The Black Prism(242)

Chapter 93





Kip woke in a little blue room. Every surface was blue luxin, even the pallet where he was sleeping, though it had been softened with a heap of blankets. From the faint rocking motion, he realized he was on one of the blue barges.

And his back hurt like hell. In fact, most of his body hurt. His left hand was bandaged heavily and he could feel that a thick poultice had been spread all over it. His shoulders and both arms were bruised everywhere, he felt like someone had beaten both of his legs with a board, his head was throbbing, and he was sore pretty much any other place on his body he could think of. He wiggled a pinky toe. Yep, that was sore too.

And he was hungry. Unbelievable.

You’re on a refugee ship, Kip. There ain’t gonna be any food.

He tried to go back to sleep. That was the best thing for it. He’d feel better when he woke up. And they might catch some fish or something by then. He rolled over, and his lower back still hurt. What the—He shifted, and realized he was lying on something.

Reaching down to his waistband, his fingers brushed something. His eyes shot open. The knife. His inheritance. If it didn’t hurt so bad, he would have laughed about it. Clearly, he’d been carried in here wrapped in blankets, and left. No one had even noticed. In an armada of ships with thousands of refugees and soldiers and maybe a hundred boats, with pirates and everything else to worry about, apparently Kip hadn’t been the first thing on Gavin’s mind. Well, what did I expect? They couldn’t strip me and get me dry clothes—there are no dry clothes.

Kip rolled off the knife and sat up. He groaned. He really was sore. And hungry. But that didn’t matter now.

A figure passed the door, and Kip hid the knife by his leg hurriedly.

Gavin poked his head in. “You’re awake!” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Like an elephant sat on me,” Kip said.

Gavin grinned and came and sat on the edge of Kip’s pallet. “I heard you were trying to be Ironfist for a while out there. He’s pretty steamed. He’s supposed to be the one who saves my life, you know.”

“He’s mad?” Kip asked, worried.

Gavin sobered. “No, Kip. No one’s mad at you. He won’t admit it, but he’s proud of you.”

“He is?”

“And I am, too.”

“I thought I was too late.” Gavin was proud of him? His mind couldn’t really register the thought. His mother had always been ashamed of him, and the Prism himself was proud? Kip blinked quickly, looked away. “You’re really fine?” Kip asked.

Gavin smiled. “Never felt better,” he said. “Oh, did you… did you know that boy? The assassin?”

Kip felt a lump in his throat. “He was one of the drafters who wiped out Rekton. Zymun was his name. He tried to kill me there. Did he get eaten?” Kip remembered the boy bleeding profusely, swimming toward all those sharks.

“I don’t know,” Gavin said. “My rule is, if you don’t see an enemy dead with your own eyes, assume they’re still alive.” He grinned, almost grimly, at a private thought. “But,” he said, shaking himself out of it, “I guess that explains this.” He pulled out the rosewood box that had held Kip’s dagger.

Gavin handed it to Kip. “It’s empty,” he said. “But I thought it looked like that box your mother tried to give you. Either your Zymun stole it from King Garadul, or this is a common style. Looks like it held a knife, but I guess that went into the waves. I’m sorry.”

Kip wanted to rush to confess, but the knife was his. Gavin might take it away from him. Kip hadn’t even gotten to see it yet, not really.

“Anyway,” Gavin said, “you rest up. I’ve got work to do. I’ll have someone send in some food to you, and we’ll talk later. All right?” He got up, stopped at the door. “Thank you, Kip. You saved my life, son. Well done. I’m proud of you.”

Son. Son! There was pride in Gavin’s voice as he said it. Kip had made the Prism proud. It was like light bursting over hills to illuminate places in his soul that had never seen it.

The lump in his throat grew huge, his eyes filled with tears. Gavin turned to go. “Wait! Father, wait!”

Kip froze, as did Gavin, outlined in the door. The last time Kip had used the word he was being a snot, and things hadn’t gone well.

And then it got worse, as Kip suddenly realized Gavin had meant “son” like “young man.” Kip wished he could go jump back into the water for the sharks. “I’m so sorry,” he said, “I didn’t—”

“No!” Gavin cut him off with a hand. “Whatever else you did, you proved yourself a Guile today, Kip.”