“Quiet,” she whispered, her mind jolting back into gear.“You must be quiet, otherwise I won’t be able to get you out of here.”She grabbed another cloth and resumed cleaning him while trying to form a plan.“I can wheel you out of here as normal.None of them will think anything of it.Do you have a shuttle?”
“Yes, at the spaceport.Everyone dies?What does she do to them?”
“She fucks them until they die.”Betrys made no effort to pretty her words.“Quiet, let me think.You’re in no condition to fly.Do you have anyone who can collect you?”
“No one knows where I am.”
The man seemed to recover a fraction, although he winced with each jerky shift of his limbs.
“Let me get your clothes.”Dead men didn’t require clothes, and her habit was to toss them, but he couldn’t travel home naked.“I doubt anyone will come in here, but I’ll cover you with the sheet.Please remain silent and don’t move until I get back.”
Betrys tugged the sheet over his scowling face and hastened from the room.Goddess, Leo was alive.She checked her timepiece.If she hurried, she could deliver him to the spaceport.She’d have to hire someone to pilot him home because she doubted he’d manage the task without aid.She’d need to use her own funds, take currency from her stash, yet suddenly, she didn’t care.
Leo had lived, and she wasn’t going to let Iseult near him again.He’d fulfilled his part of the bargain and deserved his freedom.She winged a prayer to the goddess that his wounds—especially the one on his stomach—wouldn’t putrefy and kill him anyway.
She snatched his clothes from the web and raced back.Her shoes slapped the floor, and her robe rustled with her haste.One of Iseult’s guards appeared.She slowed and approached him with caution.Normally, they hissed at her, made a series of guttural clicks that raised the hair at the nape of her neck.This time, the guard ignored her presence.He wobbled past on unsteady legs, his squeaks similar to Iseult’s earlier discordant tune.
Betrys waited until he disappeared before darting back to the room where Leo was stashed.She found him off the trolley and slumped against the wall.With an annoyed mutter, she shut the door and hurried to his side.
“I told you not to move.Iseult’s guards patrol the halls.I never know if I’ll see them.You might have attracted their attention.”
“Needed to stand.”
“Here are your clothes.”
“Give me jacket.”
“Let me help you with your trews and shirt first.”
“Jacket,” he insisted, his voice belligerent.He reminded her of her son if he wasn’t getting his own way.
“Here.”She thrust it at him.
He wobbled, and she rushed to help him balance.He was taller, his weight a burden, and she struggled to hold him upright.
“Fingers won’t work.”Frustration and panic laced his tone.
“What are you looking for?Let me find it for you.”
“Vial in pocket.Need to drink.”
“Sit on the trolley.If you fall on the floor, I won’t be able to pick you up.”
He seemed to see the sense of this and let her guide him back.He half fell onto it and gasped for breath.Droplets of sweat beaded his creased brow.
Once she was certain he wouldn’t topple, Betrys searched his jacket to find the vial he was so worried about.She discovered it in his inside pocket.A small glass vessel containing a milky liquid.
“Do you want me to open it for you?”
“Yeah.”
The pungent scent from the contents made her eyes water.Her nose wrinkled, and she held it at arm’s length.“Are you sure you want to drink this?”
“Can’t feel any worse.”
Guilt surfaced to thump her over the head.She’d recruited him, reduced him to this.She breathed through her mouth and approached him to hold the vial to his lips.She tipped it, and he drank the foul-smelling liquid.He made a gagging sound and fought to hold it down.By the time he’d swallowed the contents, his face was the color of her robe.
“Do you want to lie down?”
