wound up with a crippled hand.
'That's a knife wound.' Aldanto was staring at the wounded hand, surprised and shocked alert.
'It is, Caesare. I know you think I'm a kid, and you're right sometimes--but you're not right this time. I had to go into the Jesolo for that stuff. Sophia was the only place short of a real doctor where I was going to find what you needed. A man tried to stop me.'
Now Aldanto was looking wary, even perhaps a bit alarmed. Marco could have kicked himself for not thinking. Of course, Aldanto would suspect those enemies of his of trying to follow Marco--
'No, no,' he hastened to assure him. 'Nothing to do with you, he was a marsh-loco. I had to fight him to get through. That's where I got this, and lost my own knife.'
'Was?'
'Was. And don't you ever tell Benito I killed a man. He wasn't the first--but I don't want Benito to know about that.'
'You have a reason?' Aldanto was staying focused, which rather surprised Marco, given the amount of brandy and the artemisia he had in him, not to mention the fever.
'Because--' Marco looked up from his hand, and he knew his eyes and mouth were bitter. 'He'll think he has to be like me. Next thing you know, he'll go out looking. He'll either get himself killed--or he'll kill somebody, and for all the wrong reasons. And that would be worse than getting himself killed. I remember more than just you from home. I remember what some of the younger Montagnards were like when they were my age and Benito's. They started like that--first each one trying to out-risk the other--then it got worse. I don't think he'd ever turn out like them, but I'm not taking any chances on it.'
Aldanto nodded slowly, relaxing and letting himself give way to the drugs and the alcohol. 'I think maybe I've been underestimating you.'
'Only sometimes. You getting sleepy yet?'
Aldanto shivered hard again, then got it under control. 'Getting there--and feeling a great deal less like death would be welcome.'
'That's the whole idea, Caesare.' An idea occurred to him, and he decided he wanted to broach it while Aldanto was in a generous--and intoxicated--mood. 'Could you do me a favor? When you feel more like talking?'
'Maybe,' Aldanto replied wearily, obviously wishing Marco would leave him alone. 'What's the favor?'
Maria came in with clean bandages, salve, and a cheap broach. Marco felt his face flame with embarrassment. He hated to ask in front of Maria, but this might be his only chance. 'Could you--could you tell me some time--how to--how to get a girl--to--to like you?' And what do you do with her after that, he thought, but didn't say.
'Oh mercy--' Aldanto shut his eyes and leaned his head back on his pillow, his mouth twitching. Marco had the uncomfortable suspicion that he was trying to keep from laughing. Behind him, he heard Maria choking a little, as if she hadn't quite managed to suppress her own humor.
'If you'd rather not--'
'Later, Marco. We'll see about it later.' Aldanto opened his eyes and gave him a not-unsympathetic wink, shivered again, harder this time, and lost his amusement as a shudder of chill shook him. 'Surely it can wait?'
'Sure--sure--' Marco hastily backed out of the bedroom, taking the bandages from Maria as he passed her. By the time she joined him, he was sitting on the couch, trying to rebandage his wound one-handed.
'Here, you fool, let me do that.' She took the things away from him and undid his clumsy work. He leaned back into the soft upholstery and allowed her to do what she wanted. 'How much of this stuff of yours he gonna need?'
'Just what's in the canister.'
She looked suspiciously at him. 'I looked in your pack. You brung back a lot more'n that--'
He shrugged. 'I know. I could catch it again, or Benito, or you. There's likely to be a use for it before a cold snap kills the fever. Sophia says I can come trade her for more, anyway. And I brought other herbs.'
Maria looked thoughtful. 'You know--this could be worth something. You say this is the same fever that kills the little ones.'
'The thought crossed my mind. But I was mostly doing it for Caesare.'
