Rosemary and Rue
Page 50
SIXTEEN
THE ROBE LILY BROUGHT fit pretty well, even if it left me feeling more exposed than I’d been before. Nudity is fine—not my favorite thing, but fine. Clinging silk robes meant for someone six inches shorter are less fine. The hem stopped at mid-thigh, and the neckline barely covered my chest. To make matters worse, or at least more mortifying, the whole thing was a rosy shade of cream: taken as a whole, I felt like the star of some demented piece of fantasy porn.
The poultice swaddling my left shoulder would kill that idea pretty quickly. I could move the arm more easily than when I first woke—changelings don’t recover as fast as purebloods, though we bounce back faster than humans—but I wasn’t sure the improvement would be enough. I couldn’t move it fast enough to do anything useful, and heavy lifting was definitely out of the question for a few days. I wouldn’t have worried about it before people started shooting at me. Now that they’d started, I had plenty of reason to worry.
Whoever killed Evening and set a Redcap on my trail wasn’t going to back off. If there’d been any chance of that, it died when the man started taking shots at me on a public street. Whatever the game was, I was in it until it was over.
Lily kept moistening the moss around the poultice, refusing to let me move more than I had to in order to reach my tea. The combination of my body’s natural defenses and Undine water was helping, but movement wasn’t easy. I hadn’t even been able to help her wash the blood out of my hair. She’d pulled it into a braid when she was done, tying it off with a strip of fabric torn from my irreparably stained blouse. I still looked like hell, but it was one of the outer circles, and the fact that I didn’t seem likely to drop dead any second was a definite improvement.
“Drink this,” said Lily, handing me another cup of tea. “It will help.”
It smelled like rosehips and hibiscus, just like the last eleven batches. I took it, asking, “Am I going to be done drinking this stuff any time soon?” I understood the logic. The tea was helping me recover the blood I’d lost, and it was forcing Undine water into my system at the same time. That was fine. It didn’t make the idea of drowning in syrupy floral tea any more appealing.
Lily gave me a stern look. “You’ll be done when I say you are.”
“Right.” I took a sip, grimacing. There was a good reason for me to drink the tea. Still, I would’ve killed for a cup of coffee.
More gently, Lily said, “I’m sorry if I’m fussing, October, but I don’t wish to see you killed for your hastiness. Not if I can help you by keeping you here.”
“I’m not being hasty, Lily. I have a job to do.” The Undine take a long, slow view of time. To Lily, a year and a day were very much the same.
“You’re not? Does that mean you had to be fished out of the viewing pool over nothing? How curious. I should have realized you’d intended to collapse there from exhaustion and overabuse and insisted you be put back again. I apologize.”
I sighed. “Lily, being hasty doesn’t usually get you shot.”
“I see. So I suppose you paused to think through whatever actions did lead to your being shot before you took them?”
“I . . .” Lily narrowed her eyes, and I stopped, reviewing the events of the afternoon in my head. I hadn’t been thinking, or even acting: just reacting. I’d been reacting since I heard Evening’s voice on my answering machine. Looking away, I said, “No.”
“I didn’t think so. People have been trying to kill you for as long as I’ve known you; it seems to be a normal part of your existence, and I’ve grown resigned to that fact. Even so, I’ve never seen you giving so little care to evading their efforts. It almost seems like you want them to catch you.”
“Lily, I—”
“No,” she said, and I stopped, run up against the wall of her implacability. “You forget, how well I knew your mother. Amandine’s excuses were always very much like yours. Nothing you say will be new to me.”
I raised my eyes, and she met them without flinching. Her lips were curved in a faint, sad smile, creasing the scales that ran across her cheeks. “Maybe not. But you always let her go.”
The smile softened, growing sadder and more accepting at the same time. “I always regretted it, as well.”
“We do what we have to.”
“As, I suppose, we must.” She sighed. “Ah, well.”
“Now what?” I asked.
“Now you leave me. Even if I could hold you here against your will—even if I would, after what we’ve been through together—the Winterrose has bound you, and I can’t defy the law so directly. The sun will be down soon.”
“. . . down?” I asked, staring at her. “Lily, it was night when I got here.” Fleetingly, I wondered how much work I’d managed to miss.
“Time passes, October,” she said. I didn’t have an answer to that. Lily looked at me levelly and continued, “Once the sun is down, Marcia will summon a taxi for you, and I will have one of my handmaids escort you to the edge of the park. Once you have left my lands, you may do whatever you feel is needed, and I will have done what hospitality demands.”
“Okay,” I said.
“I am not done.” Her tone sharpened, becoming colder. “I wouldn’t let you go at all were it not for the binding, and had you not been my unwilling guest once before; understand that. Your mother will not forgive me for your death.”
“My mother hasn’t left the Summerlands in twenty years,” I said, unable to stop myself. “I doubt she’s going to come out to yell at you.”
“I think you might be surprised by what she would do.” I looked at her and couldn’t think of a single way to answer that. So we just sat and drank our tea while the silence stretched out between us, until Lily raised her head, acknowledging some unseen sign.
“The sun is down,” she said, and stood, moving with fluid grace. “Come, October. It’s time to go. I just hope, for your sake, that you’ve rested well enough.”
I pushed myself to my feet and followed her, pausing to take my bloody clothes from a Puca with drag onfly wings and white-blind eyes. She looked familiar, like someone I’d known once, but I didn’t ask. The stories you find in the independent knowes usually aren’t pretty ones.
