Free Widow's Pique by Marilyn Todd

sanctuary of her bed when the third sneeze floated up from below. There was no mistaking her overgrown cherub now. In the clear blue light of the retreating Moon God, his bald pate shone like a tiny silver platter as he hopped nervously from foot to foot.
    'Psst.'
    The ring of dark curls spun round at the call from the shadows further out along the shoreline.
    'Claudia?' he hissed under his breath. 'Is you, yes?'
    'Pssst. Raspor.'
    Claudia couldn't see who was calling him, but it sure as hell wasn't her, and a weight inside her flipped over. Something was wrong here. Very wrong. But even before she'd opened her mouth to reply, a dark flash whisked through the air. Raspor jerked sideways as his hands flew to his neck.
    'Hey!' she yelled. 'Stop!'
    But her voice was a croak, and he clawed frantically at the ring round his throat.
    'Help!' she cried. 'Somebody help!'
    If anything, her croak was weaker and now Raspor's heels were drumming impotently against the rocks. Help him, she prayed to every god on Olympus. Strike his assailant with a thunderbolt, with blindness, with paralysis, with anything! Save him, she prayed. Please step in and save him - because, forgive me, I can't! Too weak to run, too weak to throw missiles, too weak to raise the alarm, she could only stare helplessly as the horror unfolded. With every wasted second, more of the little man's breath was being squeezed from his body.
    But no thunderbolts flashed.
    No divine trident intervened.
    Not for the first time, Claudia Seferius had to rely on her own wits.
    Picking up the bowl of sleep stones, she dashed it to the floor. Instantly, a stampede of slaves crashed into her bedroom, bringing lights that blinded her from every direction as a hundred voices demanded to know what was wrong.
    'Help!' she cried. 'There's a man being murdered out there!'
    'Where?' 'Who?' Everyone was shouting at once.
    'Hurry!' she screamed. 'Hurry, before it's too—'
    It was as far as she got. The oblivion that Claudia had so desperately craved a few minutes earlier was no respecter of changers-of-mind. It claimed her at a maidservant's feet.
    The next light to be blinding her eyes didn't come from dozens of hastily lit oil lamps. It came from the sun, shining with inexorable brilliance into the room, and more specifically over Claudia's pillow. From a hundred miles away, she heard someone groan, and had a strange feeling that it might have been her.
    'How are ye feeling?' a gravelly voice asked.
    'Vile.'
    But the cold, solid knot in her stomach had nothing to do with her fall.
    'Aye.' Pavan nodded impassively. 'Ye would.'
    He was sitting with one massive leg crossed over the other in a high-backed armchair upholstered in damask the colour of ripe Persian plums. His fingers were steepled patiently together.
    She drew a deep breath. Willed the shuddering inside to subside.
    'Is he dead?' she asked quietly.
    Grey eyes stared without emotion for what seemed like an hour, but was probably no more than five seconds.
    'When Mazares carried ye up here last night, ye were unconscious and bleeding.'
    The seat was large and commodious, but the general made it look like a kid's chair.
    'I very much regret, ma'am, that the closest we had to a physician last night was a ... a mule doctor.'
    How comforting.
    'Meaning?'
    He stroked his ponytail thoughtfully. 'The mule doctor fears his painkilling preparation may have had certain side effects.'
    'Name one.'
    'Physical weakness.'
    'Name two.'
    She had a pretty good idea where this was leading, but needed to hear it from Pavan's own lips.
    He adjusted his belt. 'We put every available man on that beach—'
    'What about Raspor?'
    The chair creaked as he rose to his feet. 'D'you feel up to breakfast, ma'am? Would a honeycomb straight from the beehive tempt yer appetite?'
    'What - and I'll say this slowly - about Raspor?'
    A different voice answered. It was low and velvety, and anyone who didn't know better would have taken his tone to be concerned.
    'I'm