There was a flash of blue as the cold spread into the air-and into the public furylamps that hung at the same level, where it devoured their flame, jumping hungrily from one to the next for a hundred feet in either direction. The street plunged into blackness.
"Yahh!" Ehren screamed to the horses. The beasts charged forward, reckless and terrified-which was, Tavi thought, probably a fair description for what the Grey Guard had to be feeling at the moment. He felt exactly the same way. Men cried out around them, and hooves rang on cobblestones, wheels rumbling as the wagon bounced wildly. There were a couple of cries of pain, then they emerged from the darkness and into another furylit area.
Kitai flung another stone, and once again they were in darkness. It would, Tavi had hoped, hinder any pursuit, slowing the reactions of the authorities- and it was working. At least something in the plan had gone right tonight.
After five or six minutes of noisy flight, Ehren slowed the wagon and continued on for several more blocks, changing streets several times, while Araris covered Varg with a canvas tarp. Isana, meanwhile, bound up Tavi's right hand and examined the rest of his injuries with worried eyes.
Ehren pulled into an alley and stopped the wagon. "That's it," he said quietly. "We leave it here. The ship's right through there."
"What about the horses?" Kitai asked.
"My contact will pick them up when he comes for the wagon," Ehren said. "I've arranged for the lamps to be out, so we can get the Cane onto the ship."
"How is he?" Tavi asked. The words came out slurred. Weariness had begun to spread throughout his body.
A growl came from beneath the tarp. "I can walk."
"Good," Tavi said. "Let's go."
"He's hurt," Isana said to Araris. "His ankle looks bad. He needs help walking."
"I'm fine," Tavi said. "Get to the ship."
Kitai let out an impatient breath, and said, "I'll do it." She came around to the back of the wagon and dragged one of Tavi's arms over her shoulders. "Come on, chala. Lean on me a little. Good."
Tavi closed his eyes and let Kitai guide him. She kept up a pleasant stream of quiet orders and encouragement, which was far preferable to paying attention to his own rising discomfort.
He was losing his hold on the metalcrafting, Tavi thought. The pain was growing.
He remembered getting to the Slive, and then Kitai's hands stripping his armor.
"Varg," he mumbled. "Tell her to see to Varg first. He got hurt."
"No more orders, chala," Kitai replied, her voice gentle.
He drifted in pain and stillness for a time. Then there came a delicious, bone-deep warmth.
Then nothing.
Chapter 37
Isana looked up as daylight briefly flooded the hold through the open hatch above. Demos and Fade came down the stepladder into the hold and approached at once. Demos's presence was muted to her senses, as usual, but what she could feel of him told her that he was at least mildly anxious.
"What's the problem?" Demos asked. "They've started combing the docks and searching ships. We don't have much time."
"Already?" Isana asked. "That was fast."
"They start with the places someone might use to leave town in a hurry," Demos said.
"We should leave," Araris murmured. "Set sail right now."
"Ships have been ordered to remain at dock," Demos said.
"Then we should have left last night."
"Which would have told them exactly where to look for the prisoner," Demos said. "No. We stay in dock until they clear us, then when we leave, we aren't looking astern the whole trip." He turned to Isana. "Now what's the problem?"
Isana gestured at Varg. The Cane was far too large to fit into any of the healing tubs on the Slive, so instead he lay in the shallow pool in the hold where the witchmen usually stood their station. "It's the Cane. He's badly hurt, and he won't let anyone touch him. He nearly took my hand off when I tried to heal him."
"He's got to be moved," Demos said. "We have fifteen minutes, give or take."
"He isn't going to let us move him," Isana said. "And if he starts thrashing around, it could kill him."
"If he isn't moved," Demos said, "it could kill all of us." He touched the hilt of his sword. "One way or the other, he's in the river in fifteen minutes." The captain went back up on deck.
Isana exchanged a long look with Araris. Then she said, "Get him."
"Are you sure?" Araris asked. "He still looks like he's in bad shape."
"He is," Isana said. "He'd want you to do it."
Araris grimaced, then departed. He returned a moment later, half-carrying Tavi. The young man nearly fell coming down the stepladder, and he had to lean on Araris to walk the short distance to the pool. Isana's heart ached to see how pale her son's face remained, his eyes so sunken that they looked bruised. He'd looked worse last night, when she'd had to heal dozens of small wounds, three fractured bones, muscles that had all but torn themselves apart with strain, burns on his mouth, his throat, and in his lungs from breathing fury-heated air, and the hideous damage to the flesh of his hands.
Restoring a body that had suffered so much punishment was hideously draining upon the victim. He shouldn't have been conscious, much less standing more or less on his own, but his green eyes, though sunken and weary, were alert.
"What is it?" Tavi asked quietly. His voice was still raw, rough-sounding. Even with watercrafting, there was only so much one could do for burns.
"Varg," she said. "I've been trying to heal him, but he won't let me touch him. We have to move him in the next few minutes, before they search the ship."
Tavi blinked slowly once, and for a second, she wondered if he'd even heard her. "Ah," he said, finally. "All right. Try again."
Isana frowned. "I've tried, several times, to-"
Tavi shook his head. He splashed wearily down into the pool, and sat down on the floorboards, not far from the Cane's head, his feet in the water, his shoulders slumped. He gestured wearily for Isana to proceed.
Isana stepped down into the water again, reached out for Rill, and stepped closer to Varg. She reached one hand toward his chest warily, watching the enormous, dark-furred body for movement. Her fingers got to within perhaps an inch of the Cane's fur before Varg let out a growl. His half-opened eyes never focused, but his lips peeled back away from white fangs, and his jaws opened slightly.