by Derek Smith
He was barely over the hearth when Zeke turned on him.
‘I’m sick as a dog. You make me sicker and I’ll strangle you in your own guts.’
‘I am a proficient healer, your highness.’
Zeke waved a hand dismissively. ‘That’s what they all say.’
‘Tell me your symptoms, your highness.’
Zeke strode about the room, pushing a hand through his blond hair. His face was white and blotched, the scar across it showing out even more in bright pink.
‘I’ve got streaming diarrhoea, a headache to kill a horse, and I can hardly move this arm.’ He indicated his right arm.
‘Thank you, your highness.’
He must be polite, he must be formal, he must show he knows what he is doing. Far turned to the officer who was still in the room, ‘I’d like a bowl of hot water, sir.’
‘Get it,’ ordered Zeke.
‘Right away, your highness.’
The officer hurried off.
‘Your highness, I must go to my wagon to get my preparations. I’d be obliged if in the meantime you remove your shirt.’
But Zeke was not letting him leave the hothouse so easily.
‘So what have I got, healer?’
‘If it was dysentery you wouldn’t be standing up. Probably food poisoning…’
Heavens, he’d omitted ‘your highness’. Too late to add it.
‘I did eat some muck yesterday,’ said Zeke. ‘What about this bitch of a headache?’
There were empty wine bottles lying around the floor. It would not be a good idea to mention those, even if they fitted the symptoms.
‘I need to look at the wound on your arm, your highness. See your tongue. Examine you for fever…’
Zeke sank onto the sofa and clutched his head with his good arm.
‘Do you think it’s the Tobards, young fellow?’
‘I don’t understand, your highness.’
‘Gave me this headache. The diarrhoea.’ He laughed then winced at the pain it gave him. ‘They do everything else round here.’
‘I think your highness has killed most of them,’ said Far cautiously.
‘Damn right. Except one. The chief dog.’ He wagged his finger directly at Far. ‘You know who that one is?’
‘Yes sir. I mean your highness. Prince Toby.’
Zeke was at once on his feet and lunged at Far, grasping him by the nose.
‘How dare you call that dung bag a prince?’
Far reeled in pain as Zeke twisted.
‘Sorry, your highness. I didn’t mean it. He used to be…’
Zeke let go. And spat in Far’s face. Half in his eye, half down the cheek.
Far let the spit lay. He would have liked to arrange his nose but Zeke was demanding his attention.
‘He is called Traitor Toby. Not Prince. I am a Prince, so how can he be one? Traitor Toby. Get me, boy.’
‘Traitor Toby, your highness.’
‘Do you know what I’d do to him if I had him?’
The spit was dripping down Far’s cheek, over the side of his mouth. His nose was stinging.
‘Torture and kill him, your highness.’
‘I’d make him eat his own eyeballs. Toasted. Then his tongue. The last Tobard in his own stew.’ He threw his arms wide and then yelled in pain, ‘Get your bloody preparations, healer. Cure me, or I’ll hang you by your big toe.’
Far rushed out.
Chapter 53
‘It’s Prince Zeke, isn’t it?’ whispered Orly.
She was still invisible by the wagon which Far was searching through.
‘It most certainly is,’ said Far. ‘And he’ll kill me if I’m not back pretty soon.’
He was breathing heavily, his nose still hurting. He had wiped the spit off his cheek.
‘He knows Toby well,’ said Orly.
‘Sh!’ said Far, ‘the guard by the gate is watching us.’ He clutched the band around his neck, and his thoughts came through to her. Keep Toby asleep if you can. If he wakes, tell him what’s going on, so he can pretend to still be asleep. I’ll do my best to keep Zeke inside. But he’s an animal.
Orly nodded, then realised an invisible nod was quite useless to anyone.
Far picked up his sack of herbs and preparations.
I must get back.
‘Be careful,’ she whispered.
He nodded and began his way back. His voice still came to her.
