The Curse-Maker Read Online Free PDF

by the baths before I came home. I wanted to be clean—for you.”
    She smiled again, and the blue of her eyes was misty and covered over with something I didn’t recognize. Something was very, very wrong with my wife. She saw the look on my face and changed the subject.
    â€œHow was the trip? Any rain?”
    I stared at her. “No. No rain. Gwyna, what’s happened? How did Coir—my God, what happened?”
    For a moment I saw the old Gwyna. Then the blue was swallowed up by the same misty miasma, and she turned her face to the wall.
    â€œNothing, Arcturus. I’m just tired. I didn’t feel like ordering anyone about. I suppose Coir just took advantage.”
    â€œTook advantage? She refused to do anything!”
    She shrugged as if it took a great deal of effort.
    â€œShe’s never liked me. She was always jealous of you. It was—it was easier this way.”
    â€œWas it easier to let Bilicho take care of Hefin?”
    Her body jerked up as if it had been stung by a jellyfish. The eyes glinted a little, but any anger was trapped by the fog.
    â€œNo. I told you I was tired. Bilicho and Stricta did it as a favor to me.”
    I didn’t say anything. I took her hand again and noted her pulse was faster. She was frightened of something.
    I took her face and turned it to mine. “Gwyna, what is it?”
    Once more, I thought I saw her. Then she put the smile back on.
    â€œNothing, Arcturus. I’ll be fine. You won’t have to divorce me.”
    I bent over and kissed her cheek. She let me, but that was all.
    â€œI’m sorry. Sorry for hiding in my own world, sorry I left you, in body and spirit. Sorry for letting my weakness hurt you. I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you, Gwyna, and I will do everything I can to make up for it. I love you more than anything in this world or any other. Please give me a chance to show it.”
    I kissed her lips, gently. She lay back on the bed.
    â€œI’m—tired, Arcturus. If you don’t mind…”
    I nodded. She avoided my eyes, turning toward the wall.
    Somewhere beneath this drawn, apathetic woman was my Gwyna—and she was screaming.
    *   *   *
    Coir and Draco left before breakfast. I’d miss Draco. Hell, I’d even miss Coir. I was sorry it ended like it did. Freeing people is generally a happier event. Draco was practically in tears, but I didn’t know my own way and could hardly tell him his. I told him he was welcome in my home anytime—as long as she wasn’t with him.
    I asked Venutius to find another house slave, preferably an old woman. That was all the thought I could give to domestic arrangements. It was time to talk to Bilicho.
    Typically generous gesture of Gwyna’s, to give them her father’s house to live in. I stood and looked down the street where I’d walked last December, trying to find the beautiful blond woman who needed my help. The neighborhood looked the same, the house better than I remembered it.
    I knocked on the door, finally getting the kind of welcome I hoped for.
    â€œArcturus!”
    He hugged me hard enough to fuse my lungs, then held me at arm’s length.
    â€œYou’re thinner.”
    â€œI am not—I’m fatter.”
    â€œNo, you’re not. You’re thin and troubled, and I know why.”
    We walked into the surprising center of the house: a round-house triclinium, the Roman exterior hiding the native interior. I smelled food in the kitchen, like the first time. Except this wasn’t chickpeas and pork, it was lentils and bread.
    â€œStricta! Look who’s back!”
    A dark, wraithlike woman emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel tied around her waist. She held out her hands toward me.
    â€œArcturus! It is so good of you to come by! When did you get home?”
    Her Latin was stronger, less inflected with an Egyptian accent, and she’d finally gained some