Exodus of the Xandim (GOLLANCZ S.F.)

by Maggie Furey

  Then suddenly they were all looking at her, and Chiannala trembled.

  How had it all gone wrong? She was supposed to be a hero. She was the one who had saved the patient, the only one who had been able to bring him back. She had risked her life – had nearly died.

  Stupid Healers.

  They should have been grateful – but were they? No. Instead she was surrounded, hemmed in like a beast of prey by a circle of steel-eyed Healers, and all of them tearing into her at once.

  She was a fool, a moron, an irresponsible little idiot. Who did she think she was, a mere student of two days, to try such an insane thing? She had been warned by Melisanda about burnout. If she couldn’t listen, couldn’t follow instructions, couldn’t obey orders, she would be no good as a Healer. How dare she try to meddle with the delicate spells of older, experienced Healers? Proper Healers? She was a fool, and idiot, a moron.

  And so on.

  Chiannala was shaking. Looking around at the circle at those angry, accusing faces, she didn’t see how hollow-eyed they were, how grey-faced and drawn with fatigue. She didn’t sense the fear that clawed them, because they had come so close to losing a student. She didn’t understand the sorrow and frustration of having to watch a patient slipping away from them, inch by inch, moment by moment, until they lost him to death. She only knew, or cared, that just when they ought to be heaping her with praise for her daring and self-sacrifice, they were attacking her instead. Once again she was the outcast, the pariah, the one who was never good enough.

  The half-breed.

  That small, nasty inner voice shocked her back to her senses. She was good enough. They had no right to treat her like this. They were the ones who were stupid and ungrateful. She was every bit as good as them – better than them, in fact. Only she had been able to bring back the dying patient. They were only jealous, all those so-called experienced Healers, because she had done what they could not. And she was damned if she was going to let them frighten her, make her feel stupid, make her feel small.

  Chiannala staggered to her feet and let her anger rise, hot and searing, to burn the fear away. ‘You’ve no right to talk to me like that! I saved him. I helped him. He wanted to die and I was the only one brave enough to go inside him and persuade him to fight. I’m not the one who’s stupid here. I never wanted to be a Healer in the first place, but you made me, and then when I tried to heal somebody you all attacked me. Well, you can take your Healing and your Academy and your stupid city, and you can stick them up your—’

  Luckily, before her temper could take her down a road she never wanted to travel, her tirade was cut off by the sound of a moan coming from the bed, and urgent cries from the two Healers who were caring for him while the others dealt with their recalcitrant student. In an instant, Chiannala found herself alone and ignored as the Healers clustered around the patient. Though his face was contorted with pain, his eyes were open, and they were fixed on Chiannala. As she caught his gaze, the connection sizzled through the air between them like a lightning bolt, shaking her to the core. Somewhere in the shadowy realm between life and death, a bond had been forged between them. They were one. They were together. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel, deep down inside, that she was isolated from the rest of the world.

  ‘Let her be.’ His voice was a mere whisper, yet it still had an echo of authority and command. Though he was addressing the Healers, he never took his eyes from Chiannala. ‘She saved me. You should thank her.’

  Tinagen ignored this, putting his hands on either side of the patient’s head to block any pain. ‘We’ll talk about her later, Incondor. Right now, we need to concentrate on you. Save your energy. Now that you’re conscious, it will be easier help you, because you can work with us. First of all we’ll get you something to drink, and make you more comfortable. Then some of our team will feed energy to you, while others work on repairing the damage. We’ll soon have you feeling—’

  ‘Wait.’

  Tinagen’s eyes flashed. No one interrupted a Luen Head – not in that imperious tone. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Her.’ Incondor lifted a shaky hand and pointed at Chiannala. ‘I want her.’

  ‘I’m afraid that isn’t possible,’ Tinagen told him flatly.

  The young man’s eyes sheened with tears. ‘I need her,’ he whispered.

  ‘Right now, I’m the best judge of what you need.’ Tinagen turned to Chiannala. ‘Come along, Brynne.’ His tone brooked no argument. Fuming, she let him usher her from the room.

