Maggie Furey - Harp of Winds

“I’ll feed her from my rations,” Emmie said firmly.

“And that you bloody won’t!” Jarvas spluttered. As it is, you don’t eat near enough, without giving it away to some mangy dog! I’m telling you, Emmie—I won’t have it!

Grince saw his newfound friend took down into the trusting eyes of the dog. She took a shaky breath, “Very well,” she said tightly, “if we aren’t welcome here we’ll go”

“no!” the howl of protest came from Grince. You can’t go away! What about my puppies?” Before Emmie could react, he had dived out, kicked Jarvas hard in the shins, and dodged behind her again. “Leave her alone, you rotten old pig!.” he shrilled. “It’s her dog, and they’re my puppies—and we’re keeping them, so there!”

A long arm shot out, and the big man dragged Grince out from behind Emmie’s skirts. Much as the boy wriggled and cursed, he could not escape from the bruising grip of those strong fingers. Jarvas’s eyes were glinting with anger.

“It’s all right, son.” The smooth, deep voice was firm and reassuring. “Jarvas—is this really necessary?”

Jarvas let go of the boy and turned to confront the man with silver-gold hair who had walked up behind him, his booted feet silent in the snowy earth of the stockade. “You have no right, Benziorn—” the big man began angrily—

-but the other took him by the arm and dragged him out of earshot.

Grince looked up at Emmie. To his astonishment, her lips were crooked in a smile. “Benziorn is a good physician,” she told the boy, “and we need him here. If anyone can persuade Jarvas to change his mind, he can.”

Grince watched the two men talking, their heads close together, and bit his lip anxiously. Glad as he’d been of Benziorn’s intervention, he only hoped that the physician would be able to sway Jarvas in favor of his puppies. It looked as though Emmie was thinking the same. Kneeling, she put her arms around the thick-ruffed neck of the white dog. “It’s all right,” the boy heard her mutter to the animal, “You’ll have a home with me whatever Jarvas says!”

After what seemed an age to Grince, Jarvas stamped off across the stockade, grumbling, while Benziorn returned to the waiting pair with a wry shake of his head

“At least I still retain some powers of persuasion! Really, if you weren’t such a good assistant . . .” the physician said to Emmie in mock scolding tones

“Benizorn, how can I thank you?” Emmie replied gratefully. ” I had expected Jarvas to be awkward but….”

Don’t blame him too harshly, Emmie.” The physician sighed. ” Jarvas has too many other worries today, to be concerned about one stray dog. He—”

“It’s not just one stray dog!” Grince piped up indignantly. “What about my bloody puppies?”

“Grince!.” Emmie scolded. “We’re going to have to do something about your language!”

“What language?” the boy replied innocently.

Benziorn squatted beside him, frowning. “I think you know what bloody language, you little wretch! Well, Jarvas doesn’t allow swearing here—especially not in front of ladies like Emmie. So you’d better apologize to her—or she might just decide to take those puppies back!”

He looked so ferocious that Grince gulped nervously. “I—I’m sorry, Emmie,” he said in a small and subdued voice.

“That’s better!” Benziorn smiled and ruffled his hair. “Now, let’s go and get those pups of yours settled. While we still have time.” He said the last words in such a quiet, worried voice that the excited boy barely heard them. Leaving Emmie—after all, it was her fault—to cope with Tilda’s hysterics on being presented with the five puppies, Jarvas crossed the echoing warehouse and looked broodingly down at the injured trooper who had caused so much trouble.

“You know, our mysterious stranger’s head wound may be more serious than I had thought. He should have regained consciousness by now.”

“Is this your day for sneaking up on me?” Jarvas snapped—but his irritation was dampened by the sight of the physician’s haggard face and worried frown. For the first time since the big man had known him, Benziorn was sober.

“Is it really so serious?” Jarvas asked, feeling suddenly cold. “By all the Gods, if I’ve gone and put everyone into danger to save him, and then he dies on us . . .”

The physician knelt by his patient. “His pulse seems a little stronger,” he said hopefully. “Maybe it’s just his age, and blood loss—not to mention being hauled about outside in that raw cold!” Scrambling to his feet, he put a hand on Jarvas’s arm. “Can I help?” he said quietly.

“Help? How?” The big man’s voice was raw with bitterness. “I’ve bollixed things up good and proper, Benziorn! Just look at this lot! What’s going to happen to them, when the soldiers come? So far, we’ve escaped much official attention—what do we have, that anyone should want to bother us? But now?” His arm swept out to encompass his ragged little band of destitute Nexians, “It’s only a matter of time before Pendral’s troopers find out who I am! A face like mine is pretty recognizable!”

“And it’s a short step from there, for them to treat this place as a hive of dissension—and we know what that means!”

Benziorn gave Jarvas a very straight look, “My friend, I think we should prepare to evacuate.”

The big man flinched from Benziom’s words. “But ...” His protest subsided as the physician raised an eyebrow,

“You’re right, I know we should,” Jarvas sighed, “I’m not that daft! But to see the ruination of it all . . .” He looked again across the noisy, crowded, smoky hall—at the huddled old folk, enjoying the first food and shelter and security that they had known in a long time; at the little ones who played between the fires; their present freedom from filth, starvation, and disease giving them the energy to get under everyone’s feet with their riotous games. Would this be the end of Vannor’s dream, and his own? Not while Jarvas had a breath left in his body! Determined now, he turned back to Benziorn, “There is,” he said quietly, “another alternative, I could give myself up,”

“No, you fool! You can’t do that!” Benziorn, his eyes wide with alarm, caught Jarvas’s arm as though to detain him by main force. “What about Tilda? What about the stranger you took such risks to save? Pendral must know you weren’t alone in what you did!” His fingers pressed painfully into the big man’s arm. “Jarvas—they’ll torture you to find out the whereabouts of the others—and in the end, you’ll have no alternative but to betray them. Believe me, what you’re suggesting solves nothing!”

“Curse it—what can I do, then?” Jarvas shouted.

“Folk can’t leave Nexis without permission these days—shall I just cast my people back out into the slums?”

“They may be safer there than here, for the time being,” Benziorn reminded him gently. “Once this trouble has died down, it may be possible for them to return—but I think you must tell them to start packing up their belongings now. If the need should arise, they must be ready to leave. I would also look to the fortification of your stockade, and send the more sensible youngsters out into the surrounding streets, to give us early warning of the approach of soldiers. Then, after dark tonight, it may be wise to start moving your people out of here.”

Jarvas knew the physician was right. But never, since his childhood, had he been so close to weeping. It was not long, however, before Benziorn’s precautions turned out to be needed. By nightfall, there were soldiers at the gate.

Guards, dressed in the achingly familiar livery of the Garrison, dragged Vannor up the spiral tower staircase, their booted feet striking harsh echoes from the cold, hard marble. But even the stairwell was so much warmer than the chill outside . . . The merchant felt himself sinking into a drowsy oblivion, and fought to clear his mind, to stay alert, to struggle—but his limbs were bound, and too numb, in any case, to obey him. He was utterly helpless—and back in Miathan’s power.