Part 17 (2/2)

Mother! she thought. she thought. I need you, Mother! I need you, Mother!

But she would never see her mother again, and their last words had been a quarrel. Never again would she see her father coming in from the fields to smile and rumple her hair, or sit by the hearth on winter evenings and tell the old stories in his slow deep voice.

She felt like crying, but tears wouldn't come. Instead there was a dull, aching void. She sat, scrubbing at her face. Rip is alive Rip is alive, she scolded herself. She had to concentrate on that. And I will find him! And I will find him!

But when she concentrated, she sensed something else: that Rip was no longer in Land's End. She flung aside the cloth she'd been using for a blanket, jammed her shoes on her feet, then rose and went to the window.

She couldn't see anyone below and though there were windows in the surrounding warehouses she couldn't see anyone moving behind them. She'd just have to take the chance that they wouldn't see her either. She gave one glance at the rumpled cloth she'd meant to rewind onto the bolt and shook her head regretfully. There wasn't time to do that. Rip came first. She put one leg on the window-sill, turned and felt for the roof behind her with her free leg. The window was offset the shed roof below. She remembered Jimmy cautioning her to reach up with her left hand while using her right to steady herself on the wall, the swing to the left a little, and pull up. She determined to reverse the procedure and get to the shed roof. From there it was a short leap to the alley below.

'What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing!'

The man's shout seemed to come from directly behind her. Lorrie gasped and almost lost her grip. She slipped down and grabbed hard on the window-sill. For a long moment, she held motionless, her chin barely above the still, clutching the window, for her life in fact, because there was nothing below her but hard cobbles, twenty feet down. Glancing fearfully over her shoulder she saw no one. No one was looking out of one of the windows opposite either.

'What do ye mean?'

The voices came from the main street, just beyond where the alley below joined it. Right about where the main doors of the warehouse were.

'I mean those crates are due on the dock in less than an hour if the Crab Crab isn't to lose the tide. Why aren't they on the wagons? What have you been doing all morning, standing there with a thumb up your a.r.s.e?' isn't to lose the tide. Why aren't they on the wagons? What have you been doing all morning, standing there with a thumb up your a.r.s.e?'

'I just got the order a few minutes ago! 'S not my fault!'

Her relief that the shout hadn't been directed at her caused Lorrie to drop a few inches. She was going to try to swing a few feet to her right and reach the tile roof. As she tried to swing a little to the left, she felt the pain; a sudden, violent burn that was colder than winter ice at the same time, and beneath it all the ugly slicing feeling of being cut.

She'd had accidents with tools and sharp branches before. Not like this. Something very sharp was digging deep into her leg. The hot trickle of her own blood down her leg made her s.h.i.+ver and she gasped at the increased pain even that small movement caused.

That made her want to scream and twist around to grab her leg at the same time; but either of those would mean that she would die.

And Rip will have n.o.body.

Her head swam a moment, but she fought down dizziness and panted through her mouth. Don't let go! Don't let go! she commanded herself. She glanced down and saw a seemingly innocuous shard of gla.s.s wedged in between the stones. Some glazier had been sloppy in his work and the long piece had fallen from a broken window to wedge hard between stones. Like a crystal dagger it had cut up into Lorrie's leg. She forced herself to take a deep breath and knew she would have to use every ounce of will and strength to regain the window. she commanded herself. She glanced down and saw a seemingly innocuous shard of gla.s.s wedged in between the stones. Some glazier had been sloppy in his work and the long piece had fallen from a broken window to wedge hard between stones. Like a crystal dagger it had cut up into Lorrie's leg. She forced herself to take a deep breath and knew she would have to use every ounce of will and strength to regain the window.

Her hands firmed on the ledge, driving her fingers painfully into the splintery wood. But she couldn't stay like this: the fall from this height would be a lot more painful than what she was feeling now. Lorrie took a deep breath and hoisted herself up on the window frame. The shrill of agony as her wound was savaged further almost made her lose her grip, rendering her too shocked to even cry out. Once the surprise was over she kept herself from crying out by gritting her teeth and remembering Rip.

If she was caught she might be gaoled, and if she was gaoled she couldn't help him. I can't let them catch me I can't let them catch me, she thought. I have to be strong I have to be strong.

