The Lion's Daughter (57 page)

Jason
dragged a chair to the bedside and sat. “Maybe it's not your
time to die.” Something like a smile contorted Ismal's swollen
lips. “Nay, I must confess. Everything.”

“Youll
save your breath, my lad. Gerald's dead. You can't do him any more
harm, and I won't let you destroy my family's future. Your bullet
spared my brother the gallows. Rest assured I'll see my family spared
disgrace. I've burned the black queen's message, as well as the
letters Risto and Mehmet carried for you.”

Another
ghastly smile. 'To protect your family's honor.” “That,
y
es.”
Jason
forced an answering smile. “But also for the sake of
your immortal soul, or
—
if
you somehow manage to live
—y
our
conscience.”

Ismal
closed his eyes. “Better not to live. You'll send me to Ali.
Better to cut my throat, Red Lion. Now, or I will find a way to tell
my story.”

“Bajo
is already making arrangements to take you away. You can be sure
we've seen to everything. His Majesty's goverment wants nothing to do
with you.”

“You
made it so. You are too persuasive, Red Lion. And too clever. Yet,
almost, I outwitted you.”

“
Not
at
all.
You played the game very badly. Astonishingly bad;u when you followed
Esme from Tepelena. I couldn't believe you could do such an idiotic
thing.” Jason paused. “Until today.”

Ismal's
eyes opened slowly. The feverish light was gone, clouded by pain.
“What saw you today?”

“It
wasn't what I saw, but what I remembered: how young you are.”

“Only
in years.”

“A
boy, all the same, infatuated for the first time.”

“You
understand nothing.”

“Of
course I do. I too fell in love and made stupid mistakes because I
was young, arrogant, and conceited. I didn't take rejection well,
either, and nearly destroyed myself as a result.”

“It's
you who've destroyed me.”

“I
was trying to save you. You're not Alexander, nor is ours the world
of two thousand years ago. You're too young to build empires and far
too young to cope with love and politics simultaneously.”

“Aye.
I am only a foolish boy to you, and you laugh.” The foolish
boy's eyes filled with tears.

Pity
and rage thickened Jason's throat. “You're a bloody fool, and
you've thrown your life away. Look at you
—
not
three and twenty, a pathetic heap of useless flesh, and likely to be
a corpse before sunset. It's not me you hear laughing, bui the Devil
you've listened to these last two years.”

“I'm
not afraid to die.”

Yet
he was afraid, Jason knew, and helpless for the first time in his
short life. All Ismal's cleverness could not mend his failing flesh
or keep his young heart beating.

Jason
could not help grieving for him, more even than he'd grieved for
Gerald, who'd wasted his life in bitterness, greed, and envy, with no
love, loyalty, or joy of any kind to lighten his days. At the end, if
any trace of good lingered in a heart so corrupt, all it could feel
was regret.

Ismal
was another case. His soul was only tainted, not yet black with sin.
And so Jason grieved the more, and raged as well, at the needless
waste of youth and beauty and strength, but above all, of mind.

He
smoothed the damp golden hair back from Ismal's burning forehead.
Shuddering, the young man turned his face away.

“There
are no holy men of your faith here,” Jason said in gentler
ton
es.
“Shall
I fetch an English cleric?”

“No”

The
door opened, and Bajo slipped inside. “The boat waits”,
he told Jason softly. “Your countrymen want him gone.”

Ismal
wouldn't last an hour at sea. Not that he'd last much
longer
even
if
he remained where he was. “Would you rather I came with you?”
Jason asked. “You want so badly to watch me die?” “If
I were you, I'd want a friend beside me.” “Nay, I killed
your brother by accident. It was you I was aiming for.”

Jason
sighed. “I wish you hadn't.
Now I'll have to thank Edenmont for saving my life. If he hadn't
broken your hand, you'd not have missed.”

“I
dislike him very much.” Ismal grimaced as he turned to face
Jason. “But he is a good fighter.” He caught his breath,
and his face tightened in agony.

“I
think you've talked enough,” Jason said. “Why didn't that
fool doctor give you any laudanum?”

“I
would not take it.” Another struggle for breath, another
ghastly effort at a smile. “It saps the will.”

Bajo
shifted impatiently. “Red Lion.”

Jason
rose. “Bajo is obliged to make haste. I'll come with you to the
ship.”

“Tsk”

From
the hall beyond came the sound of hurried footsteps. Bajo moved to
the door to bar the way, but Esme thrust past him.

“No!”
Ismal cried. He pulled feebly at the blanket, trying to cover his
face.

Ignoring
the warning look Jason threw her, Esme moved to the bedside. She was
shaking, yet she gazed steadily at Ismal.

“You
are very fortunate that my husband is the noblest of all men”,
she told him. “He gives me permission to try to save you, and
so I shall.”

Ruthlessly
she pulled back the bedclothes. Ismal went very still and stared
doggedly at the ceiling while she studied the blood-soaked bandages.

“Esme,
you're embarrassing the poor
—”

“It
is too bad for his pride,” she said, gesturing her fathei away.
“Listen to me,” she told Ismal.

His
gaze jerked to her.

“I
shall do my best,” she said. “And so, if you live, it
will be because of
me
—
only
because of me. You will remember this, Ismal.”

“And
if I die?” he gasped.

“Then
you shall burn in hell.”

ABOUT
AN HOUR after Esme had commenced her dubious errand of mercy, Jason
entered the Bridge's private dining parlor, where Varian was doggedly
trying to eat breakfast.

Jason
set his traveling bag at Varian's feet. “Captain Nolcott
gathered up the chess set while we were with Gerald. It's all there,
safe and sound.”

