Out of the Darkness

To that, Sabrino had no good answers. He sat down on his cot and let the crutches fall. “I never thought I would hope for calluses under my arms,” he said, “but these cursed things rub me raw.” Before the healer could speak, Sabrino wagged a finger at him. “If you tell me I’ve got the rest of my life to get used to them, I’ll pick up one of those crutches and brain you with it.”

“I didn’t say a thing,” the healer replied. “And if you kill a man for what he’s thinking, how many men would be left alive today?”

“About as many as are left alive today, if you’re thinking about Algarvians,” Sabrino said. He lay down and fell asleep almost at once. Part of that was the decoctions-though sometimes they also cost him sleep-and part of it was the exhaustion that came with being on his feet, if only for a little while.

When he woke, the healer was hovering above his cot. In his long white tunic, he reminded Sabrino of a sea bird. He said, “You have a visitor.”

“What now?” Sabrino asked. “Are they going to try to make me King of Yanina? I couldn’t be worse than Tsavellas, that’s certain.”

“No, indeed, your Excellency.” The healer turned toward the doorway and made a beckoning motion. “You may come in now.”

“Thank you.” To Sabrino’s astonishment, his wife walked into the room.

“Gismonda!” he exclaimed. “By the powers above, what are you doing here? I sent a message to tell you to get to the east if you could, and I thought you had. The Kuusamans and Lagoans beat us, but the Unkerlanters. .” His gesture was broad, expansive, Algarvian. “They’re Unkerlanters.”

“I know,” Gismonda said. “By the time I made up my mind to get out of Trapani, it was too late. I couldn’t. And so”-she shrugged-”I stayed.”

The healer shook a warning finger as he walked to the door. “I’ll be back in half an hour or so,” he said. “He is not to be overtired. And,” he added pointedly, “I am leaving this door open.”

With the decoction in him, Sabrino didn’t much care what came out of his mouth. Leering at the healer, he said, “You don’t know how shameless I can be, do you?” The fellow left in a hurry.

“Now, really!” Gismonda said, sounding a little amused but much more scandalized. “You may be dead to shame, my dear, but what makes you think am?

She’d been a beauty when they wed. She was still a handsome woman, but one who showed she had iron underneath. She’d rarely warmed up to Sabrino in the marriage bed. She gave him what he wanted when he wanted it with her, and, like a lot of Algarvian wives, she’d looked the other way when he took a mistress. But she’d always been fiercely loyal, and Sabrino had never embarrassed her, as some husbands enjoyed doing to their wives.

Now, instead of answering her, he asked the question uppermost in his mind: “Are you all right?”

“Oh, aye.” She nodded. “All things considered, the place isn’t too badly damaged. And as for the Unkerlanters. ” Another shrug. “One of them had some ideas along those lines, but I persuaded him they were altogether inappropriate, and they’ve given me no trouble since.”

“Good for you.” Sabrino wondered if Gismonda’s “persuasion” had been something swift and lethal in a cup of wine or spirits, or whether a show of sternness had convinced the Unkerlanter to take his attentions elsewhere. That wouldn’t have been beyond her, but Swemmel’s men, by all Sabrino had heard and seen, weren’t always willing to take no for an answer. He said, “I hope you didn’t take too much of a chance.”

“I didn’t think so,” Gismonda replied, “and I turned out to be right. I have had some practice at judging these things, you know. Men are men, regardless of which kingdom they come from.”

She spoke with what sounded like perfect detachment. And if that’s not a judgment on half the human race, powers below eat me if I know what would be, Sabrino thought. He knew what his own countrymen had done in Unkerlant. It didn’t go very far toward making him think she was wrong. “Well, any which way, I’m glad you came through safe, and I’m very glad to see you,” he said.

“I would have come sooner,” she said, “but the first word I got was that you were dead.” She angrily tossed her head. “It wasn’t anything official-by then, the official ley lines had all broken down. But one of the officers from your wing-a captain of no particular breeding-came to the house to give me the news that he had seen you flamed out of the sky.”

“That would have been Orosio,” Sabrino said. “Breeding or not, he’s a good fellow. I wonder if he came through alive.”

“I don’t know. That was the name, though,” Gismonda said. “If he came to tell me such a story, he might at least have had the courtesy to get it right. It must have been kindly meant-I can’t doubt that-but. . ”