Текст книги "Tiger Prince "
Автор книги: Iris Johansen
Жанр:
Триллеры
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 28 страниц)
And when Ruel returned with help, they would find Kartauk.
She might not be able to keep Ian alive, but there was a chance she could still save Kartauk from Abdar. She turned to Li Sung. "I want you to take Kartauk to Narinth."
"I won't leave you here," Kartauk said.
"Do what I tell you!" She had to pause to steady her voice. "I've lost everything else. I won't lose you to Abdar. I'll tell everyone Li Sung was killed in the train wreck. Perhaps Abdar will think you were on the train and killed too. When you get to Narinth, put up at an inn near the waterfront and contact me when you've arrived."
Kartauk frowned. "I don't think—"
"Stop thinking and do what I tell you. I'll be safer here than you will. It may take you days to get to Narinth on foot."
Li Sung grasped Kartauk's arm. "She's right. There's nothing we can do to help her, and your discovery will only endanger her. I will make sure he is kept safe, Jane."
"I know you will," she said dully. "Good luck."
She turned back to stare down at Ian. At this moment it seemed impossible there could be good fortune anywhere in the world. Poor Ian. She doubted if he would ever see Glenclaren or his Margaret again. When she looked up a few minutes later, Li Sung and Kartauk were gone.
She trudged to the edge of the bridge and looked down at the rails crossing the gorge, then beyond them to the wreckage of the train in the river. Her stomach twisted and the bile rose in her throat. She turned and walked back to the lean-to.
Keep him alive.
It seemed an impossible task, but she had to try to do as Ruel had commanded. She had to salvage something from this horror. She had to save Ian for Ruel. She lay down close to Ian on the wet earth, cuddling close to him, trying to share her warmth.
"No!" They were taking him away from her. Didn't they understand he would die if she didn't keep him warm? "No, you can't . . ."
"Shh, it's all right." Ruel's voice. "They're putting him on a stretcher to carry him over the bridge."
She became conscious of voices, lanterns, movement all around her, and struggled to a sitting position. "Is he still alive?"
"Barely." Ruel's tone was clipped as he rose to his feet and helped her to her feet. "But we have to get him out of this foul weather. Patrick has a wagon waiting on the other side of Sikor Gorge and we'll make better time once we reach there." His gaze searched her face. "You look as pale as Ian. Can you walk across the bridge? There are some ties missing and it's not safe for me to carry you."
"I can walk." She stumbled after the four men carrying Ian, her gaze fixed desperately on the stretcher. "He has to live . . . my fault."
"Don't be ridiculous," Ruel said harshly. "No one's to blame. At first I thought Abdar must have done this, but it seems to me he would have appeared by now, and why would he want to sabotage the train? I'm beginning to think it was only an accident." They reached the other side of the gorge, and he swung her up into his arms. "God, you're shaking yourself to pieces. It's no wonder you're not thinking clearly."
"My fault . . ."
She woke in her bedroom in the bungalow later to find Ruel in a chair beside her bed. He had changed to dry clothes but still looked terrible. Dark circles colored the flesh beneath his eyes, and deep grooves scored either side of his lips.
"Ian?" she whispered.
"Still with us. We were afraid to move him any farther than the bungalow, so Patrick gave up his room and brought a doctor from the fort. Dr. Kendrick's with him now. I suppose he's doing everything he can."
"Of course he is."
He said haltingly, "I want to thank you for helping my brother." He wonderingly repeated the words. "My brother. Do you know I haven't called Ian that since we were boys together? I thought if I could keep him at a distance ..." He closed his eyes. "I ... love him, you know."
"Yes, I could see it whenever you were together."
"Could you? Then maybe he could see it too. God knows I tried hard enough not to admit it. I didn't want to love him. I didn't want to love anyone, but somehow . . ." His eyes opened. "He won't wake up. The doctor says there's not much he can do. Ian might never wake up, just drift away. ..."
"I'm so sorry, Ruel," she said gently.
His eyes were suddenly glittering fiercely. "There's nothing to be sorry about. Because the doctor's wrong. I'm not going to let Ian die."
"But if there's nothing you can do . . ."
"There's always something you can do." He stood up and strode toward the door. "And I'm going to do it."
The door slammed behind him.
Dear God, she loved him. The knowledge that had exploded inside her when she had seen Ruel running down that embankment was thorn-sharp. Wasn't love supposed to be sweet? She felt no sweetness, only a sense of the inevitable. No matter how she had tried to prevent it, her feelings had grown, deepened until she had been forced to face and acknowledge them. She didn't want to feel love for Ruel MacClaren, dammit. He was ruthless, mocking, and self-serving, and the most difficult individual she had ever met.
