Under the circumstances, I think that was a bit harsh.
69
The three of us walked through the fog in near silence, only my shoes echoing on the cobbles. They both wore soft slippers, I saw, looking down and nearly losing my balance. Sapphire grabbed my arm and steered me after that. I was grateful. Walking in a straight line was nearly impossible. Was impossible. I was very drunk indeed. It was only the shock of seeing them that had induced in me a false lucidity, a temporary sobriety. I was noticing things, but not much, and not rationally, and I knew it. The two dead guards at the gate, for example. I saw them but couldn't tell who they were. A third walked out of the fog and I lurched toward him, arms wide, ready to hug him. He caught me and held me up.
“You stink of booze,” Meran said. “Just like the old days.”
“No! It's not my fault!” I didn't make a sound. It had been funny at first, but now it was frustrating. My emotions wavered from one extreme to another and I recognized the syndrome.
“Let's get you home,” He tucked one arm round my waist, just like the old days, and we staggered on together, heading home. Where-ever and what-ever home might be now.
“How did you survive?”
“What? Can't hear you.”
“I silenced him, he was being a buffoon. We were trying to rescue him and he was… was…”
“Being drunk?” Meran supplied.
“Do we have to talk?” Sapphire asked in the quietest voice I have ever heard anyone use and still sound like they are shouting.
“I can, no one can hear me.”
No one answered. But then, what had I expected? No one could hear me.
We walked on in a fog of muffled sounds for what seemed a long time. I was tired. I wanted to sleep. I said so. No one listened. I tried to sit down and Meran wouldn't let me. I was almost used to his ministrations. He had helped me home several times when I had been a drunk in truth, and he had the knack of it. He talked to me, softly, not angry, encouraging, urging me on. It seemed to take a long time. I either passed out on the way or I just don't remember the rest. It's hard to say. It always was.
70
I woke up in a small living room, covered by an eiderdown, warm and snug and with a cracking head. I stared about, bleary eyed and confused. Where was I? How did I get here? There was only one way to find out.
Getting up was work and I nearly gave up and tried to go back to sleep, but my bladder was uncomfortably full and my mouth felt like a cat had slept in it. No way I was going to sleep. There were two doors, both open. One led to a kitchen, the other to a short corridor with other rooms. It was a small, poky, damp-smelling house and I wasn't impressed. I went through the kitchen and opened a back door, then closed it rapidly.
We were still in the city. Not good. Still, my bladder was insistent.
The door opened on to a small, wooden landing with steps down to an alley. I took a leak over the side of the steps and went back in as soon as I could. No one saw me.
Beer. The thought nagged insistently. Take away the taste of yesterday's drinking, start the taste of today's effort. There wasn't any beer. “Damn.” There was water in a bucket. I drank some and my stomach hated me for it. Still, it was all there was. I took a glass back to bed, sipped it as I sat there alone for a while. Then I curled up and tried to go back to sleep. It was early. No one was up. Why should I be surprised?
I was hardly safe, and now less comfortable. And there was no beer, dammit. Wine would have done. Anything. How do people live in a house with no booze in it? I tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable, but there was no choice. I had nothing to sell. It took a while, but eventually I slept.
71
The next time I woke, Sapphire was sitting in a chair opposite. I looked at him across a cheap table.
“You need a bath,” he told me. “There's hot water.”
“I need a beer.” I sat up.
“Bath first.” His expression was unreadable.
“Beer first.”
“There isn't any.”
“Get some.” He didn't say anything. I was desperate for a drink. “Dammit, get me a beer.”
“No.” He got up and left, heading for the kitchen. “He's awake.”
Jocasta stuck her head through the door, took in my state and disappeared again.
After a moment I gathered myself and followed. I was surprised to see Dubaku sitting at the kitchen table. “How did you survive?”
“My ancestors hid me, shielded me from view. I walked away.”
“Could they do that for me?”
“Ask your own ancestors.”
“After I get a drink. Does anyone have any money?”
Sapphire closed the door and put his back against it. The message was clear. You are going nowhere.
“The exit is that way,” I pointed to the door into the alley. He didn't say anything, but a moment later Jocasta was there, her mouth a thin line, eyes holding some expression I couldn't be bothered to figure out.
“Look, I told you.” I had, I remembered. “They gave me a drug. Not addictive in itself but it makes me vulnerable to addiction, and believe me when I say I need a drink; not want, I do not want a drink; I need one. I know I told you this.” I was shaking and ashamed to notice that my voice broke. They exchanged a glance and I took the moment to unobtrusively grab the back of a chair. I was a little unsteady on my feet. Weak and shaky.
“You weren't very coherent,” Jocasta's voice was cool. “You could have been saying anything.”
I sighed, got control of my anger. “I'll recap later. For now, just get me something to drink, or I won't be fit for anything.”
Dubaku got up and crossed the kitchen. Sapphire moved for him and he left the room, returning moments later. He put a beer in front of me without a word. I grabbed it and took a pull. Made a face. Swallowed. Took another. Better.
“What are you doing?” Jocasta protested, stepping to the table.
“We are going to have to help him if he is telling the truth,” Dubaku said.
“I never lie. Too lazy,” I said. I kept the beer in my hand, protectively, sipping at it.
“You don't kill a fire by adding fuel.” She tried to take my drink and I slapped her hand away.
“Get off! I need this. If I'd known you were going to argue about it I would have stayed there.”
Everyone was silent for a moment. Well, Sapphire, leaning against the kitchen door, hadn't said a word the whole time. Just watched.
“You're joking,” Jocasta said, her voice uncertain.
“Yes, I am, but not by much, believe me. The addiction is strong. I need booze. It's going to happen and it might be better if we didn't have to fight over it the whole time.”
“How much?”
“As little as I can manage.”
Everyone fell silent, watching me drink. I changed the subject. “They took the loupe, and the stone you sent
