‘They’re all dead,’ Buruk said beside her. ‘I need a drink.’
His hand plucked at her arm.
She did not move. ‘There’s nowhere to go.’
‘Acquitor. The tavern beneath the hostel’s built solid enough to withstand a siege. I’d imagine that’s where those soldiers just went, to toast their lost comrades. Poor fools. The dead ones, I mean. Come on, Seren. I’m in the mood to spend coin.’
Blinking, she looked round. The mages were gone.
‘It’s raining, Acquitor. Let’s go.’
His hand closed on her arm. She allowed him to drag her away.
‘What’s happened?’
‘You’re in shock, Acquitor. No surprise. Here, I’ve some tea for you, the captain’s own. Enjoy the sunshine – it’s been rare enough lately.’
The river’s swift current pulled the barge along. Ahead, the sun was faintly copper, but the breeze sidling across the water’s spinning surface was warm.
She took the cup from his hands.
‘We’ll be there by dusk,’ Buruk said. ‘Soon, we should be able to make out its skyline. Or at least the smoke.’
‘The smoke,’ she said. ‘Yes, there will be that.’
‘Think on it this way, Seren. You’ll soon be free of me.’
‘Not if there’s not to be a war.’
‘No. I intend to release you from your contract in any case.’
She looked over at him, struggled to focus. There had been a night. After the sorcerous assault. In the tavern. Boisterous soldiers. Scouting parties were to head north the next day – today. She was starting to recall details, the gleam of some strange excitement as lurid as the tavern’s oil lamps. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘My need for you is ended, Acquitor.’
‘Presumably, the Edur will sue for peace. If anything, Buruk, you will find yourself far busier than ever.’ She sipped the tea.
‘He nodded, slowly, and she sensed from him a kind of resignation.
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I’d forgotten. You must needs make yourself of no use.’
‘Indeed. My days as a spy are over, Acquitor.’
‘You will be the better for it, Buruk.’
‘Assuredly.’
‘Will you stay in Trate?’
‘Oh yes. It is my home, after all I intend never to leave Trate.’
Seren drank her tea. Mint, and something else that thickened her tongue. Flowed turgid and cloying through her thoughts. ‘You have poisoned this tea, Buruk.’ The words slurred.
‘Had to, Seren Pedac. Since last night. I can’t have you thinking clearly. Not right now. You’ll sleep again. One of the dockhands will waken you tonight – I will make sure of that, and that you’re safe.’
‘Is this another… another betrayal?’ She felt herself sagging on the bench.
‘My last, dear. Remember this, if you can: I didn’t want your help.’
‘My… help.’
‘Although,’ he added from a great distance, ‘you have always held my heart.’
Fierce pain behind her eyes. She blinked them open. It was night. A robe covered her, tucked up round her chin. The slow rise and fall beneath her and the faint creaks told her she was still aboard the barge, which was now tied up alongside a stone pier. Groaning, she sat up.
Scuffling sounds beside her, then a tankard was hovering before her face. ‘Drink this, lass.’
She did not recognize the voice, but pushed the tankard away.
‘No it’s all right,’ the man insisted. ‘Just ale. Clean, cool ale. To take the ache from your head. He said you”d be hurting, you see. And ale’s always done it for me, when I done and drunk too much.’
‘I wasn’t drunk-’
‘No matter, you weren’t sleeping a natural sleep. It ain’t no difference, you see? Come now, lass, I need to get you up and around. It’s my wife, you see, she’s poorly. We’re past the third bell an’ I don’t like leaving her too long alone. But he paid me good. Errant knows, more than an honest man makes in a year. Jus’ to sit with you, you see. See you’re safe an’ up and walking.’
She struggled to her feet, clutching at and missing the cloak as it slipped down to her feet.
The dockhand, a bent, wizened old man, set the tankard down and collected it. ‘Turn now, lass. I got the clasps. There’s a chill this night – you’re shivering. Turn now, yes, good, that’s it.’