Ruel is one of the heroes of the world.
Ian had said those words and Ruel had proved him right tonight. If he was sometimes ruthless, he could also be selfless and courageous, giving with no thought for his own safety. As for mockery, it had not been present in the man she had seen a few minutes ago; he had been vulnerable and hurting. An aching sense of helplessness washed over her, and she realized she was feeling Ruel's pain as if it were her own. It was so like him to deny his own helplessness and start moving, struggling to do something, anything.
And she had something to do too.
She lay there steeling herself, sick with dread. Then she threw aside the covers and swung her legs to the floor. She flinched as she stood up, every muscle in her body throbbing with soreness. She ignored the discomfort and moved across the room toward the washstand.
Ten minutes later she shuffled painfully out of the room and went in search of Patrick. She found him on the veranda, lounging in his favorite cushioned rattan chair, the usual glass of whiskey in his hand. God, she hoped he was still sober enough to be coherent.
He didn't change his position as she came out on the veranda. "What are you doing up? You need your rest." He looked down in the depths of his glass. "Go back to bed."
"I need to have a talk with you, Patrick."
"It's a shame about Ruel MacClaren's brother. I don't think he's going to—"
"It shouldn't have happened, Patrick"
"It was an accident. It was that goddamn river." He took a sip of whiskey. "Bad luck. You know accidents happen all the time."
"Not like this one."
His hand tightened on his glass. "Why are you nagging me? Haven't I got enough to worry about? The maharajah is raging mad that we lost his train and swearing he won't pay me."
"I don't care about the maharajah." She tried to steady her voice. "There's a dying man in this house, a good man."
"I couldn't help it," Patrick said defensively. "Who would have thought the river would have enough force to cause the supports to vibrate that much? It should have been all right."
"I saw the rails, Patrick."
He glanced away from her and took a swallow of his whiskey. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"One of the rails broke when we started over the gorge. Those rails were supposed to be of the finest-grade steel, but I went back and took a look at them. They weren't like the rails we'd used on the rest of track. They were iron, not steel. Iron, Patrick. You know iron won't support the same kind of stress as steel. Those rails had already been weakened by the constant vibration caused by the river hitting the supports, and when the train started across the bridge, the weight made them—" She stopped, staring at him in astonishment.
Tears were running down Patrick's cheeks. "I didn't want this to happen. I thought it would be all right. It was such a short stretch of track. It should have been fine. I spent too much on the brass for the locomotive and I couldn't get another loan. I didn't want anyone to die."
"Oh, Patrick," she whispered. She had hoped he would tell her she was wrong and give her a believable explanation.
"I made a mistake," Patrick said. "But I'm going to pay for it. I'm ruined, Jane. No one will ever hire me again when they hear the maharajah blames me for what happened."
She felt sick. "I can't feel sorry for you, Patrick."
He nodded quickly. "I'll never forgive myself if that man dies."
She wasn't sure she could forgive him even if Ian lived.
"You won't tell anyone about the rails? I told the maharajah it was an unavoidable accident caused by the vibration, that it was the river's fault. . . ." He added quickly, "It was partly true."
"I won't tell anyone," she said wearily. "You may be guilty, but it was my fault too. I thought it strange you wanted to take over the construction after those rails were delivered, but I wanted to believe you were ..." She trailed off as her own guilt overwhelmed her. If she had followed her instincts, Ian wouldn't be lying in that room on the point of death. She would have seen those rails and known the danger they posed.
"That's my girl," he said, relieved. "And in the meantime, we'll do everything we can to help that poor man."
"I don't want you here," she whispered.
"What?"
"I can't look at you right now." Her tone sounded hard, she realized, yet she didn't feel hard, only hollow. "Pack your bag and go to the Officers' Club."
Patrick flushed, his eyes widening in astonishment. "But I ..." He met her gaze and then said lamely, "If you're sure that's what you want."
"That's what I want." She turned and left the veranda.
The darkness was fading and Ian could see a warm, loving light beckoning, welcoming him.
"I know you're awake, Ian. Open your eyes, dammit."
It was Ruel's voice again, demanding, cajoling, talking to him, always talking, taking him away from the light.
"Tired."
"You're not tired. You're giving up. Now open your eyes and look at me."
Ian's lids lifted slowly.
Ruel's face was above him, leaner, cheeks hollowed, blue eyes blazing, compelling.
