by Gail Dayton
Both men froze, breath hot in each other's faces, taking the moment to recognize the end of the fight, the winner, the loser.
“Your magic is strong,” Athen whispered. “I am honored to have known a man so touched by the One.” And he dropped his full weight on the dagger Fox held, burying it deep in his heart.
Fox jerked his hand off the dagger, shouting in horror as he caught Athen, lowered him to the sand. “Kallista! Kallista, come quick—see what he's done. Save him!"
She flew across the sand, Leyja at her heels, the other medics running from the Daryathi side. But when the others saw the dagger's hilt protruding from Athen's chest, they slowed, stopped. Kallista kept coming, dropping to her knees.
“Look what he's done—” Fox's throat ached, so tight he could scarcely force words through. “Do something."
“There's nothing to be done.” The satisfaction in the old man's voice sickened Fox. “He honored the One. He is gone."
“Not yet, he's not.” Kallista laid her hands over Athen's awful wound, surrounding the blade that pierced him. “There's life in him yet."
“It flows out onto the sands with his blood.” Murat walked along the decking, around to the side to be closer to the scene on the bloody sand.
“No.” Kallista drew magic, packing it around the mortal wound to stop the blood flow. She had only a few ticks of the clock to save him, to repair his heart and get it beating again, according to the naitani who had trained her in this use of her magic. Otherwise, Athen as he was would be lost to them. “His blood is not flowing. He is not dying. I told you, old man, no one dies today."
She hoped. She had never yet healed anyone so grievously wounded who was not ilias. The blood loss was halted but his heart was not beating, could not beat as long as cold steel speared it.
“Fox.” She could feel his horror through the link. It would be good for him to help. “I need you to pull the dagger out, on my signal."
“Aye.” He grasped the hilt and waited.
Kallista squeezed the magic closer round the blade so it would slide into the wound as the blade slid out and keep Athen from losing any more blood. “Now."
Fox drew the dagger out exactly along the path it had gone in, not opening the wound any further. As the magic flowed into Athen, Kallista went with it. It was hard work to match up the cut edges precisely and urge them to heal at a speed far greater than natural. She had only moments before Athen-who-was would begin to lose bits of himself. But perhaps the magic would heal that too, if need be.
The tear in his heart was sealed if not fully whole when Kallista sensed Athen somehow ... coming loose. She kicked his heart into beating again with a tiny shock of her lightning—she'd learned that trick back in Academy, that lightning could start hearts to beating as well as stop them—and grabbed for him the same way she'd grabbed Torchay during his dreamscape adventure. “You stay here,” she ordered, pinning him back into his body.
“How can I? I have failed,” Athen's spirit said. “I have disappointed my grand master and the One above all."
“You lose a single fight and you're ready to quit?” Kallista took a moment to start the rest of Athen's injury healing along the dagger's path to his now-healing heart, and to send a surge of reassurance to her iliasti before stepping with Athen into the dreamscape.
“Is there anyone who has never failed?” she demanded. “Is not the One a God of second chances? And third chances, and twenty-seventh? There is forgiveness and beginning again, even for failure much greater than yours. Do you truly believe that you have accomplished all the One has for you to do?” Kallista touched his cheek, let her hand rest on his shoulder. “Perhaps that's why I am here today. So that you can have the chance to live long enough to fulfill your purpose."
“But—I failed. Didn't I?” Athen sounded more bewildered now than despairing.
“Did you? Fox Reinas has been touched by the One. He uses magic instead of sight. How is a loss to him worse than any other loss? Is it not less that losing to another? And if he can be used by the One, blind as he is, do you not think the One has a use for you?"
“I—” Athen blinked at her. “Suppose..."
“Smart boy.” Kallista eased him back down into his body, checked that the healing had settled in nicely and stepped back into her own.
“Welcome back,” Torchay murmured at her shoulder, wearing a hastily donned medic's robe.
Kallista tossed him a quick smile and lifted her hands from Athen's bloodied chest. He wasn't completely healed, wouldn't be for a good while yet, but it was well under way. He would not die, not today. Not for many years to come, she hoped.
