Book Of Words - Master And Fool Part 45

"I believe so, but only you can tell me for sure." Tawl's voice was gentle. "I won't condemn you for taking him. How could I? You saved his life. I owe you a debt that can never be repaid, and I will be forever grateful to you, but please, please, tell me the truth."

A few moments of silence followed. The woman stroked the baby's head. Abruptly, she looked up. "If I tell you everything will you take me with you? The baby loves me, you see. I'm all he knows. I'm like a mother to himhe might be frightened without me."

Tawl dropped the long-knife on the bed. Reaching up, he placed his hand over the woman's bony, misshapen wrist. "I promise I'll take you with me. I know you love him--I can see that. Now please, tell me what happened."

In a gesture of trust, Tawl handed the baby back.

The woman was shaking. Teardrops turned her eyelashes into spikes. "Come to Nanny Greal," she cooed. "Mere's a good boy." Settling herself down on the edge of the bed, she uncovered the baby's left foot and pulled off his sock. A pink mark, small as a thumbnail, rested in the chubby fold of flesh just above his ankle. The mark of the Hawk.

"Baralis ordered me to take the baby away and kill it," said the woman quietly. "I would have done it, too, if it hadn't been for Corsella."

"Corsella? Thomypurse's daughter?"

The woman looked up. "Yes, she's my niece. Did you know her?"

"She took me in when I first arrived in Bren."

"Good girl. Heart of gold. Beautiful, too."

Tawl didn't have quite the same opinion of the girl, but now wasn't the time to dispute it. "What did Baralis do to her?"

"He murdered her. Crope had her necklace in a box, said his master let him have it."

Tawl sat on the bed next to the woman. Together, they stroked the baby. "I'm sorry," he said, feeling guilty at how roughly he'd treated Madame Th.o.r.n.ypurse. "I didn't know."

"Nothing for you to be sorry for. Baralis has done just as bad to you."

"What do you mean?"

"He was the one who plotted the duke's murder. I was listening in when he got that man Traff to do it. Heard everything, I did."

Tawl's head was reeling. "Where was this?"

"At my sister's place, of course. Traff was staying there and Baralis paid him a visit. Told him about the secret pa.s.sageways and the like. Promised him Melliandra all for himself."

"And you heard all this?"

The woman nodded. "Word for word."

"What else do you know about Baralis?"

"Plenty. I keep a notebook of all the n.o.bles he and Kylock have had killed. Kylock maims the bodies so they can't be recognized, and then throws them into the lake. The official word is that they all go missing."

"Do you have that book with you now?"

The woman patted her side. "Never without it. Some of the richest and most respected n.o.blemen in Bren are listed in it."

Tawl was beginning to realize how valuable Nanny Greal could be. The things she knew about Baralis and Kylock could turn the city upside down. "I think we'd better get going," he said. "I'll watch the baby while you get your belongings together. Only take things you can carry on your back. You'll need both hands free for the baby."

As she rummaged around in her wardrobe, Tawl took the baby in his arms. Melli's baby. It was perfect: a tiny, tough-looking thing with eyes as large as pancakes. Tawl hugged it to him, enjoying the feel of its warm little body pressed against his. "What were you going to do with him?" he asked the woman.

"Take him far away. Make sure no one ever knew who he was." She smiled at Tawl-an unpleasant sight, for she had lost both her front teeth. "You're good with him, I see."

"He's beautiful." Tawl looked up at the woman. "You did the right thing, you know. Baralis would have found out sooner or later. He would have tracked you down and killed you both."

"Aye. You're probably right. " The woman fastened her cloak and came over for the baby. "So where will you take us?"

"Outside of the city, until it's safe to come back." Tawl handed over the baby. His sword arm had stopped bleeding, but a sharp spasm coursed down his shoulder as he held the baby out.

"I can't see that it will ever be safe to come back."

"Oh, it will," said Tawl. "It will."