Tiger burn bright . . .
"Good. Now open your mouth."
Broth, hot, meaty.
"No, don't turn your head away. You're going to eat all of it. You can't fight without strength."
"Pain. Such pain . . ."
"You can stand the pain. Stay with me."
Ruel didn't realize how great the pain was or he wouldn't have asked him to bear it. He must have muttered the words because Ruel was answering.
"I do know. God, I've watched you . . ." His hand covered Ian's on the bed. "But I'm not giving you up to it. You're going to get well and you're going to go home to Glenclaren."
"Glenclaren." Towers, cool hills. "Too . . . far away."
"But I'm right here." Ruel's hand tightened on his. "And you can't leave me. I need you, dammit."
But Ruel never needed anyone. "No."
"I do need you. Can't you feel it?"
Ruel's eyes were bright, shimmering, his grip desperately tight. Ian wanted to tell him to release him, to let him go back to the light. Yet Ruel never admitted to needing anyone, so it must be true. Not fair to leave Ruel if he was in need. He supposed he'd have to. come back. . . .
"I'll try, lad," Ian said weakly. "I'll try. . . ."
"That's all I ask." Ruel's voice was husky, but Ian was aware of the steely undertone, the implacable will that had pulled him back from the comforting darkness. "I'll do the rest, Ian."
All is well. Kedain's Inn.
Relief flowed through Jane as she folded the note and tore it in small pieces. Li Sung and Kartauk were safe. At least something in the world was going right.
She tossed the pieces of the note in the wastebasket, then whirled around as Ruel walked out of the bedroom. "I've just heard from Li Sung. They've reached Narinth safely."
"Good." Ruel carefully closed the bedroom door behind him. "Ian's sleeping. The doctor's examination this morning nearly drove him insane."
She had heard those cries of agony from the bedroom and felt as tortured as Ruel looked. "At least he's alive and seems to be getting better every day. I think he's put on a pound or two this week."
And as Ian had gained, Ruel had lost. He had put a cot in the sickroom and scarcely left Ian's side during the past three weeks. At least fifteen pounds had slipped away from his lean frame, and yet he didn't appear diminished. Indeed, sometimes when she looked at him he appeared to cast an incandescent glow. The force of will he had expended keeping Ian alive had acted as a flame, burning, sharpening, defining him. "What did the doctor say?"
"Ian's out of danger."
"Thank God."
"That's not what Ian said." Ruel smiled bitterly. "For once he was singularly lacking in piety. He may never walk again."
"Oh, no!"
"Something's wrong with his back," he said jerkily. "He has no feeling in his legs, and he may not even be able to sit up."
"Perhaps it's only temporary. Perhaps the doctor is wrong."
"God, I hope so." Ruel turned away and moved heavily across the room. "I've got to get back to him. I don't want him to wake up and find no one there."
She watched him go back into the bedroom, tears stinging her eyes. In the past weeks, as they had labored to save Ian, she had learned Ruel was much more than the sensual mandarin she had feared. He was also a man who experienced pain and discouragement and could show gentleness as well as strength. She wanted to go after him, comfort him, try to ease the pain she sensed.
"Jane."
She turned to see Patrick standing in the doorway, his face flushed, his manner awkward. "I heard at the club Ian is doing better. I came by to see if there is anything you need."
She shook her head.
"Food? Medicine? We still have a little money left in the cash fund, don't we?"
"Ruel's seeing to everything."
"Oh." He still stood there, turning the brim of his hat in his big hands. "Well, if there's anything . . . Let me know. . . ."
"There's nothing you can do." She paused and then burst out, "Ian may never walk again."
"No," he whispered, stricken.
She nodded jerkily. "It's not fair. You don't know him. He's such a gentle man, such a good man—" Her voice broke.
Patrick was suddenly across the room, gathering her in his arms. "It's all right." His hand cupped her head, smoothing her hair. "Don't cry, Jane."
It wasn't all right. She wasn't sure anything would be all right again, but Patrick's arms were strong, loving. How many times had she yearned for Patrick to hold her in affection like this?
"That's my girl," he said soothingly. "That's my Jane."
She gave a tremulous sigh and pushed him away. "I'm sorry. I know this kind of thing makes you feel awkward."
"No, I'm the one who is sorry. I've been a terrible fool." Patrick smiled with an effort. "But you've forgiven me, haven't you?"
"It's not my place to forgive—" She broke off and said wearily, "I don't know if I can forgive you or not."
