Ebudae (25 page)

“Get out and don’t ever come back,” Ebudae
snarled. She held the knife in front of the bodyguard’s face. “Take
your worthless meatbucket of a boss and drag him back to the sewer
he was born in.”

Ebudae backed off and watched as the
bodyguard struggled to his feet. He picked up his sword and
sheathed it while still bent over, holding the wound.

Mary, ever sensible in every situation,
rushed over with a long scarf and tied it around the man’s leg.
Everyone stared at her, including the bodyguard she had just
helped. Without a hint of embarrassment, she walked back to Lady
Pallon’s chair and stood next to it defiantly.

It was a struggle, but both men got to their
feet and limped out of the room. Strangled noises and grunts
slipped past their lips the entire time as they hunched out into
the hall. Ebudae followed them to the door and out to the gate,
making sure they left. Each time the men looked back, they moved
faster until they were half limping, half running out of the gate
the squirrel opened for them. Another armed man came to help them
to the gold trimmed black carriage.

Ebudae spun on her heel and marched back.
Tina waited at the door, holding it open. Inside the sitting room,
Mary was giving Lady Pallon a glass of wine. She also kept one for
herself and took a large gulp of it when Ebudae walked in.

Ebudae put her hands on hips and stared at
them. “I’m going to eat something and then I’m going to sleep. I
need a few days of rest at this point. Magic takes a lot out of
me.” She stepped forward threateningly. “If anyone else but Pelya
comes by, tell them I’ll kill them later.”

As she turned around and made her way to the
kitchen with Tina scurrying behind, Ebudae realized that her words
were overly dramatic and even a little silly. She was tired though
and wanted the peace she felt she deserved.

Chapter
17

Pelya chewed on her braid while thinking
about what to do next. It was cool in Healing Hall, but cotton
sleepwear kept her comfortable. Everything was quiet in the early
hours of the morning, with the exception of occasional coughs or
moans. She had fallen asleep after Grinkin escorted her back. She
and her father had slept through the next day and night, waking
only for meals.

Now she was well rested and itching to do
something. The problem was that she didn’t have any more
information. As quietly as possible, she got out of bed. The
movement was enough to wake her father. “Pelya? Is everything
alright?”

With a sigh, she sat on the chair between
their beds. “I don’t know. Something bad happened to Aphry and the
others. I just know it.” She put the braid back into her mouth.

“I’m sorry I’ve been asleep so much. Were
you able to find anything? Who did you take?” Frath sat up in the
bed and stretched some of the ache out of his muscles, groaning in
the process.

“Master Blavoci’s personal troops were
guarding the tent. They told Uncle Clutz that the actors had sold
it and left town. Florsy and Grinkin said they’d come by and talk
to me once they learned more.” Pelya looked innocently at the
ceiling when Frath narrowed his eyes at the mention of the three
Guardsmen. “I never noticed that the chandeliers in here were
wrought iron. I like them.”

“You know I don’t like you hanging out with
them. They’re . . .” Frath rubbed his face and massaged his
brow.

“They’re perfect gentlemen around me, Daddy.
You just don’t understand them.”

“I understand them fine.” Frath waved the
matter off. “How are you? Are you doing alright?” He studied
her.

“I’m just worried. Other than that, I’m
fine.” She studied him in return. “The important question is, how
are you?” Pelya moved to the edge of his bed.

He tested out his ribs by twisting each way.
“Still a little sore, but much better. They take good care of
us.”

The knowledge that he was better was all she
needed to leap into a hug. Pelya held onto his neck for dear life
while he wrapped his powerful arms around her. She was completely
safe for a moment, no matter how terrible the world was.

Pelya sat next to him on the bed and rested
her head against his side while he put an arm securely around her
shoulders. “I expected them to come back yesterday, so I’m
worried.”

“If you’re talking about those three vulgar
meatheads who have language better suited to a chamber pot, they
did come looking for you yesterday,” Master Irmin said, coming up
to the bed from a short distance away. His hearing was excellent
considering Pelya didn’t think she had been speaking loudly. “I
sent them away because you needed rest just as much as your father.
You were having nightmares, so I slipped a few ingredients in your
tea yesterday that helped you sleep and calmed your mind.” He came
to Frath’s side of the bed and looked them over.