Mistress Greal, or Nanny Greal as she now preferred to call herself, showed Tawl a back way down to the servants' chapel. The palace guards were out in full force now, but they were concentrating their efforts in the n.o.bles' quarters, and apart from one lone guard Tawl dispatched with his long-knife, and a young scullery maid who looked so terrified at the sight of Nanny Greal that Tawl simply let her go, they met no one along the way.

Nanny Greal hugged little Herbert tight as she followed Tawl down through the palace. She liked the golden-haired knight a lot: he was handsome, honorable, gentle, and most of all she believed him when he said he'd protect little Herbert with his life. She hadn't meant to go with him, not at all, but seeing him handle the baby-big hands gently cupping Herbert's soft, vulnerable head-she knew she could trust him. He had a good heart, and that was something Nanny Greal hadn't seen in anyone in a long time.

He was right about Baralis, too. The man would find out that the baby was alive-there was nothing he couldn't do. And nothing he wouldn't stop at to get what he wanted.

Yes, she thought, it's for the best. Keeping little Herbert safe is all that matters now.

They entered the servants' chapel, and Tawl set about pulling the center panel off the wall. It had been nailed down, and Tawl had to use the blade of his sword to pry it open.

Soon they were in a pitch-black pa.s.sageway, wading through ankle-deep water, then knee-deep water, then water that came up to Nanny Greal's chest. Tawl took the baby then, holding it high atop his shoulder, pausing whenever they came to a tricky bit to lend Nanny Greal a hand. The farther they went, the colder it got, but the warmer it felt in Nanny Greal's heart. Little Herbert was in safe hands, kind hands, hands that would never harm him. Nanny Greal smiled a satisfied toothless smile. For the first time in her fifty-year lifespan, she didn't care a jot about herself.

"Here, my lady, drink this; it well help you relax." Melli took the bowl of holk from Borlin, even sipped it, but she knew she wouldn't relax. How could she rest until she knew Tawl was safe?

Pulling the blanket close around her body, Melli closed her eyes for a few minutes. She couldn't believe that she was free. Baralis' threats had no power to harm her, Mistress Greal could no longer terrorize her, and Kylock could never use her to wash away his sins. Safe at last. Luck had waited until the last minute-as luck always does-and whisked her away from the palace in the company of six gallant knights.

Why then didn't she feel happy? Why did she just feel hollow and ready to cry?

The time after Tawl had left her had pa.s.sed in a series of flashes: freezing water, tense faces, strung arrows, and galloping horses. The escape had gone smoothly. They emerged into a dark alleyway and were met by a man who was holding horses ready. He introduced himself as Borlin, whisked her onto the back of his horse, and together they rode across the city in the rain. They met up with the others later at the hideout.

Nabber was there. He greeted her with a great big smile and then looked over her shoulder for Tawl. The smile slid off his face when Borlin said, "Tawl went off on his own for a bit, lad. He'll be back later-wait and see."

And that's what everyone did: wait. They sat around, one candle lighting the s.p.a.ce between them, and listened for the sound of Tawl's approach.

The knights' kindness brought a lump to Melli's throat. In hushed voices they asked her how she felt, gently touching her brow, rubbing salve into the b.u.ms, tracing concerned fingers along the line of her arm. Borlin wanted to reset the bone then and there, but Melli was reluctant to take a painkilling drug in case it dulled her wits or sent her to sleep, so she put the operation off until morning. She wanted to be alert when Tawl returned.

Neither Nabber nor the knights asked her about what had happened in the palace. Melli was grateful for that. She didn't want to think about her last sight of Jack. He had saved both her and Tawl-that much was clear-but how he had done it she didn't really know. Everything had happened so fast. There was a bolt of blinding light, a wave of scorching air, and then ...

Melli brought her hand to her face. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Jack was dead. He had died saving her. She remembered the moment they first met, when she was attacked on Harvell's east road-he came to her rescue then. There were so many times after that as well: the dungeons, the forest, Cravin's townhouse in Bren. He was always saving her. Now he couldn't save her anymore.

