Kigh - Fifth Quarter Part 12

She s.n.a.t.c.hed the coin out of the air with practiced dexterity, and it disappeared into a fold of her blue tunic. "Very good, sirs."

After eight days in the saddle, Vree no longer returned to earth feeling as though she'd gladly cut off her own legs. Muscles hurt more from hours of use than abuse. "What about the saddlebags?" she asked when Gyhard started for the inn's double doors.

"Leave them. The page will bring them to the rooms."

Vree stared down at the girl who stared fearlessly up at her. "If any thing's missing, I'll cut your living heart out and feed it to you. With onions."

The page made a face as she vowed not to touch a thing.

"I never imagined that you'd have such a way with children," Gyhard murmured as they went inside.

"Not bad."

Vree felt her lips purse to whistle and forced them flat.

"It's not like we haven't seen places like this before," she reflected.

"Yeah, but we saw those after dark with knives in our hands and garrotes in our

pockets."

"I hope you don't mind that I turned down the services of a bath attendant," Gyhard said, coming out of the larger of the two bedrooms wearing a loose robe, "but you're not exactly schooled in the behavior this establishment expects, and I didn't want to put unnecessary pressure on you."

Vree shrugged. "If they swallowed that stupid story you told about the servants without choking, they'll believe anything."

"You know, Vree, insults aren't usually considered foreplay."

"I said the story was stupid. I didn't say he was."

Watching her eyes narrow, Gyhard smiled. "I'll leave you two to discuss whatever it was you were discussing while I bathe. Don't worry about going second. Our private chamber taps into the boilers that supply the common baths, so there'll be plenty of hot water."

As he brushed past her, Vree stepped aside, very aware of his body under the light cover of the robe, not wanting them to touch.

"You should follow him. Offer to wash his back."

She turned and headed for the smaller bedroom.

"Vree?"

"If I do anything at all, Bannon, I'll do it when I'm good and ready."

Gyhard settled into the steaming water and allowed himself to relax for what seemed like the first time in eight days. The journey thus far had been less stressful than he'd feared it might be and much too stressful to have been comfortable. He shuddered to think what it might have been like without the riding lessons forcing his brooding companion to cooperate.

His six-day gallop to the Capital had been drastically amended by the army's insistence on using infantry above all else. It had never occurred to him that the inevitable a.s.sa.s.sin whose body he intended to steal would not be able to ride. And it had certainly never occurred to him that said a.s.sa.s.sin would be part of a team.

Stretching the kinks out of his back, he reached for a loofah and froze. Suppose the sister had arrived in Aralt's tower first? Could he have made the jump into a woman's body? Would he?

"I am luckier than I have any right to be," he murmured. "And far stupider than I would have thought." He'd had an equal chance of the a.s.sa.s.sin being a woman right from the beginning and he'd never even considered the possibility. Perhaps I'm getting old.

He frowned, pus.h.i.+ng the thought aside. In the beginning, one hundred and thirty-two years ago, he'd wondered if, in spite of an infinite supply of new bodies, his life force would someday weaken and he'd die, sharing the fate of everyone and everything else. It had been some time since he'd allowed that speculation to surface.

He would live forever.

He would never die.

And soon, I'll once again have a life worth living. He'd been rich and he'd been poor. Rich was better. Rich and powerful, better still.

There was nothing wrong with the body he now wore. On the contrary, there was a great deal right with it. He worked the muscles in his arms, watching them roll beneath the slick surface of the skin. He could understand why young Bannon wanted it back.

Only five days left, my children. When are you going to make your next move? Scooping a handful of soft soap from the gla.s.s jar on the edge of the bath, he began lathering his hair. They had to be planning something, that was a given. But what? Young Bannon didn't seem the type able to beat his own body to the point where the life in it barely held to consciousness. For that matter, Gyhard doubted that his loving sister could strike the blows.

He rinsed, surfaced, and remember the feel of her gaze. She had amazing eyes. Darker than her brother's, almost too large for her face; every now and then over the last eight days they'd burned with emotions too intense for her to contain. Hatred. Rage. Frustration. Fury. Her lithe a.s.sa.s.sin's body like a sculpted vessel made to hold dark pa.s.sions...

Unable to stop himself, Gyhard burst out laughing. G.o.ds keep me from thinking like a bad poet or an apprentice bard. Glancing down the length of his body, he shook a chiding finger at his groin. Governor Aralt had been an old man. It had been a long time since he'd had such a spontaneous reaction. "And you, you should be ashamed of yourself. Your own sister."

