Inversions by Iain M. Banks Read Free Book Online Page B

mistress.’
     
    The day had passed reasonably well until then. The Doctor had bathed, spent more time writing in her journal, then we had visited the spice market and nearby bazaars while the storm was still just a dark brew on the western horizon. She had met with some merchants and other doctors at the house of a banker to talk about starting a school for doctors (I was consigned to the kitchen with the servants and so heard nothing of consequence and little of sense), then we walked smartly back up to the palace while the sky clouded over and the first few rain squalls swept in over from the outer docks. I fondly and quite mistakenly congratulated myself for escaping back to the comfort and warmth of the palace before the storm set in.
    A note on the door to the Doctor’s rooms informed us that the King desired to see her and so it was off towards his private apartments as soon as we’d put down our bags full of spices, berries, roots and earths. A servant intercepted us in the Long Corridor with news that the King had been wounded in a practice duel and hearts in our mouths we made quickly for the game halls.
     
    ‘Sire, a leech! We have the finest! The rare Emperor leech, from Brotechen!’
    ‘Nonsense! A burn-glass veining is what is required, followed by an emetic!’
    ‘A simple letting will suffice. Your majesty, if I may’
    ‘No! Get away from me, you wittering purple rogues! Away and become bankers the lot of you admit what you really love! Where’s Vosill? Vosill!’ the King cried up the broad stairs as he started up them, left hand clutched round his right upper arm. We were just starting down.
    The King had been injured in a duelling round and it seemed as if every other doctor of repute in the city must have been in the duelling chamber that day, for they were clustered round the King and the two men at his side like purple-coated chasers round a beast at bay. Their own masters followed at their heels, holding duelling swords and half-masks, with one large, grey-faced individual isolated near the rear presumably being the one who’d cut the King.
    Guard Commander Adlain was to one side of the King, Duke Walen on the other. Adlain, I will record only for posterity, is a man the nobility and grace of whose features and carriage are matched only by our good King, though the Guard Commander’s appearance is swarthy where King Quience’s is fair a faithful, loyal shadow ever at the side of our splendid ruler. But what monarch could wish for a more glorious shadow!
    Duke Walen is a short, stooped man with leathery skin and small, deeply recessed eyes which are slightly crossed.
    ‘Sir, are you sure you won’t let my physician tend to that wound?’ Walen said in his high, grating voice, while Adlain shooed away a couple of the harrying doctors. ‘Look,’ the Duke cried, ‘it’s dripping! The royal blood! Oh, my word! Physician! Physician! Really, my lord, this doctor fellow is quite the best. Let me just’
    ‘No!’ the King bellowed. ‘I want Vosill! Where is she?’
    ‘The lady would appear to have more pressing engagements,’ Adlain said, not unreasonably. ‘Lucky it’s just a scratch, eh, my lord?’ Then he looked up the steps to see the Doctor and myself descending. His expression became a smile.
    ‘Vo!’ the King roared, head down as he bounded up the curve of steps, briefly leaving both Walen and Adlain behind.
    ‘Here, Sir,’ the Doctor said, stepping down to meet him.
    ‘Vosill! Where in the name of all the skies of hell have you been?’
    ‘I’
    ‘Never mind that! Let’s to my chambers. You.’ (And the King addressed me!) ‘See if you can hold off this pack of bloodsucking scavengers. Here’s my duelling sword.’ The King handed me his own sword! ‘You have full permission to use it on anyone who looks remotely like a physician. Doctor?’
    ‘After you, sir.’
    ‘Yes of course after me, Vosill. I am the King, dammit!’
     
    It has always struck me how well our