WindLegends Saga 9: WindRetriever (18 page)

"Either way," he heard Catherine grumble, "I'll be waiting."

"How long?" Conar repeated, glaring up at Raphaella.

"A week, ten days. That depends on how well you do on the medications." She folded her arms over her ample chest. "Longer if you do not respond as Raine and I think you should."

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The taste of her last 'medication' was still coating his tongue and he would have sworn before every Tribunal in the land that the junk was growing mold down his gullet. He swallowed, grimacing at the gritty residue the mess had left in the folds of his mouth. He shuddered.

"Once the dizziness passes, you can get up and walk about the room. Exercise will help strengthened your legs and put some color back into your cheeks." She watched him carefully as that piece of news registered.

"There's nothing wrong with my legs," he informed her.

"How is the blurriness?" she countered.

Conar looked away. "Not as pronounced, but still there."

"It may clear up altogether," she told him, but she didn't think it ever would. There was always going to be a slight fuzziness to his vision from then on. She turned to go. "By the way, Raine wishes to come see you. Shall I give him your permission?"

The Outlander looked up. "Sure."

"You don't mind?"

"No," Conar snapped. "Don't start with that crap about Raja again, woman."

"She's not dead, you know."

Absolute astonishment shot through Conar and he gaped at her, unable to say anything. He watched her shake her head.

"She did not die in the fall." Raphaella opened the door to leave. "Those who enter the Maelstrom don't die. They just go elsewhere in the cosmos. Another place; another time. But they do not die and never will."

"Kahlil?" he croaked, suddenly terrified of the woman's answer.

"He's where he can't cause mischief." She smiled gently at him. "Don't worry, beloved.

Neither of them can ever do you harm again. I have made sure of that."

He sat, stunned, as the door closed. He stared at it for a long, long time, seeing faces he hoped he would never have to see again. But those faces reinforced the fears he already had for Cat's safety and his inability to protect her. If anything, those faces served to put more starch in the fabric of his plan to leave Cat behind when he left.

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Yuri spoke quietly as he and Balizar followed Conar's slow progress around the inner bailey. Both men were sitting on the stairs, a checkerboard between them, but neither was paying attention to the game. They were there to make sure their Overlord did not pass out or trip and fall.

He seemed strong enough, after all it had been almost two weeks since he had taken to his bed, but he was still pale and couldn't seem to go more than a few hours before having to relieve himself.

"That will improve," Rupine had assured them when Azalon had asked about the problem.

"By the Prophetess, I hope so!" Azalon muttered. He'd done more than his share of emptying the Outlander's chamber pot.

"He's getting restless," Balizar remarked as he crowned one of Yuri's men.

"I see that," Yuri answered. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his Overlord peeking through the slats of the portcullis. "It won't be long before he starts demanding to go beyond the keep." He jumped one of Balizar's men.

"And not long after that before he starts demanding to leave Odess," Balizar agreed.

"How far is it into town?" the object of their discussion suddenly called out to them.

The men looked up at one another. Yuri answered for the two of them. "A little over four miles. Why?"

"Is it good road?"

Balizar grunted. "Here it comes," he said beneath his breath.

"Fair," Yuri replied. "Why?"

"Just curious," Conar answered. He was standing at the portcullis, his hands wrapped over one of the lateral bars. He was gently pulling on the apparatus.

"Damned if he don't look just like my nephew, Rudi, when the brat wants to go out and play on a rainy day," Yuri chuckled. He jumped three of his opponent's men, winning the contest by clearing Balizar's checkers from the board.

"Well," Balizar griped, annoyed that he'd lost a game he considered himself an expert at winning, "his mama ain’t gonna let him go out and play today."

"How long has Sajin and Cat been in town?" Conar asked them, turning to look around.

"An hour?"

"More like three," Balizar answered and grunted as Yuri's boot drove into his shin. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"What do you think they're doing?" Conar asked, once more pulling on the portcullis' bars.

