Arrow's Fall

by Mercedes Lackey

  "Enough," said the Healer on her right; and Skif recognized Devan.

  "That's absolutely all for today, Talia."

  Her face relaxed somewhat, and the woman on her left gave her a look of caring sympathy and a handkerchief to dry her tears with.

  "You really don't need to be enduring all this, you know," Devan said, a bit crossly. "If you'd let us Heal you at the normal rate it could all be done quite painlessly."

  "Dear Devan, I don't have time, and you know that perfectly well," Talia replied softly.

  "Then you ought to at least let us work under painblock! And I still don't understand why you don't think you have time!"

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  "But if you worked under painblocks, I wouldn't be able to help— and if I can't help, neither can Rolan. In that case, it would take six of you to do what one does now." Her voice actually held a touch of amusement.

  "She's got you there, Devan," the woman Healer— Myrim, the Healer's representative on the Council— pointed out wryly.

  He snorted with disgust. "Heralds! I don't know why we put up with you!

  If you're not out killing yourselves, you're trying to get us to speed-Heal you so that you can go back out and get yourselves ruined that much sooner!"

  "Well, old friend, if you'll recall— the first time you ever saw me, I was your patient. There'd already been an attempt to rid the world of me, and I was only a student. You could hardly expect this tabbycat to change color after such an auspicious beginning, could you?"

  The Healer reached out and touched her cheek in a spontaneous gesture of affection. "It's just that it hurts me to have to put you through such agony, dearling."

  She caught the hand and held it, smiling at him. The smile transformed her from a simply pretty woman (swollen and red-rimmed eyes notwithstanding) to a lovely one. "Take heart, old friend. There are not many more days of this to come; then whatever Healing is left will all be bone-Healing— and you can't speed that." She laughed. "As for why I don't have time, well, I can't tell you, because I don't know myself. I only know it's true, just as true as the fact that Rolan's eyes are blue. Besides, I know you. I'm a cooperative patient; unlike Keren and Dirk, I do exactly what I'm told. Since you can't complain of that, you have to find something to be annoyed about!"

  Myrim chuckled, as did Healer Devan. "Oh, you know him far too well, milady," she said, standing and stretching. "And we will see you on the morrow."

  They left the room and passed Skif without ever noticing that he was there.

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  But Talia seemed to sense that someone was there. "Whoever's outside, please come in," she called out. "It can't be comfortable on that cold, dark landing."

  Skif chuckled, and pushed the door open all the way, to see Talia regarding him with her head tilted to one side and an expectant look on her face. "I never could fool you, could I?"

  "Skif!" she exclaimed with delight, and held out both arms to him. "I hadn't expected you back this soon!"

  "Oh, you know me— a box of soap and a spare uniform, and I'm ready to go." He embraced her very carefully, and kissed her forehead, before sitting on the floor next to her couch. "And where Skif is— seeing as we went to the same destination— can Dirk be far behind?"

  " You tell me." He was pleased to see her eyes light with carefully contained joy.

  "Well, he's not. Far behind, that is. He planned to stay one day longer, but if I'm any judge, he'll have made that up on the road. I wouldn't be surprised to see him here this afternoon. Dear heart, I'm glad to see you want him again."

  Her eyes glowed, and she smiled. "I didn't fool you either, did I?"

  "Not a bit. That's why I came up with the notion of sending him home to tell his family in person. I could see all that old fear of men— and worse— building up in you every time he touched you, and you trying not to show it so that you wouldn't hurt him."

  "Oh, Skif— what ever did I do to deserve you? You were right; it was horrible, I felt like I was at war with myself."

  "Dearling, I served a Border Sector, remember? And my old home neighborhood was a pretty rough place. You weren't the first woman I've seen that was suffering the aftereffects of rape and abuse. I know what the reaction is. I take it you're—"

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  "Fine. Better than ever; and half-mad with wanting to see him again."

