The Sleeping Life (Eferum Book 2) (9 page)

He'd found some syrupy Kolan kur, and even dosed it with a tiny amount of spirits, which was something she couldn't drink in any quantity. But they sat together and it warmed her.

She leaned against him again. "I didn't know I could fall apart like that."

"Reaction from the attack." He took her empty cup and put it on the floor. "At the time, you pushed it aside. And then you were injured, and when you at last had the time and energy to think, that was not something you wanted to dwell upon. You haven't had to face the memory until now."

He touched her cheek, then bent his head to kiss her properly for the first time since that one night they'd spent together two months ago. Rennyn was considerably startled, since Illidian had made clear that the thought of hurting her while making love wasn't something he could bear, and until her ribs had strengthened he'd not risk more than the lightest touch. But he did not draw back, and she was more than happy to keep going, to try not to breathe deeply while Illidian shook with the effort of being entirely slow and gentle. The whole thing was awkward, and probably not very satisfying for either of them, but she didn't care. She'd hated that they hadn't been able to consummate their marriage.

"What changed your mind?" she asked, when they had finally settled curled together, breathing unsteadily.

He kissed the top of her head, but took his time answering. "I hadn't realised how deeply his attack had wounded you," he said at last. "I've only been thinking of your physical injuries. And haven't trusted myself."

Rennyn curled a little closer, aware of both release and conflict in him. That first time they'd made love, it hadn't escaped her notice that he had struggled with emotions that had knotted his muscles. She never doubted that he loved her, that he was passionately attracted to her, but theirs was a relationship that would always be hopelessly complicated by the power she had over the Kellian, by the nightmare she represented. She was so glad they were at least moving past the constraints placed on them by her injuries.

"Do you think that play will be popular?"

"Very." He sounded resigned. "A number of the scenes are exceptional, and it captures the...distress Tyrians have suffered, that they needed to have spoken aloud."

"Is it better to have a very good play about you that everyone will see, or a very bad play that they will forget?"

"Neither? It makes our departure fortuitous. By the time we return it will be last season's sensation. To which point, it is past time you slept."

That made Rennyn laugh, and she was even more pleased when her ribs raised no protest. "Do you really think I'll last more than a few more sentences? Perhaps I should try one of those crowd-stirring speeches." She smiled, thinking of the way the actress pretending to be her had kept stopping in the middle of battles to have little debates with herself, or to be lofty and dismissive to the Sentene.

"So unlikely..." she murmured, blinked, and realised he had moved, had settled in the chair beside the bed to read, as he did every night after she fell asleep because he tried very hard to sleep as little as possible, because he dreamed of horrors and would not risk injuring her waking in fright. That, at least, was something no-one knew to put in a play: that her husband wouldn't sleep with her.

The evening's gloss dimmed, she drifted off again, wishing the good things between them could banish the nightmares.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Kendall hadn't been keen on this plan from the start. There was such a thing as weighing the risks. Not bumping over roads might make the trip a bit easier for Rennyn, but everyone knew people died on boats. Ships, as Captain Faille said these big ones were called. Did an easier journey balance out a more dangerous one?

Floating about in a creaky wooden tub couldn't be the best solution. Sleep outside the protection of a Circle? Sail onto the ocean, which was full of things that could swallow whole people for lunch? Even if nothing came and killed them, there were storms to toss you overboard, and then maybe you'd have a chance to drown before you were eaten.

Kendall had learned enough about magic to know the difference between the circles of protection that kept Night Roamers out of towns, and the wards you'd have to use on a room or a ship. Wards were expensive, requiring a lot more power. Unless you were going to sail right back into port before sunset, you'd need a mage or two to keep them up. And they weren't nearly as strong as a Circle, which meant if they were attacked there was a chance of the wards being overwhelmed.

Despite all this, and the fact that they'd had to go down before dawn to a cold, misty and stinking river, Kendall had to work at not gawping as she crossed the thick plank between dock and deck. People were busy moving everywhere, and the masts seemed immensely tall when you stood underneath them, and you could feel the weight in all that sailcloth. If it was not for one fly in the ointment, she'd let herself enjoy setting out.

