement. Palli, at least, Cazaril could trust to know field aid.
“Palli,” he rasped out, “take over here. See to the wounded grooms, this one especially. His skull may be broken.” He pointed down to Umegat’s darkened body. “Ferda.”
“My lord?”
Ferda’s badge and colors would gain him admittance anywhere in the sacred precincts. “Run to the temple. Find Archdivine Mendenal. Let no one and nothing keep you from coming instantly to him. Tell him what has transpired here, and have him send Temple physicians—tell him, Umegat needs the Mother’s midwife, the special one. He’ll know what you mean. Hurry!”
Palli, already kneeling beside Umegat, added, “Give me your cloak. And run, boy!”
Ferda tossed his cloak at his commander, whirled, and was gone before Palli drew a second breath. Palli began to wrap the gray wool around the unconscious Roknari.
Cazaril turned back to Teidez, whose eyes were darting this way and that in growing uncertainty. The royse retreated to the life-emptied husk of the leopard, six feet from nose to tail tip lying limply on the tiles. Its beautiful spotted fur hid the mouths of its wounds, marked by matted blood on its sides. Cazaril thought of dy Sanda’s pierced corpse.
“I slew it with my sword, because it was a royal symbol of my House even if it was ensorcelled,” Teidez offered. “And to test my courage. It clawed my leg.” He bent and rubbed awkwardly at his right shin, where his black trousers were indeed ripped and hanging in blood-wet ribbons.
Teidez was the Heir of Chalion, and Iselle’s brother. Cazaril could not wish the beast had bitten out his throat. Should not, anyway. “Five gods, how did you come by this black nonsense?”
“It is not nonsense! You knew Orico’s illness was uncanny! I saw it in your face—Bastard’s demons, anyone could see it. Lord Dondo told me the secret, before he died. Was murdered—murdered to keep the secret, I think, but it was too late.”
“Did you come up with this…plan of attack, on your own?”
Teidez’s head came up, proudly. “No, but when I was the only one left, I carried it through all by myself! We had been going to do it together, after Dondo married Iselle—destroy the curse, and free the House of Chalion from its evil influence. But then it was left to me. So I made myself his banner-carrier, his arm to reach from beyond the grave and strike one last blow for Chalion!”
“Ah! Ah!” Cazaril was so overcome, he stamped in a circle. But had Dondo believed his own rubbish, or had this been a clever plan to use Teidez, obliquely and unprovably, to disable or assassinate Orico? Malice, or stupidity? With Dondo, who could tell? “No!”
“Lord Cazaril, what should we do with these Baocians?” Foix’s voice inquired diffidently.
Cazaril looked up to find the disarmed Baocian guard captain held between Foix and one of the Zangre guards. “And you!” snarled Cazaril at him. “You tool, you fool, you lent yourself to this, this stupid sacrilege, and told no one? Or are you Dondo’s creature still? Ah! Take him and his men and lock them in a