  ‘Go back to the student quarters and stay there.’ Tinagen’s voice was like ice, like steel. ‘Do not return here until you’re sent for.’ Then he turned on his heel and went back into the sickroom.

  At that point Chiannala hadn’t cared. She was still riding high on anger – and something more.

  Incondor. So his name was Incondor.

  He had looked at her.

  He had seen her.

  He had wanted her.

  His name rang in her heart, beat in her blood as she walked back to the student dwelling, ignoring the glory of the sunset, her feet finding their way through force of habit while her mind was elsewhere. It was only when she got back, and looked around her precious little room, that her mood shattered and the enormity of what she had done came rushing in. The rage, the euphoria all drained away, leaving her empty, afraid – and horrified at what she’d done.

  Chiannala was devastated.

  Over and over again she cursed her stupidity, cursed her temper. Why, oh why, had she struck back at the Healers like that? Why hadn’t she just kept her head down and her mouth shut like a good little student, and meekly accepted their rebukes? It wouldn’t have killed her to bury her pride for once. She had done worse to get here, to stay here at the Academy. And now she had ruined everything.

  She sank down on the bed, put her face in her hands and contemplated the wreck of her future, the ruin of all her hopes and plans. When Tinagen had ushered her from Incondor’s chamber his face had been hard and cold as granite, but she had seen the smoulder of anger behind his eyes. He looked at her as if she were nothing. An insect.

  Oh, how could she have blazed up like that? What had she been thinking? No student would ever be allowed to get away with such behaviour. They would send her away, that was certain. She would lose her place at the Academy, after everything she’d done to get here: running away, robbing her parents, stealing a horse.

  Murder.

  No, no – she wouldn’t think of that. She wouldn’t think of Brynne, the farm girl she’d pushed off a cliff in order to steal her face, her background, her place here at the Academy. It was done, in the past; there was no going back now.

  And she’d just thrown it all away.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. If they sent her away from here who could she be? Where could she go? She couldn’t remain as Brynne and go back to the farm; her subterfuge would never stand up to people who had known and loved Brynne all her life. She certainly couldn’t resume her original appearance and go back to her parents – not after what she’d done.

  She had nothing. She had no one. She had no future. She would never see Incondor again. Desolate, devastated, Chiannala lay down on the bed and wept and wept.

  She was not the only one who had problems.

  ‘What in the world are we going to do about that wretched girl?’ Melisanda looked across the table at Tinagen with eyes that burned with fatigue. They had retreated to his study to talk things over, but she suspected it was a mistake on her part. She should never have sat down. At present she felt as if she lacked the strength to ever get up again.

  ‘Right at the moment I would like to tie her in a sack and drop her into the ocean,’ the Healer snapped. He must have seen Melisanda’s stunned expression, because he sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. ‘I’m sorry, my dear. I know that doesn’t help. I just can’t seem to get my balance since I sold myself to Sharalind.’

  Melisanda reached out a hand to co
ver his own – a gesture which would normally have been too familiar for her to contemplate. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ she said softly. ‘You didn’t sell yourself. Sharalind backed you right into a corner where you had no other choice.’ Her hand clenched on his in anger. ‘She had no right to do what she did, arresting Heads of Luens. No right at all.’

  ‘She did it because she could. Because she had the backing of enough of the other Luen Heads to let her get away with it.’ He sighed. ‘I felt as if I had no choice, Melisanda. If I had refused to cooperate and back her in her dreadful plans for war she would have taken me out of time, as she did with Daina and Callia, and all this unholy mess would have come down on your head, as my second-in-command. I don’t mind telling you, as I would tell no one else, that I’ve never felt so afraid or so alone. And I was sick at heart and grieving over the fate of my dear old friend Aldyth . . .’ He broke off, and swallowed hard.

  ‘Aldyth didn’t die, though,’ Melisanda comforted him. ‘You must hold on to that. We’d have known if he had died.’