Athen opened his eyes and smiled at her. Kallista smiled back, then stopped him as he struggled to rise. “Leyja, clean him up,” she said. “Bandage his wound. You need rest, Athen. In bed, for several more days before you begin much walking. The dagger pierced your heart. It will take time to recover."
“Thank you.” Athen captured her hand and brought it to his mouth for a kiss, his soulful gaze holding hers. “I will not forget anything you have said to me."
Leyja fastened his bandage down with a bit of the naitan-made stickum she carried, and the Daryathi-side medics helped Athen to his feet and off the arena sands.
“What have you done?” the grand master snarled at Kallista as Athen was helped off. “You have gone against the will of the One."
“If it were the One's will that Athen die, I could not have healed him. I have gone against your will, Murat. Do not confuse the two. It could be dangerous.” Kallista took Leyja's hand to rise to her feet.
“Death is part of the arena.” Murat reached for Athen as he neared the steps and the dedicat flinched aside, almost falling.
Kallista tried to send him strength, but without touching him, without Stone's joyous magic to help, she could not. “Death is part of life. This arena is ... something apart. And no one dies today, out of his time. Without necessity. No one dies in this arena today. I told you this, and I have been given the magic to make sure it is so."
She held Murat's gaze a moment longer until, with a grimace, the old man whirled and marched back to his place at the head of the arena. Kallista trudged back across the sands with the rest of the healers.
Obed met them at the steps to offer his hand. Kallista didn't need it. She hadn't gone feeble yet. She was only forty, for the One's sake—forty-one. But she took it anyway. Obed seemed to need her to. “What did you say to the dedicat?"
Kallista gave her dark ilias a sharp look. But at least he was asking, rather than hiding his fears behind an emotionless mask. “I didn't propose, or declare undying love or anything, if that's what you're asking. I just told him he wasn't dying today. The One isn't through with him."
“He's in love with you.” Obed led her to the bench.
“They all are,” Torchay said with a crooked grin. “Those that aren't in love with Genista."
“Well, I'm not in love with them.” Kallista scowled at both her men. “Don't you have a contest to fight?"
In the end, the day's score tipped in the Adarans’ favor, six bouts to five, when Torchay and Obed both won their duels. The grand master snarled and snapped, trying to keep his dedicats and candidates from the traditional farewell in the arena's center, but to no avail. Everyone, including the watchers on both sides, met in the middle to congratulate the winners, hash over tactics and, in the case of at least a few, to flirt.
Ruel Dobruk-sa was not one of them. Though he cast a lingering sidelong glance at Genista, who seemed to be watching for him, he made his way through the crowd to bow to Torchay.
“Master, this one has achieved the rank of champion. This one would dedicate himself to your skola, to learn further.” Ruel bowed again.
Kallista heard him, for she'd been listening to Leyja and Torchay explain to the local medics how they combined healing with fighting. Was this a common request? Kallista grabbed Obed where he stood talking nearby, and hauled him closer.
“Say that again,” she ordered.
Flushing a dull crimson, Ruel glanced at Torchay and at Obed for confirmation of the order.
“She's the Reinine,” Torchay said, tipping his head at her. “She's the one in charge. My rank is sergeant, no’ Master.” He turned to Obed, not waiting for the young champion to repeat himself. “Seems the lad wants to leave this skola and join ours. Even though we don't have one."
“Is this allowed?” Kallista asked.
“It does not happen often,” Obed said. “But it is permissible. You are champion, correct?"
Ruel blushed and bowed agreement.
“So?” Kallista looked from Obed to Torchay and back again. “We can take him with us, apparently. Should we?"
Those nearest the small conference at the edge of the arena had stopped to listen, and more turned their attention every moment. It worried Kallista a bit, how others might react.
“Why not?” Torchay shrugged. “He's a good man with a weapon. If he's willing to swear to you—Tayo Dai never limited itself to Adarans. Penrith Ko was an Islander. Hoban Felessan came out of the far north beyond Tibre.” Torchay named two of the heroes from the old tales. “Why not a tattooed Daryathi?"
