Slowly, he pulled himself upright, his muscles twitching.
Malachi sat behind his desk, a peaceful expression on his face, smiling pleasantly at Thaddeus.
“Ah, Thaddeus,” he said. “I’m glad you came in. Please, have a seat.”
Thaddeus blinked, then turned to Melanie, who stood next to him, her eyes closed. He sank into the offered chair and after a moment, she opened her eyes and sat down in her own.
“I think it’s time we discussed an outside mission for the two of you. Perhaps something involving the Greenweald?” Malachi spoke as if he hadn’t been torturing Thaddeus only moments ago.
Thaddeus was still trying to find his voice when Melanie answered for them both.
“That’s very generous of you,” she said, “but I don’t think Thaddeus is quite ready yet. Perhaps in a week or two?”
“Fine, fine.” Malachi nodded happily. “I’ll leave it to your judgement. Let me know when you feel he’s ready, and we’ll make it so. Now, was there anything else?”
“No, I think that was it,” she said. “Thanks for taking the time to see us.”
“Of course. Only next time, let’s make an appointment. I am an awfully busy man, you know.”
“Of course,” Melanie said and stood. “Come on, Thaddeus.”
As they left the room, Thaddeus looked back at the Head of House. Malachi was staring down at his desk, a slightly confused expression on his face, as if he couldn’t remember quite what it was that he was doing.
“Did you…?” he asked.
Melanie grinned, glanced back and then quickened her pace, almost skipping.
“Oh yes,” she breathed. “And it felt glorious.”
Chapter 29
Every time he woke it took him a few minutes to remember that he wasn’t home in the Greenweald. The low ceiling he could almost feel and the dirt under his back reminded him, as did the snores that came from somewhere nearby.
He was hot and those moments of lucidity were becoming fewer. His leg itched and burned, and when he put his hand down to scratch it, the pain that flared through both was enough to make him want to scream. But somewhere, on the edge of his memory, he heard someone telling him to be quiet, that they were in danger.
“Heh,” Solomon breathed. “Speak for yourself.”
The snoring could surely be heard outside of whatever hiding hole this was.
The night slowly passed in pain and fever, until eventually the space he was in grew lighter and he could see the dusty wooden beams above his head. Blearily, he looked around. He was under a building of some kind. Nearby, a pair of old, shabby boots led to filthy pants. The rest of whoever the pants belonged to was out of his view.
“Hey,” he whispered. Really, he was trying to call out, but his throat was parched, and he felt dry lips crack when he spoke. “Hey. Wake up. Where am I?”
The snore went on. Solomon tried to move but the pain in his leg was too great and he felt as weak as a kitten. The best he could manage was to scrabble in the dirt with his undamaged hand.
When he woke again it was to the sound of the stones being slid aside again and his companion’s voice.
“All right, daylight now, safe to come out. Can you move?”
A wrinkled, lined, face came into view, staring at him. Gray unkempt hair covered the man’s head and chin, but his eyes were sharp. He was filthy, and Solomon would have flinched away from the stench of his breath if he were able to.
The man studied him then nodded.
“Yep. Thought so. All right, I’ll get you out. Then, I’ll get help.”
He scuttled around Solomon and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him over the dirt again.
“Long way around,” the old man muttered. “But I don’t want to pull that leg of yours. Damn plague rats. It’s bad, there’s no doubt of that. I should leave you here, but a man can’t stay under this here house all day. A man ain’t no plague rat. No sir. Gonna have to get you outside. It’s a risk, there’s no helping that. Not healthy to stay under here, though. Nope, you need sunshine and fresh air. Best thing for you until I can get the Doc.”
He kept up a running commentary as he pulled Solomon further under the house, then around in a circle so that his head was pointing at the opening. With every tug, pain spiked through him from both his leg and hand, and he was absurdly grateful the man wasn’t pulling from one of them.
The tugging and pulling went on for hours, or at least it seemed so to Solomon. Finally, he emerged from under the house, sliding along on his back, blinking into the dim light.
“All right, not much further,” the man muttered.
He maneuvered Solomon to the wall and helped him sit up. Then he flopped down next to him, breathing heavily.
“That would have been easier if you weren’t so dang tall. And if you didn’t have that great sword attached to your hip. Still, I reckon you need it, and that pack, the way you’ve hung on to it like that. They all like you where you come from? No, don’t answer that. Stupid question and I got no time to hear the answer anyway. I need to get to the doc, get her back here to help you out. Don’t know if she can do anything about a plague rat bite, to say nothing of two, but if anyone can, it will be Doc Mia. She’s that good.”
Despite saying this, the man showed no signs of hurrying away. He sat next to Solomon, prattling on and breathing heavily.
“Thank you,” Solomon croaked, his voice a little