The fly had turned up when they were crowding into carriages back at the Houses of Magic, and short of pushing him overboard, Kendall didn't see much hope of getting rid of him. She hadn't said anything back at the palace, since Rennyn had been saying goodbye to Sebastian and not looking too happy about it, but first chance she got, Kendall buttonholed her teacher for an explanation. As usual it was hardly worth the breath.

"Straightforward curiosity," Rennyn said, glancing around the room she'd been shown to, with its little table and the long padded seat beneath a bunch of leaded windows looking out the back of the ship. "I found him interesting, the same as I do you and Sukata. But if it will make you feel any better, you're free to treat him with just as much courtesy as he treats you."

"Bah," Kendall said, but left as Captain Faille arrived with luggage. She wouldn't get anywhere pointing out that 'interesting' was the wrong way to look at the nephew of the Kellian's worst enemy. You couldn't make Rennyn change her mind about things by repeating the same argument at her.

Rennyn's room was at the back of the ship, and was a lot bigger than the one Kendall had. That was down the corridor, where Sukata, Kendall and Lieutenant Faral were going to sleep in things called hammocks—nets strung from the walls. There was a curtain for the door, and Kendall almost pulled that off as she reached it because the floor decided to tilt.

"If it sways this much while it's tied up, how much are these things going to rock when it's actually moving?"

"Almost dangerous," Sukata said, eyes bright, and they picked which nets would be theirs.

There was a painting of Vella Wind-Eye on the back of the door. Kendall noticed lots of them scattered about—big and little ones—as she and Sukata clambered their way back on to the deck and found a place where they were allowed to stand and watch. No surprise that sailors were devout sorts—not that Kendall could ever make her mind whether the gods paid the least attention however much you waved your arms and tried to make them take notice. The Elder Mages were supposed to look after people on a day-to-day basis, but they'd killed themselves off centuries ago.

Sukata, typically, was straight-out enjoying the prospect of putting to sea. "I am trying very hard to remember this is a serious undertaking," she confessed, as the board they'd used to cross from the dock was dragged aboard and all the sailors started pulling things. "It's too much an adventure not to be excited."

"The serious part doesn't really start until we get there," Kendall pointed out, holding hard to the bit of railing they'd been told to stick at. "And even then we're just along to be nursemaids and entertainment."

"Would you say that Duchess Surclere enjoys teaching? Or do you mean we are someone to talk to?"

Kendall hadn't noticed the fly grubbing up behind them, and wished Sukata had warned her. It was tempting to ignore him, let him buzz, but a couple of weeks on a boat would make that hard and probably prompt Rennyn to do something annoying. Though Kendall wasn't about to let him get the idea that there was any "we" involved.

"So what does your uncle think about you becoming Rennyn's student?" she asked instead.

"I expect he'll be livid," the fly said, looking pleased, though maybe just to hide an edge of worry. "I wonder how long it will take him to realise I'm gone?"

"You ran away?"

He gave her an impatient look. "My uncle is not my guardian. My father does not like my uncle."

And they were supposed to just believe that. Kendall shook her head, and wouldn't have wasted any more attention on the pest, but Sukata had turned to him and said: "Do you know what is your uncle's reason for hating my people?"

The Pest didn't act at all embarrassed, looking straight at Sukata as if it was just an interesting discussion. "My uncle tells everyone the problem is the Kellian are loyal only to themselves, but my father told me it's because of Aunt Halla, Uncle's late wife. She liked one of the Kellian far more than my uncle. Apparently. She's been dead for years, so I don't remember her."

Sukata murmured: "I see," then glanced up at the sails. The mist around the dock was shifting, beginning to stream with a lifting wind, ready to pull them down the river past the marshes to the ocean. The whole ship creaked, which was less than comforting, and then the docks started moving away.

Wind was the reason they'd had to get themselves down here before dawn, and wind was the biggest thing Kendall couldn't work out. She could understand well enough that the sails belling above them could drag the ship along in the direction the wind was going, but from what Captain Faille had said about sailing, the mages weren't on board to make sure that the wind always went in the right direction, or to push the ship against the wind if it was blowing the wrong way. Rennyn was always going on about understanding how things worked before trying to get magic to do the same, and this was a puzzle Kendall wanted to know the answer to.