  "That's the best news I've had for a long time. Well, don't you want to know how it all went?"

  "I'm consumed with curiosity because if I know Dirk, he probably sent his family a two-line note—"I'm getting married. I'll be there in a week,"—and no further explanation whatsoever."

  Skif laughed, and admitted that that was just about what Dirk had written, word for word. "And a fine turmoil it sent them into, I can tell you!

  Especially coming on top of the rest of it— well, let me take it from the beginning."

  He settled himself a bit more comfortably. "We got to the farm just about a week after we left here, and it was hard riding all the way. Dirk didn't want to spend any more time traveling than he had to; well, I can't say as I much blame him. When we got there, the entire clan was out waiting for us, since they'd had the children playing lookout ever since his message.

  Holy Stars, what a mob! You're going to like them, heartsister, they're all as mad as he is. They got us separated almost at once; the younglings plying me with food and drink while Dirk's mother and father dragged him off for a family conference. I could tell that he'd had them fair worried, especially after the last time— that bitch Naril and the way she played with him—"

  "I know all about that. I don't blame them for being worried."

  "It didn't help much that he was still a bit thin and worn-looking, I'm sure.

  They weren't easy to convince that everything was all right, because they had him incommunicado for several hours, at least an hour past supper, and we got there just at lunch. The poor youngsters were at their wit's end, trying to find something to distract me with!" Skif's lips pursed in a mischievous smile. "And I'm afraid I didn't help much. I wasn't cooperating at all. Well, they all finally emerged; Father looked satisfied, but Mother still had doubts in her eyes. They fed us all, then it was my turn to come under fire. Let me tell you, Dirk's mother is a lovely lady, and she ought to be put in charge of questioning witnesses; the Truth Spell would 279

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  become entirely superfluous! By the time she was done with me, she knew everything I've ever known about you, including a lot of things I'd forgotten. We were up practically all night, talking; one of the best conversations I've ever had. I didn't mind in the least, she's such a dear. It was worth every yawn to see the worry going out of her eyes, the more I told her."

  Talia sighed, and Skif could feel her relief and gratitude as she wordlessly squeezed his hand. "I can't tell you how glad I was that you insisted on going with him. You're a good friend to both of us."

  "Hm— you'll be even gladder, I think— none of them are going to be able to be here for the wedding. That's what I meant by 'coming on top of all the rest of it.'"

  "What's happened?" she asked anxiously.

  "His third sister is having a real problem with this child she's bearing. She can't travel, obviously, her older sisters don't want to leave her. Needless to say, her mother, as Healer as well as parent, feels obligated to stay. And Dirk's father's joint problem is so bad he can't even take long wagon journeys anymore, never mind riding. I did my best to assure them that you wouldn't feel slighted or insulted if they didn't come, given the circumstances."

  "I'd never forgive myself if they had come, and something had gone wrong at home while they were here."

  "Well, that's what I told them. By the next day, we were all good friends, and I was part of the family. Then I had the hardest task I've ever faced.

  They asked me about Kris."

  He looked at his hands, his voice fogg
ed a little with tears. "I— they loved him, little sister. He was like another son to them. I've never had to tell anyone how their son died before."

  He felt her hand lightly on his shoulder, and looked up. The sadness that never quite left her face was plain in her eyes. A single tear slid slowly 280

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  down her cheek, and she did not trouble to wipe it away. He reached up, and brushed it away with gentle fingers.

  "I miss him," she said simply. "I miss him every day. If it weren't for what I felt when he— left— it would be unbearable. At least— I know he must be happy. I have that. They don't even have that much comfort."

  "I'm glad I got Dirk to go home for that reason, too," Skif replied quietly.

  "Kris was something special to him— more than a friend, more than anyone else could ever be, I think. When he finally let himself grieve, he needed his family around him..."

  He took both of her hands in his own and they sat in silence for long moments, mourning their loss.

