by Steven Brust
They came to the loose stone of the slopes above the caves and went down sideways, never quite losing their balance, but feeling the strain of maintaining it. Savn began to feel the effects of carrying the Easterner, light though he was. At about this time Vlad began to moan softly. Savn asked, “Vlad, are you awake?” but the Easterner said nothing that sounded like a response. A little later Savn said, “Master, maybe we should try this one?”
“I don’t remember how to get back to the water. Do you?”
Savn blinked back his surprise. “Yes, I think so.”
“All right. This way, then. Stop; this is far enough. I have to light a torch, or have you learned how to see in the dark?”
“How can we hold a torch and still carry Vlad?”
“I’ll drill a hole in your head for it.”
Savn considered himself answered. After carefully setting the Easterner on the floor of the cave, Master Wag brought one of the torches to light. He put it into his fist so it stuck out to the side, then indicated that Savn should pick Vlad up again.
They made their way back into the cave, Savn leading, until they could hear water dripping. “This is as far as we can go,” said Savn. “To get to the stream we have to go over this ledge and down a very narrow—”
“I understand. Set him down and let’s see how his fever is doing.” Vlad moaned again, and muttered something that sounded like “Do it yourself.”
Master Wag felt his forehead and said, “Start bathing his face with cool water, and find something to fan him with. I’m going to find the infection and see if we can exorcise it. Here, wipe this on his face, too. I have to find somewhere to put the torch—look!”
Savn looked in the direction Master Wag was pointing, but saw nothing except the two jhereg, who were sitting on the floor of the cave, wings folded, watching the proceedings. “What is it?” he said.
“They followed us!”
“Oh. Well, they’ve been doing that.”
“Mmmmm,” said the Master. “All right.”
He found a place to wedge the torch in between a pair of rocks, lit another, and set that on the other side of the cave. His two shadows performed an odd dance as he returned to the motionless Easterner. Savn continued bathing Vlad’s face and fanning him with the leather pouch taken from his room.
Master Wag peeled back Vlad’s shirt, and carefully removed the bandage. “Not bad,” he said.
“Master?”
“You could have done worse with this. But there are no signs of infection, which puzzles me. The fever—”
“Perhaps his leg,” said Savn.
Master Wag looked at the bandages wrapped around the Easterner’s thigh (which was hairy, like an animal’s, though Savn had not noticed this before), and began removing them. “Keep fanning,” he said.
Savn did so, and presently Master Wag said, “Yes, indeed.”
The wound had changed in the few hours since Savn had bound it. It was red, swollen, and puffy, and there was a thick white fluid coming from it. Savn stared, more fascinated than disturbed.
“Bathe his face again and keep fanning him.”
“What are you going to do?”
The Master didn’t answer, but began to remove things from his pouch—a sprig of laith, a vial labeled “essence of dreamgrass,” another vial with a light brown powder, mortar and pestle—and set them out around himself along with the knotweed and blowflower he’d collected on the way. Once more, watching the fluid efficiency of his hands while he worked, Savn was reminded of Vlad.
“Bathe his face,” repeated the Master, and Savn started guiltily, and complied. As he was doing so, his hand touched Vlad’s forehead; it had become even warmer in the time it had taken to get to the cave.
Savn began to fan him, but the Master said, “Wait, hold his head up so I can make him drink this.”
“What is it?”
“Crushed root of prairiesong, knotweed, and water. Tip his head—there. Down now, and begin fanning him again. Above all, he must be kept cool.”
Master Wag began touching and pressing the wound, and probing it with a thin, silvery tool that Savn could not recall having seen before, and, as he worked, the Master began to chant softly under his breath. Savn wanted to ask about the incantation, the tool, and the procedure, but he didn’t dare interrupt the spell. The Master broke off long enough to nod toward a pile of herbs and say, “Mash them well and add a little water.”
Vlad began speaking again, muttering phrases of which only a word or two was understandable. Master Wag looked up. “We do not pay attention to the ravings of those under our care,” he said, then returned to his soft chanting.
Savn did not answer. He handed the mortar to the Master, who took it without breaking off and poured the contents over the wound. Then he handed the empty vessel back to Savn and said, “Clean it, crush a small handful of those, put in three drops of this, and add more water to it. When it is done, make him drink it.”
Savn did so, holding Vlad’s head up. Vlad was still speaking, which made it easier to get the liquid down his throat. The Easterner coughed and half-choked, but did manage to swallow it.
The Master stopped his chanting and probing. “Notice,” he said, “how the edges of the wound are red. Are your hands clean? Then touch, here.”
Savn did so, tentatively. The wound seemed even warmer than Vlad’s forehead. “Sometimes,” said Master Wag, “it is possible to find the cause, the vehicle on which the Imps rode into the body. This time we were able to.”
“What?” said Savn.
“See, on the end of the probe?”
“What is it?”
“I believe it is a piece of his clothing, which was driven into the wound.”
“Clothing?”
“We wear clothing, why cannot the Imps? When a piece of cloth enters the body, it is almost certain that the spirits are riding it to a new home. It is our task to expel them. Thus I poured onto the wound the purest water I could find, mixed with laith, which demons hate, and blowflower leaves which purify. And through his mouth we give him dreamgrass to help him sleep, and prairiesong which cools the soul.”