The ship's Captain didn't look like the sort of person you could ask. She was almost as grim as Captain Faille, and Kendall never enjoyed asking Captain Faille questions, even though he always answered and would never even think of teasing her. The fly had trapped Sukata into being polite to him, so Kendall went and found Lieutenant Meniar, who was up the front of the ship watching the mad people who'd climbed up the masts.

"Sorry, not a clue," he said. "I expect we'll find out when the wind changes. How's the Duchess holding up?"

"Got out of bed too early, and busy pretending the idea of not seeing Sebastian for months hasn't upset her."

"Has she said anything about the play?" He looked quickly over at the few Sentene who had remained on deck, his face a mix of curiosity and concern. "I know you three were there. We saw you."

"I don't think Rennyn's likely to want to talk about that," Kendall said, shrugging. "Most of what happened was right, but Rennyn was wrong." And it had left Kendall and Sukata out altogether, which annoyed Kendall far more than she was going to admit.

"Keste said something like that. That it was the same story happening to different people. Fel, I'm most-ways sorry I went. The thought of the pair of them sitting there watching Roms Hightley in anguished soliloquy on whether you could trust a woman who could order you to do anything—we were squirming in our seats."

"Sukata said the person who told those players all that stuff won't be in trouble."

"There's nothing in the rules against it—and they probably thought they were helping. But I definitely wouldn't like to be in their shoes. The Kellian will consider it a breach of trust, you see, and if they find out who it was, well, they'll not do more than treat them with utmost courtesy in return and that's...not something you want."

Kendall tried to imagine Sukata or Captain Faille being really really polite to her, and agreed heartily. Sukata suspected the person helping the playwright was probably one of the Ferumguard, the support troop that assisted the Sentene, because Sentene pairs of Kellian and mage worked too close for them not to know if one of the mages had been responsible.

"Were the things they had the Sentene mages saying right?" she asked. "I thought you liked Rennyn."

"No. Or yes, but no. When she first appeared, we were all very excited. The Surclere reputation, and that incredible thing she cast during the Asentyr incursion, and, gods, the sheer power of the woman. We knew the Kellian weren't too pleased that any of the Montjuste-Surclere line survived, and stupidly we were a little annoyed that she seemed to want nothing to do with them, but for the most part we were all very admiring. And then she told us she owned them."

"She didn't actually say that," Kendall pointed out.

"I know. But that's what we heard. We—there are a few reasons people become Sentene mages. It's a dangerous job, not comparatively well paid. The ambitious know it to be a stepping stone into the Hand. Others want the variety of experience—it's a way to grow as a mage or to not be stuck turning out lightstones and heatstones. Some consider it honourable service to the kingdom. And the rest of us, well, who can resist prancing about in those coats?"

"Playing hero."

"That would be it. The reason people stay as Sentene mages is usually their partner. Kellian don't mix much outside the Sentene. If you attend the Arkathan you're sure to have glimpsed them a few times, but are very unlikely to have spoken to any. And you hear stories. Most wrong, as it turns out. You soon learn the Kellian are the backbone of the Sentene, and their respect is very hard to earn. But they'll defend you with their lives no matter how worthless they think you are."

"They don't act like they think everyone's worthless," Kendall protested.

"No." He flushed, and lowered his voice, though with Kellian hearing it probably wouldn't make any difference if any of them really wanted to listen. "No, they're more neutral, with low expectations. That sounds a horrible thing to say, but they don't encounter many people who meet the standards they hold themselves to. They don't hold it against you for not measuring up, but, well, new Sentene mages often become wholly obsessed with knowing whether they're being tolerated, or if their partner thinks them worthwhile. It can be hard to tell the difference. And it's very common to grow protective of them, which is a bizarre way to behave toward such a deadly group of people, but that's just the way it is. If you survive your first few months in the Sentene without coming to hate the Kellian, you end up wanting to shield them."