"He's seeing to his ship, Khamsin," Azalon spoke up from his place at the top of the stairs.

"How long does it take to see to a damned ship?" they heard their Overlord grumble.

"Maybe they stopped off for lunch," Yuri injected.

"Aye, maybe," Conar answered, but his voice lacked conviction. He pushed away from the portcullis and jammed his hands into his pockets. He strolled back toward them and all three men noticed the path he walked was neither straight nor his gait as sure as it had always been.

He hoped they didn't notice that he had to watch the ground where he walked in case he missed seeing some obstacle in his way. He'd lost count of the times he'd tripped over things in the last few days since Raphaella and Catherine had allowed him to be up and about, things he just hadn't seen. And he hoped the men of the Samiel didn't notice that he couldn't make himself walk in a straight line, either. His footsteps wandered off course no matter how hard he tried to keep to Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 82

an undeviating line. And he wanted to go into the stable for a moment so they wouldn't know that he had to piss so badly he could barely walk anyway.

"Maybe you should ride into town and see what's keeping them," he said as he stopped for a moment at the foot of the stairs. "I'll help you saddle your nag, Yuri." He walked on toward the stable.

The Shadow-warrior didn't dare glance at Balizar. He just got up and fell into step with the Serenian. "Can I get you anything while I'm in town?" Yuri asked, wanting to take Conar's mind from his obvious concern for the lady's welfare.

"I'd like you to send a message to Boreas if you can," Conar answered.

"I can probably arrange that. What do you want me to say?"

"Just write my brother a short note and tell him I'm doing all right." He stopped and looked up at Yuri, blinking to clear his fuzzy vision. "For your God's sake, don't tell the fool I've been ill.

He'll have the entire Serenian Militia over here to drag me home."

"What excuse do you want me to give him for being the one who wrote the note?" Yuri asked as he reached up to drag his saddle from the low partition of one of the stalls.

Conar thought about it for a moment, wishing the man would hurry with the horse so he could pee. "Tell him I sprained my hand and can't write. He'll buy that."

"Anything else?" Yuri slung the saddle over his steed's back, hooked the stirrup over the saddle horn and reached under the horse's belly to buckle the cinch.

Conar took a bridle down from the wall. "Tell him we're going to bury our men here in Odess."

Yuri stopped and turned, looking at his Overlord. "Why here?"

Conar looped the bridle over the horse's head, gently settling the bit between its soft jaws.

"I don't know how long it will be before we get to St. Steffensburg and they need burying, Yuri."

He stroked the stallion's sleek nose. "The countryside is beautiful from what I can see of it and it's quiet here." He glanced up at Yuri. "Raine tells me there's a spot near here, a lush glade where I can lay them to rest."

Yuri knew the men who had died at Abbadon, as well as Storm Jale, had been embalmed by the women of the Daughterhood, but even the most elaborate precautions would not preserve the bodies for long. It was well past time the men were committed back to the earth from where they had come.

"Shall I have them brought out here, then?" Yuri asked as he finished cinching the saddle.

"Aye." Conar stepped away from the stallion, no longer able to hold his water. He walked behind the partition and fumbled with his clothing. "If there's a priest in town ...." He stopped as he began to urinate. "On second thought, ask Catherine to have her priest come up here for the burial."

Yuri's brows drew together. "Won't that offend your god, milord?"

Conar looked up at him. "I have no god, Andreanova, and the god that let my friends die the way they did doesn't deserve to be worshiped."

"He said that?" Sajin asked after Yuri had finished telling him and Catherine about his conversation with Conar McGregor.

"Yes, and he meant every word of it," Yuri answered.

"It's just as well," Catherine said, looking toward the tall steeple at the edge of town.

Sajin also looked in that direction and puzzled at the cross atop the steeple. He had seen that symbol many times and had wanted to ask someone from the Outer Kingdom countries about Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 83

it, but never had the opportunity.

"What does that mean?" he asked Catherine. "That cross?"