“I see.”
“Now I push—here—and we expel the Imps. You see how thick and grey is the solution? That is the grey of death. Necromancers are known to use it for evil purposes, so we catch it on a cloth, which we will then burn thoroughly. Here. Set it aside for now, until we have the chance to build a fire. Hand me a clean cloth.”
Savn did these things. Master Wag’s mention of necromancers made him think of His Lordship, but he put the thought out of his head, telling himself sternly to concentrate on the task at hand. As he was reaching for the clean cloth, both jhereg suddenly rose as one, stared down the cave, and hissed.
Savn looked but didn’t see anything. “Who’s there?” he said.
The answer seemed to come from a long distance away, and it was full of echoes. “Savn? Where are you?”
The Master looked at him, his eyebrows raised.
Savn got one of the torches and began walking down back through the cave, the jhereg, still hissing, at his heels. “No,” he told them, “it’s all right.” He wasn’t certain if they believed him; at any rate, they continued hissing.
He found Polyi about fifty feet away, apparently caught between several diverging paths. “What are you doing here?”
“Following you,” she said.
“Why?”
“To see what—Eek!”
“It’s all right,” said Savn. “They won’t hurt you.” He hoped he was right.
“Are those the same—”
“Never mind that. Come with me. We’re trying to heal the Easterner.”
“I know. I saw you.”
The jhereg watched Polyi suspiciously, but didn’t seem inclined to attack her. Savn led the way back to where Master Wag was tending Vlad.
“It’s my sister,” he said.
The Master grunted, then said, “Get back to work.”
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Polyi didn’t speak.
Savn knelt down and touched Vlad’s forehead, which was still warm, as well as wet with perspiration.
“Bathe his head,” said Master Wag. “And I will teach you the spells. We will recite them together, and we will wait.”
“Savn—” said Polyi.
“Not now,” said Savn.
* * *
LESS THAN AN HOUR later, Master Wag touched Vlad’s forehead and said, “His fever has broken. We must let him sleep now.”
“My throat is sore,” said Savn.
“You must practice chanting,” said Master Wag. “Sometimes you will spend hour after hour doing nothing but sitting and reciting the spells. Your Easterner friend is lucky.”
Savn nodded. “How long will he sleep?”
“There’s no way to know. Probably a long time. But when he wakes, he will require water and—”
“Murmumph,” said Vlad. His eyes were open, and his expression was intelligent and aware. The two jhereg, forgotten by the side of the cave, began to hop around near his head. Polyi, who had not spoken for the entire time, just watched, her eyes wide and gleaming in the torchlight.
“I can’t understand you,” said Savn to Vlad.
The Easterner opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “Who?”
“This is Master Wag. He treated your fever.”
“Fever?” His voice was just above a whisper.
“Yes.”
Vlad glanced quickly at the jhereg and at Polyi, then nodded to Savn.
Master Wag said, “Would you like water? Food?”
“Yes,” said Vlad. “And yes.”
The Master nodded to Savn, who helped Vlad drink from the wineskin. “Do you have food?”
“Yes. I have some bread, and cheese, and spring onions, and beets, and a few seasonings.”
“Help me sit up,” said Vlad. Savn looked at Polyi. She hesitated, then helped Savn assist Vlad. It seemed to be quite an effort for the Easterner, but at last he was in a sitting position, his back very straight. He took slow, deep breaths. Something about the flickering of the torches made his face seem even more gaunt than usual. “More water,” he said.
Savn helped him drink.
“Back down,” said Vlad.
Savn and Polyi helped Vlad lower himself, and when he was flat once more, his breathing was labored. He shut his eyes, and in a few minutes his chest rose and fell normally. Savn became aware for the first time of the smell of Vlad’s sweat—very much like the smell of a human who had been working hard or was ill.
About the time Savn had decided that Vlad had fallen asleep, the Easterner opened his eyes again and said, “Food?”
Polyi said, “Where—?”
“I’ll get it,” said Savn.
He found the sack and rummaged around in it until he found the food. As he tore off a piece of bread, he noticed that his hand was trembling. “What should I give him?” he asked the Master.
“The bread is fine, and perhaps some cheese.”
“Put a spring onion on it,” said Vlad, “and whatever herbs you have.”
Savn did so, and then frowned. “Is it all right?” he asked Master Wag.
“Yes,” said the Master. “You may season the cheese. You must not put another scallion on it.”
Savn held Vlad’s head. Vlad managed a couple of laborious bites before he shook his head and asked for water. Savn supplied it, and Vlad leaned back once more, and this time he did fall asleep. While he slept, Savn tried a bite. Not bad, he decided. He offered some to his sister, who declined with a quick shake of her head.
“He’ll sleep for a while now,” said Master Wag. “Let’s start a fire.”
“Is it safe to leave him here?”
“Probably. But if your sister wants to help you find wood, I can watch him.”
“Would you like to help, Polyi?”
“All right,” she said in a small voice.
