“Yes!”
He sucked his teeth a little. I could tell he was refraining, just, from glancing at his companions. “I think that will be within our capabilities, sir. We built the king’s summer residence. Of course that was a few years back, and architectural styles have changed a tad from those I was accustomed to in Cologne… when I apprenticed on the cathedral there….”
“You’re not household servants, are you?”
“No, sir. I am Master Mason, and these rogues are my current apprentices. I call them that as I call mycurrentwife. It keeps them all on their toes.”
“Please, my apologies, sir. I believe His Royal Highness Prince Christian has an unfortunate sense of humor. So, a hut. It does not require gothic arches.”
“Good. I hate the buggers.”
To my astonishment, the lodge was built within a day, and the following morning, I was riding with Aleksey to inspect it and to take provisions for our stay. I was still not too clear whether or not he was intending to join in my exile. I wasn’t too sure how I felt about this either way. I could see both advantages and disadvantages to his presence, pleasures and difficulties. My professionalism was telling me that I needed to concentrate on my patient. I could not seem to concentrate on anything else but green eyes when Aleksey was present.
The House of Lust (as I had translated and insisted on calling the officers’ summer residence) was perfect. Situated on the sunny side of a small bluff overlooking the sea and with airy rooms, it reminded me of the villas built by ancient emperors of Rome for relief from the hot southern summers. Aleksey assured me that it did get very hot in Hesse-Davia in the summer months. This was late September, and the days were beginning to chill noticeably.
I think Aleksey’s change of mind about accompanying me coincided with the moment I told him I would be bringing no servants and we would not actually be living in the house. He had genuinely not thought that when I said I had to be alone with the king I meantalone: no courtiers and no servants. Master Mason had done me proud with the sweat lodge. The walls were built of new straw and sweet-smelling cedars, which I had requested. The central pit was stacked with wood, and he had even covered the floor with furs. They were not bear or cougar, as the Powponi had used in their sacred lodges, but they were good enough.
When I turned, Faelan was lying on one of the skins, staring at me with his unnerving amber gaze. He didn’t growl, which I think was a first. I smiled at him. “You want to come? Sit naked and sweat with me?”
“Yes, please.” I jumped, and Aleksey swept aside the door covering, chuckling. “I did not realize this endeavor involved nakedness. I don’t think I have ever seen my father naked.”
“And isn’t that something every son should be able to say?”
He nodded absentmindedly and sat on the ground cross-legged, for all the world like the Powponi chiefs he so resembled. “Tell me how this works.”
I debated how best to explain it and sat down across the fire pit from him. “The poison sits in the body the same way salt does. You know how sweat tastes?” He gave me an odd look but nodded. “That’s the salt being washed out of the body when we become too hot. It will work for the poison as well. Eating certain foods helps the body heal itself; liver and shellfish are particularly effective, although I don’t know why. As the poison goes, you replace the bad humors with water. In particularly bad cases, you have to keep doing this for weeks.”
“Oh.” He picked up a twig and began to draw little pictures in the dirt between the hides. “Where did you learn to be a doctor?”
This was a tricky question. I usually let people assume I had attended one of the new universities teaching medicine. No one had ever come out and asked me directly before. “I was apprenticed to another who practiced medicine.” I was very pleased by this reply, as it skated close to the truth but said nothing truthful at all. He nodded, not listening anyway, intent on his own thoughts. Suddenly he blurted out, “If he dies—if my father dies—damn it, if he dies, I’m going to smuggle you out of the country. It’s all arranged.”
“What! Why? Your brother has agreed to this! He must understand it comes with risk.”
“What he understands now and what he will choose to understand when he is king are two different things. You must see that, Nikolai! All kings begin their reign by sweeping out the old rushes… sweating out the poison, if you will. He will be no different. He will take the opportunity to rid himself of anyone who has threatened or displeased him and make his excuse our father’s murder—whether they are guilty or not.”
“But I am not his enemy!”
“Oh, stop being so stupid, Niko. How can he claim there was regicide ifyouwere not ensnared in the plot? Who will listen then to your ideas of sweat and liver? No one. There will be suspicion and paranoia and torture. Everyone confesses under torture. You will confess. So we are going to take you out by—”
“No! Where would I go? My reputation would be ruined. I could never work as a doctor again!”
“The devil take your reputation, Niko, this is your—”
“Don’t call me that! I won’t go.” I stood up, as if he were trying to seize me there and then and bundle me onto a ship.
He stood too. “Oh, you will. You are but one man, and I am….” He frowned. “Well, I’m only one too, but what I mean is—”
I began to laugh at his confused expression. He looked up sharply, and then the laughter overtook him as well. He hung his head for a moment. “I think it would be best if you just cured the king, and then we will not have to put your stubbornness to the test.”
“Or your ability to pilot a ship?”
He pouted a little. “You think I would accompany you on this flight to exile?”
I left a little pause. “Yes. I think you would.”
He gave a rueful huff, as if my knowledge of his intentions was superior to his own. I noticed, however, that he did not deny my supposition. I stepped past him into the fresh air. “So, I go cure a king?”
He put a brotherly arm over my shoulder and agreed. “Yes, you go cure a king.”
