injury on my arm, I'll be glad to offer proof."
The majordomo paled but did not put his
fussy manners aside. "All for the sake of propriety, I assure you. I shall
have our personal physic see to her, just to be certain."
"She needs no doctor, only
rest," Gavriel said.
Ada moaned. Latorre skittered back.
"You'll forgive me if I don't believe you," he said.
"Tis not my place to forgive
you."
Pacheco stepped between them, a look of
warning on his aged face. "We appreciate your kindness. Please, send for
your doctor and have your people show us to our rooms."
Latorre bowed and departed through a
nearby archway, his gaggle of attendants close behind. Pacheco said under his
breath, "You lied to him."
"No. I said, we were attacked. He
made his own assumptions."
"This isn't right, Gavriel."
Fernan, always climbing out of the
shadows when the confrontation had passed, stepped away from the wall.
"Let him say what he will, Master. Tis that or sleep in the stables. I
prefer a pallet to hay myself, but I cannot speak for everyone. What say you,
Gavriel?"
"I say you talk too much."
Pacheco held up a hand to silence them
both. "Latorre is right to wonder where she will sleep. None of us can
stay with her."
Gavriel knelt and gently stretched Ada
along the polished marble floor. His arms shook from the exertion. But his
trembling was nothing to hers.
"She. is a danger to
herself," Gavriel said. "Would you rather have her sick, on her own?
Or have her recover before dawn and try to escape again?"
"What would you suggest?"
Pacheco asked.
"Perhaps this physician might
recommend a woman who can stay with her."
Pacheco nodded and exhaled.
"Good."
Rolling his shoulders, Gavriel caught
sight of the bloody gash on his forearm. It burned with a slow and persistent
ache. "What did you expect, Master? That I would stay with her
myself?"
Fernan grinned. "I was about to
offer my services, actually. I'm a renowned nursemaid."
"Cavorting with nursemaids doesn't
qualify you as one," Gavriel said.
"You know nothing of the mystic
arts of healing."
Pacheco looked heavenward and mumbled
quick prayer. "I'm going to find whatever slothful attendant is to show us
to our rooms."
He turned and strode along the wide
corridor. Fernan knelt next to Ada, his face momentarily composed and somber.
"She's in a terrible way. Can you do this, man?"
Ada thrashed once and moaned again. She
needed cool water and a soft place to rest, not delays and intrusive questions.
Gavriel looked at Fernan, almost wishing for the return of his wretched sense
of humor. At least that would be normal. And he desperately craved normal.
"I must, Fernan. This is my
duty."
God help me.
Chapter 6
Fernan Garza stretched on his pallet.
The sight of those bloody and limp corpses on the roadside danced in his brain,
no matter how many times he rubbed his eyes. He should have fainted.
Pacheco, however, seemed untroubled by
the surprising bout of violence. The novice master smoothed his robes, checking
here and there, picking lint from one sleeve before sitting on his pallet No
concern marred his wrinkled skin and neutral expression. Fernan continued to
watch his easy demeanor, all the while staunching the need to vomit again.
"Sleep now, Fernan. All will be
well come morning."
Fernan thought maybe, perhaps, on some
deep level, he should take offense that a man of advanced years such as Pacheco
would feel the need to coddle him. But no, the offense never came. Being
coddled was far preferable to the time-honored notions of strength,
nobility—or God forbid— making one's own way.
And besides, Pacheco knew his secrets.
No sense in resisting.
Sinking into the stiff straw of his
pallet, Fernan glanced one more time at the door. "Master, you cannot
truly expect Gavriel to look after that woman."
"And why not?"
"The trial is unjust. Cruel,
even."
Deeply damaged and unpredictable, the
Englishwoman possessed the face of an angel and the body of the most sumptuous
harlot.
The majordomo paled but did not put his
fussy manners aside. "All for the sake of propriety, I assure you. I shall
have our personal physic see to her, just to be certain."
"She needs no doctor, only
rest," Gavriel said.
Ada moaned. Latorre skittered back.
"You'll forgive me if I don't believe you," he said.
"Tis not my place to forgive
you."
Pacheco stepped between them, a look of
warning on his aged face. "We appreciate your kindness. Please, send for
your doctor and have your people show us to our rooms."
Latorre bowed and departed through a
nearby archway, his gaggle of attendants close behind. Pacheco said under his
breath, "You lied to him."
"No. I said, we were attacked. He
made his own assumptions."
"This isn't right, Gavriel."
Fernan, always climbing out of the
shadows when the confrontation had passed, stepped away from the wall.
"Let him say what he will, Master. Tis that or sleep in the stables. I
prefer a pallet to hay myself, but I cannot speak for everyone. What say you,
Gavriel?"
"I say you talk too much."
Pacheco held up a hand to silence them
both. "Latorre is right to wonder where she will sleep. None of us can
stay with her."
Gavriel knelt and gently stretched Ada
along the polished marble floor. His arms shook from the exertion. But his
trembling was nothing to hers.
"She. is a danger to
herself," Gavriel said. "Would you rather have her sick, on her own?
Or have her recover before dawn and try to escape again?"
"What would you suggest?"
Pacheco asked.
"Perhaps this physician might
recommend a woman who can stay with her."
Pacheco nodded and exhaled.
"Good."
Rolling his shoulders, Gavriel caught
sight of the bloody gash on his forearm. It burned with a slow and persistent
ache. "What did you expect, Master? That I would stay with her
myself?"
Fernan grinned. "I was about to
offer my services, actually. I'm a renowned nursemaid."
"Cavorting with nursemaids doesn't
qualify you as one," Gavriel said.
"You know nothing of the mystic
arts of healing."
Pacheco looked heavenward and mumbled
quick prayer. "I'm going to find whatever slothful attendant is to show us
to our rooms."
He turned and strode along the wide
corridor. Fernan knelt next to Ada, his face momentarily composed and somber.
"She's in a terrible way. Can you do this, man?"
Ada thrashed once and moaned again. She
needed cool water and a soft place to rest, not delays and intrusive questions.
Gavriel looked at Fernan, almost wishing for the return of his wretched sense
of humor. At least that would be normal. And he desperately craved normal.
"I must, Fernan. This is my
duty."
God help me.
Chapter 6
Fernan Garza stretched on his pallet.
The sight of those bloody and limp corpses on the roadside danced in his brain,
no matter how many times he rubbed his eyes. He should have fainted.
Pacheco, however, seemed untroubled by
the surprising bout of violence. The novice master smoothed his robes, checking
here and there, picking lint from one sleeve before sitting on his pallet No
concern marred his wrinkled skin and neutral expression. Fernan continued to
watch his easy demeanor, all the while staunching the need to vomit again.
"Sleep now, Fernan. All will be
well come morning."
Fernan thought maybe, perhaps, on some
deep level, he should take offense that a man of advanced years such as Pacheco
would feel the need to coddle him. But no, the offense never came. Being
coddled was far preferable to the time-honored notions of strength,
nobility—or God forbid— making one's own way.
And besides, Pacheco knew his secrets.
No sense in resisting.
Sinking into the stiff straw of his
pallet, Fernan glanced one more time at the door. "Master, you cannot
truly expect Gavriel to look after that woman."
"And why not?"
"The trial is unjust. Cruel,
even."
Deeply damaged and unpredictable, the
Englishwoman possessed the face of an angel and the body of the most sumptuous
harlot.
Similar Books
A.D. After Disclosure: When the Government Finally Reveals the Truth About Alien Contact
Jim Marrs, Richard Dolan, Bryce Zabel
