She had a mystical Sentinel sense of her own physique, then, or a mystical Sentinel assurance that she wouldn’t die from a swollen brain. Either way, Zelen was glad of it, particularly as he’d have no way of telling how badly the blow had hurt her. He’d learned to be alert for bruised eyes and bleeding from the nose, but external forces had already given Branwyn both. As for lack of coordination, a broken knee was more than sufficient.
“So maybe you went crazy and did it, and now you don’t remember it?” Tanya suggested. “Or you say you don’t. That’s what I’d say if I got mad and killed people.”
“It’s possible. I’d say my state argues against it, but…nnnngh”—she broke off as Zelen examined her knee—“I know the counter…sssss…the counterarguments too. I could have killed them and then…fallen down the stairs, or fought a troop of guards while making my escape.”
“None of the guard have mentioned fighting a woman of your description, and I’m sure they would have,” said Zelen. “Robbers, on the other hand, are possible. Either way, my family is inclined to believe that you weren’t under your own control. I’ll take you to Letar’s temple, send word to them, and we can start—”
“No.” She grasped Zelen’s wrist. “It’s not safe to tell anyone.”
* * *
This was the part Branwyn had feared. She’d hoped to heal enough to walk and fight, then to find a disguise and start searching for clues to what had truly happened. In a day or so, she likely could have left the abandoned house, stolen clothing, and blended into the street. It would have been a start, and it wouldn’t have put others in danger.
Now her mission and her life depended on convincing Zelen. She was in no condition to run or fight if she didn’t get through to him—she wasn’t in much condition totalk, which didn’t help—and she’d likely be putting him in more danger whether or not he listened.
He and the child were both silent. Branwyn’s vision was too hazy for her to read Zelen’s expression. She went on. “Assassins, remember? The person who sent them had money.” She stopped, got her bruised windpipe to work again, and kept going. “Power. Temple will make sure I don’t die, then turn me over to the guard. Easy to bribe jailers to look the other way, send a thug with a knife. Or use the knife themselves.”
“But thepriests—” said the child.
“Are busy,” said Zelen slowly. “If there were enough of them to take care of everybody in the city, there’d be no need of the clinic.”
“Mortal too. Think I’m a killer. Know there’s a system. Probably will trust it, unless the Dark Lady sends a vision.” Branwyn smiled, which made her lips start bleeding again. “Wouldn’t count on that. So…they follow rules. Like they should. Mostly.”
“‘He makes treachery of bonds, and bonds of treachery,’” Zelen quoted.
“Gizath?” Branwyn said, though she’d never heard the line.
“Yes. A poem by… It doesn’t matter.” He sat back. “Go home,” he said to the child, “and don’t mention this to a soul.”
“She said it would be dangerous. If I talked.”
“She’s right. One way or another, this is nothing you should be part of.” He turned and fished some coins out of his pockets. “But you did right to help her, and right to get me. Thank you.”
“Thankyou,” said the child. They pocketed the coins quickly but didn’t leave right away. “And I hope you didn’t kill the high lord and lady, and I hope people don’t kill either of you.”
Then they darted off, or at least Branwyn didn’t see their shape beyond Zelen’s shoulder any longer.
“I don’t want to leave you here until nightfall,” said Zelen. Branwyn could read the consternation about him even when she could barely see straight. A portion, she knew, was his calling as a healer, a portion suspicion of what she might do, given the stories about Sentinels, and a third portion might be personal fondness, but Branwyn didn’t want to make any assumptions. “But there’s no damned way of moving you until then without standing out, and if I come back with supplies, I’m as likely to be followed as not.”
“How long?”
“Five hours or so. Thank all the gods that it’s autumn.”
“Go,” said Branwyn. “I’ll be all right. And I won’t be in any state to escape. You can bind me if you want.”
“No!” He actually drew back at the idea, a supple motion she’d have appreciated more if she hadn’t been a bloody mess. “With your knee as it is?”
“It’ll heal. And you have no reason to take my word.”
“The offer is a fair reason,” he said. Then he took off his cloak. Bronze gleamed from his torso in the weak light, and Branwyn noticed the embroidery on his doublet as he leaned over to slip the folded wool under her head. “I’d give you more, but the aim is not to attract attention, and a shirtless man near winter would do plenty of that.”
“Wouldn’t ask for more,” Branwyn said. She felt a dim urge to object even to the cloak, but her sore head overruled pride. “Thanks.”
“Don’t move more than you have to,” said Zelen, “and for the sake of…everything…don’t die.”
Chapter 24
Branwyn didn’t die, though there were intervals throughout the next few hours when it would have seemed like a reasonable option, if not for her mission, her larger duty as a Sentinel, and, surprisingly, the knowledge of how shaken Zelen would be if she did.
