'And I to Frigga,' Taleen scowled. 'So I admit that the silver Dru saved Blade— and yet I hate and distrust her. She is much too beautiful for a Dru!'
Jarl, wiser than he knew, smiled at that and said, 'And too much alone with the man you mean to marry, eh, Princess?'
Taleen gave him a scornful look. 'That matters not. Drus are pledged celibate. Anyway Blade will not marry me— I only said that when I thought to help him against Redbeard. I hoped Redbeard would hold my father in fear, and would not dare— but that is over. Let us not prate of things past. I mean to see Blade, if only to tell him what I think of him for letting himself be stabbed!'
Jarl settled his silver spiked helmet in place against the wind. 'Be patient, Princess. And grateful. Blade lives— she would not lie about that— and soon we will be at Bourne and beginning the march to Voth. If I can hold these surly dogs in leash that long!'
The brown eyes glittered and Jarl, unaccountably, felt uneasy.
'Patience is a thing the Drus preach,' said Taleen. 'When it serves their purpose. They say it to be a virtue— but I have had enough of Dru virtues. But you need not be privy to it, Jarl. I will do it alone.'
She was staring at the hold where the silver Dru had vanished and Jarl did not like the look of speculation in her eyes.
Chapter Fourteen
Blade was waked by a blaze of sun through an open porthole. Drusilla never did this— all their conversation had been by candle or smelly lamp— and now the buttery sun and the fresh smell of salt sea invaded the stuffy cabin like a tonic. Blade felt better than he had in days. His head was clear, his will had returned, and though he was weak and had some pain from his wound there was none of the deathly lethargy he had been prey to.
Sylvo, after opening another porthole, beamed at his master with that dreadful grimace Blade had come to recognize as a smile. The squint was there, as was the harelip, but Sylvo was gay in new clothing and had shaven the scraggy hairs from his chin.
He handed Blade an enormous wooden bowl steaming with some fragrant substance, and gave him a pewter spoon after polishing it on his sleeve.
'Brewed from the livers of wild hare, master. We went ashore for water yesterday— the storm having broached most of our casks— and I caught the creatures just that I might fashion a stew for you. Sup of it, master, and tell me what you think. Ar, I was a rare cook once on a time.'
Blade tasted the stew. It was delicious and he suddenly found himself ravenous. Now that his mind was clear he could not recall the Dru ever feeding him, other than ship's biscuit and water.
Blade ladled the stew into his mouth, watching Sylvo as he did so. He had come to know the man well. Sylvo was excited, happy, and he was talking too much.
'You look marvelous well, master, considering you were so near to seeing Thunor in person. Ar, you'll never come closer to death. That was powerful poison on the dagger Oleg put into you. He was one of Redbeard's bastards and must have loved the man, for he surely tried to murder you.'
Blade had a brief vision of a head floating in the wine tub, then dismissed it.
He scraped the last bit of stew into his mouth and sighed. 'You are a good cook, rascal. I give you that. Now no more of this dithering— how come you here, and where is the silver-haired Dru?'
Sylvo went to a corner and came back with the scarlet cloak Blade had won from Horsa. 'See, master, how fine it is now. I have cleaned it, and furbished the gold work. Also the great bronze axe— my hands ache from working on it— though I could not bring it because my hands were full of the stew and your fresh clothing and— '
Blade pushed himself up in the cot, feeling already stronger as the food nourished him and the sun and air dissipated the last lingering effects of the drug. He scowled mightily at Sylvo.
'I asked a question! Answer it— or I am not too weak to climb from this bed and give you a blow you'll remember always. Where is the Dru who has been tending me?'
Sylvo's squint increased. He fell back a few steps, still holding the scarlet cloak and a pair of clean under-breeches, and rubbed his newly shaven chin with a finger. Blade knew he was searching for a lie.
Blade roared. 'Well, man! Out with it— and I want truth.'
Sylvo avoided his eye. 'The truth, master, is that I do not know. No one knows. The silver Dru has disappeared. She was not in her cabin this morning and her servant, a Dru of low order, came squalling to Captain Jarl in panic that her mistress had fallen overboard in the night. She would have Captain Jarl put back and search the sea.'
Blade regarded him steadily. This time he could not be quite sure— he thought Sylvo to be lying, but he could not be positive.
'So? Did Jarl put back?'
'Nay, master. He did not. He said it was useless— a thing we all knew without being told— and he ordered the ship to be well searched. We found nothing, master. The silver Dru is gone. Vanished. For which, and I am bold enough to say it now that she is gone and cannot hear me, we are all offering thanks to Thunor. I myself saw Captain Jarl smiling as he prayed— and he does not even believe in Thunor. Ar, master, it is a fine thing that the Dru fell overboard. We are all happy about it.'
Blade regarded his servant stonily. He was his own man again, and knowing what he did, he privately considered it just as well that the silver Dru was gone. Canace. Called Drusilla, leader of all the Drus. High Priestess with the golden sword of sacrifice. Lovely phantom of dreams, expert succuba clothed in velvet human flesh, who had planned so far and so well. Now all the dreams, and the flesh, were fathoms deep in the cold green of the Western Sea. Yes. It was just as well.
Yet Blade said: 'She saved my life, Sylvo.'
'Ar, master. I know that. We all do. We had given you to Thunor when she came forward, from the place Redbeard kept her hidden, and took command of matters pertaining to you. She bade Jarl do this, and Jarl do that,