I hope I can cure Prince Zeke. And get him to keep his temper long enough so we can get away in one piece.
She wanted to reply, to say something hopeful but he had the only power. All she could do was watch him cross the parade ground, the sack over his shoulder. He did not turn. Nor should he. To anyone else, she was not there.
A groan came from Toby. It was likely he’d wake soon, she thought. His head was out of the blanket. Anyone, who looked at all closely, would see he was no sister.
She felt rather useless. Was there anything she could do herself? She could go in and see Zeke. Though what would be the point to that? She couldn’t help Far. He was a better healer than she was anyway. And it would simply leave Toby unattended. And if he woke up, then sat up – that would be enough. Invisible, she’d be the one to get away; but Toby and Far would be dead meat.
Toby was definitely stirring. Perhaps she should move him quicker.
Within the wagon, she tipped a flask of water onto a piece of cloth. Carefully she wiped it over Toby’s face. His eyes opened. Putting her lips right next to his ear she whispered to him.
‘This is Orly. I am invisible. Don’t speak. Just listen. Keep lying there. Whatever you do, don’t sit up. We are in a soldiers’ camp. Prince Zeke is here.’
‘Zeke!’ exclaimed Toby.
She put a finger to his lips. ‘Sh! They think you are Far’s sister. There’s only two on the permit to travel. Far and his sister. Stay under the blanket. And shut up.’
Toby nodded.
With relief she realised he had taken it in. An awful lot when she came to think of it. How much did he in fact understand? An invisible person telling you that you are someone’s sister in an army camp with your enemy in shouting distance – had he got all that? Some, all, what part?
Toby felt around and gripped her hand. He pulled it further towards him. She thought of resisting but gathered there was some point to this. Then he followed up her arm to her head. He felt around her head, squashing her nose. He found an ear and, as gently as he could – not that gently – pulled it down to his level.
‘Get in the wagon,’ he whispered.
To talk more easily, she thought, as it was quite painful bending her head over the wagon board. She took his hand away and climbed in. Then lay by his side.
‘Well?’ she said.
‘Give me the earring,’ he said.
This angered her. Toby even now, dangerous as it was, was determined to take her magic.
‘No.’
‘Don’t you see?’ he whispered. ‘You must be the sister. Visible. It’s me who shouldn’t be seen.’
She couldn’t deny that. Of course. If Toby were the invisible one, then there would be a male and female as on the permit. The rat, she thought; he was going to get her earring as he’d wanted. Reluctantly, she twisted it out of her ear. And, as she did so, form flooded into her.
‘Good to see you, Orly.’
‘Pig,’ she grimaced, and handed him the earring.
‘How do I get it in my ear?’ he whispered, ignoring the insult.
She took it back with a sniff of disdain. ‘I’ll have to force it,’ she said almost gleefully. ‘It’ll hurt.’
‘Do it.’
‘Bite your sleeve,’ she said.
He bit his cuff. And she pushed the prong of the earring into his ear. It was like forcing a nail through. The skin stretched and reddened. Toby winced and moaned. She continued pushing. And suddenly it was through in a burst of blood.
‘I feel like a stuck pig,’ groaned Toby.
/> ‘Shut up,’ she hissed.
Orly twisted the earring. Then back again. The tips of her fingers were covered in blood.
‘It’s not working,’ she whispered. In spite of everything, part of her was glad.
‘Let me have a go.’
He took it and twisted it back and forth himself, several times. And he stayed persistently there. Visible.
‘It only works for you,’ he said, giving up.
She took it out of his ear and put it back in her own. But she didn’t twist it, instead considering matters a while.
At last she said, ‘I’m staying visible. I’m Far’s sister, Lily. I have to be here. You’re not here. You must hide under the herbs and our clothes.’
Toby thought about this. Then nodded.
‘Help me hide.’
He rolled into a corner of the wagon. Still lying down, to keep out of sight, Orly placed clothing and sacks of herbs over him.
