by Cas Peace
“Can you tell me what happened?” asked Sullyan gently. “I trust it was not an argument with Cal?” She smiled, knowing it was no such thing.
“Oh no,” said Rienne. “He’d never do anything so … ”
She broke off and took another sip. The memory of her narrow escape brought the shakes back and tears of shock welled once more. She couldn’t speak of it yet, it was too fresh.
The Major watched her. Laying aside her own cup, she uncoiled from the couch and crossed to the low table by one wall. She picked up the bottle there and brought it over to Rienne.
“Here,” she said, pouring a good measure into Rienne’s cup, “Bull left this behind last night. He is always telling me it is for medicinal purposes, so perhaps it will help. I can see it is too soon for you to talk about what happened, so we will not. There, is that better?”
The healer sampled the laced fellan and managed a shaky smile. “I can’t comment on its medicinal properties, but it certainly tastes good.”
Sullyan set down the bottle, picked up her cup and folded herself back onto the couch. In doing so, the oversized shirt rode up, revealing her left leg to the hip. Rienne gasped: there was a long, ugly scar running down the leg from the point of the hip to just inside Sullyan’s knee.
“That was a nasty injury,” she said, her professional interest piqued. “I’d say you were lucky it wasn’t fatal.”
“Very lucky,” murmured Sullyan.
“How did it happen—that is, if I’m permitted to ask?” Suddenly, Rienne was overcome by shyness.
The Major smiled. “Of course you are permitted, it is hardly a secret.” She put down her cup. “My company and I were in the field, tracking one of the raiding parties. We pinned them down and I managed to block their escape through the Veils. Lower-ranking Andaryans are not usually so tenacious and often surrender once trapped. This band, however, was very determined. They succeeded in killing a number of my men before a small group of them broke away.”
Rienne’s imagination, quite without her volition, showed her vivid images of what the Major was describing.
Sullyan’s soft voice continued. “We pursued them and brought them to bay, but their commander refused to surrender. He came at me with almost desperate ferocity and a lucky thrust got past my guard. But the stroke unbalanced him and I repaid him for the wound.”
Rienne frowned. “How long ago was this?”
“A week.”
“What? That can’t be right. You must be mistaken. That scar’s much older than a week.”
“I am not mistaken, Rienne. It was exactly seven days ago.”
Rienne re-examined the scar. “How is that possible? It’s healed so well. After such a serious wound most people would still be bed-ridden.”
Sullyan smiled slightly. “Ah, but most people are not Artesans, Rienne. You are a healer, so I understand your confusion. But I assure you, it was last week.” Seeing Rienne’s lack of comprehension she added, “Those of us who can control our metaforce can use the power to influence healing. You live with two men learning the craft, surely you know this?”
Rienne thought for a moment, choosing her words so as not to sound disloyal. “Taran and Cal haven’t had the benefit of much training, as you’ve heard. I don’t think they’re fully aware of what’s possible. But I do remember Taran saying that his father used to do some healing.”
“Much is possible when one has the right guidance,” said Sullyan, “but even with trained power such as mine, these things have their price.”
She watched Rienne’s face as her meaning became clear.
“Oh. Is that why you looked so ill when we first met you?”
“That was the first day I was able to stay on my feet. I had expended so much strength in healing that I had precious little left.” The Major smiled, as if at a private memory. “The infirmary was very happy to see the back of me, despite the Chief Healer advising against it. Even Bulldog thought I had left too soon, hence his concern for me that day.”
“You didn’t seem too pleased by his concern.” The words slipped out before Rienne could stop them and she bit her lip in embarrassment.
Fortunately, Sullyan only grinned. “Bulldog and I have been together thirteen years. He has seen me take such injuries before and ought to trust me to know my own strength. A gentle reminder like that is good for him now and then.”
Rienne tried to imagine what Sullyan considered a reprimand if her flash of temper that day was a “gentle reminder.” Shaking her head, she changed the subject.
“Why do you call him Bulldog? That surely can’t be his name.”
Sullyan regarded her over her cup. “It suits him though, does it not? His real name is Hal Bullen and he was originally Mathias Blaine’s sergeant-at-arms. After Blaine’s appointment to General-in-Command, Bull became the Manor’s sergeant-major. He was responsible for recruiting and training the extra men required by the King to make this a fully operational garrison. Throughout his military career, he was known as Bull because of his size. When I arrived, he and I became friends right away. I was very young and he looked out for me. He was so tenacious and loyal that the last bit came quite naturally.”