"We've been together too long to harbor bad feelings." He paused and then said in a rush, "I don't like to bring you more bad news, but I'm afraid you're going to have to leave the bungalow by the end of the month. The maharajah has rescinded the lease."
She shook her head. "We can't leave here until Ian is well enough to be moved."
"The maharajah wants us out of Kasanpore, Jane."
"I don't care what he wants," she said fiercely. "I'll not leave while Ruel and Ian need me. If you want to help, find a way to persuade the maharajah to let us stay."
"I'll do my best." Patrick's smile was strained. "Maybe if I go through Colonel Pickering and ask him to intercede ... he seems to have a liking for Ian MacClaren."
"Do whatever you have to do."
He nodded, still hesitating. "I've been thinking about what we're going to do after we leave here, Jane. Perhaps we should go back to America and start again. It's a long way and maybe no one will hear about—"
"Not now. I don't want to think of anything but Ian right now."
He nodded. "I understand. But you'll see, it may take a while, but everything will be the same as before."
She looked at him in disbelief. "You're wrong."
"Why do you say that?" Anxiety flickered over his face. "You won't leave me? I need you, Jane. We need each other. We're family."
It was the closest he had ever come to saying the words she so desperately wanted to hear. Why did it have to come now? She didn't answer him directly. "You'd better go back to the club and talk to Colonel Pickering."
He opened his mouth to speak and then turned away. "If there's anything else I can do, let me know, darlin'." He hesitated and then reluctantly turned back again to face her. "There's something else you should know. The maharajah asked Colonel Pickering to have one of his engineers conduct an investigation of the train wreck."
Her gaze flew to his face. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Why should you have to worry about such matters? I don't think Pickering will bother you with questions. I've taken care of everything."
"What did you tell him, Patrick?"
His gaze slid away from her. "It was better that he thought, that they all thought that—"
"Answer me!"
"I told him you ordered the rails." He rushed on quickly, "I had to do it. The maharajah was holding me to blame. Don't you see? They might accuse me of being a fool for trusting a decision like that to a woman but not for negligence or fraud. You can't be hurt by this. I might even be able to save something from this mess for us to—"
"You lied about me?"
"Stop looking at me like that. I told you, Pickering's engineer looked at those rails and knew that—"
She couldn't believe it. He had not only done the unthinkable, he was making her shoulder the sole responsibility for that hideous night. "It's not fair." Her voice shook with anger. "You had no right to make me take the entire blame."
"Look, darlin', in a few weeks we'll be away from this place and be able to forget all about it."
"Tell them the truth!"
"It's not the thing to do. Just don't—"
"If you don't tell Colonel Pickering, I will."
"No!" He tried to temper the sharpness of his tone. "Where's your loyalty, girl?"
"Where's your honor, Patrick?"
His tone turned soft, wheedling. "You made me a promise a long time ago. Are you breaking it now?"
She stared at him in disbelief. "What are you saying?"
"I took you out of that place and gave you a respectable life. I gave you a chance to be more than a tentcity whore like your ma. You said you'd always do what I wanted."
"I thought I'd paid that debt."
He flushed but repeated, "You made me a promise."
She felt her eyes sting as she gazed at him. Lost hope, lost faith. If she asked him now, he might even admit he was her father, he might say anything she wanted him to say to save himself.
She would not ask him. "I'll keep my promise, Patrick."
He looked relieved. "You promise you won't tell anyone? No one at all?"
Each word he spoke was like a spike driven into her. "No one. I'll take the sole blame. If anyone asks me, I'll say I ordered the rails."
"It's for the best, darlin'."
"But we're paid in full, Patrick. I owe you no more debts."
"Of course you don't. We can start again, clear and fresh."
"We're not going to start again." Somehow she managed to keep her tone even. "I don't want to see you again, Patrick."
He appeared stricken. "You don't mean that."
"I mean it. I've never meant anything more since that day I made you take me away from Frenchie's." She turned her back on him and walked away.
She kept the tears from flowing until she closed the door of her room. The dream was over. It had been a foolish dream anyway. She had no need of a father. She had always had Li Sung to help her through the hard times.
But, dear God in heaven, it hurt.
"Come in." Abdar smiled as he beckoned Zabrie to enter. "You must not be frightened."
Zabrie hesitated, glancing warily from Abdar to Pachtal before slowly coming forward into the reception chamber. "You are not angry with me?" She rushed on, the words tumbling out. "It was no fault of mine. Li Sung lied to me. That foul dog deserved his death in that gorge. I had no idea the information I gave you was false."
