Part 15 (1/2)
But then she she had been here. Her ethereal voice had drawn him. Even if her singing had only been a natural phenomenon, currents of desert wind sighing through hidden vents, setting the crystals in the cave vibrating, it had lifted his weariness, making him forget the pain of his wounds. All that was left in the shrine were the ancient frescos and a gaping alcove where once the statue of Azilis had stood, a white apparition carved from translucent and flawless marble. had been here. Her ethereal voice had drawn him. Even if her singing had only been a natural phenomenon, currents of desert wind sighing through hidden vents, setting the crystals in the cave vibrating, it had lifted his weariness, making him forget the pain of his wounds. All that was left in the shrine were the ancient frescos and a gaping alcove where once the statue of Azilis had stood, a white apparition carved from translucent and flawless marble.
”Sacrilege,” Ruaud muttered under his breath. ”The Rosecoeurs had no business taking her away.”
”What did you say, Ruaud?”
”So has it been worth such a grueling journey, sire?”
”Yes. Oh, yes.” Enguerrand turned to face him, unwinding the spectacle wires from around his ears to wipe the tears from his eyes. ”Of all the holy shrines that we've visited in the past weeks, this is by far the most affecting of all. There are too many peddlers and souvenir sellers crowding the other places. But here it feels as if time has stopped. We could climb the stairs and find ourselves back in Azilis's day...”
Ruaud had a sudden, disturbing flash of memory.
Pere Laorans... the cache of dusty, hidden ma.n.u.scripts... the lost texts p.r.o.nounced as heretical by Donatien, leading to Laorans's banishment to found a mission in distant Serindher.
”Are you still alive, Laorans?” Ruaud murmured. It had been a long while since the order had received a report from the mission.
”What is it, Maistre?”
”I was just remembering an old friend, sire.”
”Did he die at your side in the battle for the fortress?”
Ruaud shook his head slowly. ”No, though many brave Guerriers never saw Francia again. But in some ways, it might have been better if he... ” He left the sentence unfinished. Laorans's discovery had brought an untimely end to a promising career in the Commanderie. Though banished to the tropical heat of distant Serindher for his heresy, he had continued to serve the order faithfully.
What became of those ancient ma.n.u.scripts, I wonder? Did Donatien really burn them? Or are they still locked away in some vault in the Commanderie?
Enguerrand awoke next morning with a fever. Ruaud took one look at him, s.h.i.+vering and white-faced, and knew that the pilgrimage was at an end. He paid the landlord of the inn a considerable sum of money on condition that he agree to entertain no other guests but the Francians. He sent a courier on ahead to warn the captain of the flags.h.i.+p, which was waiting at the port of Tyriana, and went to attend to the king.
As Ruaud approached the king's bed to administer a fever draft from the medical supplies he had brought, antic.i.p.ating just such an occurrence, Enguerrand caught hold of him by the hand, his fingers hot and clammy.
”Whatever happens, my mother must not know must not know of this. She was against the pilgrimage in the first place. She will never let me go again...” of this. She was against the pilgrimage in the first place. She will never let me go again...”
”Don't forget that, as much respect as you have for your mother, you came of age last year. She may seek to influence you, but-”
”She'll say that I was irresponsible, to leave Francia for so many months...”
”You're in constant communication with the First Minister. Don't you trust him?”
”Of course I trust Aiguillon. But I know my mother's methods. She'll do everything she can to undermine his authority...”
Ruaud heard these last words in silence. Enguerrand was all too aware of his mother's ambitions; Alienor was unwilling to relinquish her hold over her son, or the government of Francia.
But when, by nightfall, the fever was so high that Enguerrand's teeth chattered together, Ruaud consulted the innkeeper, who sent out for a physician.
The physician shook back the hood of his cape. Ruaud saw a dark-skinned young man, scarcely older than the king himself, his eyes concealed behind thick-lensed spectacles.
”Aren't you rather young?” Ruaud demanded.
”I served a six-year apprentices.h.i.+p before I started to practice.” The young man's command of the common tongue was impeccable, tinged only with a slight Enhirran accent. ”But if you prefer, I could send for my master? Only he's in Tyriana, so it would take him several days to get here.”
”No, that won't be necessary.” Enguerrand needed physic immediately. Ruaud led the young physician to the king's bedside and watched closely as he checked Enguerrand's pulse.
”May I examine him further?”
Ruaud nodded. The physician pulled back the loose sheet and probed with his fingertips, feeling behind and below Enguerrand's jaw, then moving down to gently press on his stomach below the rib cage. Each time, Enguerrand winced.
”There are swellings here, and here...” The physician slowly shook his dark head.
”And that's bad because... ?”
”The glands are infected. We call this red sand fever. It can kill, if not treated correctly.”
”His life is in danger?”
”Give him six drops of this tincture every two hours.” He handed Ruaud a slender phial containing a viscous dark fluid. ”And keep him cool. It's important to bring his fever down as soon as possible.”
”Six drops,” Ruaud muttered.
As the physician turned to leave, Enguerrand's hand moved and caught hold of his sleeve. Ruaud saw the king gather all his strength to smile at the young man.
”Thank you for coming all this way. You and your people have been... so kind and welcoming to me,” he whispered.
Oranir's hands were shaking uncontrollably as he left the inn; he tried to conceal them in the sleeves of his robe. He had seen the friendly warmth of Enguerrand's smile and his courage had failed him. He remembered how bitterly Rieuk had railed at the crimes Sardion had forced him to commit in the name of vengeance. There was no honor in killing a sick man with poison.
I can't do it. He clenched his fists. He clenched his fists. I won't. I won't.
Halfway down the street, he turned and ran back, hoping he was not too late.
Ruaud was measuring out the drops into a gla.s.s when he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up to see the physician, his face flushed, in the doorway.
”Have you administered the drops?” he asked breathlessly.
”I was just about to. What's wrong?”
”I gave you the wrong phial. Please forgive my carelessness, my lord. Please let me make it up to you.”
Ruaud, puzzled, took the second phial the young man held out. ”Why, what's in the other one?”
The physician gave him an enigmatic look. ”Throw the contents down the drain, my lord. You might kill a few rats.” And without another word, he pulled up his hood and vanished into the night.
”You ungrateful boy.” Sardion struck Oranir, the harsh blow sending him reeling. ”You had Enguerrand of Francia in your power, and you showed him mercy. I should have you tortured for this. I should have you stripped of your Emissary!”
Oranir, dazed, wiped the blood from his cut lip.
”It is not your place to disobey my orders. It is not your place to decide who lives, who dies.” He summoned the guards at the entrance. ”Take this piece of filth to the dungeons and lock him away. I don't want to look on his treacherous face again.”
The next day, the courier came from Tyriana with a folder full of official dispatches. Ruaud sat by the king's bedside, reading through them with a sense of increasing disquiet. One, from Admiral Romorantin, informed his majesty that the Armel fleet was making for the Straits in preparation for the planned attack on the Tielen dockyards, where the remainder of the Emperor's wars.h.i.+ps were being repaired.