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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
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“Killed?” I asked.
“They were using cold iron.”
“You’re joking,” Galen said.
Rhys leaned his back more comfortably against the footboard, and shook his head. He looked grim. “We didn’t expect that.”
“Do not blame yourself for that part, Rhys,” Doyle said. “Neither court hunts the other with cold iron. That is reserved for war, and we are not at war.”
“Not yet,” he said.
“Why do you mean, not yet?” Galen asked.
“Did cold iron do that to your arm?” I asked.
He answered my question first. “One of them attacked me. We were three for three, but we didn’t realize we weren’t just having a little fun until they got serious.” He shook his head. “If I hadn’t surprised him, it would have been worse.”
“Surprised how?” I asked.
“I used the death touch on him, but he did something to protect himself. My entire arm went numb. It’s good we had so many healers in the room though. They healed the wounds of sword and ax, but my arm… They bound it in a sling and told me to wait. I can finally feel something, pins and needles mostly, but I’m happy to feel anything in it.”
“What happened to the seelie you bespelled?” Nicca asked.
“They dragged him away insensible. He’ll be out of it for a day or two, at least.”
“Why didn’t it kill him?” I asked.
“Goblins have no magic of their own; the sidhe do,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“Did they give a reason for trying to kill you?” Galen asked.
He sighed again. “One of their royal ladies accused me and two others of raping her.”
“What?” I sat up too abruptly, then stopped in mid-motion, afraid I’d crush the moth.
“Had she gone mad?” Galen asked.
“Don’t know,” Rhys said, “but they were serious about it.”
“Who else did she accuse?” I asked.
“Me, Galen, Abloec.”
“Why?” I asked.
“That we do not know,” Doyle said, “but I doubt that the lady came up with such a desperate accusation on her own.”
“Taranis?” I asked.
“Keep his name to a minimum,” Rhys said, “just in case. I’d rather not be overheard.”
“I do not believe he can hear just because his name is invoked,” Doyle said.
“Humor me,” Rhys said.
Doyle nodded. “Very well. Yes, I believe he is somehow behind this new problem.”
“But why? What does he hope to gain?” I asked.
“Killed?” I asked.
“They were using cold iron.”
“You’re joking,” Galen said.
Rhys leaned his back more comfortably against the footboard, and shook his head. He looked grim. “We didn’t expect that.”
“Do not blame yourself for that part, Rhys,” Doyle said. “Neither court hunts the other with cold iron. That is reserved for war, and we are not at war.”
“Not yet,” he said.
“Why do you mean, not yet?” Galen asked.
“Did cold iron do that to your arm?” I asked.
He answered my question first. “One of them attacked me. We were three for three, but we didn’t realize we weren’t just having a little fun until they got serious.” He shook his head. “If I hadn’t surprised him, it would have been worse.”
“Surprised how?” I asked.
“I used the death touch on him, but he did something to protect himself. My entire arm went numb. It’s good we had so many healers in the room though. They healed the wounds of sword and ax, but my arm… They bound it in a sling and told me to wait. I can finally feel something, pins and needles mostly, but I’m happy to feel anything in it.”
“What happened to the seelie you bespelled?” Nicca asked.
“They dragged him away insensible. He’ll be out of it for a day or two, at least.”
“Why didn’t it kill him?” I asked.
“Goblins have no magic of their own; the sidhe do,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“Did they give a reason for trying to kill you?” Galen asked.
He sighed again. “One of their royal ladies accused me and two others of raping her.”
“What?” I sat up too abruptly, then stopped in mid-motion, afraid I’d crush the moth.
“Had she gone mad?” Galen asked.
“Don’t know,” Rhys said, “but they were serious about it.”
“Who else did she accuse?” I asked.
“Me, Galen, Abloec.”
“Why?” I asked.
“That we do not know,” Doyle said, “but I doubt that the lady came up with such a desperate accusation on her own.”
“Taranis?” I asked.
“Keep his name to a minimum,” Rhys said, “just in case. I’d rather not be overheard.”
“I do not believe he can hear just because his name is invoked,” Doyle said.
“Humor me,” Rhys said.
Doyle nodded. “Very well. Yes, I believe he is somehow behind this new problem.”
“But why? What does he hope to gain?” I asked.