"There, my lady." Borlin was beside her, stroking her hair, his gruff voice as soft as he could make it. "Don't take on. Tawl will be back soon."

But Jack won't, Melli wanted to say. And neither will your two brethren. Baralis has taken them all. Instead she said nothing, and let herself be comforted by Borlin until the tears went away.

A sharp noise awakened her. Surprised that she had fallen asleep, even more surprised that she had been sleeping against Borlin's chest, Melli sprang to her feet. Two of the knights had gone to investigate the noise; the others were looking in the direction of the stairs. Nabber was standing by the bottom step, swaying impatiently from side to side. Melli came and stood by him, bringing her good arm up around his shoulders.

The two knights came back first. Melli let out a sigh of disappointment, then, just as she sucked in another breath, Tawl appeared at the top of the stairs, covered in blood, soaked to the bone, a makeshift bandage around his upper arm. She rushed forward, pushing past the knights to get to him. But then, suddenly, she stopped in her tracks.

Mistress Greal was walking in Tawl's shadow. In her arms she was carrying some sort of bundle.

Melli's stomach quickly turned. She looked at Tawl; he was smiling. She looked at the two knights; they were smiling. Didn't they know who this woman was? Didn't they know it was a trap?

Tawl whispered something to Mistress Greal, and the woman stepped forward. Melli readied herself to attack her. These men here might not know who the woman was, but she did, and with bare hands she was going to kill her. Mistress Greal held out her bundle-she obviously meant to throw it. Melli was poised for the block.

Mistress Greal looked confused. "Don't you want to take him?" she said.

Melli glanced at Tawl. He made an encouraging gesture with his hands. Melli felt like she was going mad. The woman had bewitched him.

And then a sound came from the bundle. A tiny gurgling noise.

Melli's heart stopped beating. The hairs on her arms p.r.i.c.kled. Her entire body swayed forward. She didn't dare hope, didn't dare think.

Everyone was looking at her now. "Take him, Melli," murmured Tawl.

The room began to blank out. Sides and edges faded into shadow and all that remained was the bundle in Mistress Greal's arms. Melli took a step toward it. The blanket moved. The corner of the fabric fell away and a fierce little fist came into view. A quick breath escaped from Melli's lips. Her heart pumped wildly in her chest. She leapt toward the bundle, arms outstretched, hands cupped ready, tears streaming down her face. Mistress Greal handed the warm and shifting bundle to her. Slowly, carefully, Melli took it into her arms. It was lighter than she had expected-so light it made her heart ache. She hugged it against her chest and peered down into the calm blue eyes of her baby. Her baby.

The clawing hollow in Melli's stomach snapped closed. She felt complete.

Looking up through a blur of tears, she searched out Tawl's face. This was what he had gone back for: he had gone back to find her baby. "Thank you," she whispered softly, hugging her baby tight. "With all my heart and soul, I thank you."

Thirty-four.

"Who turned you into a saint, Tawl?" Melli regretted the words as soon as they left her lips, but she'd said them and she wasn't about to take them back. To her surprise, Tawl actually smiled.

"They'll turn me into a saint the day you learn to think before you speak." Reaching up, he brushed a lock of hair from her face. "Seriously, if you can't be kind to Nanny Greal, at least don't be mean. It took her a lot to admit who the baby was and then give him up to me."

Nanny Greal! Melli tried, but couldn't quite stop the snort of indignation from puffing down her nostrils. "Well, she's certainly taken a shine to you, that much is clear. Ever since last night it's been Tawl this, Tawl that. If that woman has one soft spot in that hard bony head of hers, then you've surely found it."

Tawl was laughing at her. He wrapped his arms around her and the baby and hugged them both very hard. "I'm so glad you haven't changed," he said.

"Stop calling him Herbert. He isn't Herbert."

"What is he, then?" Nanny Greal cooed down at the baby. Much to Melli's annoyance, he stopped crying immediately and gurgled up at Nanny Greal.

