The Temple of Heart and Bone (36 page)

“It’s soaked,” he said, his voice
filled with exasperation.

“You’re kidding?” Chance said
incredulously, trying to suppress a laugh.

“Not at all,” Petreus said
flatly, ignoring her mirth. He reached under the mattress and scowled. “Both
sides,” he confirmed.

Drothspar shook his head. He’d
seen such pranks before and been victim to many. He had let the majority go
without retaliation, but occasionally he had indulged himself. Life had been
much simpler in the chapter house. Why, he wondered, was it only after
something was over that it was truly appreciated?

Petreus was shaking his head,
scowling and muttering to himself. He pulled his blanket and sheets off of the
mattress and walked to the door. “I’m going to hang these outside on the line,”
he said. “On my way back, I’ll get the key to the visitors’ quarters for you,
Sasha.” He hauled his bedclothes through the door and closed it behind him.

Drothspar and Chance sat alone.
Chance studied everything in the room, keeping her eyes off of Drothspar. He,
in turn, looked only at her face.

“I’m sorry I frightened you,” he
said softly. “Believe me, it’s the last thing I want to do.”

“It’s okay,” she said, glancing
briefly at his covered head and then quickly down to his hands. “It was just
surprising, that’s all.”

“I wouldn’t have killed him,”
Drothspar went on, feeling the need to explain. “And I certainly wouldn’t have
drunk his blood.”

“I should hope not,” Chance
forced a laugh, “it probably wouldn’t have been very good.”

“I was angry,” he said, “but it
was different. My thoughts were clear and my body, well, what’s left of it, was
completely calm. I just wanted to put the fear of God into him.” He paused.
“And punish him,” he admitted in a quiet tone.

“I thought punishment was for the
Divine,” Chance said in a challenging tone, regretting it instantly.

“Yes,” Drothspar nodded,
“probably so.” He looked down at the hand that had caught and cracked the man’s
arm. “I hope the Maker won’t be too displeased that such a man is incapacitated.
It will be an excellent time for him to consider his spiritual state.”

“You sounded horrible,” she told
him.

“I did, didn’t I?” He put his
hand down and looked at her. “Then again, I don’t suspect Petreus will be inviting
me to join the choir anytime soon.” Chance smiled shyly. “Don’t get me wrong,
I’m glad that I have the ability to speak now, but I do see the way my voice
chills you—and Petreus.” He paused a moment, looking for a way to explain.
“When I was still a guard, long before any of this happened, it was common
practice to threaten, cajole, or commiserate with a criminal. With a voice like
I have now, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to exaggerate it a little.”

“A little?” She smiled again and
he felt more at ease. “So you were acting?”

“Exactly,” he rasped.

“Well, you did an excellent job.
I felt my heart freeze in my chest. I can’t imagine what that scoundrel must
have been feeling.” A hard look narrowed her eyes. “Serves him right.”

“You were certainly right about
being hunted,” Drothspar said, trying to steer the subject away from his
behavior.

“I told you my ‘fiancé’s’ family
would be persistent,” she said.

“You’re certain that’s who sent
them?”

“I don’t think my
own
father would have sent someone after me with
those
intentions,” she said
frowning thoughtfully. “At least I certainly hope that he wouldn’t…”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t,” Drothspar
tried to reassure her.

“They were willing to kill you to
get to me,” she said seriously. “I don’t think my father would ever go that
far.” She pursed her lips. “Think about it, though. The man who did hire them
isn’t squeamish about incidental casualties.”

“Not at all,” Drothspar agreed,
plucking at his twice-stabbed robes.

“Oh my,” Chance exclaimed, looking
at the torn fabric, “are you okay? You’re not chipped or broken or anything,
are you?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Drothspar
replied, opening his robe. Both blades had slipped right through the cloth of
the robe missing all of his internal structure.

“Let me have a look,” Chance
insisted. She shuffled her chair closer to his and examined the cuts in his
robe. Without warning, Petreus opened the door and reentered the room.

