To his surprise, there was a bucket there, waiting.He gaped as spit dribbled from his mouth.Wait…a cot?
Where was the filth and stench of alley?Of his own reek?
“I wish you would stop doing that,” came a lovely, yet disgusted, feminine voice.
His vision, through gummy, crusted eyelids, was blurred.Still he turned his head just enough to see that a lovely woman that was seated in a chair close to a wall, all sharp cheek bones, hair as black as night, and lip curled in disdain.In a fine blood-red dress, with black and gold trim.
An odd hallucination, to be sure, but then, so was the bucket.Blood red of course, to remind him of his own blood-stained hands, his choices, his sins—
He retched helplessly.Even with the acid in the back of his throat, he longed for the bottle, the cup, for letheon to wash the memories away.
“At least you are bringing up less,” the hallucination observed.
“My regrets,” he coughed.No true harm in being polite.
“You’ve said that before,” She said.
“I don’t remember,” he blinked at the blankness in his mind, still hanging his head over the edge.
“You’ve said that before, too.”She grimaced.“At least this time you hit the bucket.Are you done?”
He lurched back on to the bed, his head hitting soft pillows, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.He was clean, warm, shaven even.Stone walls, stone floor, a curtained window, and a stout door.“They don’t put curtains in cells,” he pointed out, even though the presence of a woman of quality rather argued against that eventuality.
“You are not in a cell,” she rose, moving about the room as she spoke, almost reciting.“As I have said before, you are the guest of Queen Satia of Xy.”The clink of pottery and then the gurgle of fluid being poured.“The Queen has graciously given you shelter and care during your…” she paused, standing over him, cup in hand… “illness.”
This close, he could see that there were wyverns embroidered on the bodice of her dress.Dread, icy fear hit his bowels.Fear, anger, rage, all washed over him and his whole body jerked in terror.
“Not again,” the lady grumbled.She grasped his shirt, pulled him until a seated position, and put the cup to his lips.“Drink,” she commanded.
His head flopped back, but she wedged it between her lovely breast and her shoulder.He caught the faint scent of ginger from the fabric before she brought the cup to his mouth.Then all that mattered was the cold, clean water.He drank greedily.
“We’ll see if you keep that down,” she said as she eased him back to the bed and returned to her chair.“And if you manage to stay conscious.”
He blinked at the ceiling, at the broad wooden beams that braced the walls.His throat was still parched, but his stomach gurgled like a…a full bottle of letheon as one drank it down.Ah.Memory returned, and with it all the pain that it carried.He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.
An odd sound caught his ear and he turned his head carefully toward it.The lady of quality was sharpening a dagger.That made as much sense as everything else.“Why am I sober?”he asked, when what he really wanted to know was why he wasn’t dead.
“That’s new,” the woman said.“A surprise, is it?Did you expect to die?”
“No,” he coughed.“Death isn’t the panacea you think it is.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” he returned to his contemplation of the ceiling.“Very well, why am I here?”
“Queen Satia has need of your services and she will tell you of it in her own good time, bloodmage.”The last word was drawn out, and sent another chill of fear rippling down his spine.That word was usually followed by torches and pitchforks and swords.
But she just sat, as cool as you please, looking at him like he was a particularly juicy bug.Her dark eyes pierced him, alight with curiosity.
“More water?”he croaked.
“That’s new as well,” she noted.She set aside the blade and whetstone before helping him to another drink.If she had any fear of angering a bloodmage, there was none to be seen in those lovely eyes.She pulled a clean bucket from under the cot and replaced the other with it.“I’ll see to this and bring more water.Try to stay conscious.”
“Nothing for the pain?”he asked.
She gave him a look.“Letheon, perhaps?You’ve had more than enough of that.”
“I might escape?”he offered, and she laughed, high and bright.