  "Well," he coughed a little, "I wish you had the leisure to wait on this until you were entirely well again."

  "I know. So do I," Talia sighed. "But as soon as I can use my feet again, I have to return to duty; in fact, Selenay wrote me herself yesterday that if it weren't so damnably painful for me to move, she'd have me on duty now."

  "I know, too. Well, it can't be helped. Listen— I have got to tell you what that tribe is like—" Skif launched into a series of affectionate descriptions of the various members of Dirk's family, and had the pleasure of seeing some of the sorrow leave her eyes.

  "So that's the last of them," he concluded. Then he noticed a basket of sewing beside her— and none of the garments were her own! "What's all this?" he asked, holding up an enormous shirt with both sleeves pulling out.

  Talia blushed a charming crimson. "I can't go anywhere except this couch or my bed. I'm tired of reading, I can't handle my harp very long without hurting myself, and I can't stand having nothing to do. I suppose it goes back to my farmgirl days, when I wasn't even allowed to read without having a task in my hands. So since my embroidery is bad enough to make a cat laugh, I made Elspeth hunt out all of Dirk's clothing, and I've been 281

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  mending it. I can't keep him from looking rumpled, but at least I can keep him from looking like a rag-bag!"

  Before Skif could tease her further, the sound of a familiar footstep—taking the tower stairs three at a time— caused her to direct all her attention to the open door, her visitor momentarily forgotten.

  There was no mistaking it— it could only be Dirk. Skif bounced to his feet and took himself out of the way before Dirk reached the door, not wanting to intrude on their greeting. Every time Dirk had spoken of Talia when he'd been with his family, he'd practically glowed. It had been that, at least in part, that had convinced them that all was well. Well, if Skif had thought he'd glowed when he only spoke of Talia, he was incandescent when he saw her waiting for him, with both her hands stretched yearningly out toward him. A quick glance at her proved that she was equally radiant.

  Dirk was across the room in a few steps and went to one knee beside her, taking both her hands in his and kissing them gently. What would have been a hopelessly melodramatic scene for anyone else seemed natural for them. Talia drew his hands toward her and laid her cheek against them, and the expression on her face made Skif hold his breath and freeze absolutely still lest he break the mood.

  "Has it been very bad, my love?" Dirk asked, so softly Skif could barely make out the words.

  "I don't know— while you were gone, all I could think of was how I wished you were here; and now you're here, I'm too busy being glad you're with me," she replied teasingly.

  "Why then I must needs find a way to shrink thee, and carry thee in my pocket always," he said tenderly, falling into the speech-mode of his childhood.

  Talia freed one hand from his and laid it softly along his cheek. "Would not having me in thy pocket soon make thee tired of my company?"

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  "Not so long as it spares thee any pain at all. Oh, have a care to thyself, little bird!" he murmured. "Thou hast my soul in thy keeping, and without thee, I would be nothing but an empty, dead shell!"

  His tone was jesting, but the light in his eyes said that he spoke nothing less than the truth.

  "Oh, beloved, then we are surely lost beyond redemption," she whispered

  "for in truth I find myself in the like case. Thou hast mine in trade for thine."

  Their joy in each other seemed to brighten the very air around them.

  Skif soon realized, however, that it is only possible to go without breathing for a limited amount of time. On the other hand, he couldn't bear the notion that his interference would break the mood of the two before him.

  "Dearest," Talia said with laughter in her voice. "my brotherling Skif is trying to decide between disturbing us and fainting from lack of air—"

  Dirk chuckled, and turned his head slightly so that he could see Skif out of the corner of his eye. "Thought I hadn't noticed you were there, did you?

  Come out of your corner, and stop pretending you're here to pick pockets!"

  To Skif's intense relief, the mood had not broken. Perhaps the glow had been dimmed a little, but if so, it had been a deliberate action on their part, to make it easier for him. As he took a chair and pulled it nearer to the couch, Dirk removed the pillows behind Talia and took their place. Now she was leaning on his chest and shoulder instead, one of his arms protectively circling her. The vague shadow of anxiety was gone from his face, and the pain that had faintly echoed in her eyes was gone as well.