“So is he still a sergeant-major?”
“Under certain circumstances,” said Sullyan. “Officially, he has retired, but Bull is not the sort of man to thrive on retirement. I fear boredom would lead him to drink himself to death and I still find him useful. Now he is a permanent member of my personal staff. He accompanies me on diplomatic missions and helps me whip the Captain into shape.”
Rienne frowned.
“When I said he used to look out for me,” the Major said, “I meant he stood for me. You understand what that means?”
“Bull explained it to Taran that first day,” said Rienne, smiling at the memory. “He was absolutely disgusted that Taran didn’t know.”
Sullyan snorted. “Yes, he would be. But despite Bull’s fitness and size, he has a weakened heart. I feared that neither his physical nor his metaphysical strength would be able to cope with the demands I might make on them, so we decided to look for a replacement. Bull eventually found Captain Tamsen in Lychdale, a remote and poorly run garrison in the far west of Garon Province. Robin has great potential and could attain a much higher rank than Bulldog. He will only do so, though, if he can learn the proper discipline and control.”
Without thinking Rienne said, “He tries very hard to please you.”
Sullyan shot her a glance. “So he should.”
Rienne thought that a little hard. “It’s obvious he’s very much in love with you.”
She blushed, realizing the liquor in her finished fellan had made her bolder than usual.
The Major rose, plainly unwilling to continue this line of conversation. “I am well aware of his feelings, Rienne, thank you. More fellan?”
She gathered the cups without waiting for an answer.
This sudden change roused Rienne’s curiosity. She was feeling quite comfortable and relaxed, the terror of her earlier ordeal having faded in a haze of liquor-laced fellan. Even her natural timidity was easing. She was warming to Sullyan and it felt good to have another woman to talk to, especially one who understood Taran and Cal so well.
The Major returned with refilled cups and offered Rienne the liquor bottle once more. Rienne nodded. She smiled as the Major poured a measure into the steaming brew. “Aren’t you joining me? I happen to know that Bull has another bottle, so he won’t miss this one.”
“I am sure he has, Rienne, but I do not drink.”
“Not ever?” Rienne was amazed.
Sullyan shook her head, her now-dry hair rippling like dark waves of amber in the fading light. “I am a senior officer in the High King’s forces, Rienne, as well as a Master-elite Artesan. I have mastery over Earth, Water and Fire, and I can also influence Air. With that amount of power at my disposal, I can never risk losing control.”
“Well, that must get very boring.” Rienne was f
eeling more confident by the second. “Surely you can let your hair down now and then? Come on, you’ve had a day off and the evening is in front of you. Aren’t you are entitled to a little enjoyment? Here, just a tiny bit won’t hurt you.”
Before the Major could stop her, she reached over and poured a very small measure into Sullyan’s cup.
The wary look in the Major’s eyes made Rienne break into giggles. “Go on,” she dared, “live dangerously. Stop being a major and just be a woman. That’s allowed, surely, when you’re off duty?”
The younger woman gazed at her in wonder; clearly no one had ever spoken to her like that before. She gave a tentative smile. “Do I have your permission in a medical capacity, Healer Arlen?”
“Absolutely,” laughed Rienne, raising her cup. “To living dangerously!”
Their cups chinked together and Sullyan sipped cautiously at the unfamiliar taste. A delighted expression came over her face. “This is delicious.”
Rienne found this inordinately funny and collapsed into breathless laughter. Sullyan watched her, smiling, while Rienne got herself back under control.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” said Rienne suddenly.
Sullyan sipped her fellan, savoring the heady flavor. “Yes, if you like.”
“How old are you? And don’t you have a first name? Maybe it’s a Manor tradition, but calling you Sullyan seems so formal.”
“Does it?” Rienne heard a rueful note in her voice. “Anyway, that is two questions.”
“Are you saying I’m being nosy? You don’t have to tell me.”
Sullyan dropped her gaze. “I have no reason not to answer you.” Diffidently, she said, “I am twenty-three. And it has nothing to do with the Manor, Sullyan is the only name I have.”
“Really?” Rienne was taken aback. There was an undercurrent to the Major’s tone that suggested she hold her tongue, but Rienne was more than slightly tipsy. “Surely everyone has a given name? And how on Earth do you get to be a major at only twenty-three?”
“You are very good at asking two questions at once,” sighed Sullyan, “and the answers are not necessarily straightforward. Perhaps I can best explain by telling you something of my life.”