‘You must stay absolutely still,’ she whispered. ‘I’m now going to wake up.’
And she stretched her arms and sat up in the wagon.
Chapter 54
Far was still in the hut. Orly thought of going in to see how he was getting on. He might be captured, and she could have some go at rescuing him. He might be dead, and that would be as well to know too.
‘Hurry up and cure the bastard,’ hissed Toby from under his cover.
‘Sh!’
‘I’m stiff as a board.’
‘Shut up, or you’ll be dead as one.’
The guard had virtually forgotten about her. She was the girl on the permit, and he knew nothing of the other passenger. She had tidied up the wagon, she had eaten and given Toby a crust and some water. She had thought of watering the horse, but that would mean leaving Toby. And if she was here, then if needs be she could distract whoever came. Besides, it wasn’t clever for her to walk around. Zeke might well recognize her. Admittedly it was a couple of years ago, she was better dressed then and younger – but why add to the risk?
A young man and woman were being brought in by a soldier. Both had their heads bowed. The soldier had his sword out and was walking behind them, harrying them across the parade ground. More incorrect papers, thought Orly. She crossed her fingers for them as they went into one of the huts. The door was open but it was too dark to see in from this distance. A little later she heard a man yelling. It was followed by screaming, from a man and then a woman. Orly covered her ears, she felt sick and terrified. Life here was as cheap as firewood.
She still had her hands over her ears when Far came out of the central hut. The officer was accompanying him. They were chatting, laughing even. They at last parted, the officer went to the gate and Far to the wagon.
Far saw Orly and was puzzled for a second. She indicated the wagon with her head and he nodded.
At the wagon, he climbed at once onto the front board.
‘Let’s get away while we are winning,’ he said.
‘You’ve cured him?’ she said.
‘Let’s get away.’
He took the reins and turned the horse to face the gate. He directed the animal forward. It lumbered slowly to the entrance. The officer was talking to the guard.
As they came through the officer said to Orly, ‘Had a good sleep, Miss?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said.
‘Your brother has done a first class job.’
‘He’s the best,’ she said.
‘Pleased to do my duty,’ said Far.
And they were through. Far turned the horse back on to the road. Orly was eager to hear what he’d done but Far would not speak. So they settled into silence, part of the slow traffic of the road. It was a little cooler than it had been; the day had clouded over. There was a drover in front, going their way with a herd of sheep. After perhaps half a mile the drover turned off. There was another wagon a few hundred yards ahead, and one as far behind.
‘I cured him,’ said Far.
‘How?’ said Orly.
‘I gave him willow bark for the headache.’
‘I could have done that,’ said Orly.
Toby was listening in the back, sitting up and stretching.
‘Chalk and dog’s parsley for the stomach ache.’
‘Even I knew that.’
‘I said the diarrhoea would go away and he shouldn’t eat until it did.’
‘Why did he think you were so wonderful?’ exclaimed Orly. ‘I could have done any of that.’
‘I washed his shoulder wound, bathed it with nettle and beeswax infusion, and then bandaged it in sphagnum moss.’
‘Alright,’ she admitted, ‘a bit better than I would have done. But not much.’
‘Then I gave him tonic number 3.’
Orly burst out laughing. ‘Oh you didn’t!’
‘What’s so funny about tonic number 3?’ said Toby.
‘It contains the laughing mushroom,’ said Orly. ‘Erdy says it won’t cure anything but will make you feel better. And by the time you realise – you might well be.’
A driver of a wagon, piled high with turnips, coming the other way raised his hand to them. Orly raised hers in greeting.
‘He offered me a job,’ said Far. ‘As his personal healer.’
‘What did you say?’ said Toby.
‘I said I’d take it up on the way back.’
Orly laughed. Toby laughed too. They knew their journey was one way. Either they would change the regime. Or they would be dead.
‘And then,’ said Far. ‘I killed him.’