“Obed?” Kallista needed his counsel in this. He was the one who understood the skola, these people. And she didn't like the feeling she was getting. She couldn't pinpoint its source, or exactly what it was, but it was ugly and it frightened her.
His eyes on Grand Master Murat, Obed hesitated a long moment. “Yes,” he said finally. “I see no reason not to accept Ruel. But he should wait until morning to join us. The grand master is in a chancy mood. Best not to make it worse, if you intend to wait until later for your search."
She'd already searched the skola, but not inside people. They tended to notice. Obed was right. If she didn't want to search Murat now, it would be better not to upset him any more than he already obviously was.
Kallista nodded. “Ruel Dobruk-sa, I accept you into my service. Report to Sergeant Omvir at dawn."
Ruel bowed, backed away. With a spring in his step, he finally approached Genista, who met him with a smile.
“What do you call it,” Torchay mused, watching them, “when it's faster than a whirlwind romance?"
“Thunderbolt,” Obed said. “What happened to me when I met Kallista."
“Oh? Well, finally something we have in common then.” Torchay winked at Kallista and sauntered away to begin gathering up the bodyguards for departure.
As the gates opened and the Adarans left the skola, Kallista called magic and sealed the walls. It worried her, especially since she might be sealing the demon inside with all those boys. But if a demon was in the skola already, hiding inside one of these men as it had hidden inside the last Reinine's high steward, she didn't want it getting out.
And if it wasn't there, she certainly didn't want one getting in, now she'd cleaned everything up. As an afterthought, she added a warning bell, a bit of magic that would alert her if things started going badly wrong. Not just demons, but anything. She did not like that Murat.
* * * *
Their children had spent a wonderful, exhausting day running and playing like a pack of little wild things, and either fell asleep early, or were cranky and demanding because they should have done. Kallista dispensed hugs and kisses to the few who stayed awake past the adults’ dinner and sent them off for the servants to deal with. There were times she truly appreciated being Reinine. And didn't that make her feel guilty. It was late, the crescent moon riding high in the sky, when Kallista retreated to the room she shared with an already sleeping Obed, and called magic. Time to scour a few souls while hunting for demons. She took a moment to scrub away the demon stains from the village, fewer here than in the skola. Then she sent her magic arrowing for that walled community. She had always been able to send her hunter magic ranging a long way even without the dreaming. Kallista hoped she might be able to grapple with any demon hiding in the skola, even from her comfortable spot seated cross-legged in the bed at the inn. The magic slipped through the warding around the skola, like recognizing like, and went sniffling through the maze of residence buildings, hunting for the wrongness she and Fox had seen. Was it demons? She intended to find out. The warping lay scattered at random throughout the living quarters, with the occasional cluster. More of it than she had hoped, or wanted to count just now. It didn't matter how many there were. She would search them all. Whatever was required, however long it took, she would find the demons. Kallista gathered her magic and sent it plunging into the nearest twistedness. No demon. Just a deep torrent of often-indulged rage. The next held a love of inflicting pain. One at a time she searched out all the different twists, offering healing to those who wanted it. Few did. They hugged their perversity close, cherished it, indulged it, told themselves it was normal, ordinary. Virtue, rather than vice. 229 * * * *GAIL DAYTON Murat was one of these. She found the mark of demons on him, imbedded so deep it had become a part of him, woven into his very nature. But Fox had guessed right. Murat bore no demon now. Years ago, a demon had ridden him, had taken a flaw in his nature—one he might have struggled with, but perhaps could have managed if he tried—and had strengthened it. Brought the fault forward until it overpowered whatever else Murat might have been. And when he had come to love his flaw, the demon left him. It left him to do its work, to gather others with their own flaws, teaching them to indulge, giving them opportunity to develop their twisted tastes. The demon might have begun this work, but Murat's own will and that of those he gathered had continued it. They had made this place into what it had become. Kallista sat slumped in bed, drained dry and sick to her heart at what she had found. She felt grubby. Nasty, as if the awful things her magic touched had leaked through to her. She ached all over, in places she couldn't name, the parts of her that lifted, pushed, carried this magic. Searching so many had exhausted her, but she was too tired, too soul-weary to sleep. “K'lista?” Obed's arm fumbled its way round her waist where she sat tucked against his sleeping form. “What're you doing?” “Nothing. Magic. It's all right. I'm done.” “Then come to sleep.” He tried to pull her down beside him, but asleep as he was, couldn't find the right leverage. “You need rest.” “All right, don't fuss.” She slid down into the bed beside him, snuggling her back into his front. “Fuss if I want to,” he mumbled, nuzzling through her hair until his lips touched her neck. “Love you, K'lista.” “Love you, too, Obed. Go back to sleep.” “Will if you will.” She smiled as a soft snore told her he hadn't waited. Kallista tucked his arm more securely around her middle and wished for someone to put her arms around. Any of them would be nice. Just as sleep stole up on bare feet to claim her, she realized that Obed had chased away the nasty, grubby feeling.