Varian
nodded stiffly.

“I
owe you an apology,” Jason said. “And thanks.”

Before
Varian could respond, the innkeeper'
s
wife bustled in.

“Oh,
whatever you like, my dear,” Jason amiably replied to her
inquiry. “So long as there's plenty of it. And bring me the
biggest mug of ale you've got.”

When
she had gone, he turned back to Varian. “You saved my life.”

“I
wasn't trying to,” Varian answered shortly. “I only
wanted to kill
him.
I
let Esme clean up the mess I'd made only because she was beside
herself. She was in agonies of guilt, I believe, because she'd nearly
killed him for a crime he never committed. It was no good pointing
out those crimes he
had
done.
She was certain Ismal would survive out of spite and come back for
revenge
—
on
all of us.”

“Just
so. Now he can't. His pride won't let him.” Jason shrugged. “If
he lives.”

Varian
firmly pushed Ismal's battered, bloody image from his mind. “What's
going to happen to him, if he lives?”

“He
ought to be taken to Newgate and hanged, but that could create
diplomatic complications. There's also the question of whether he did
the kingdom a favor in ridding it of Sir Gerald Brentmor.
Fortunately, I won't have to puzzle the courts with that intriguing
problem. I started tidying up some months ago, while I was trailing
Ismal,” Jason explained.

“Gerald's
partner, Bridgeburton, was considerate enough to
drown
in
Venice.
The authorities already suspected him. I encouraged them to suspect
no one else.”

“
But
Ismal?”

“They've
left him to me. He's going to New South Wales in the care of friends
of mine.”

Their
hostess arrived with Jason's breakfast, which he set to with
enthusiasm. His appetite, unlike Varian's, appeared not at all
affected by the morning's events. But Jason was used violence, Varian
reflected. Jason looked up from his plate. “Gerald's body goes
on the same ship with Ismal. I've done enough lying for him. The
hypocrisy of a funeral I will not tolerate.” “I am sure
it's none of my affair.”

“You
feel sorry for the swine, I suppose, and blame yourself for bringing
him here. You think it's your fault he's dead.” “If I
hadn't bribed him with the chess set,” Varian said taut
ly,
“he'd
never
have come.”

Jason
shook his head. “One of Ismal's men nearly knocked me into he
harbor. Gerald pulled me to safety. That may have been the only
decent thing my brother's ever done, intentionally, for anybody. The
next minute, he was scrambling for his precious rooks and pawns. I
told him to go while he still could. But no, he must have the damned
set.” He severed a thick slice from the loaf before him.
“Greed
killed him today, Edenmont, as it
would have done, sooner or later.” Varian pushed his plate
away. “I see.” Jason glanced at Varian's barely touched
breakfast. “Lost your appetite?”

“
I
hadn't
much
to begin with,” Varian said. “You're
too bloody sensitive.”
Jason buttered his bread. “No wonder Esme's made a wreck of
you.”

JASON
ACCOMPANIED HIS late brother and what was left of Ismal to the ship.
Leaving Esme in care of the innkeeper'
s
wife, Varian went with him. He
wasn't sure why. Perhaps,
it was a need to see the thing to
its end.

He'd
intended to wait on deck while the Red Lion took his leave of Ismal.
When Jason was done, however, Ismal had asked to speak to Lord
Edenmont.

Varian
stood by the narrow bunk. Ismal's blue eyes were swollen nearly shut,
and the sensuous mouth was a torn lump on his battered face.

“You
fought well,” Ismal rasped.

“I'd
have performed far more elegantly in a duel,” Varian answered
coolly. “You might consider duels in future. Much tidier, the
rules clearly denned. One knows exactly what to do.”

'The
English. So polite. I stole your wife.”

“I
stole her back,” Varian said, “and took my revenge. I
know you Albanians like to drag your quarrels on for decades, as we
do our lawsuits. Nonetheless, I'd much appreciate it if you'd agree
our feud is at an end.”

“Nay.”
Ismal tried to lift his head and winced. He lay back again, his good
hand plucking fretfully at the coarse blanket. “I called her my
whore.”

“But
she wasn't. You were merely being disagreeable.”

The
swollen mouth twisted. It seemed to mean a smile. “Is this what
she told you?”

“She'd
not have begged to nurse you if you'd shamed her. She'd no need to
tell me, and I'd no need to ask.”

“You
are not stupid.”

“Thank
you.”

Ismal
looked past him, toward the doorway. “Red Lion.”

Jason
moved to the bed.

“Make
my peace for me,” said Ismal.

Jason
drew out from his coat a small, richly embroidered bag. “Ismal
tried to steal your wife and tried even harder to kill you,” he
said. “Despite these crimes, you allowed your wife to ease his
suffering. If he lives, Ismal will owe you his life. These
circumstances create a burden he finds intolerable.”

“I
do not—”

“No
interruptions, Edenmont,” Jason reproved. “This is a
ceremony.”

Varian
subsided.

“He
values your wife more highly than an ordinary woman,” Jason
went on. “He agrees, with many of his countrymen, that the
little warrior is worth two good men. Her great healing skills must
also be taken into account, as must your princely status. Finally, as
a nobleman himself, his honor must be estimated at a high value. His
calculations amount to this,” Jason gave him the bag.

Varian
looked to the invalid.

“For my honor,” Ismal said. Varian emptied the bag's
contents into his hand: diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, rubies.

“Good God,” he murmured.

“In
accepting this fine, Lord Edenmont, you agree that Ismal's shame is
wiped away and he no longer owes you. In accepting this, you declare
your honor satisfied and your two families at peace. My honor's
already been seen to,” Jason explained, “much the same
way.”