They took one of the torches and made their way out to the woods. “Savn,” said Polyi when they were alone. “What is—?”
“Why did you follow us?”
“I thought you’d know where he was.”
“Well, you were right. Now what? Are you going to tell Speaker where we are?”
“I don’t know.”
They gathered sticks and fagots from the thinly wooded area above the caves. “Why are you helping him?” she said.
“Because he’s my friend, and because everyone else is after him, and he didn’t do anything.”
“Didn’t do anything? You saw Reins.”
“What makes you think he killed Reins?”
“What makes you think he didn’t? And what about all those men of His Lordship’s?”
“They attacked him.”
“Well, but what’s he doing here, anyway? Who is he?”
Savn remembered some of the things Vlad had uttered while feverish, and didn’t answer.
They brought the wood back into the cave. “Where shall we put the fire?” asked Savn.
“Over here,” said the Master. “Even though his fever is broken, we don’t want him getting too warm. Burn the cloth, keep the fire going, and I’ll return tomorrow. You should sleep, too.”
Savn nodded. The three of them built the fire together, after making certain there was enough of a draft to carry the smoke out of the cave.
“Tomorrow,” said the Master.
“I’ll still be here,” said Savn.
“You will?” asked Polyi.
“Yes.”
Master Wag left without another word, taking one of the torches to guide him out. Savn made a pillow out of Vlad’s pack, another out of one of the blankets, and stretched out on the hard cave floor. “I’m tired,” he said. “We’ll talk more after I’ve slept.” Actually, he doubted that he’d be able to fall asleep, but he didn’t know what to tell his sister.
As it turned out, he was wrong; he fell asleep almost at once.
* * *
SAVN WOKE UP TO a not-unpleasant, wet warmth in his ear, accompanied by a nibbling that was almost affectionate and tickled. He rolled away from it, but the hard floor of the cave woke him more fully, and as he realized what was licking his ear, he sat up abruptly with a half-stifled scream. The smaller of the jhereg scurried away, then turned to look at him, its wings folded in tightly and its snakelike head bobbing up and down. Savn had the feeling that he was being laughed at.
“What happened?” said Polyi.
“Nothing,” said Savn, feeling himself blush and hoping Polyi couldn’t see his face in the dim light. The fire had gone out and so had one of the torches. The other torch was burning strongly.
Savn glanced at Vlad, who was awake and staring at the ceiling, apparently oblivious to the comedy being performed around him.
“How do you feel?” asked Savn.
“Water.” His voice seemed no stronger than it had before. Savn wondered how much time had passed, and was surprised to learn that it had been almost four hours.
“A moment,” said Savn. He lit a new torch and replaced the one that had gone out, then stepped into a side cave and relieved himself. When he returned, he found the skin and made sure there was still water in it, then helped Vlad to drink. Vlad seemed to have some difficulty swallowing. When he had done so, he said, “Weak.”
“Food?”
“Later.”
“If you need to ease yourself, there is a place not far from here, but you’ll have to get up and—”
“I’m all right for now,” said Vlad.
“Over there?” said Polyi. “I’ll be right back.”
The jhereg who had nuzzled Savn did the same to Vlad, who attempted a smile. Savn, watching, had mixed feelings. A little later, Vlad announced that he was ready to eat, and Savn and Polyi helped him do so. The bread was going stale but was still edible. Vlad had another drink of water. Then, with Savn’s help, he pulled himself over to the nearest wall so he could sit up and lean against it.
&nbs
p; With no warning or explanation, both jhereg suddenly turned and began flying out of the cave. Vlad did not appear surprised. Savn wondered if they could see in the dark, like bats and dzur.
“What are we going to do?” asked Polyi.
“I don’t know,” said Savn. “It depends on Vlad.”
“Do?” said the Easterner weakly. “About what?”
“Well, they must still be after you.”
“Yes.”
“Can you teleport out of here?”
“Not now.”
“Why?”
Vlad searched Savn’s face. “Too weak,” he said at last.
“Oh.”
“Must recover first,” said Vlad.
“And then?”
Vlad looked slightly puzzled, as if Savn had asked him whether harvest came before or after planting. “Then I must kill Lord Smallcliff, of course,” he said, and, as if producing such a long sentence had exhausted him, he fell back asleep.
* * *
She felt his unhappiness as if it were a cord that connected them, though she didn’t express it to herself that way. But there was a feeling of painful unease that made its way into her consciousness, and it was connected to the Provider, to his injuries.
They spiraled up from the caves, stopping below the overcast, and they began their search out over the bare fields between the town and the woods.
She hated hunting.
She enjoyed flying, and she enjoyed searching the ground for food, but she didn’t like chases, and she certainly didn’t like fights. In one case, she was certain to get tired; in the other, she might get hurt. And—
There was a movement, small and furtive, almost directly below her. She told her lover, but made no sudden moves. They rose and described a slow, leisurely turn. Her straining eyes picked out a patch of brown that didn’t quite blend with the surrounding grass and weeds. They continued past it once more, dividing up and selecting the best angles from which to attack. If one had to hunt, it was better together.
And sometimes, one had no choice.
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