“I brought the key…,” he began,
holding out his hand as he closed the door behind himself. Chance flushed
brightly at the sound of his voice and stood up quickly. Her chair scraped
noisily on the floor as her legs thrust it out behind her. Drothspar looked up
at her, surprised that she had moved so quickly.

“Th-thank you,” she said, smoothing
down her blouse.

“My pleasure,” Petreus replied,
his eyes twinkling. “What were you two up to?” he asked, his voice neutral.

“I was—well—
we
were just
inspecting the tears in his robe… that he got… today.” Chance flushed more
brightly.

“I’ve got a sewing kit,” Petreus
said helpfully, pretending to ignore his niece’s embarrassment. “It would
probably be easier to repair if you took it off, though,” he said to Drothspar.
“I’m sure I can find you some sort of wrap if you’re concerned about modesty.”
Petreus’ lips turned up in a smile.

“Thank you, Petreus,” Drothspar
said and started taking off the robe. Chance spun around to face the window,
her face flaming.

“You might want to take the hood
off,” Petreus suggested politely after retrieving the sewing kit and a large
old robe. Drothspar pulled the cowl off of his head and shoulders and folded it
with the robe on the desk.

Petreus was grinning widely as he
stepped behind Drothspar to help him put on the replacement robe. Just as
Drothspar’s hands slipped into the sleeves, Petreus’ door burst open to reveal
a thin, weasel-faced man.

“I want my robes back, Petreus!”
the man shouted, slamming the door behind him. He looked up and saw Chance,
Petreus and Drothspar all standing with their mouths open. Drothspar’s skeleton
stood out starkly pale against the dark background of the old brown robes. His
arms were stretched out to either side to slip into the robe, giving the
intruder a perfect view of his form.

The man’s body went rigid, and
his eyes widened. His face drained of all color, and his mouth opened and
closed several times, giving him the look of a fish gasping out of water. He
raised his finger as if to make a point and said, “I whu…,” before toppling
face first onto the floor. Chance, Petreus and Drothspar could only watch him
fall.

It took a few moments for
everyone to snap out of their shock and react. Drothspar hurriedly finished
wrapping the robe around himself while Petreus and Chance rushed to Brother
Steadword’s side. They rolled him over onto his back to see bright, red blood
flowing freely from his smashed nose.

“Oh boy,” Petreus said in a
sinking tone. He pulled his kerchief out of his pocket and pressed it hard
against Steadword’s nose. Chance pulled Petreus pillow off of his bed, wincing
as she touched the cold, wet cloth. She shoved the pillow under the unconscious
man’s head and looked at Petreus.

“Well?”

“Give me a second,” Petreus told
her. He glanced about the room. Drothspar had finished wrapping the overly
large robe around his frame and looked down at the people on the floor.
“Drothspar,” Petreus said, “give me that bottle of wine, would you?” Drothspar
turned to the desk and picked up the bottle. He handed it to Petreus. “Such a
shame to waste this,” Petreus said with true regret in his voice.

“What are you going to do?”
Chance asked him.

“I’m going to take care of my good friend
Steadword,” he told her, spilling wine down the front of the man’s robes. “Lift
his head up a bit, will you?” Chance looked at her uncle dubiously, but did as he
asked. Petreus poured a little wine into Steadword’s throat and waited.
Steadword coughed weakly but managed to swallow some of the wine.

“What are you
doing
?”
Chance asked in a shocked whisper.

“Sasha, he just walked in on a
very bare skeleton in my room. What do you think I’m doing? I’m getting him
drunk! If I do it well enough, maybe he won’t even believe it. God knows I had
enough trouble…”

“But—,” she started to protest.

“Just trust me, Sasha, I won’t
hurt him. Let’s sit him upright, it might help the wine go down.”

They sat Steadword up and Petreus
continued to pour wine slowly into the unconscious man’s mouth, occasionally
taking a drink himself. After a particularly painful sounding bout of coughing,
Steadword’s eyes fluttered open. Chance noticed that they seemed quite out of
focus. Petreus put his hand on Steadword’s chin and turned the man’s head to
face him.

