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close-cropped black hair and a shy demeanor came bounding over to join us. He
must have followed us up the stairs and been watching quietly from the side.
I'd been too drunk to notice him before.
"Here, Lord Aber, Lord Oberon!" Horace said in a high squeak of a voice.
Aber said, "Oberon is feeling better, but he needs to be watched closely.
Stay up with him tonight. Call me if anything happens. Do you understand?"
"Anything?"
"Anything unusual or dangerous& anything that threatens his life."
Horace gulped. "Yes, sir."
"If you fail in your duty," he went on in a severe voice, "youwill be held
responsible for anything that happens to your master. By meand by our father."
"Yes, sir," he said.
"Nothing will happen," I told Aber firmly. If not for the wine, I thought I
could have walked unaided and mostly kept my balance. "At this rate, I'll be
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back to my old self in a day or two."
"I hope so, but I'm not taking any chances," Aber said firmly. "Dad doesn't
like me the way he does you. If anything happens to you, he'll gladly skin me
alive.After I skin your valet."
Horace gulped audibly.
"Stop it," I said. "You're scaring him."
"I meant to."
"He's just a boy."
"Don't make excuses." Aber hesitated, looking toward his own room. "Maybe I'd
better sit up with you after all. If you think there's any danger "
"No, no. Go to your own bed." I made quick shooing motions with my hands.
Those movements made the floor tilt alarmingly. "I can tell you're exhausted.
More exhausted than me, even. It's been a long day for all of us. Go to bed,
I'll do the same, and we'll have breakfast with Dad in the morning. We can all
catch up then."
Still he hesitated.
"I'll be fine," I assured him. "I'm over the worst of it."
He finally nodded, gave a last stern look at Horace, and trooped down the
hall toward his door.
Turning, I wandered back into my bedroom trailed by Horace, who shut the door
behind us. When I glanced over my shoulder, I found Port's face on the inside
now, staring at me with a deliberately noncommittal expression. He cleared his
throat, and I got the impression I'd forgotten something.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Do you wish to leave instructions for me, sir?"
"Wake me in the morning?"
"I amnot a clock," he said a bit archly. "I am a door. I do not tell time,
whistle on the hour, or wake people up. What Imeantwas who should I let into
your rooms?"
"Oh, I don't know." I hesitated. "Aber, my father, Horace here, servants when
they need to clean." Then I chuckled, thinking of Rèalla and how she would
look in my bed. "And, of course, any beautiful half-dressed women who happen
along."
Port smirked. "Except for Aber, whom Mattus did not trust, those were almost
exactly the same instructions your brother left with me."
I cocked my head thoughtfully. "Do you know why he didn't trust Aber?"
"Not exactly, Lord Oberon. I believe it involved a woman, however, though I
am not aware of the exact details."
"Did he leave you any other instructions?"
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"Your sister Blaise was allowed in at any time, day or night."
I found that odd. For some reason I had mentally lumped Mattus into Locke's
camp, with the soldiers. My half-sister Blaise, obsessed with spying and
wielding household power, struck me as someone who wouldn't have any ready
followers in our family.
"Do you know why?" I asked.
"No, sir."
"What about Freda?" I asked. I liked my sister almost as much as I liked
Aber, and I wondered where she stood with Mattus.
"I had no special instructions regarding Freda."
"Could anyone else come in at will?" I asked.
"No, sir."
"Was there anyone else deliberately excluded, the way Aber was?"
"No, sir."
Well, it had been worth a try. Aber and Mattus not getting along& probably it
had been nothing more than sibling rivalry. There had been a lot of that
before, during, and after my arrival in Juniper. Having two powerful,
conceited, and supremely arrogant brothers in love with the same woman would
certainly lead to trouble.
Yawning, I unbuckled my swordbelt and set it on the desk. Horace had turned
down the bed while I talked to Port. If the mattress and pillows had been
ripped apart by the hell-creatures, seamstresses had mended both as good as
new; they looked soft and comfortable. I plopped down, feeling soft feathers [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]