THE ROBE LILY BROUGHT fit pretty well, even if it left me feeling more exposed than I’d been before. Nudity is fine—not my favorite thing, but fine. Clinging silk robes meant for someone six inches shorter are less fine. The hem stopped at mid-thigh, and the neckline barely covered my chest. To make matters worse, or at least more mortifying, the whole thing was a rosy shade of cream: taken as a whole, I felt like the star of some demented piece of fantasy porn.
The poultice swaddling my left shoulder would kill that idea pretty quickly. I could move the arm more easily than when I first woke—changelings don’t recover as fast as purebloods, though we bounce back faster than humans—but I wasn’t sure the improvement would be enough. I couldn’t move it fast enough to do anything useful, and heavy lifting was definitely out of the question for a few days. I wouldn’t have worried about it before people started shooting at me. Now that they’d started, I had plenty of reason to worry.
Whoever killed Evening and set a Redcap on my trail wasn’t going to back off. If there’d been any chance of that, it died when the man started taking shots at me on a public street. Whatever the game was, I was in it until it was over.
Lily kept moistening the moss around the poultice, refusing to let me move more than I had to in order to reach my tea. The combination of my body’s natural defenses and Undine water was helping, but movement wasn’t easy. I hadn’t even been able to help her wash the blood out of my hair. She’d pulled it into a braid when she was done, tying it off with a strip of fabric torn from my irreparably stained blouse. I still looked like hell, but it was one of the outer circles, and the fact that I didn’t seem likely to drop dead any second was a definite improvement.
“Drink this,” said Lily, handing me another cup of tea. “It will help.”
It smelled like rosehips and hibiscus, just like the last eleven batches. I took it, asking, “Am I going to be done drinking this stuff any time soon?” I understood the logic. The tea was helping me recover the blood I’d lost, and it was forcing Undine water into my system at the same time. That was fine. It didn’t make the idea of drowning in syrupy floral tea any more appealing.
Lily gave me a stern look. “You’ll be done when I say you are.”
“Right.” I took a sip, grimacing. There was a good reason for me to drink the tea. Still, I would’ve killed for a cup of coffee.
More gently, Lily said, “I’m sorry if I’m fussing, October, but I don’t wish to see you killed for your hastiness. Not if I can help you by keeping you here.”
“I’m not being hasty, Lily. I have a job to do.” The Undine take a long, slow view of time. To Lily, a year and a day were very much the same.
“You’re not? Does that mean you had to be fished out of the viewing pool over nothing? How curious. I should have realized you’d intended to collapse there from exhaustion and overabuse and insisted you be put back again. I apologize.”
I sighed. “Lily, being hasty doesn’t usually get you shot.”
“I see. So I suppose you paused to think through whatever actions did lead to your being shot before you took them?”
“I . . .” Lily narrowed her eyes, and I stopped, reviewing the events of the afternoon in my head. I hadn’t been thinking, or even acting: just reacting. I’d been reacting since I heard Evening’s voice on my answering machine. Looking away, I said, “No.”
“I didn’t think so. People have been trying to kill you for as long as I’ve known you; it seems to be a normal part of your existence, and I’ve grown resigned to that fact. Even so, I’ve never seen you giving so little care to evading their efforts. It almost seems like you want them to catch you.”
“Lily, I—”
“No,” she said, and I stopped, run up against the wall of her implacability. “You forget, how well I knew your mother. Amandine’s excuses were always very much like yours. Nothing you say will be new to me.”
I raised my eyes, and she met them without flinching. Her lips were curved in a faint, sad smile, creasing the scales that ran across her cheeks. “Maybe not. But you always let her go.”
The smile softened, growing sadder and more accepting at the same time. “I always regretted it, as well.”
“We do what we have to.”
“As, I suppose, we must.” She sighed. “Ah, well.”
“Now what?” I asked.
“Now you leave me. Even if I could hold you here against your will—even if I would, after what we’ve been through together—the Winterrose has bound you, and I can’t defy the law so directly. The sun will be down soon.”
“. . . down?” I asked, staring at her. “Lily, it was night when I got here.” Fleetingly, I wondered how much work I’d managed to miss.
“Time passes, October,” she said. I didn’t have an answer to that. Lily looked at me levelly and continued, “Once the sun is down, Marcia will summon a taxi for you, and I will have one of my handmaids escort you to the edge of the park. Once you have left my lands, you may do whatever you feel is needed, and I will have done what hospitality demands.”
“Okay,” I said.
“I am not done.” Her tone sharpened, becoming colder. “I wouldn’t let you go at all were it not for the binding, and had you not been my unwilling guest once before; understand that. Your mother will not forgive me for your death.”
“My mother hasn’t left the Summerlands in twenty years,” I said, unable to stop myself. “I doubt she’s going to come out to yell at you.”
“I think you might be surprised by what she would do.” I looked at her and couldn’t think of a single way to answer that. So we just sat and drank our tea while the silence stretched out between us, until Lily raised her head, acknowledging some unseen sign.
“The sun is down,” she said, and stood, moving with fluid grace. “Come, October. It’s time to go. I just hope, for your sake, that you’ve rested well enough.”
I pushed myself to my feet and followed her, pausing to take my bloody clothes from a Puca with drag onfly wings and white-blind eyes. She looked familiar, like someone I’d known once, but I didn’t ask. The stories you find in the independent knowes usually aren’t pretty ones.