"I know this. You would not dare to try to fool me." Abdar glanced at Pachtal. "Though my friend Pachtal tried to convince me otherwise. He has a very suspicious nature."
She shot Pachtal a poisonous glance. Ungrateful bastard. She fell to her knees before Abdar. "I did not know. I would never have sent you to Narinth if I had suspected Li Sung had lied to me."
"You were too confident," Pachtal said coldly. "You thought your meager bed skills would overcome his loyalty. I could have told you otherwise."
She flared with anger. "You seemed to find me pleasing enough." Wrong move, she realized instantly, she must be more clever if she was to win through this situation. She forced a smile. "As Your Highness will in the future. I have planned a night to remember to show you how much I regret inconveniencing you."
"Have you indeed?" Abdar's smile widened. "I recall the pleasure you gave me and Pachtal before. I cannot think how you can best that unique episode."
He was intrigued. She lowered her lashes to hide both her contempt and triumph. Maharajahs or beggars, men were all the same. They would forgive you anything if you could find a way to satisfy their lust. "That was only the beginning. I can make you—"
"Promises." Abdar interrupted. "Words do not interest me." He took a step forward and cupped her cheeks in his hands. "But you do," he said softly. "I find you exceptional. So much life . . . From the first moment I saw you I knew I had to have you."
Satisfaction surged through her. It had been even easier than she thought. "I seek only to give you pleasure," she whispered. "You will permit me?"
"How can I resist you?" His dark eyes were glowing as his fingers trailed down her cheek in a gentle caress. "I believe you're right. This will be a night to remember."
Chapter 9
You must eat, Ian." Jane looked down with i an anxious frown at the untouched tray on the bed beside Ian. "How can you expect to get well if you don't eat?"
"I'm sorry. I'm a great bother, aren't I?" Ian picked up his fork and took a few bites. "There, now I've eaten."
"Not enough."
"That's more than enough for a man flat on his back. It isn't as if I expend a great deal of energy anymore." He shifted from his side to his back and added, "But you mustn't tell Ruel. He worries too much as it is."
"He wants to get you well enough to go back to Glenclaren."
"I've been thinking about that." Ian looked down at his plate. "Perhaps it would be better if I didn't go back."
She looked at him, stunned. "Not go home?"
"Servants are cheap here and I'll need care . . . for a while."
Because he prayed he would soon die and be freed from his bondage. Aching pity flooded through her as she looked at him. His dark hair had grown shaggy and lackluster in the past weeks, his big body distressingly thin, but it was that wistful yearning for release from life that worried her most. "But you love Glenclaren."
His lips thinned with pain. "That's why I'm not going home. I'm no good for Glenclaren anymore."
"Don't be foolish. You'll be a great help to—"
"Margaret?" For the first time she saw bitterness in his expression. "Yes, I'd be a big help to Margaret . . . another invalid for her to nurse. A cripple to lean on her."
"If she's the woman you say she is, she would want you to come home to her."
"There shouldn't have had to be a choice," Ian whispered. "I should have died in that train wreck. God meant me to die that night. Ruel shouldn't have pulled me back."
"You think I have the power to overrule God?" Ruel stood in the doorway, a smile pasted on his pale face. "I'm surprised at you, Ian. That's blasphemy, and besides, you give me too much credit." He strode forward. "I see you haven't eaten your lunch. Why don't you try a little more?"
"Ruel, I can't . . ." He met Ruel's gaze and then sighed, picked up the fork again, and began to eat.
Jane turned and left the room, unable to stand any more. She went to the veranda, her arms crossed over her chest to stop their trembling. Dear God, seeing Ruel's hurt at that moment was almost as bad as watching Ian's unhappiness and agony.
She heard Ruel come from Ian's room ten minutes later and then the clatter of china as he carried the tray to Sula in the kitchen. Afterward he joined her on the veranda.
"Did you get him to eat?" she asked.
"Oh yes, I always get him to do what I want him to do. Didn't you hear him say how omnipotent I am?"
She didn't look at him. "He didn't really mean to blame you. He doesn't want to die."
"Of course he does," Ruel said harshly. "If I were facing what he is, I'd be cursing him too."
"He isn't cursing you."
"Only because he believes God might really wreak vengeance on my head since I've never been in his good graces."
"You saved Ian's life. There's no greater gift you could give anyone."
"Ian thinks there is."
Death. She shivered and quickly changed the subject. "He wants to stay here in Kasanpore."
