Page 92 of The Boy Bride

“Who?”

“He’s a fucker.” Padunu shook his head sadly.

“Does he mean me?” Tirtu asked Lill.

“I think he means Faru. Shh.”

“I think we may be very drunk,” said Halza thoughtfully.

They sat and considered that in silence for a minute. Lill remembered hearing that it helped to drink water and eat if you’d had too much wine. He clambered over Halza and got down from the seating platform.

“Privy’s that way,” Halza called after him, pointing.

“Not going to the privy.”

But when he was on his feet, he realized he did need to. The room was listing gently to and fro as he made his way there. The night air was cool on his face when he stepped outside. On his way back from the privy, he found some flatbread in Halza’s roofless kitchen. He drizzled a piece with honey from a small crock and carried it very carefully back to the table. He stepped over Halza and resumed his seat.

“Who needs more wine?” Tirtu asked, brandishing the bottle.

“Bear plant, broadleaf, purple rockbloom, giant cow parsnip.” Padunu appeared to be rhyming off a list of plants. He paused in counting on his fingers to hold out his ram’s horn.

“Me,” said Halza, pushing his cup across the table.

“Heart of the Blue Heaven,” Lill murmured. He took a bite of his bread and honey, holding his free hand over the mouth of his cup so that Tirtu couldn’t fill it.

“Spotted catspaw,” Padunu resumed. He took a slug of wine. “That one’s especially dangerous—it could be dissolved in this cup right now, and I would taste nothing amiss. Consume a fatal dose without noticing. Drop down dead. And I know where to get that one. Fact of the matter, I have some, dried. Back at the house.”

“All right, all right. You’ve proved your point.” Halza waved his hand wearily.

Lill didn’t know what point Padunu had been proving, and he didn’t care. A poison that you couldn’t taste? He knew of a few, not tasteless exactly, but mild-tasting, easily masked by a flavourful wine. And Padunu had such things on hand, did he? It was useful information. Something to keep in the back of his mind.

He took another large bite of bread. The honey tasted shockingly sweet after the wine.

Poison interested him less than it had two weeks ago. There were plenty of ways to do the job. An arrow might be the easiest. It could be done from a distance, which would greatly lessen the risk.

He wouldn’t be able to call for help, if he was attacked in his house. He couldn’t raise his voice enough to be heard outside his compound, and inside there was no one who could hear him. If it took more than one arrow …

When the time came, it would be good that Halza was here. He would look after the girls. He wanted to look after Susami, and maybe he wouldn’t like taking responsibility for her sisters as well, but he would do it. He was a good man.

When the time came …

He just needed one more thing in place before he would be ready for the signal, whenever it came. He needed to know the way out of Umtúshta. He had an idea, but he needed to find out for sure. He’d been wrong before.

“Let’s hear a song, Halu,” Tirtu said, slamming his empty ram’s horn onto the table. “Sing us a song!”

“All right, but you must all sing with me. I’ll teach you an easy one.”

They were all belting out the chorus of a song about a girl that they’d lost by the banks of the Green Vuilla when someone knocked on the door. Halza half-staggered, half-rolled off the seating platform toward the door while the rest of them went on singing.

“Lill!” Halza bawled from the door. “Your husband’s here!”

Vanu was standing in the doorway, a warrior angel in his black clothes, the colour bleached from his hair by the moonlight.

“Lord Vanu!” Tirtu and Padunu shouted raggedly. Padunu raised his ram’s horn and sloshed wine over the table.

“ … by the banks of the beautiful Gree-een Voo-ee-ra!” Tirtu roared.

“We’ll make room at the table for you, my lord,” Halza was saying, trying to make Vanu a low bow and hanging onto the door to avoid falling on his face.