"It signifies self-sacrifice," Catherine answered. She turned to Yuri. "I'll go speak with Father Nicolai, but I can't see him refusing to perform the rite of burial for the men."

"Is there anything special we need to do?" Sajin asked. He thought of his own religion's ceremonies for the dead.

"Not that I can think of," she replied, "but it would be nice if the men on board ship could be there. I am sure Father will send word around to his parishioners and many will attend to pay their respects."

"Perhaps we should put the word out that these men were of the Raven's force," Yuri said quietly. "The Darkwind is well-respected in all the port cities along the Baldus."

Catherine nodded her agreement. "That would be nice, Yuri."

"I'd better go look into getting a wagon to transport the caskets, then," Sajin told them. He looked around at Yuri. "Did he say when he wanted the ceremony held?"

"This evening," Yuri said. "At sunset."

"I think that's what he intends you to do," Catherine told him.

"I find it strange that he would request this," the old priest said as he began gathering his things together. He put one arthritic hand on his senior altar boy's shoulder. "Petr, go tell Misha I want him to go to each of the other boys' homes and tell them we will be performing a funereal mass this evening." He shook his head at the boy's confused look. "I know it's odd, but something tells me it is very important." He turned then to his deacon. "You've sent word to the Altar Guild?"

"Every woman in town will be there, her husband in tow if he isn't out working, Father," the deacon replied.

"Good," Father Nicki said. He paused, studying the two seven-tiered candelabras flanking the altar. "Candles," he mumbled. "We need candles."

"I can see to that," the deacon told him. "Torches, too."

"Father," Catherine said, putting her hand on his arm.

"What of a choir?" She looked from the old priest to the deacon. "There should be a choir."

"Ivan," the old priest said to the deacon. "Gather together both choirs and have them meet us at that infernal keep.

"We aren't going inside that place, are we?" the deacon gasped.

"The funereal is in the glade beyond," Catherine assured the man. "There will be no need to enter the keep."

Looking relieved, the deacon hurried out to see to his assignments. His rapid footsteps echoed back off the stone floor of the nave.

"I want this to be a ceremony that will impress your husband, Your Grace," Father Nicki said. "One that will make him stop and think."

Catherine's brows drew together. "Think of what, Father?"

"His own immortal soul," the old priest replied. "In asking you to invite me to perform the ritual of burial, he is still seeking the guidance of a higher power whether he wants to admit belief in one or not."

"You think someone higher up is trying to nudge him in the right direction, don't you?"

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Catherine smiled.

"Don't you?" Father Nicki grinned.

Raphaella found him sitting alone in his room, his head down, his hands clasped between his knees. She went to him and laid her hand on his sagging shoulder.

"This does not have to be tonight, beloved," she said gently. "We can wait until morning."

Conar shook his head. "No. It must be tonight." Slowly he lifted his head and Raphaella saw the awful agony stamped on his face. "It has to be tonight."

"Why, sweeting?" she asked, kneeling down beside him. "You look so tired. You ...."

"Oceanian warriors are always buried at sunset," he said quietly. "So they can wake with the dawn to begin their new lives in paradise." He turned his head to look at her. "I don't think Tyne or Rylan or Jamie would mind, do you?" When she shook her head. "Or Storm or Roget?"

He seemed to need her agreement.

"No, beloved." She rubbed his arm. "I think it would make them happy to honor Griceland in such a way."

Conar nodded. "I believe so, too." He looked down again. "Have they arrived yet?"

"The wagon is waiting outside the gates," Raphaella told him. "Your lady would not allow the bodies to be carried into the keep."

"I knew she wouldn't," he answered on a long sigh.

"Then are you ready?" Raphaella asked.

"Aye," he said.

She helped him up and stood holding his arm when he didn't move. He looked so lost, so terrible alone, and she ached for him. With all her being she wished he'd break down and cry, but he had not done so and wasn't likely to it seemed. Maybe, she thought, he would do so at the ceremony. For his well being, she hoped that would be the way of it.