‘Probably not,’ Kevin confessed, then said quickly, ‘But that’s not the issue.’
A sceptical quiet followed. The pallet shifted as Patrick sat back against the wall. ‘What is the issue, then, old son? I’m waiting.’
‘She negotiated for some concession that had to do with Midkemia,’ Kevin added, as though the conclusion were plain. When Patrick failed to catch on, he qualified. ‘Obviously our Lady believes that someday the rift will be reopened.’
‘And that’s supposed to keep the boys living in vermin and putting up with being beaten?’ Patrick asked. ‘Damn you, Kevin, you’re too much the optimist. All that silk and woman flesh have gone straight to your head. You know these runts have a history going back thousands of years. They make plans for the next fifty generations and consider them important in this lifetime.’
Kevin did not gainsay this, but gestured in honest entreaty. ‘Patrick, talk to the men. Make them hope. I don’t want to see them hanged one by one by Mara’s warriors, while I’m working for a way to send them home.’
Patrick grumbled something unintelligible that had the ring of swear words. Dawn light filtered through the shack’s single window, and the tramp of feet from the barracks signalled a changing patrol, ‘I got to get up, old son,’ Patrick said morosely, if I’m not on time for grub, it’s a long day’s work with an empty belly.’
On impulse, Kevin touched his companion’s hand. ‘Trust me, old friend. For just a little bit longer. When I lose hope, I’ll tell you, and I promise you this: I’m not going to die as a slave. If I give the word, I’ll lead the break for the mountains and the outlaw’s life.’
Patrick eyed him closely in the lightening gloom. ‘You mean that,’ he admitted, surprise showing through. ‘But it’s going to be hard, convincing the boys. They’re angry about Douglas and Jake.’
‘Then don’t let them join Douglas and Jake,’ Kevin said forcefully, and he rose and stepped through the door.
Well aware that Jican would be pleased to set him to work, Kevin crossed the estate grounds between the slave quarters and the main house by a roundabout route through the gardens. Dew drenched his bare feet and dampened the bottoms of his breeches. Occasionally he passed one of Keyoke’s sentries. They did not trouble him; since the campaign in Dustari, and especially since the night of the assassins, word of his martial prowess had circulated in the barracks. Mara’s warriors might not acknowledge him openly, but they did in their way grant him a wordless respect. They no longer questioned his loyalty.
If the guards by the door to Mara’s chambers had overheard the argument in the night, they gave no sign as Kevin stepped through the akasi hedge and sauntered down the path. As if he were a ghost, they ignored him when he cracked the screen and let himself back in.
Light fell like pearl over a disarranged mass of cushions. Mara lay sprawled in their midst, her arms hugging a snarl of twisted sheets, and her hair in tangles from tossing. She might not have been gnawed on by insects, but she appeared to have had as unpleasant a night as he had. Even while she dreamed, her forehead was troubled by a frown. Her profile, her small clenched fingers, and the curve of one visible breast melted the last of Kevin’s annoyance. He could not stay mad at her. Perhaps that was the worst of his faults.
He slipped out of his damp breeches. Aware that his skin was cold, and angrily red from his scratching, he reclined on the edge of the cushions and tucked a fold of blanket around his chilly feet. Then, waiting for circulation to restore him to warmth, he looked at the Lady he loved.
Her nearness took the sting out of slavery, almost made him forget who he was, the rank he had been born to, all that he had lost, and all of the problems of his countrymen. Too well he understood their peril if the thin hope he had dangled before Patrick proved to be only a hangman’s noose. Then Mara flinched and cried softly in her dream, and concern for her overrode all else.
Kevin reached out with warm hands. He straightened the sheets entangled between her knees and freed one of her wrists from an imprisoning loop of black hair. Then he gathered her to him and tenderly kissed her awake.
She must have worn herself out with crying, for she roused slowly and her eyes were puffy and red. He had caught her off guard, and she relaxed enjoyably against him. Then memory returned and she stiffened with the beginnings of outrage.
‘I ordered you to leave!’ she said angrily.
Kevin tipped his head sideways toward the screen. ‘Until morning,’ he answered equably. ‘Morning’s here. I came back.’