"He told me that too." He shook his head. "If I let him stay here, he'll wither away and die. At Glenclaren at least he has a chance of living."
"He seems to be worrying about not being capable of properly running Glenclaren."
"He's right, it's not a job for a cripple. My father was out and about every day overseeing the management of the blasted place."
"Couldn't Ian hire someone?"
"An agent? Yes, but it would be another drain and he'd manage only to keep his head above water. In five years I could have bought him anything he needed. I could have built him a bloody palace in place of that drafty barn. Why the hell wasn't I given those years? You'd think God would take care of his own, wouldn't you?"
"What are you going to do?"
He shook his head wearily. "I've written to Maggie and taken passage for Ian out of Narinth on the Bonnie Lady in three weeks' time."
"Are you going with him?"
He shook his head. "I'm going to Cinnidar after I put him on the ship." He whirled to face her. "Stop looking at me like that. I can do nothing for him at Glenclaren right now. If I go to Cinnidar, at least I'll have a chance of giving him what he needs for that damn piece of earth he worships. Money can buy a comfortable life, if not a happy one."
"How could I blame you? You've done more for Ian than anyone could expect you to do."
A bitter smile touched his lips. "More than he wanted me to do anyway." He straightened. "I'm going to the Officers' Club to see Colonel Pickering about arranging transport on one of the troop ships going upriver to Narinth. It will be easier on Ian than traveling overland. Will you watch over him for me until I get back?"
She stiffened, panic surging through her. Ruel had not left Ian's side since the night of the train wreck, and he did not know about the colonel's investigation. What would happen when he—
"What's wrong? Is there a problem?"
Three weeks had gone by since Patrick had told her of the engineers' findings. Perhaps the colonel would assume Ruel knew about it. Perhaps he wouldn't mention it and, if he did, she would have to face it. She smiled with an effort. "No, nothing's wrong. Of course I'll watch over him."
"Of course," he repeated, and for once his smile held no mockery or bitterness, only a rare sweetness. "There's no 'of course' about it. You've put up with Ian's screams and my rantings and worked yourself into a shadow these last weeks without a word of thanks from me."
"I didn't want your thanks. I couldn't have done anything else."
He gazed at her for a long moment. "No, I guess you couldn't. But I want you to know I'll remember this and find a way to repay you."
For the first time since the train wreck he was really looking at her, and she felt a tiny shock of awareness. She laughed tremulously. "Are you going to build me a palace too?"
"Maybe." He reached out and gently stroked her cheek with his index finger. "I'll have to think about it. You once said you wouldn't be comfortable in a palace."
The gentleness of his touch was poignantly sweet. "I'm surprised you remembered that."
"I have a long memory." His hand dropped away. "For the important things."
She wanted to reach out and touch him, draw close to that flame that always burned within him. Give and accept in spirit as well as flesh. She had thought she had loved him before, but her feelings had increased tenfold in these past days together.
"I'll see you in a few hours." He turned and left the bungalow.
She shivered as fear rippled through her. Perhaps she did not need to worry. Fate could be kind and let her keep this gift. Pickering might not tell him.
"The next troop carrier goes upriver on the twenty-seventh," John Pickering said. "I could ask the officer in charge to give up his quarters for the trip. Will Ian be ready to travel by then?"
"As ready as he'll ever be." Ruel rose to his feet. "You're very kind. Thank you."
"No thanks are necessary. We're all fond of Ian. He's a fine man." The colonel added briskly, "Now, sit back down and I'll order you a drink. You look like you could use one."
Ruel shook his head. "I have to get back to—" "Sit down," Pickering repeated firmly, "Or I might rethink my kindness."
Ruel dropped back down in his chair. "One drink." The colonel motioned to a white-clad boy behind the bar across the room. "If you don't get more rest, you may be the one we have to ship upriver on a stretcher." He waited until the boy had set two whiskeys in front of them before continuing. "I've seen men who look as haggard as you do before, but it's usually after they've been through a battle."
He had been through a battle, Ruel thought. He sipped his whiskey. "I'm fine. Ian's the one who is sick."
"Then why is your hand shaking?"
Pickering was right, Ruel noticed in surprise. His hand holding the glass was trembling. He exerted his will and steadied it before he said, "I've not been getting a great deal of rest. That doesn't mean I'm ill."
"I'm sure Abdar will be sorry to hear that."
He glanced up. "Abdar?"
"Pachtal's been displaying a good deal of curiosity on his behalf. He came to see me last week, asking questions about your purchase of Cinnidar."
