Karl Schroeder - Ventus

Part of him wondered why he was doing this—an old, inhuman side whose voice had been losing strength and confidence over the past days. Another part of him, young and ancient at the same time, almost wept with desire and relief as he drew her dress down to bare her shoulders, and buried his face in her hair.

Megan dropped the dress completely, and stepped into the basin with him. "It's been so long," she whispered.

"Yes." He lifted her onto him. The feeling awoke a torrent of memory—false or real, it no longer mattered. He encircled her with his arms. "Too long," he murmured. Their mouths met, and neither spoke again.

Jordan came to himself suddenly. Calandria was standing in front of him, bathed in slanting evening light. Her face was framed by a wreath of fine black hair, tendrils of which caressed her forehead and the nape of her neck. She smiled at him. Jordan cleared his throat.

"How is our patient?" she asked, nodding to August. "Well enough to travel?"

"I feel fine," said August. "The wound doesn't seem so bad. I think I could even manage to hide it from Linden."

"Really?" Calandria brushed a hand through her hair absently. "That might not be such a bad idea after all."

Jordan was surprised by this. Last night she had been adamant about getting August out of the way so that he would not call further attention to them. The state of his wound was bound to be cause for comment, after all. Of course, if he himself hid it from his masters...

"Jordan, can I speak to you alone for a moment?" she asked. He nodded, smiled at August, who shrugged, and followed her into the hall.

She closed the heavy door, and said, "Our plans have changed." Jordan felt a quickening sense of excitement, but said nothing. "We are leaving tonight," she continued. As she spoke she watched his face closely. "I want you to pack our belongings and wait for me to return. Be prepared to move quickly," she said.

"What about Armiger? I thought we were staying because we hadn't figured out where he was."

"Well. We have enough to make a start, don't we?" she said brightly. Then she walked away, apparently confident.

Jordan reentered the room, and closed the door. "What's up?" August asked him. The man was stretched out, seemingly at leisure, on his bedroll next to the fire.

Jordan shook his head. "I have no idea," he said.

Axel raised his fist, then carefully loosened his knotted muscles and knocked politely on the tower door. It was a hard climb up here, past Turcaret's guards then up a narrow windowless spiral stairway. He could barely make out gleams of light coming through cracks in the door. After a moment he heard shuffling footsteps, and the door opened inward.

"Come in, come in." Controller Turcaret waved him inside.

Axel was surprised to find the controller was alone. The tower room he had been given was lovely. Tall leaded windows in all four walls admitted long shafts of afternoon light to gleam on the leaves of hundreds of plants festooning every surface. The chamber was tall, maybe six meters, and stone-floored. Whoever normally lived here had trusted to the sturdiness of the place, and had potted several young trees of respectable size. One, a willow, curled its long branches down over an iron-framed bed. Another overshadowed a writing desk. A wardrobe, several cabinets and a table sat half-hidden behind the foliage. There was a fireplace by the bed; the place might be quite cozy in the wintertime.

Axel crossed his arms, trying to manage a diplomatic smile. "Well. How are you?" he asked. It really should be Calandria at this meeting; but Turcaret had asked for Axel in particular, so Cal was off getting the horses ready, and he had to pretend to like this man for a few minutes. He manufactured a smile.

Turcaret brushed some leaves and a beetle off the table and motioned for Axel to sit. "Come in, Chan," he said as he rummaged in a cabinet. "Make yourself comfortable." He produced a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Axel eyed the bottle. "Are we celebrating something?"

Turcaret laughed darkly and uncorked the bottle. "We might be. That depends on how cooperative you are."

"Does it have to do with your reasons for visiting the Boros?" asked Axel. What he really wanted to ask was, Did you follow us here?

"All in good time, man." Turcaret made a shooing motion toward the wine glass. "Try it. I think you'll appreciate it."

Axel scowled, but picked up the glass. He took a sip. Instantly his diagnostic nano went to work. They detected no common poisons, although the liquid was full of substances foreign to them. That in itself was normal for Ventusian wine, Axel had discovered.

"Hmm." He dismissed the paranoid thought that Turcaret might try to poison him, and took another sip. It was delightful stuff, so strong it seemed to dissolve into his soft palate before reaching the back of his throat.

He smiled at Turcaret and raised his glass. "All right," he said. "Now what did you want to talk about?"

"Ah, that." Turcaret steepled his hands and smiled. "It has to do with the little matter of your being an imposter."

Daylight was seeping away outside. Jordan was fairly sure Calandria would wait for darkness before making any moves, but knowing that didn't make the time pass any easier.

The time dragged. Jordan had packed everything in the ten minutes after Calandria left, and after that all he could do was wait. August had eyed him while he worked, but said nothing. He seemed content to let Jordan speak if he wished, but Jordan was distracted, and too upset to give the man much notice.

What confused Jordan even more was that Armiger and Megan were making love next to her fireplace. If he closed his eyes for even a second, he was there, seemingly touching her himself, and the vision was so mesmerizing he didn't want to look away. It was powerfully arousing, and he couldn't afford that—not tonight, and not with August in the room.

August kept twisting his body, flexing his arms, and touching his wounded side. He looked puzzled. Obviously he was trying to find some motion that would hurt enough to locate his wound. Jordan seized on the distraction.

"I told you, we've put something on it to kill the pain. You'll just open it up if you move about."

"No," said August. "I can feel everywhere around there. It seems..." He threw the blankets off.

"Stop!"

August stood up. "I'll be damned," he said. He pressed his hand to his side. "It feels..." he looked up suddenly.

Jordan heard something. "Quiet!" he hissed. August looked up in surprise.

"What—?" Jordan waved him silent. He sidled over to the door and put his ear against it.

August hitched his pants up and came over as well. "What is it?" he whispered.

"I heard footsteps. They stopped just outside the door," Jordan whispered back.

August planted his ear against the door. "I hear voices. Snuff out the candle, will you?"

Jordan ran to obey. August flattened himself against the wall next to the door, and Jordan barely had time to duck down behind the bed before someone pushed the door open, and three men stepped into the room.

Turcaret glanced out the window to check the angle of the light. It was almost dark. Almost time.

"I sent a semaphore message to the king of Ravenon," he said to Chan. "Shortly after you left Castor's manor. The king had never heard of you, nor the damsel who calls herself Calandria May. You are not couriers for Ravenon. We don't know what you are—but I did receive permission to have you arrested and sent back to the capital in irons if I chanced upon you again."

Chan took another sip of his wine, his expression bland. "We're alone in this room," he pointed out. "If you wanted to arrest me, you would have already done it."