Herb-Wife (Lord Alchemist Duology) (60 page)

Iasen
said something in an indistinct, complaining tone. Iathor overrode
it, "Don't lie to me! I've questioned your men. Like as not Teck
will be as sickly silent as Viam and Kelen were." A pause, and
the creak of floorboards as someone paced near the door. "No,
they can't lie under Tryth. Did you think the draught was that
powerful? Were you using the older one?"

Iasen's
tone went softer, perhaps wheedling. Iathor's dropped to match it,
and Kessa found herself taking careful steps towards the door.

". . . think
I dropped all investigation? Even night patrols don't mete out such
punishment as rape and murder, Iasen!"

Iasen
said something, and Kessa caught
savage
in it.

"That
doesn't justify your actions!" Iathor shouted, volume shifting
as he paced near the door and away again. "Even if the judges
here are so corrupt that the color of the victim's skin excuses
anything, you hired men to attack nobles and their pale servants! You
think the guards want you teaching tribesmen to band together in
violence? Do you think the
Princeps
will pardon you after you
let the draught be used without your knowledge?"

"That's
not my fault!" Iasen said crankily.

"He's
your dramsman! His crimes are yours! That you put him in a position
where he could
justify
using the draught is
your
responsibility, Iasen, and I . . ." Kessa pressed
herself against the wall, near the hinge-side of the door, one arm
raised in case the door was flung open. Still, she made out Iathor's
next words more by knowing his speech pattern than clear hearing. "I
cannot think how to get you out of this. You're guilty, Iasen, by
your own hand and out of proportion to the provocation. Guilty and
immune. What can they do? Blind you? Take your hands?"

"It's
all in the family, brother," Iasen said lightly. "No need
for that wretchedness. Just tell the watch to release me and it'll be
settled."

There
was a pause. Then Iathor was
Lord Alchemist
, with an
iron-cored voice. "No. Not even if I believed my wife and child
were safe from you. Our cousins' driver was attacked. The draught was
used. Men are dead. Your irresponsibility, your insanity . . .
You are barred from the guild, Iasen. There will be none to defend
you at your trial, save yourself."

"That's
unfair! This is
your
fault! None of this would've happened if
you'd not protected that vixen when she poisoned the moneylender!"
Iasen shouted. "Does she snicker to herself to have duped you?"

"
My
fault?" That was an even colder voice. "She heard you, that
night, when you decried her as a copper-leaf courtesan. She realized
who'd send alchemy and hired men. She agreed to wed me for
protection, and revenge."

"I
told
you she'd no love in her! I
told
you marrying that
savage was a mistake!"

Still
in that intense, icy tone, Iathor said, "She is my wife. Call
her
savage
again and I will strike you."

For
a moment, Iasen was silent, perhaps taken aback. "You, hit
someone bound and defenseless? Your own brother? Iathor, that's not
like you. Besides, this is all pointless. You can keep your pet–"

"Enough.
She is my wife, not a pet. Not a beast. Not a savage. Not a
barbarian. Not a tribesman in anything but blood, and only half that.
She is a woman who carries my child, and I have sworn to defend her,
in the vows of high marriage. I was a fool before, discounting the
signs of your malice, but I'll not break my promises any longer."

Kessa
blinked away blurring tears. Even if Iathor knew she was listening –
and he might've forgotten she was near – the theater plays
never gave such speeches in behalf of the dark-haired, brown-eyed
girls. She'd only ever dreamed her sister would be so defended,
prince's daughter to someone's warrior hero.
Laita will be sorry
she didn't hear this,
she thought, in a surface skim above the
brewing of her emotions.

Iasen
said, in brittle scoffing, "Really, Iathor, you're overreacting.
I'm trying to
help
you. It's what brothers
do
."

"I
have . . . No. Brother." The words were torn from
him, and Kessa wondered that she didn't smell blood to match that
pain. "My heir is unborn. The Princeps may decide your fate."

Iasen
shouted something desperately, about
don't mean that
, and
Kessa backed away from the door, scrubbing at her eyes with her
wrist. The fabric scratched.

She
wasn't fast enough to be . . . anywhere. Not with no
idea where she wanted to go. Iathor came around the edge of the door,
leaving Brague to shut it firmly on Iasen's incoherent protests, and
stopped before her. "Kessa," he said, as if he'd just
remembered she ought to be there. As if he'd only now seen her for
the first time that morning.

She
wanted to be the cold Shadow-witch apprentice who'd seen her teacher
dead and taken the chance to escape. Instead, she opened her mouth
and words fell out, grief-damp. "I should've walked into the
fire."

"No,"
Iathor whispered, holding her shoulders. As she tried to drop her
face into her hands and hide the tears, he put his fingers under her
chin. She couldn't fight the crying and him at the same time, and he
lifted her face till he could see her eyes. Her sight was too blurred
to see if he flinched or not, but he said, "No. Kessa. I need
you. Don't go."

She
couldn't speak, throat tight and voice choked off. So she stepped
against him, sliding her arms under his over-robe, his tabard's
embroidery clenched in her fists. She held on, and tried to swallow
the sobs that wanted to come out as if she'd taken a Purgatorie of
emotions.

He
put his arms around her shoulders and his cheek against her head,
whispering, "My brave Kellisan, a wife may cry with . . ."
Then his voice cracked as much as hers, and Kessa pressed against him
as tightly as she could while he wept against her hair.

Somehow,
no one bothered them, even standing in the hall of a watch station.
That was likely Brague's doing. He loomed well.

Epilogue
A

H
igh
summer was hot, as usual, and muggy, as usual, and seemed to last
longer
than usual, oppressive and unconcerned that the leaves
would turn in another month or two. Even the bedroom's Frigi Stones
couldn't fight the air's wetness. Nights were somewhat cooler, but
bed-tunics were still out of the question. Especially when one's wife
had become a furnace who occasionally cuddled against one despite the
heat.