* * * *
Night had grown even darker when Kallista jolted straight up into darkness, every nerve jangling.
“What?” Obed was on his feet, sword in hand. “What is it?"
She scrambled out of bed, hunting her clothes. “The skola. Something's gone bad wrong at the skola. Wake up the others. Everyone—except the children. Don't wake the children, but everyone else. Everyone."
Torchay burst in, wearing his smallclothes and his sword sheath, both blades in his hands. “What's wrong?"
Obed went to the door, relaying orders to the bodyguard just outside it.
“We have to get to the skola.” Kallista tried to pull her tunic on and pull magic at the same time.
With an exasperated huff, Obed tossed his saber aside and came to put Kallista in her clothes. “Do we have time to dress?"
“If we hurry. Get Leyja. She's in charge of protecting the children. I don't know if what's wrong at the skola will come here—there's no demons. We don't have to worry about demons. I looked. But there's trouble. I want our babies safe."
Torchay nodded. “I'll get my trousers after I tell her."
“Tell the others. Half the troop stays here, half with us to stop the trouble there.” Kal
lista threw Obed's trousers at him, dressed now, and tied her hair back without bothering to braid it. “I want all the guards who went to the skola to go with us. Be ready. I won't wait. They'll just have to catch up."
“Bloody hells, Kallista, you can't—"
“I'm not waiting, so you'd better move right sharpish, love.” She buckled on her sword as Torchay dashed back out into the inn bellowing orders.
When Kallista trotted up the road to the skola, Torchay was shirtless, still fastening up his trousers, but at her side. Obed stalked at her other shoulder. Fox led the way, scouting ahead with his peculiar senses while Joh followed at the head of the Tayo Dai and the dozen or so soldiers who'd been ready to march. Aisse and Viyelle had decided to lend their swords to Leyja, defending the children, and Captain Kargyll was chivvying the rest of the troop into order.
The moon still rode high in the sky but now on its downward slide, a crescent sliver of light that didn't penetrate the shadows beneath the cottonwood trees lining the road and the stream beside it.
“How do you know?” Torchay winced, his stride skipping as he stepped on something sharp with his bare feet. “That there's trouble in the skola?"
“I set an alarm. Magic.” Kallista dropped her pace a bit so she could walk and speak at the same time. “After I cleaned out the demon stain, when we left, I sealed the skola off. No demons in, none out. And I set an alarm, in case there was a demon hiding. Or in case that chancy mood of Murat's went bad. There's no demon. I looked before I slept. But there's a lot of bad. I just—I don't know what might have set off the alarm—"
“Someone's coming,” Fox called back to them. “A party from the skola—” He paused. “They're boys. Young ones."
Kallista hurried to reach Fox. Ten or twelve terrified boys with shiny shaved heads cowered naked in the road. Some of them shared blankets. Some fought tears. They were in the care of two older boys of sixteen or so with hair down around their ears and weapons in hand to shield the youngsters. One of the older ones had managed to grab a kilt before they ran. He stepped up, frightened but defiant in his determination to protect.