  ‘Yes, but where is he? What happened to him? Did they find him after all and did Sharalind take him out of time, as she threatened to do with the rest of us, if we didn’t fall into line? And if not, what became of him? How could he have survived that cold and stormy ocean? I live in fear, Melisanda; terrified that at any minute I will feel his death pangs . . .’

  A moment passed while he fought for control, then he continued: ‘And worst of all I am ashamed; ashamed and sickened by what I’ve done. I should have joined Aldyth, and leapt off that cliff. I should have been like Daina and refused to compromise. I should have defied Sharalind as she did, and let myself be taken out of time. But I didn’t. I told myself that now, in these dreadful times, my Luen needed me most. That at least if I were here, and active, I could do my best to protect my Healers from the worst of the devastation.’

  He had been looking down at the table as he spoke, but now he lifted shattered eyes to look at Melisanda. ‘The thing is . . . The thing is I’ll never know, never really know if what I did was common sense or cowardice. Was it you and all your brethren I was protecting? Or just myself?’

  ‘Well, for what it’s worth, I think you were right,’ Melisanda said firmly, ‘and so did Lanrion, or he wouldn’t have made the same choice as you. Daina’s and Callia’s sacrifices were brave, but what good has it done their Luens? The Artificers are in utter disarray; scared, demoralised, fighting over the leadership, and the merchants are no better. At least you’re here, you can help, you can act. And it wasn’t cowardice, Tinagen. Never believe that. It took a lot of courage to do what you did, to sacrifice your own values, your own wishes, for the greater good.’ She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. ‘I had a taste of what it was like while you were missing. There was panic, confusion; we all felt so lost.’ She smiled wryly. ‘As your second-in-command I, for one, am infinitely relieved that you’re still here.’

  Tinagen managed a smile for her. ‘Thank you, my dear. That means a lot to me, coming from you, for I know all too well that you would never lie to me to spare my feelings.’

  ‘You’d better believe it.’ Melisanda rose, and went across to the little spirit stove that stood on the workbench beneath the window. ‘Now, I’m going to make us some taillin and we can address the problem of what in the world we’re going to do with that appalling Brynne.’

  Tinagen sat back in his chair, stretched, and ran bony fingers through his red hair that suddenly, in the last few days, had started to show a lot more silver. ‘My immediate response to her outburst, and to what she did, is to expel her immediately. It worries me to have her at the Academy; to be putting so much power into the hands of someone with such a hot and reckless temper. But it’s not that simple.’

  Melisanda put a dollop of honey into each steaming cup of taillin and brought them back to the table. ‘You’re right – it’s not that simple, though the girl has been a thorn in our side from the outset with her sullen attitude. I don’t know what happened in the interim, but she’s not the same girl that we interviewed on her preparatory visit to the Academy. She was so bright and bubbly then, and she couldn’t wait to become a Healer.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know what could have changed.’

  ‘No matter what has changed, she’s still brilliant. She may have lost the vocation, but the talent is unmistakably there. She may have been rash, disobedient and stupid, and had we not been there to save her she would certainly have died along with her patient, but it took courage to do what she did, and there’s no denying that she was the one who brought him back – something that we, with all our experience, couldn’t do.’

  ‘And Incondor wants her, which complicates matters considerably.’ Melisanda took a sip of her taillin, and sighed with pleasure as it slid, hot and comforting, down a throat that was dry from talking. ‘I suppose it’s understandable. Bringing him back like that was bound to forge some kind of link between them; of gratitude if nothing else.’

  ‘It may be understandable, even inevitable, but it’s a bloody nuisance. Since we sent her away, Incondor has been angry and upset, and it’s affecting his recovery. He’s already slipping back downhill again.’ Tinagen scowled at his taillin as if the blame lay in the bottom of the cup. ‘It sticks in my throat, but I don’t see that we have any choice. We have to have the little wretch back. A lot hinges on our relationship with the Skyfolk right now, with war brewing between ourselves and the Phaerie. He’s Queen Pandion’s nephew; it wouldn’t do for us to lose him. Anyway, we swore an oath. From what I hear he’s a nasty piece of work who brought his troubles on himself, but it’s our duty to save him if there’s any way we can.’

