“The House of Beeches,” Aunt Lissa said, coming into view. She sat at the other side of the bed and put a hand on my arm. “Or what’s left of it.”
All at once it came flooding back. I bolted upright, or tried to. “The Vesh! The city—they’re in the city, the ghastradi are in the streets—”
“Aliza, Aliza, shh! It’s all right.” Uncle Gregory gently but firmly pushed me back onto the pillows. “You’ve been asleep most of the day.”
I blinked.
“The ghastradi have fled,” Aunt Lissa said. “Something happened just before dawn on Saint Ellia’s Day. We’re not sure what, but they just suddenly—stopped. Some of them screamed, some of them pleaded, but they all started shaking as this . . . this . . .”
“It’s hard to explain,” Uncle Gregory finished. “Truth is, we don’t rightly know what we saw.”
“Their ghasts were called back,” I said.
“Maybe that was it,” he said. “Whatever happened, their forces were scattered. Not all of them were ghastradi, and there were Tekari roaming the streets plain as you like, so the battle was far from over, but when their lieutenants dropped, we started to feel as if we had a chance.” He smiled at his wife. “As it turns out, your aunt is very handy with a frying pan.”
Aunt Lissa feigned embarrassment. “It was self-defense, dear.”
“It was splendid, that’s what it was.”
I heard a twang, saw the flash of a crossbow bolt and a splash of red. My hands jerked up to protect my face, and the pain in my right arm dispelled the illusion. There was no crossbow, no blood, no more enemies, just the ruin and the memories they had left in their wake. I swallowed hard. “Where’s Anjey?”
“She’s fine. Ah, that is, she wasn’t injured.” Aunt Lissa’s voice dropped. “We were so sorry to hear about dear Cedric. The dedicats laid him out in the lower halls. Laid out in all honor, mind, but Anjey asked to be alone for a while. She and Silverwing both.”
I could hardly begrudge her that. “I understand.”
“She may— Aliza, no, you’d best lay down.”
I ignored Uncle Gregory’s admonition and pushed myself upright. Though the cuts in my palm pained me, my left arm was the only one that could take any weight. For a minute or so I stared at the bandaged mass of my right hand as it emerged from the sheets. The ache of broken bones hurt less than the unspoken understanding: the Elementar had mangled my fingers beyond the skill of the dedicats to fix. They would heal hopelessly crooked, if they healed at all. I’ll never hold a paintbrush again. I turned away.
“Alastair,” I said. “Is he close?”
“He was. He’s been by your side almost all day,” Aunt Lissa said. “The chief physician finally convinced him to let her see to his wounds. One of the guards gave him a bad gash on the shoulder, and the physician had to stitch up that cut on his brow,” Uncle said. “It seems he and the others weren’t taken in the banquet hall without a fight. The dedicats are seeing him next door.”
“Take me to him, please.”
“It’s better if you stay— Oh, why do I bother?” he muttered as I peeled back the covers and slipped out of bed. Aunt Lissa took my elbow and helped me to a fresh shift and dressing gown, then guided me to the room across the hall. It was open and airy, the windows thrown up to the sills and curtains fluttering in the stiff sea breeze, which lessened the smell of smoke. Beds scattered around the room were filled with humans and Shani of all kinds, and dedicats of Janna in habits of green and white bustled in the narrow aisles carrying bandages, blankets, poultices, pots of unguents, and pitchers of water.
“He’s there,” Aunt Lissa said.
Alastair sat on a cot in the corner, attended by an older woman in the stiff robes of the chief physician, who was busy tying off the last stitches in the ragged cut along his upper shoulder. He didn’t watch the operation, staring instead out the window to his right. The swelling around his eye had begun to go down, but his brow and cheek were still mottled an angry red. I wound my way through the cots between us and, at a nod from the chief physician, sat quietly on his other side.
“You know, it’ll be quite some time before folk will be able to put this behind them,” the physician said to no one in particular. “What with the assassinations and all.”
“They’ll find their feet,” Alastair said without turning his head.
“Aye, no doubt, no doubt. Saint Ellia’s Day celebrations will never be the same again, though. You mark my words.”
“Perhaps it’s time we started telling the true story,” I said.
Alastair turned. The chief physician clucked her tongue as the motion tugged at his stitches, but he ignored her. He looked at me for a long time, eyes too full for tears, before touching my arm just above the bandage.
“All right, Lord Daired, I think that should do.” The matron wiped away the last of the herbal poultice and tied a square of linen over the wound. “Keep it dry and change the dressings once a day and you’ll be back to yourself in no time.”
He thanked her as she left to attend her other patients. Aunt Lissa, after a knowing nod in my direction, followed her. I moved closer to Alastair.
“How are the others?” I asked.
“They’re all right.” What he didn’t say, I heard. Physically. “Julienna and Edmund met the dragons back at the townhouse this morning. What’s left of it.”
“I’d like to see them.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling up to it?”
I eyed his bandages with a smile I didn’t feel. “Are you?”
He nodded solemnly.
The dedicats had laid out a fresh tunic on the end of the cot. My efforts to help him into it were curtailed in seconds; tears welled up at the corners of my eyes each time I raised my right arm, trying to grasp for things with fingers that no longer worked as they should. Alastair gently disentangled my hand from his and finished dressing by himself.
The murmur of conversation slowed as we rose and passed through the hall. Injured city-folk and Shani looked up from their cots, human and nonhuman eyes alike wide with unfathomable expressions. There were a few bows from those who were able, but not many, and I was glad of that. I wanted no one’s praise, no one’s veneration. I knew now how soon memory could twist and sour into a lie, and after one fallen saint, I wanted no part in building another. Alastair kept his eyes bent to the ground, gripping my arm protectively in the crook of his elbow.
The smell of burning wood hung in the air outside, and over some portions of the city columns of smoke still rose, staining the sky a bruised yellow. My heart felt heavier with every step as we passed houses with broken windows, toppled statues, and public gardens with plants torn up by the roots. City-folk picked through the rubble. Busy with their own grief, they paid us no attention.
The townhouse door was burned through, the windows shattered, and the roof little more than a charred husk left open to the sky, but then, like a spark in the darkness, a familiar face ducked out of the dimness within and stood on the threshold.
“Master Teo!” I cried. “Why are you not resting?”
He saluted clumsily with one hand. The other was tied up in a sling. “It wasn’t as bad as it looked, milady,” he said with a smile. “Mostly. The physicians said I could take up my post. I’m still your guardsman, after all.” He bowed to Alastair. “Sir.”