Camber the Heretic Read Free

rapport.
    â€œYou’re right, I suppose,” she said, swirling the contents of the cup and watching the drug dissolve. “He’s certainly making things worse by his thrashing. And if he starts throwing things around again—well, I don’t know how much more this room can take.”
    Rhys sniffed the cup delicately, then gave her a wry smile.
    â€œHave you no confidence in my potions, my love?” he chuckled. “I guarantee this will take the edge off.”
    â€œYou have to get it into him first,” Evaine countered. “Just how do you propose to do that?”
    â€œAh, there lies the Healer’s secret!” He stripped off his Healer’s mantle and tossed it in a heap on top of hers, then crossed to the door and flung it wide.
    â€œJesse, would you come in here, please, and bring a couple of your servants with you? I’m going to have to give him a sleeping draught before he’ll let me touch him. Don’t worry, I won’t let him do anything dangerous.”
    Cautiously, a husky, olive-skinned youth peered around the doorjamb and then eased his way into the room, followed by three blue-and-white-liveried servants. Jesse, who had sent to Valoret for Rhys, was a quiet but intense young man whose concern—and healthy respect—for his sire’s abilities was evident in every line of his bearing. Neither he nor his men made any effort to move closer to the great bed where the earl tossed and fretted, though they did glance surreptitiously in that direction.
    Rhys took Jesse’s arm and urged him and his men toward the bed with reassuring words.
    â€œNow, this isn’t going to be as difficult as it may seem,” he said easily. “He’s going to be all right, and so are you. Nobody is going to get hurt. Now, you men—I want you to pin his legs and his uninjured arm when I give the word. Sit on them, if you have to, but keep him still. My potion isn’t going to do him any good if it isn’t in him. Jesse, I need you to help me hold his head. If you can keep him from thrashing around, I’ll worry about getting his mouth open so that Evaine can pour the stuff down. Do you all think you can manage that?”
    Jesse looked dubious and a little scared. “You’re sure he won’t start throwing things around again? I mean, I don’t suppose he would hurt me, but what about the servants?”
    â€œYou let me and Evaine worry about that,” Rhys said, gesturing for the men to move closer. “Is everyone ready now?”
    Reluctant but obedient, the men eased in gingerly around the bed and made assignments among themselves, watching as Rhys and Evaine took positions near the head and Evaine readied the cup. A moment they paused, one man surreptitiously crossing himself before the expected struggle. Then, at Rhys’s signal, all of them pounced.
    Pandemonium ensued. Gregory arched his body upward in reflex, almost throwing off even that array of physical force, and the bed began trembling from more than his movement. Rhys heard something smash against the floor behind him as he forced the earl’s jaws apart, but he ignored that as he tried, at the same time, to apply pressure for temporary unconsciousness. Gregory let out a terrified animal gurgle as Evaine began pouring the drugged wine down his throat, but Rhys’s skillful touch evoked a swallowing reflex once, twice, a third time, and then it was done.
    Releasing Gregory’s head, Rhys signalled the servants to withdraw to the safety of the doorway, then stood back with Evaine and Jesse and tried to dampen the effects of the earl’s temporary wrath. A bowl and pitcher of water across the room toppled to the floor with a crash that made them all jump. Then a pair of swords over the mantel came careening through the air to clatter against the opposite wall, narrowly missing young Jesse’s head.
    Finally, the earl’s pale eyes began to glaze,