Kingmaker, Kingbreaker by Karen Miller

Author:Karen Miller [MILLER, KAREN]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction / Fantasy - Epic, Fiction / Action & Adventure
ISBN: 9780316219952
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2012-08-13T16:00:00+00:00

Pother Tobin was waiting for them in the reception area. When she saw Gar, she bowed.

“Your secretary is resting comfortably, Your Highness. He’s been given a good strong dose of heartsease and should be well enough for visitors come the morning.”

Gar nodded. “My thanks.” As the pother bowed again, retreating, he turned to Nix. “Where is Durm?”

Nix nodded at the reception area’s crimson door. “In there. But before you see him, I must caution you. His injuries are grave, his appearance… unsettling. I have done all I can for him. What happens now is up to his constitution, and Barl’s mercy.”

Gar didn’t reply immediately. His gaze wandered round the hushed reception area for long moments, touching on the bright-painted doors, the windowless walls, the potted plants. His expression was distant. Unmoved. “Will he live?”

Nix pursed his lips. “I’m a healer, sir. Not a soothsayer.”

There was a pother in Durm’s room, seated in a chair beside the patient’s bed. She stood as they entered the windowless chamber. Glimfire sconces threw small shadows onto the cream-coloured walls and a fire kept any chill at bay. At a signal from Nix she left them, closing the crimson door behind her.

Supported by mysterious pother magic, Durm floated some eight inches above a high, wide platform fitted on all four sides with wooden railings. To Asher it seemed there wasn’t a single square inch of the man’s naked skin that wasn’t stitched or stained or stretched with splints. Indeed, the massive head wound was embroidered so thickly his hairless scalp looked infested with caterpillars. His eyes, once as cold and piercing as spears of ice, were now invisible, consumed by the bloated purple flesh of his face.

Gar checked when he saw him, one hand coming up in a fierce denial. “Barl have mercy,” he whispered, a small wounded sound in the silence. “If I didn’t know it was him…” He managed a step closer. “Why haven’t you knitted his bones, Nix? You can’t leave him broken like this!”

“Bone-knitting would most likely kill him,” said Nix. “We’ll get to that, in time.” If he lives. The words hung unspoken between them.

“His stupor…”

“A result of the head injury. It is… severe.”

“Will he wake?”

“Perhaps.”

“With his wits?”

Nix shrugged. “Unknown.”

“How long? Before he wakes? Before you do know.”

Nix frowned, but answered. “Days, certainly. Most likely weeks.”

Reluctantly, Gar dragged his gaze away from the monstrosity hovering over the bed. “But not months. It can’t be months, Nix. The Weather Working. My succession. This kingdom needs him! I need him!”

“I know that,” said Nix. “And if he can be healed, sir, I will heal him and return him to you.”

“If?”

Nix sighed, and clasped his hands behind his back. The unspoken words would have to be spoken. “You must forgive my plain speaking, Your Highness, but I see no point in prevarication. To be blunt, I hold little hope.”

Gar’s face was chilled and chalk-white. Staring wide-eyed at Durm he said, “But little is not the same as none.”

“No,” Nix replied after a cautious pause.

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