“Petreus,” Steadword said
vacantly, “what are you doing in my room?”

“We’re in my room, Steady,”
Petreus told him, “you came over for a few drinks.”

“I did?” Steadword asked,
sounding unconvinced. “Why would I do that?”

“I wanted to apologize for my
behavior,” Petreus told him with aplomb. “You and your gracious heart came over
to give me that opportunity.”

“We did?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? Here,”
Petreus suggested, “have another drink.” He lifted the bottle to Steadword’s
lips. Steadword coughed and sputtered as he swallowed more wine than Petreus
had poured into him previously. Chance shuddered.

“What were we doing?” Steadword
asked, furrowing his brow at Petreus.

“We were, uh, singing hymns,”
Petreus answered quickly.

“Really?” Steadword looked
excited at the prospect of singing, then frowned. “But I don’t like you,” he
told Petreus bluntly.

“Of course you do,” Petreus told
him sincerely. “You forgave me for
all
of my transgressions against you
and even gave me a big hug! We’re good friends now, you and I!”

“We are?”

“Certainly,” Petreus said,
keeping hold of Steadword’s head to prevent him from looking at Drothspar or
Chance. Drothspar stood directly behind Steadword and Chance was close by his
side. Her mouth gaped in shock as she listened to Petreus lie openly to
Steadword.

“You’ve been pretty mean to me,”
Steadword told Petreus as he took the bottle for a drink. Petreus, himself,
seemed shocked by that. “But I am very gorfiving!” Steadword pronounced,
dribbling wine down his chin.

“Of course you are,” Petreus
agreed, smiling broadly at Steadword while rolling his eyes.

Petreus continued to drink with
Brother Steadword. As the bottle drained, the two priests moved from devotional
hymns to raucous, almost bawdy, drinking ditties. About midway through the
second bottle, Chance seated herself, carefully, on the bed and began to fix
Drothspar’s robe. Each new song caused her to roll her eyes and shake her head.

Drothspar sat on the floor near
the bed quietly watching the two priests. He had memories of his drinking days,
hazy as they were. Things had seemed so very simple back then. If a problem arose,
drinking put it off. If a guilty conscience nagged at the mind, drinking would
put it to sleep. It usually worked out very well for the drinker, at least
until the next morning. The problem, he thought to himself as he watched the
two men giggle and chortle, was that drinking blinded one to the pain they
could inflict on others.

A sharp crash interrupted
Drothspar’s thoughts. He looked at Petreus and Steadword. Their bottle had
smashed on the floor and they were blinking owlishly at the remains. Steadword’s
eyes were red and starting to water when Petreus patted him on the shoulder.

“It’s all right, Steady… I know
where we can get more,” Petreus said.

“You do?” Steadword asked,
looking at Petreus as if he were a personal savior. Petreus nodded sagely.

“Of course, Brother, if you’ll
follow me then,” Petreus assured him and struggled up and toward the door.
Brother Steadword made several failed attempts at standing on his own. Finally,
Petreus leaned over and pulled Steadword to his feet.

“Thank you, Brother,” Steadword
said in a dignified tone. Petreus smiled at him and opened the door.

“I’ll be back,” Petreus whispered
after Steadword stepped into the hall. He smiled impishly and winked before
leaving and closing the door.

“I swear that man will never grow
up,” Chance said in a voice both exasperated and amused. She handed Drothspar
his stitched-up robe.

“Probably not,” Drothspar
whispered in agreement. “And thank you.” Chance smiled at him and turned around
so that he could change robes.

They sat together in the room
quietly waiting for Petreus to return. Chance watched Drothspar and toyed with
her flask. He seemed to be studying a part of the floor. At least she thought
he was. It was difficult to tell with his hood again covering his skull. His
head was tilted down toward his chest as if he were resting. It had been a long
day and she was tired, but she was almost certain that Drothspar was not.