The argument in the street below continued unabated, growing louder, if anything. It was to be hoped it was loud enough to cover the sound of her panting and of her movements as she struggled back into the hidden room. But she needed to move fast, before the yelling attracted people to the windows around her. Lorrie pulled her wounded leg back as far as it would go, but when she hoisted herself up again found it wasn't quite far enough. She gave one sob of pain and frustration, then continued her progress, even as it tore her leg.

Now she was halfway into the room, hanging from the window at her waist. She breathed in and out through her teeth, fast and desperate, then gave one jerk that almost made her scream and she was free of the protruding gla.s.s. As quietly as she could Lorrie scrambled back into the room, sliding down onto the dusty floor, biting the base of her right thumb to keep the screams that forced their way up her throat m.u.f.fled.

Once she got her breath back she sat up to check the damage.

The sight almost made her faint as the pain had not. A long, deep and jagged cut started just above her knee and ended at her upper thigh. Blood poured from the ripped flesh, already pooling on the floor; the only good thing about it was that it didn't jet and spurt. The leg moved when she jerked it in horror, so the tendon wasn't cut. The shard had dug straight into the centre of the muscle. But bleeding that bad could kill her in an hour. A country girl knew about cutsand how much blood a pig had, which was about the same as a man's.

Do something! she shouted at herself. she shouted at herself.

With trembling hands she loosed her water bottle from her belt and poured some onto her leg. It burned like fire and she greyed out for a moment, dropping the bottle. She caught it up quickly, listening to see if someone had noticed the sound. Nothing happened and she looked down at her leg again.

When the blood had been washed away Lorrie was able to see that it needed st.i.tching. She'd once watched her mother sew up Emmet, their man of all work, when his axe had slipped and had listened carefully to her instructions. But this looked a lot worse and she had nothing to use for a needle. And she didn't have her mother. Lorrie pressed her hand against her mouth, hard. She didn't have time to cry, she was bleeding, and badly.

Dragging herself over to the bolt of cloth she cut a clean length of it; then she pulled down her trousers and bandaged the leg as tightly as she could, strips around the leg holding a thick pad on the wound. If she couldn't st.i.tch it up, then she could at least press it together. Maybe that would be enough. Then she pulled up the trousers and lay back down on her makes.h.i.+ft bed.

What am I going to do? she thought. She could feel Rip getting further and further away. But she couldn't even climb down from this place with the wound in her leg, even if no one was down there, let alone follow two men on horseback. she thought. She could feel Rip getting further and further away. But she couldn't even climb down from this place with the wound in her leg, even if no one was down there, let alone follow two men on horseback. I shouldn't have sold Horace. I shouldn't have sold Horace.

But she'd been so certain that Land's End was their final destination. Why else would they steal her brother but to sell him to slavers? Yet he was being moved inland; the feeling was like an inner weathervane, s.h.i.+fting slowly and pointing the way. Why? Why? she repeated to herself, over and over again. she repeated to herself, over and over again.

She'd begun the internal shout in despair and ended it in anger. Why Rip, why her parents, why her, why now? Who were these people, what were they doing? And beyond all and above everything, and forever, why?

Lorrie closed her eyes. Blackness fell like a cras.h.i.+ng wave.

It was just past dawn when Flora slipped into Jimmy's room; a quiet dawn, by Krondor standards.

'Where were you last night?' she demanded in a very loud whisper.

Jimmy, caught by surprise, yanked his pants up so hard he hurt himself. He glared at her over his shoulder, fighting an urge to clutch the painful parts.

'You...' His voice came out so high he coughed and started again. 'You're supposed to knock first, remember?'

'Tsk! You haven't got anything I haven't seen before,' she said scornfully.

Jimmy arched his brows. 'Does your aunt know that?' he said sweetly.

Flora's lips twitched down at the corners as she looked away and brushed her hair back, blus.h.i.+ng. 'No. And maybe you were right. Maybe I should just keep it to myself.'

'I honestly think that would be for the best,' he said, not without sympathy. 'Best all round, I mean.'

She gave an unladylike snort. 'Yeah, I mustn't forget you're in there, too.' Then she looked at him through narrowed eyes. 'So, where were you last night?'

'I went out for a walk,' he said, frowning. 'Just taking in the town and I felt I needed the exercise.'

Flora pressed her lips together anxiously and moved over to him, putting a hand on his arm. 'You mustn't do anything wrong while you're staying here,' she whispered. 'Please, Jimmy. It's important.'

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