Rienne leaned forward eagerly.
“But I would appreciate it if you do not repeat what you hear. A garrison is unlike any other community and it is not advisable to let everyone know your private business. As the only woman in the King’s forces, there are enough stories circulating about me. I do not want to add to them.”
“I won’t say anything,” said Rienne, suddenly contrite. “I didn’t mean to badger you, I’m only interested. Please don’t feel obliged to tell me.”
The Major waved off her apology. “I have no authority over you, Rienne. You are free to ask any question you choose. But where to begin? There are still a few people here who remember the events surrounding my arrival. General Blaine and Bull, of course, and one or two others. Robin has heard the story but I have never sat down with anyone else to talk about it. I have never had the opportunity before.”
She sounded wistful and Rienne suddenly pitied her. Life must be strange for such a young woman surrounded by only military men and duty. She picked up the liquor bottle and added a little more to their cups. Sullyan didn’t seem to notice.
Rienne asked, “Don’t you have any non-military friends?”
“The Manor is my home and its routine my life,” said Sullyan. “My company is my family and we rely on each other. Some of the men have wives and partners in the nearby villages but most of us do not have friends in the way that you mean. I suppose Robin and Bull are the nearest I have to friends, but Bull has served under me and is now a member of my staff. As for Robin, well, things are … complicated.”
“I’ll say,” said Rienne, a gleam in her eye. “If I had someone like him head over heels in love with me but under my command, I’d feel life was complicated, too.”
Sullyan flushed. “Yes, but it is complicated even further by the depth of my feelings for him.” She took another swallow of fellan, as if for comfort.
“I knew it!” crowed Rienne. “But how could you not want him? He’s so extremely handsome.”
“You think so, too?” Sullyan leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Sometimes, it is as much as I can do to keep my hands off him.”
Rienne’s eyes widened. “Off him? Are you telling me that you don’t … that you aren’t …?”
“No, Rienne.” Evidently embarrassed, Sullyan’s flush deepened. “How can we? I am his commanding officer, our relationship would never be the same again. I could never let personal feelings interfere with my duty.”
“Piffle,” said Rienne scornfully. “You can’t throw away what might be your only chance of happiness because of duty.”
She was shocked when tears appeared in Sullyan’s eyes. Immediately, she was sorry for goading the younger woman, for presuming to tell her how to run her life.
“Don’t listen to me,” she said. “My tongue isn’t usually this unruly. Your life is your own. I don’t understand the situation here so I’m not qualified to comment.” She glanced at Sullyan sidelong. “It is a pity, though, because he really is incredibly gorgeous.”
Sullyan sighed. “If I was going to lie with anyone,” she admitted, “I would lie with him.”
This insight into the Major’s personal life left Rienne feeling it would be better if she changed the subject. She returned to a previous question, sensing she would be on slightly safer ground.
Chapter Sixteen
“You were going to tell me how you got to be a major at only twenty-three.”
Smiling faintly over her cup Sullyan said, “I became a major at twenty.”
Rienne’s eyes popped. “Twenty? Good grief, did you do something seriously heroic?” Snagging the half-empty bottle of firewater, she splashed more liquor into their cups, not noticing the fellan was gone.
Sullyan laughed a bit breathlessly. “Maybe I should start at the beginning.”
Rienne cradled her cup in both hands and tucked her legs comfortably beneath her. The Major sipped unthinkingly from her own cup and spoke.
“I spent my early childhood in a village on the Downs, a few miles west of here. I was not born there. I was a foundling, left on some village woman’s doorstep. I was so young that I remember nothing of my origins, nothing of my parents. Were they too poor to keep me, or was I simply the result of a casual tumble in the hay? Are they even still alive? I have no way of knowing. The only things I have connecting me to my birth are these gems.”
She briefly touched the glinting stone around her neck, identical to the ones in her ears and on her finger.
“They are fire opals and extremely rare, they are not mined in Albia. But they gave me my name, for they were found around my neck in a small leather pouch with the word “Sullyan” stitched onto it. This was assumed to be my family name and is the only identity I have.”
She fell silent, her glorious eyes clouding. Before Rienne could speak, however, she continued, and her voice was a shade harder than before.
“My life on the Downs was not happy. I had no roots, no ties to its people. They were plain and simple folk with no wealth, so I was a burden to them. I cannot claim I was neglected or ill-treated, but there was never any love. I was always the stranger who did not belong.”
Rienne looked scandalized and Sullyan smiled gently.