"He's . . . " To Melli's further annoyance, she couldn't think of a suitable name. Garon, after his father? No, it sounded too challenging; she wanted her son to have a gentle name. She edged past Nanny Greal and looked into the baby's face. The truth was-though she hated to admit it Herbert suited him nicely. Which annoyed her even more. "I'll name him in my own good time and that's the end of that."

Melli pushed Nanny Greal out of the way, s.n.a.t.c.hed the baby up, and crossed over to the other side of the inn. "Melli. Don't be so hard on her." It was Tawl. Where had he come from? "She saved your baby's life. She hid him from Baralis, kept him safe, and looked after him as if he were her own. You owe her thanks, not resentment."

They had left the city at midmorning. Melli had managed only a few hours sleep, her body curled around the baby, her head resting against Tawl's chest. When she awoke she found that Tawl was no longer beside her; he was on the opposite side of the room talking with the knights. His voice was hushed, but one look at his face was enough for Melli to guess what Tawl was saying: he was telling the men what had happened last night. The knights' faces were grave, their eyes downcast, the tendons on their hands and necks sharply strained. Occasionally their lips would move, and although Melli could hear nothing, she knew they spoke Baralis' name.

After that events moved swiftly. Borlin came to her and put a new and much larger splint on her arm. He said there was no time to reset the bone before they left. A mighty scramble to get ready followed: horses were saddled, disguises were donned, breakfast eaten quickly, plans decided, supplies acquired, scouts sent out, and proposed escape routes checked for guards.

570 / J V. JoNm While all this was going on, Melli tried to deal with the baby. She felt like a fool; she knew nothing about caring for a newborn. Her own milk had dried up four days ago, and she didn't know what to feed him. The baby cried angrily at her attempts to calm him, dribbled viciously when offered a finger to suck on, and had a fist-throwing, feet-kicking fit when presented with a spoonful of sheep's milk. The newly styled Nanny Greal offered to help. Melli slapped her away. From a safe distance Nanny Greal suggested giving the baby a rag soaked with watered-down milk to suck on. Melli suggested that Nanny Greal should shut up. Five minutes later, when the baby had worked itself up into a tiny bundle of hungry and indignant rage, Melli was forced to concede.

Nanny Greal dealt firmly, yet gently, with the baby, calming, feeding, then rocking him off to sleep. Melli was so upset over Greal's success, she wanted to throw her out on the street then and there. It wasn't Nanny Greal's baby, it was hers.

Tawl stepped in and practically ordered her to calm down. Melli could see he was worried about the escape from the city, so she let the matter pa.s.s.

Minutes later they were on their way. Tawl made everyone split into small groups: some went through the east gate disguised as merchants, some went through the south gate as mercenaries or farmers, and Melli, Tawl, and the baby went under the wall. It was like fleeing from the palace all over again: freezing water, foul smells and utter darkness. Melli relished every step. She was free. Free from Baralis and Kylock and her small, confining chamber. It was a joy to walk hand in hand with Tawl, the baby snuggling against her back in a blanket-lined sling designed by Nabber.

For a while, Melli managed to forget everything that had gone before, but when Tawl asked her how she was coping in the dark, she began her reply: "Oh, this is nothing compared to the tunnels Jack and I . . . "

Melli couldn't finish the sentence. There was no more Jack and I. Jack was gone, killed by Baralis as they tried to escape. Closing her eyes very tightly, Melli willed herself not to cry. Tawl reached out and felt for her hand, and although she knew he was trying to comfort her, his thoughtfulness only made her feel worse. She and Tawl were safe, her baby was safe-it didn't seem fair that they had emerged from the palace unscathed while Jack's body was left behind.

Suddenly the baby began to cry, and despite Tawl's warnings that she would need both hands free to climb up to the surface, Melli took the baby from the sling and hugged him close to her chest. She needed to feel his warmth against her heart.

Andris was waiting for them on the other side of the wall. He had a spare horse with him, and he handed Tawl the reins before riding off. Melli rode on the horse whilst Tawl led it forward like the good husband he was pretending to be.

