Land of the Burning Sands by Neumeier Rachel

Author:Neumeier, Rachel [Neumeier, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: FIC009020
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2010-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

They found the inn at the Raichboden ferry no more than a mile farther north. The ferry was not at the landing but tied up at the dock on the town side of the river. Or not actually at the dock; the water level was so low that the ferry had simply been run up on exposed mud flats near the dock and tied up there. Fortunately, the inn on their side of the river was a good one, and well accustomed to late-arriving travelers. It had a small but decent private room, with two clean beds and, best of all, a bath basin already filled with steaming water. Beguchren provided the soap. The soap was smooth textured and rose scented, exactly the sort of soap Gereint would have expected the mage to carry if he’d thought about it. He almost wanted to laugh. He would have laughed if he’d been trying to use this fine soap to scrub grease off pots, rather than the memory of death off his body. He was glad to use the bath first, while the king’s mage arranged for men to go back down the road in the morning to collect the bodies for a proper, if symbolic, hanging. Beguchren also arranged for broth and bread, neither of which Gereint thought he could stomach.

“A little broth, at least,” Beguchren said quietly. “You need something.”

Gereint accepted a mug, though he merely turned it around in his hands rather than sipping. He couldn’t decide whether the rich, meaty smell was appetizing or nauseating.

Beguchren said softly, “It’s not precisely honorable, I know—”

“It’s not a sport,” Gereint said grimly. “Or a hunt. Do you think I don’t know that?”

“Of course you do.”

“I’m surprised you couldn’t just whistle for them to come crouching trustingly to your feet like dogs, and then freeze them solid with your magelight—”

“Gereint!” Beguchren set down his own mug so sharply the broth spilled onto the table. “Please don’t mistake brigands like that for men like yourself. There’s not one of them, gifted or not, who hadn’t turned his back on any kind of trust. You know that is true.”

Gereint made no answer.

The mage went on more gently, “Nothing could have saved them, even any among them who might somehow have retained some trace of decent human sensibility. If taken by men-at-arms, they would all have been held for hanging. Would that have been kinder?”

Gereint bowed his head a little.

“Can you eat something? Will you let me—” Beguchren paused. Then he went on, but with an odd note of constraint in his light, smooth voice: “Will you permit me to ease your rest tonight? If you wish, I can ensure that you do not dream. Will you take my word that I would do nothing but give you dreamless sleep?”

Gereint looked over at the mage. He could see that Beguchren expected him to refuse and guessed as well that, surprisingly, he might be hurt by the refusal. He said finally, “I’d take your word. But I think even men such as those are worth one or two bad dreams.

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