Waterborne Exile Read Free

and, muttering a curse, continued to the black-haired soldier’s bed.
    The soldier roused and sat up, clutching his injured soldier.
    “I have been told you witnessed a number of riders escape during the fire.”
    “Yes, sire, that is right. Three riders, two of them women. I did my best to stop them–”
    “Well, girl. Do as the prelate ordered you.” One of the hospital orderlies waited in the doorway, arms folded as he watched her. His expression was not unkind, but she knew him of old. He’d heard the prelate’s command and this would be the last time she could sneak unseen into the infirmary. She’d need to find someone else to keep an eye on things. There were times when it was useful to have a brother so much younger than herself.

CHAPTER FOUR
    Weaver woke to darkness. Something dug hard into his hip and his ribs. When he breathed in, pain seared his lungs. He drew a deeper breath and was lost in a paroxysm of coughing. There was no air… He pushed his shoulders up from the hard surface he lay upon, discovering worn stone slabs beneath his fingertips, polished smooth by the passage of countless feet over the years. Disoriented, he tried to work out how he had come to be in the dungeon at Highkell once more. But these stone slabs were clean. A different sort of decay filled the air here: that of dry emptiness, of doors never opened or closed, and of air unchanged. This was a space unused, not overfilled. And the stink of smoke overlaid it all.
    He sensed he was alone in the darkness here. His eyes were adjusting to the gloom and he could make out the outlines of barrels stacked nearby. This was no dungeon: this was a storeroom. Some cellar, perhaps, although it was not as dank as he might have expected of a room dug out beneath ground level. It took him a moment to realise the odd rasping sound was his own breathing. Now he began to think about it, the pain with each inward breath seemed to grow stronger. He slumped forward as another burst of coughs racked him. When he was finally able to straighten up he discovered the room was lighter than before. And a slight figure was standing over him, watching, something held carefully between his hands. The lad looked vaguely familiar – Weaver could recall seeing him about the summer palace over the past few days.
    With a hesitant smile the boy crouched down. “I brought you water. It’s fresh, I drew it just now.”
    Weaver tried to draw a breath but could summon no air and no words – either for thanks or for questions.
    “Drink. It will help.” The lad held out the cup with that same hesitant half-smile. Weaver raised one hand and pain tore through his lungs. It took longer before the coughing passed off that time. When he was done the boy still waited there, anxiously clutching the water. He offered it again, raising it to Weaver’s lips and he was able to drink at last. It tasted sweet, laced with something Weaver couldn’t identify, but the moisture was welcome and he had to fight the urge to gulp it all down. The boy lowered the cup for a moment. “Good?” he asked, hesitantly.
    Weaver could only nod. His head began to swim. The boy raised the cup to his lips and he swallowed more liquid down. After another pause the boy repeated the action, tilting the cup so Weaver could drain the last from it. The pain in his lungs was easing, but he felt a cold sweat break out across the top of his shoulders and his forehead. The room slid out of focus, wavering as if seen through a heat haze, then Weaver knew no more.

CHAPTER FIVE
    Wine goblet in hand, Drelena took up a stance in a quiet corner of the room. The Outer Isles nobility certainly knew how to celebrate. A sweatier, rowdier bunch of revellers she had rarely encountered. She’d seen a few wedding gatherings in recent years, and it was true, all the good ones were taken – had been for quite some time. Her second cousin Edric sat at a nearby table, engrossed in conversation with his wife. It wasn’t