Iathor
woke to darkness and a sweaty back. He extracted himself from the bed
and used the water-closet, then returned to see which side of the bed
was least occupied. Not his, this time: Kessa watched him there. The
dimness of a mostly-shielded Incandescens Stone caught hints of her
eyes' color, like something out of a traveling Wind-priest's
terror-tale.

A
man could develop a taste for such tales; he smiled. "Restless
dreams?"

"Privy
ones, anyway." She yawned as she waved an arm at him.

He
caught it and helped her sit. They both said it was the heat that
drained her energy, but her belly had gone huge – bigger, for
her frame, than Iathor thought it should be, even with only another
month or so till the bonesetter thought the child should come.

He
trailed his hand over that taut arc of skin as she stood, with mixed
pride and terror for her. Herbmaster Keli (and some other masters,
including himself when he could) had been seeking something to ease
what would likely be a difficult birth. Thus far, the best stopped at
"promising." He pretended he was sure something would be
suitable next month. Kessa pretended she believed him.

She
stroked her own hand across his skin, a bit lower than his stomach,
as she went for the water-closet. An idle threatening promise, in the
heat. Probably. He leaned against the bed to wait for her; she
was
unwieldy with pregnancy, enough to let him help her in and out of
bed.

Besides,
he didn't care to lie in bed alone, in darkness. Though Iasen (
I
have no brother
) was merely detained indefinitely in the Cym
palace's prison, Iathor still had occasional nightmares involving
blinding. Better to wait for Kessa and think of more hopeful things.

It
took a while, this time, and she paused in the doorway as she
emerged. "Ow." She rubbed her side. "My back hurts."

Iathor
went to her, stroking her lower back. "Shall I rub it?"

"Mmm.
If you want." Her tone was an intense
yes
.

So
he helped her into bed and onto her side, since lying on her stomach
had been beyond her for some months now. Tense muscles, lower down;
she gave a pained whimper if he rubbed too hard. He changed to
stroking there, and out around her belly, feeling the texture changes
where her skin had been pushed out too fast, in paler stripes.
Sometimes, in early mornings when she seemed discontented, he'd
kissed them and called her beautiful. (And she'd accused him of
perversion, smiling.)

Her
skin went hard under his hand. He spread out his fingers, hoping the
baby wasn't pushing his head against her side.
You should be
upside down,
he thought at the boy.
Readying yourself to dive
into the world.

The
hardness spread over Kessa's entire belly. Iathor frowned; her
breathing had gone ragged, too. "Are you all right?"

"Cramping,
that's all." She covered his hand with hers, as her stomach
softened again. "Feels like he's impatient."

"Mustn't
rush the brewing." He waggled a finger against her skin,
mock-chiding the boy.

"I
wonder if the brew feels the same way?"

He
chuckled. "Thought of any names for this particular elixir?"

"You'll
have a few fivedays before anyone starts to care."

He
wrapped an arm around her, under her breasts, and held tight. "Then
I'll wait for you to choose."
You'll be there, to choose.

"Pfft."
She reached behind herself, though the only return of the embrace she
could manage, in that position, was to pull his hips against hers.

"Mmm?"
he asked, tone conveying the question.

"Mmm,"
she replied, thoughtfully. Then, more informatively, "Just
petting for me, I think. The cramping's distracting. Shall I . . . ?"
She slid her hand around from his buttock to the front of his thigh.

"I'd
not argue. Unless you're tired?"

"Too
uncomfortable to sleep." She shifted, awkwardly, till she faced
him and could use both her hands while he petted and kissed her.

After
a slowly distracting time, convincing his body that no, he wasn't
that
sleepy or overheated, she paused (inconveniently), and
hissed.

"Urm?"
he managed, distracted enough by the note of pain to put aside his
own urgencies. He stroked down her body; her belly was tight and hard
again.

"Just . . .
a cramp." She took deep breaths. "Here, help me sit, and
you lie flatter."

One
advantage of being smug, that he could bring her body to a boil and
quickening of pleasure, had been her eventual decision to retaliate.
He stroked her hair and shoulders, and let her practice making
him
boil over. Afterward, in an overheated haze, he thought,
Learns
quickly.

They
might've fallen asleep, her head on his hip, had she not winced
again, and, after relaxing, muttered, "Blight . . .
I just
went
 . . ."

"Mm?"
He pushed himself onto his elbow. "What's wrong?"

"Oh,
I've probably stained the bed. I was just
at
the privy . . ."

Iathor
rolled over to unshield the Incandescens Stone. His wife's expression
was mixed irritation and embarrassment. There was a scent oddly like
the bleaches used in the hospice, and her legs and the bedsheet
beneath her hips were wet – but the color seemed off for
urine. He slid back the colored-glass screens till the light properly
revealed the tint on the sheet. "That looks like blood, my lady
wife."

"Not
much," she said. "It's just a little pink. Ow." She
put a hand on her belly.

He
set his next to hers. Hard, tight. "I want the bonesetter
fetched."

Voice
a little strained, she said, "It's the middle of the blighted
night, Iathor. It's just too much pressure on my bladder. My belly's
been twitching like this for days now, off and on."

"And
hurting, too?"

She
paused. "Not so much," she admitted, and her lack of
evasion was alarming enough to chase sleepiness away.

"If
the bonesetter wakes for naught, I'll pay him well enough that he'll
forgive me." Iathor slid off the bed and went for their
bedrobes. "Shall I get Bynae?"

"I
suppose, since you'll not let me out of your sight without someone
else hovering."

"Indeed."
He walked out the door, calling, "Bynae? Bynae! Kessa needs
you."