The journey to Fair Oaks took three hours. Occasionally, when they were walking on high ground, Melli would catch glimpses of Borlin. The stout archer was taking a parallel route to theirs and was ready to provide cover with his bow if trouble came. Nothing happened. The only people they pa.s.sed were road-weary travelers, bonethin farmers, and mercenaries looking for a fight. No one paid any attention to the fieldhand dressed in rags and his wild-looking wife.

Eventually they came to a small village that boasted one inn, a smithy, and a dressmaker. Fair Oaks. They were greeted by two knights whom Melli had never seen before. The men wanted to take them straight to the inn. Tawl refused at first, but after some discussion that Melli wasn't party to, he reluctantly agreed.

Never in her life would Melli forget the welcome she got at the inn. The innkeeper, his wife, his three pretty daughters, the cook, the stableboy, and an old man who could have been anyone's grandfather, all bowed as she walked in the door. Melli was confused. What had they been told?

"Drink! Food for the lady. Quick, quick." The innkeeper clapped pudgy hands together and the prettiest daughter went running off. Pulling a chair close to the fire, he dusted it down with his sleeve. "Please sit, my lady." He wasn't looking directly at her. No one was. They were all looking at what she held in her arms.

The baby started to cry. Everyone in the room leant forward. Tawl touched her sleeve. "Andris got here before us," he murmured. "He thought it best to tell them who the baby is."

Melli didn't know what to do. Everyone was waiting for her to move.

The youngest of the innkeeper's daughters stepped forward. "Can I have a look at the baby, my lady?"

Melli glanced at Tawl. He nodded almost imperceptibly, and Melli held out the baby for the young girl to see. Soon everyone was around her. Awestruck at first, they spoke only in whispers, keeping a polite distance between themselves and the child, then as they grew more confident the atmosphere changed. They stroked the baby's hair, giggled over his tiny fists, gave advice on how to feed him, and shared newborn stories of their own. They were all united in their desire to do something for the baby: the cook went off to warm some milk, the innkeeper's wife brought down her softest lambswool blanket, the stableboy went away to look for something suitable for the baby to lie in, the old man hummed a lullaby for sleeping, and the innkeeper's daughters, all three of them, ran upstairs to make sure the room the baby would rest in was as warm and dry as it could possibly be.

Melli felt tears coming to her eyes. She had gone on for so long without kindness, that now, to find it here amongst strangers seemed a gift of the most precious kind. She knew these people were taking a great risk welcoming the duke's son-Kylock would tolerate no one who aided the sole challenger to his t.i.tle-and she paid back their bravery with trust: handing the baby over to the innkeeper's wife while she slept a few hours by the fire.

By the time she awoke all the knights, Nabber, and Nanny Greal had arrived. Judging from the number of lit candles, it was an hour or two after dusk. The baby was crying heartily for his dinner and all the women were fussing around, trying to calm him down. Once again, Nanny Greal was the only person who could comfort him: one squawk of her shrill voice and the baby was as quiet as a lamb.

Little Herbert was quiet now, resting against Melli's chest as Tawl caught them both in a hug. Melli felt safe and happy. Her baby was alive and well, and as long as Tawl was beside him, he'd never come to harm.

"Tawl!" cried someone from outside. "They're here! Maybor's men are here."

All thoughts dropped from Melli's mind at the sound of her father's name. She looked up at Tawl. "Is my father coming?" She had visions of Maybor meeting his grandson. He was sure to insist that the baby resembled him!

Tawl's face darkened. "Melli, I-"

Melli shook her head. "No," she said softly. "No. " The look in Tawl's eyes scared her. Some deep protective instinct warned her she didn't want to hear anymore. She tried to pull away, but Tawl held her firm.

"Maybor died two weeks ago. He'd spent a month up in the mountains hiding away from Kylock, and he caught pneumonia." Tawl's voice was gentle. His fingers traced the line of her cheek. "By the time he came down it was too late."