“Nightmares?” Frath challenged. “You didn’t
tell me you had nightmares.”

Pelya shrugged and looked around Healing
Hall. “I never noticed that the columns have carvings of trees and
animals in them.”

“I believe she’s avoiding the question,”
Master Irmin said to Frath. “Your daughter came in and fell asleep
the other night. She tossed and turned and even yelled out once
about not killing someone.” Pelya intently studied the image of a
deer in one column. She held onto her braid with both hands as
though hoping it would keep her from falling. Master Irmin spoke
again, his normal reassuring voice filled with condemnation. “I
guess that’s just the sort of thing that happens when you raise a
child in an environment that worships cold iron and blood-soaked
death.”

Frath and Pelya glared at the healer with
teeth bared and anger covering their faces. Master Irmin stepped
back and stumbled into the next bed, so powerful was the expression
mirrored by father and daughter. The man got back on his feet and
literally ran out of the hall.

Neither said anything as Frath wrapped Pelya
up against his chest. They sat that way for half an hour before an
apprentice healer came by with oatmeal and honey for early risers
to eat. Pelya moved back to the chair and they both ate while lost
in their own thoughts.

It bothered her more than she ever admitted
whenever anyone criticized her father for raising her in the
barracks and there
were
people who didn’t like her. He did
his best and she tried not to make him look bad, knowing he took
even the slightest criticism personally. It was ridiculous that
Master Irmin judged her just because of a nightmare.

“What was the nightmare about?” Frath asked
her gently.

“It’s not important.” She shrugged and
focused on the oatmeal. It wasn’t as fascinating as the columns or
chandeliers. When she looked up, he was still waiting for an
answer. “I keep seeing that man die over and over. I see the other
ones die too and then Uncle Bobble is there and blood is coming out
of his mouth when he tries to talk to me.” She ducked her head into
her chest, trying to hide from the memory.

“He was right. I should have found another
place to raise you.”

“No!” Pelya yelled, standing and turning
toward him. “You’ve been the best father ever and I’ll not have you
listen to him or any of the others.”

“Others?” Frath asked with tension in his
jaw. “Who else has insulted you?”

“It’s not like that,” Pelya responded in
frustration. “You get mad when you think people hurt me, but
they’re hurting you instead. I
hate
it when you feel
bad.”

“I . . . didn’t realize. I try my best to
protect you from all that.” He ran a hand through his hair and
stared at his own oatmeal.

Pelya sat next to him on the bed again.
“Daddy, I’m not a little girl anymore. I know people are stupid and
dangerous . . . and everyone in the world thinks bad thoughts about
me and probably wants to feed me to carnivorous fairies.” She got
the chuckle she wanted from him. “I just don’t want you to feel
bad.”

He looked at her and then back at the
oatmeal, spreading the last of it around the bottom. “I like
thinking of you as a little girl. I remember when you used to fit
in one arm.”

“I know, Daddy, but I have to grow up.”

“No you don’t. In fact, I insist that you
don’t.” He grinned at her and decisively set the bowl on the small
nightstand on the other side of his bed.

Pelya stuck her tongue out at him and then
struggled happily as he tickled her half to death, much to the
irritation of miserable patients and humorless healers.

“Aren’t you two supposed to be resting?”
Weaponmaster Coodmur said as he walked up with another officer.
“Don’t get up,” he said when Pelya and Frath were about to stand at
attention.

“Actually, this is an excellent development.
It means I can get my best sergeant back to work.” Captain Alice
Zephan was Frath’s commanding officer. Her eyes were steely grey
and her brown hair was gathered in a ponytail. She worked under the
weaponmaster, training recruits on the streets of Dralin after they
had gone through rigorous physical training and studies of city
law. Frath took units into advanced training through some of the
more dangerous districts.

“Have you been released?” Gilron asked.

“No Sir,” Frath replied.

