22.4

An hour later, Portia produced a small, silver vial sealed with red wax and handed it to Dirk wordlessly.

He knew he looked as bad as he felt. He could see the sympathy in her eyes, and he despised it. His entire body felt like one massive bruise. One eye was nearly swollen shut. He had at least three cracked ribs, and he as fairly sure a tendon was torn in his knee. The left side of his face was red and swollen - and still bore the imprint of the shackles with which Zyrdicia had hit him when they had fought.

He had never walked away from combat feeling this wretched. An entire bottle of wine had done nothing to make him feel better. He truly hoped wherever his wife was right now, she felt even worse.

Mildly inebriated, he looked at the vial in his hand darkly. "You are certain this will work?"

"The Lyrian Healer's Guild charges fifty thousand plats per vial for it. Business is too lucrative for them to risk a rumor of ineffective merchandise."

Dirk stared at her blankly, unconvinced. To him, it looked like poison.

"The healers know who I work for! They would not dare sell me a potion that did not work as promised."

Dirk nodded absently, wincing as the movement reminded him how much his skull ached. He had little choice but to swallow whatever was in the vial. He needed the potion's magic. He could not permit word to get out that he was in such bad straights - much less that his own wife had done it to him. The shame would be unbearable. Not even Eric Greystone had ever succeeded in putting him in such a state.

Portia took the vial out of his hand, removed the wax and dumped the entire contents into a glass of wine. She handed it to him and ordered gently, "Drink it quickly. It loses power by the minute once it touches air."

He looked at her again, then at the wine. He hesitated.

"Drink it!"

He snatched it then and tossed the contents of the entire glass back in two swallows. He gasped immediately. The adulterated wine burned like acid as it slid down his throat. The sensation faded almost at once, only to be replaced by frightful dizziness. He lowered his head against his open hands on the table and groaned miserably.

Portia put her hand gently on the back of his shoulder. "This feeling only lasts a few minutes. Take deep breaths. The magic is working."

As promised, the dizziness soon abated. The pain of broken bones and bruises departed with the dizziness. He inhaled deeply, feeling flesh mending.

Portia suppressed a grin behind him. Like all men, he was a big baby when it came to injury. "Better yet?"

"Somewhat," he conceded uncertainly. Without lifting his head, he growled, "Now, leave!"

Portia reached out and touched his shoulders, noting the tension. He ignored her. Starting at the base of the neck, she began kneading the muscles expertly.

"Leave me be!"

"I ignore Zyrdicia when she says that too. Relax. I'm very good at this."

"If you mention her name again to me right now, I will cut out your tongue."

Portia's hands moved down along his shoulder blades, then into the flesh of the muscle. The diminutive woman leaned her entire weight into her hands, focusing intense pressure along every knot she found. He sighed wearily, permitting her to continue only because it felt marvelous after the toll the fight had taken on his body.

Portia smiled inwardly. She saw an opportunity. She wanted to be back in Karteia with Cai. She was certain that Dirk had convinced Zyrdicia to keep her in Lyr. If she could make herself useful to Dirk, she believed he would arrange to keep her in Castle Blackpool.

Portia broached the subject of her mistress gently, "Zyrdicia must have been very angry to have done that to you. I didn't think she would ever hurt you deliberately. What happened?"

Dirk's head had already begun to spin from the potion's side effects. He pressed his forehead harder against his hands upon the table. Hearing Portia's inference that Zyrdicia intended to hurt him made him feel unexpectedly defensive. He grumbled, "It was not deliberate."

"Was she playing?"

"She thought she was dreaming when we fought. It was--" he paused, feeling awkward as well as dizzy. He knew he did not want to discuss it and fought inwardly to restrain his loosened tongue.

Portia prodded, "I know how crazy she can be. I've seen her 'accidentally' kill some of her favorite friends. Afterwards, she is always surprised the next day that they aren't around to talk to. You are lucky to be alive."

"Hardly," he sneered, trying to sound cocky. He hoped it succeeded. He could not bear the thought of anyone thinking she had nearly killed him.

"So what happened?"

Dirk hesitated. It was embarrassing to talk about it. He took a deep breath, feeling very uncertain about the whole thing. He murmured, "The demon's Edict is done with."

His mind started to drift then. Within a minute, he was fast asleep in his chair, his head still pressed against the table. He emitted a loud snore.

Portia gaped silently behind him, shocked by the news and its implication. It was better information than she had dared hoped to glean from him.