Orly looked at Far to see if this was a joke. He was holding the reins lightly, a slight smile on his face. So maybe it was a trick of sorts.
‘What do you mean ‘I killed him’?’ she said.
‘I mean I killed him.’
Toby was leaning between the two of them. Far had little to do as the horse plodded on. The road ran in a slight rise to the horizon.
‘You can’t have,’ exclaimed Toby standing over him. ‘They wouldn’t have let us go. We’d be dead.’
‘I did,’ said Far.
‘Please make sense,’ said Orly.
‘I made him up an infusion of Dark Angel.’
Toby looked to Orly. She shrugged, not understanding.
‘I put honey in it and mint,’ went on Far. ‘It tastes delicious. But Dark Angel is very poisonous, slow acting with no antidote. He’ll be dead in ten hours.’
‘Are you certain?’ exclaimed Toby.
‘As certain as I can be. A couple of weeks ago I talked about it with Erdy, I’ve read it up. And I put in double the dose.’
They were silent for a while. The only sound was sheep bleating in the field, the squeaking of the wagon wheels and the clip clop of the horse on the hard ground.
‘Suppose he dies…’ said Toby.
‘He will.’
‘They’ll be after us.’
‘They won’t be sure it’s me,’ said Far.
‘But think it pretty likely,’ insisted Orly.
Far nodded.
‘We can’t go to Errlop,’ she said.
‘No,’ said Far. ‘A change of plan is needed.’
‘How are we going to eat?’ said Orly. ‘We’re healers. We were to sell our remedies at the market to make money to keep ourselves.’
‘I don’t care,’ yelled Toby, suddenly ablaze. ‘Zeke is dead.’
He stood up and did a jig in the back of the wagon, his hands high in the air.
‘Zeke is dead!’
He stopped and sank to his knees, leaned forward and kissed Far on the cheek.
‘You have made me happier than I have been in two years. Bless you, Far. Meeting you was my lucky day!’
Orly laughed and clapped her hands.
‘Oh Far,’ she exclaimed, ‘your first proper job at healing – and you have killed the patient. Well done!’
And she kissed him on the other cheek.
‘And here’s a promise for you, Far,’ said Toby. ‘May Orly be my witness. S
hould I ever become King then I will make you a Lord for what you have done today.’
Chapter 55
Everything was now changed. Or rather, it would be soon enough. When Zeke finally died the soldiers would be after them. And would catch them quickly in this lumbering wagon.
‘We’re going to have to dump it,’ said Far.
‘Can we sell the horse?’ said Toby.
‘I doubt it,’ said Far. ‘We need a market. And we can’t go to the one at Errlop where we would be able to sell it, because it’ll be too late.’
‘What about all this gear?’ said Orly, indicating their packed wagon.
‘We’ll have to abandon most of it,’ said Far.
They were still on the road, meeting other wagons, drovers and their animals and some on foot. In other times the road would have been busier, but the necessity for every traveller to have a permit cut back the numbers severely. No one travelled for trivial reasons.
They had a few hours yet – but had to make the most of them. All were agreed on the necessity of abandoning the wagon. The problem was where. If they simply stopped on the road, took out what they could and left the rest, then the soldiers would find it at once. And would know where they had left the road.
They would have liked to have waited until dark. Easier then to lose the wagon and disappear across the fields and back roads. But they couldn’t delay that long.
‘We must get up to the High Ridge,’ said Toby.
He and Orly were in the back of the wagon looking at a map. It wasn’t a particularly good one, but at least had the main features and towns. The High Ridge coursed across the country. No roads crossed it, although there were paths here and there. Its difficulty was their advantage. It couldn’t be travelled on horseback.
They pulled into a field surrounded by a high hedge. They drew the wagon hard against the hedge in one corner, hoping it would not be seen from the road. And then began to unload what they needed.
‘All the food,’ said Orly.
‘There’s not much of it anyway,’ said Toby.