“Well, here comes Master Irmin now.” An
apprentice was hurriedly escorting the irritated man. Pelya knew
that patients weren’t to be disturbed, even by commanding officers.
Captain Zephan wouldn’t have dared enter without the weaponmaster’s
presence. As it was, she took a step back behind him. Healers had
absolute authority in the hall and it was foolish to upset
them.

“What is this? Disturbing my patients? I’ll
not have it.” Master Irmin positioned himself in front of the
weaponmaster and put his hands on hips.

“Are you attempting to intimidate me, Master
Irmin?” Gilron asked with a smile on his face that didn’t reach his
voice. The healer’s arms dropped to his sides and he took a step
back. The weaponmaster said, “I have the utmost respect for those
who mend the wounds people like me create. I do
not
have
respect for self-righteous pimples on a power trip and you’ll do
well to remember that.”

Master Irmin backed away another step. “Yes,
Commander. My apologies.”

“Not at all.” The weaponmaster clasped him
on the shoulder. “I’m here for Pelya, but wanted to talk to her
father about matters as well. How is he anyway?”

“Oh . . . well, he’s healing nicely,” Master
Irmin said.

“He’s a difficult patient, isn’t he?” Gilron
said with a wink.

“Hey!” Frath protested.

“Well, I don’t know . . .” Master Irmin said
uncomfortably.

“Would you like to get rid of him? I’ll take
them both off your hands.” Gilron squeezed the man’s shoulder.
“Obviously it’s your decision, but I like to be helpful.”

“Uh . . .” Master Irmin didn’t know what to
say or how to react. The weaponmaster was smiling, but most men wet
their pants when the Commander smiled at them that way. “I can
release him, but he’s not ready for duty. He’ll need to recondition
his body and take it slowly for those ribs to finish healing.”

“Fine, fine. We’ll give him a week,” the
Commander said. Captain Zephan looked nervous at the way the
weaponmaster was ‘suggesting’ things to the healer. Gilron nodded
at Frath and Pelya. “You two get dressed. We’ll start with some
light stretches.”

“He should have four weeks of recovery,”
Master Irmin insisted, putting his left hand back on a hip and
waggling the index finger of his right at the commander just as an
old woman would warn rowdy kids to calm down. Pelya dashed to
change behind a screen while Frath grabbed his clothes and went
behind another.

“Four weeks?!” Gilron asked incredulously.
“He fell down some stairs, just ask him. It doesn’t take four weeks
to recover from a tumble down some stairs.” There was a twinkle in
his eyes and a smirk on his lips as he looked at Frath.

“Would you
please
keep your voice
down?” Irmin said in disgust. “There are people trying to recover.”
He threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. I don’t care. Just get him
out of here and take yourself with him.” The apprentice followed
him as Irmin stalked off, muttering to himself the entire way.

“Let’s get out of here before he changes his
mind,” Gilron said to the captain. He grabbed Frath’s sword belt
and personal effects and helped him finish getting ready. The chain
shirt was left off.

“Yes sir.” Captain Zephan grabbed Pelya’s
sword belt and personal effects to help her get ready. In a few
minutes, they were outside Healing Hall, walking down one of the
many corridors to a garden not far away. Dralin had gardens and
parks everywhere one could be stuffed and that included the Guard
District. The tranquility of the parks in a city filled with chaos
made them attractive to everyone and perhaps vital to the sanity of
its citizens.

“We have a problem,” Captain Zephan said as
they sat at a stone table with benches near a fountain. There was
no one near enough to overhear them unless one counted insects
buzzing around flowers just opening their petals to the early dawn
light. “Yesterday morning a man who works for Master Blavoci came
looking for Pelya.”

Pelya’s heart skipped a beat and she clasped
her hands in her lap. Frath put his hand on the hilt of his sword
and made as if to rise and hunt down the man right then. Gilron
held up a hand. “Sit down and listen.” Frath remained sitting, but
his hand never left the hilt.

The Captain pushed a loose strand of hair
back behind her ear. “Commander Coodmur filled me in on everything
that happened with you the other night, Pelya. I’m very proud of
your actions.” She smiled for a moment and then became serious.
“The man’s name is Samael Thanzin. He’s in charge of Blavoci’s
interests in Dralin and is powerful in his own right.” Worry
slipped into her low, clear voice.