David Weber - How firm a foundation

“There shouldn’t have been any of them,” Merlin had said through his teeth. “How in God’s name did they get a damned pistol past Gahrvai’s guards?”

“I’ve been checking the record from the SNARCs’ sensors,” Seahamper had said over the com from the other side of the bedchamber’s closed door. “Owl’s managed to pick up the moment he was admitted. He was carrying the real Grahsmahn’s summons; Grahsmahn was on the list from the first session; and it never occurred to any of us to tell them to look for firearms concealed inside someone’s tunic because it hadn’t occurred to us that anyone could fit one inside his tunic. And if you want something to make you feel even better, Merlin, Owl’s run the imagery through his facial recognition software. Underneath all that beard and the tattoo, it was none other than our elusive friend Paitryk Hainree.”

The sergeant’s tone had been almost conversational, and Merlin had known he was almost certainly right about the confluence of factors which had allowed the gunman to get past Gahrvai’s guardsmen. No one on Safehold had ever heard of a “photo ID,” so unless Hainree had run into someone who’d remembered the real Grahsmahn from the previous session, there was precious little way anyone could have spotted the deception. Besides, if Owl was right and it had been Hainree, they’d already had ample evidence he was (or had been, at any rate) fiendishly good at getting into (and out of) places where he wasn’t supposed to be. But Seahamper’s calm tone hadn’t fooled him. The sergeant was probably even more upset with himself than Merlin was with himself. This was exactly the sort of thing they were supposed to prevent.

“Don’t the two of you pick on yourselves over this!” Sharleyan had scolded as Merlin gently eased down her chemise. “In a crowd that size? One man? And a man who had the exact documentation he was supposed to have?” She’d shaken her head. “Ideally, maybe you and the SNARCs should have spotted him. In fact, though, it’s not at all surprising to me that someone managed to get past you. For that matter, Merlin, you and Edwyrd argued against this approach from the beginning exactly because you were afraid of something like this. So why aren’t you simply saying ‘I told you so’ and letting it go at that?”

“Because you damn near got yourself killed this morning!” Merlin had snapped. He’d paused, looking down into her face, his sapphire eyes dark. “I’ve lost too many of you already, Sharley. I’m not about to lose any more!”

“Of course you’re not,” she’d said softly, laying one hand on his mailed forearm. “And I didn’t mean to sound flip. But that doesn’t make anything I just said untrue, does it? Besides,” she’d smiled impishly, “at least we’ve just demonstrated that Owl’s tailoring works!”

“More or less,” Merlin had conceded, and grimaced as he ran his fingertips lightly across the huge discolored bruise on Sharleyan’s rib cage. “On the other hand, it didn’t spread the kinetic energy as well as I could have wished. You’ve got at least two broken ribs here, Sharley. Probably three. I’m seriously tempted to whisk you off to the cave tonight and let Owl’s auto doc take a look at you.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be nec- Ow! ”

Sharleyan had flinched as he’d pressed just a bit harder. He’d shaken his head in apology, and she’d sucked in a deep breath.

“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary,” she’d said. “Even if they’re broken, I mean. Isn’t this one of the reasons you inoculated us with the medical nanotech?”

“It’ll help you heal faster; what it won’t do is heal this overnight,” Merlin had retorted. “And it’s not going to help much with the pain, either. If you think this is bad now, you just wait till you wake up and try to move in the morning!”

“I know,” she’d said glumly. “This isn’t the first time I’ve broken them.”

“You and that damned pony,” Seahamper had muttered over the com, and she’d giggled, then gasped in pain.

“Exactly,” she’d said, and looked up at Merlin. “I’m perfectly prepared to be ‘indisposed’ in the morning, at least as long as I can get to breakfast with the Regency Council without looking too much like I’ve been beaten with a stick. I figure they’ll expect at least a little morning-after reaction out of me. So if we just strap up my ribs tightly, I can get through that much, I think. Then I promise I’ll come straight back here and spend the day resting while all those busy little nanites work on fixing me.”

“What do you think, Edwyrd?” Merlin had asked.

“Unless you’re ready to knock her on the head, that’s probably as close to a reasonable attitude as you’re likely to get out of her,” Seahamper had said sourly. “Besides,” he’d gone on a bit grudgingly, “it might not be a very good idea to have her ‘incommunicado’ after something like this. I doubt anyone’s going to come calling in the middle of the night, but the two of you would be gone for hours, and if something does come up I won’t be able to fob people off the way I might get away with in Cherayth. ‘I’m sorry, the Empress is unavailable’ isn’t going to cut it after something like this morning.”

“You’re probably right,” Merlin had sighed, then looked down at Sharleyan and shaken his head. “Too bad current Safeholdian fashion doesn’t include corsets,” he’d said with a lurking smile. “They’re probably the most fiendish device this side of the Inquisition, but just this once they’d actually come in handy! Since we don’t have them, though, let’s get you the rest of the way out of your clothes and see what we can do about strapping up those ribs.”

That had been the better part of six hours ago, and Seahamper had been right about Cayleb’s reaction. The emperor had, indeed, gotten Owl to give him a private connection to Sharleyan, but her side of the conversation had been remarkably monosyllabic, consisting primarily of “Yes” or “No” interspersed with an occasional “Of course I won’t” and even a single “Whatever you say.” It had all been most unlike her, and it probably said a great deal about how deeply she’d been shaken, however composed she might have seemed on the surface.

Now Merlin helped her the last few feet from the bathroom. She made two or three false starts on getting herself turned around and folding down to sit on the bed, then gasped as Merlin scooped her up and effortlessly laid her down again.

“Thank you.” She smiled tightly up at him as lightning whickered beyond her window, briefly etching his profile against the panes, and thunder crashed. “As a matter of fact, this is quite a bit worse than the falling-off-the-pony episode.”

“You don’t say?” Merlin replied dryly, then sighed, looking down at the ugly bruise on the left side of her face. His elbow had done that, he knew, and it was almost as dark as the one on her rib cage, he thought as he touched it with a gentle fingertip. They were lucky he hadn’t broken her cheekbone, as well.

“Sorry about that,” he said with a sad little smile.

“Why? For saving my life the second time?” She reached up and caught his hand, holding it for a moment. “This seems to be getting to be quite a habit for you where Ahrmahks are concerned, doesn’t it? Look-there’s even a thunderstorm! Do you think you could get over it by the time Alahnah grows up?”

“I’ll try, Your Majesty. I’ll certainly try. And when she’s a bit older,” Merlin reached into his belt pouch, “maybe she’d like a little memento of her first trip to Corisande with you.”

“Memento?” Sharleyan repeated, then looked down as he laid something small and heavy in the palm of her hand. The pistol bullet was an ugly, flattened lump that gleamed dully in the light from her bedside lamp.