  ‘So that’s it, then. We take Brynne back – and the cartload of problems that come with her. I only hope we’re not storing up more trouble for ourselves in the future.’

  ‘Not much point hoping that, I’m afraid.’ The Luen Head rubbed his tired eyes. ‘That girl has got problems written all over her. But taking care of Incondor should keep her out for trouble for the present, and there’s no doubt she’ll learn a great deal, which is to everyone’s benefit.’

  ‘You never know, it may even be enough to rekindle her passion for Healing.’

  ‘That’s my Melisanda.’ His smile for her held more than a hint of pride. ‘Always finding the good in the bad.’

  ‘In her case it’s not so difficult. She’s only a minor matter compared to the rest of our current situation.’ For a moment, Melisanda let her mask of constructive competence drop to reveal the fear and frustration that hid beneath, gnawing ceaselessly at her heart, and Tinagen, seeing a glimmer of tears that she quickly blinked away, remembered with some shame that he was not the only one who grieved. Her losses were far greater. Iriana and Avithan had been like family to her, and now Ionor, whom she had loved so dearly, had gone missing just like Aldyth.

  He knew what was in her heart. Ionor had been outspoken in his objections to Sharalind’s war plans. Had she taken him too? He realised that his own arrest had shaken her deeply, and how upset she was that Chathak and Yinze – and possibly even her dear friend Thara – were going off to fight. Would she lose them too? She must be fighting that fear for every minute of the day, yet she did not, could not, let it affect her work. She had remained capable, staunch and dedicated throughout a succession of crises, and he had no idea what he would have done without her. She had held everything together in his absence and, he was ashamed to admit, since his return. His own arrest and ensuing crisis of conscience had shaken him to the core. Since his return he had been distracted, and had not been giving his best to his Luen, his Healers or his work.

  Well, that would have to change. He could no longer afford such self-indulgence. It was time to face up to his responsibilities once more – and the first of these was to take care of this brave young woman to whom he owed so much. ‘Come along, Melisanda,’ he said. ‘You must put aside Brynne, and all the other troubles that beset us, for a time. Whe
n did you last eat a proper meal? When did you last sleep?’

  She blinked, frowned, and then gave an embarrassed little shrug. ‘I can’t remember. The days have all blurred into one.’

  ‘I thought so. And I, selfish fool that I am, have been letting you do your work and my own while I wallowed.’

  ‘You weren’t wallowing,’ Melisanda protested. ‘You were arrested, for goodness’ sake.’

  ‘True – but then I was released, and since I got back I’ve been wallowing, and letting you take up the slack. Well, it stops right now. You’re to go home and rest—’

  ‘I can’t go home, I can’t!’ The fine thread by which she’d been holding herself under control was fraying. ‘Don’t make me go back there, Tinagen. So many of them are missing now, there are too many empty spaces, and now the others are preparing to go too.’ She dropped her face into her hands. ‘We always thought our happy little family would last for ever. We always thought that nothing could divide us. What innocents we were. What fools.’

  In a flash Tinagen was on his feet, and went to put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Don’t despair, my dear. Maybe the war won’t happen. Maybe Cyran will return in time to put a stop to all this nonsense.’

  Melisanda shook her head. ‘I haven’t had a lot of luck with “maybe” lately.’

  ‘Well, right now you’re in no condition to deal with anything. I’m going to have a meal sent in here, and see that you eat it.’

  ‘I will if you will.’ She glanced up at him, and for a moment her old spark was back. He was so glad to see it that he gave in at once. ‘Very well. We’ll eat together, and then we’ll find a bed for you here at the Luen, in a nice quiet room that’s not being used right now. And once you’re there, I don’t want to see you for at least eight hours – all right?’

  Stubborn to the last, she shook her head. ‘I’ll never sleep.’

  ‘You’ll sleep.’

  And I’m going to put something into that food to make damn sure you do.