Except that she wasn't his sister.

And she was a beautiful woman.

And not only does she intend to kill you, he reminded himself. But you intend to ensure that neither sister nor brother remain as a threat once they've helped you achieve your new life.

If anything, that intensified the physical response.

I'd forgotten the immediacies of being twenty, he sighed and surrendered to the moment.

Strenuous exercise and a scalding hot bath had helped Vree regain both her composure and her distance. Dinner threatened to undo it all.

A parade of servants in blue tunics carried dish after dish to the low table in the center of the suite's main room. Sitting cross-legged on a pile of cus.h.i.+ons- while the inn's dining room provided benches and chairs, Gyhard had requested the suite with southern furnis.h.i.+ngs-Vree stared at the food and wondered what half of it was.

"I'm going to enjoy this," Gyhard declared, scooping what she thought might be rice onto his plate.

"Aralt lost his sense of taste years ago and nothing we've had so far can equal the cooking at Evion's."

"Or so you've heard," Vree muttered, trying to identify a platter of heavily sauced meat.

"You can't spoil this for me." Grinning broadly, he pa.s.sed her a bowl of glazed vegetables. "So you needn't bother trying."

"He seems awfully relaxed," Bannon observed.

"Why shouldn't he be? He knows what he's eating. What do you think this is?"

"Vree, I'm tasting exactly the same thing you are."

"So what is it?" She popped another small piece into her mouth.

"I think it's pork."

"Pork?" Army pork swam in a puddle of grease. "What did they do with all the

fat?"

"Beats me."

Suddenly aware of being watched, she glanced across the table. "What are you

staring at?"

"You."

"Well, don't."

"I was just wondering, actually, what you see when you look at me."

Vree closed both hands around the table edge and stared at him.

He paused to chew and swallow, then continued. "I mean, I was wondering if you see your brother or if you see me?"

"That's the most ridic..."

"It's a good question, Vree. I've wondered, too."

She sighed, closed her eyes, and opened them again. The very last thing she needed was for the two of them to start agreeing on things. "I see my brother's body," she said. "But you wear it differently."

"What do you mean differently?"

"I don't know. Differently. He doesn't move as much as you did. And when he does, he's not so... well, extreme about it."

"What did I do? Jerk around all over the place?"

"No. He's older, Bannon. He's going to move less."

Grumbling inaudibly, Bannon subsided.

"I'm sorry." To her surprise, Gyhard actually looked as if he meant it. "I hadn't

intended to cause a fight between you."

She raised a hand to both accept his apology and cut off any further discussion.

As silence could too easily be broken by dangerous subjects, she asked questions about the meal until they'd emptied every dish on the table. Gyhard was amusing, articulate, and not only knew what they were eating but also how it had

been prepared and how it could've been prepared differently. Vree actually found herself laughing at a story of sheep's eyes and Aralt's old chamberlain. When she noticed she was enjoying his company, she almost choked on the guilt.

"I'm afraid I've been monopolizing the conversation," he said as they stood. "So I'll apologize up front. It's been a long time since there's been someone I could be myself with." And then he paused as though he'd just realized what he'd said. He looked almost startled.

Vree rose as well, wis.h.i.+ng she hadn't eaten quite so much. An overfull stomach brought with it a dangerous loss of control. "Don't try and convince me you've been living in a tragedy, 'cause I'm not buying."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He inclined his head, as he would to an equal. "We'll be leaving early in the morning. Sleep well."

She watched him pick up a lamp and disappear into his bedroom, strangely unwilling to move until he was out of sight.

A spill of brilliant moonlight lay diagonally across the bed. Beyond it, the room was dark and so quiet she could hear the rustle of the blanket against her body as she breathed. What had awakened her? Slowly, silently, she closed her fingers around the hilt of the dagger lying on the mattress beside her.

Instinct, training-both told her she was no longer alone.

Closer now, almost at the bed. Moving with an a.s.sa.s.sin's stealth.

Muscles tensed, she waited. Whoever it was, in order to strike a killing blow, would have to bend into the moonlight. When they did, they'd die.

A heartbeat. Another. A shadow at the edge of the illumination.

"Bannon?"

The sudden realization delayed her long enough for him to shove the pillow he

carried down over her face. She twisted and fought while her lungs screamed for