  There was a "rightness" about them that defied analysis.

  No sooner were they all settled again when more footsteps could be heard running up the stairs. Elspeth came bursting into the room, her arms full of glorious scarlet silk.

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  "Talia, the dresses are done! Has—" She stopped short at the sight of Dirk, and gave a whoop of joy. She threw the dress at Skif (who caught it gingerly), and danced around to grab both of Dirk's ears and plant an enthusiastic kiss squarely on his mouth.

  "Well!" he said, when he could finally speak. "If that's how I'm going to get greeted on my return, I'm going to go away more often!"

  "Oh, horse manure," Elspeth giggled, then rescued Skif from the folds of the dress, and planted an equally enthusiastic kiss on his mouth. "I'm just glad to see you for Talia's sake. She's been drooping like a wilted lily since you left!"

  "Elspeth!" Talia protested.

  "I'm just as glad to see Skif. More— he can help me. Or hadn't you heard, oh, cloud-scraper? You get to help me with putting this wedding together.

  Talia can't, and Dirk hasn't been here."

  "And besides that, Dirk has no idea of what is supposed to go on at weddings," Dirk said ruefully. "If you told me I was supposed to suspend myself by my knees from a treelimb, I'd probably believe you."

  "Oooh— what a wonderful opportunity!" Elspeth sparkled with mischief.

  "Maybe I'll do that. No, I'd better not. Talia might tell you to beat me."

  "I'd do worse than have Dirk beat you," Talia twinkled back. "I'd tell Alberich that I thought you were shirking your practices."

  "You are a beast, aren't you? Are you safe to hug, dearling?"

  "As of this morning, quite safe."

  With that assurance, Elspeth bent over the Heralds and hugged Talia with warmth and enthusiasm, then tweaked Dirk's nose with an impudent grin.

  "I have been wanting to do that for eons," she said, snatching a pillow from the pile that Dirk had displaced and seating herself on the floor at Talia's feet.

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  "The hug, or the nose?" Dirk asked.

  "Both— but the hug more," she turned to Skif. "You wouldn't know, since you were gone, too— but you hardly knew where you could touch her, at
first. Poor Dirk, practically all he could touch were her fingertips before he left!"

  "Oh, I found a few other places," Dirk chuckled, and Talia blushed furiously. "So tell me, what new and wonderful plans for this fiasco have you managed to crush since I've been gone?"

  "You'll adore this one— and it's new today. The Lord Marshal thought it would be a grand idea to load Talia up on a flower-bedecked platform and carry her to the priest on the shoulders of half the Heralds in the Kingdom.

  You know, like the image of the Goddess in a Midsummer pageant."

  "Oh, no! " Talia plainly was torn between laughter and embarrassment.

  "Oh, yes! And once I'd managed to convince him that poor Talia would probably die of mortification if anyone even suggested it, the Lord Patriarch came storming in, demanding to know why the thing wasn't being held in the High Temple!"

  "Lord of Lights!"

  "After I'd told him that since the Companions had a big part in the rescue, they were being invited, too, he agreed that the High Temple probably wasn't the best site."

  "I can just see Dantris helping himself to the Goddess' lilies out of sheer mischief," Dirk muttered.

  "Dantris? Bright Havens, love, Rolan and Ahrodie would probably decide to watch from the choir loft and leave hoofmarks all over the hardwood floor!" Talia replied. "And to think that all I ever wanted was a private pledging with a few friends."

  "Then you shouldn't have been Chosen Queen's Own," Elspeth told her sweetly. "You're a figure of national importance, so you can't begrudge people their fun any more than I can."

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  "And I suppose it's too late to back out now."

  "Out of the wedding, or being Queen's Own?" Dirk chuckled.