The Sword of the South

by David Weber

  “So how did we get back here and why don’t I remember any of the trip?”

  “Well, for starters, Bahzell was right about the dragon’s attacking Bostik’s patrol from behind,” Wencit told him. “It lost heavily, but Colonel Grantos still had two hundred men who’d taken shelter in caves just beyond the point where we met the thing. They heard all the racket and Grantos led a troop of his mounted infantry out to offer what assistance he could. He got there about the time I noticed your face was turning blue and you weren’t breathing very well.”

  Kenhodan grimaced at the last sentence, but the wizard smiled crookedly at his expression and went on.

  “Bahzell had Walsharno stabilized by that point and turned to you as soon as he’d recovered enough from the healing trance himself to pay much attention to the world around them. Truth to tell, I think he had a harder fight getting you back than he did with Walsharno.”

  “Aye.” Bahzell’s voice was solemn, but there was the slightest of twinkles and his brown eyes. “Dreadful stubborn you were, and lazy, too. No interest at all, at all, in waking up and being about your responsibilities.”

  “Actually,” Wencit shot the hradani a stern glance, “not even a champion of Tomanāk can make damage like that simply disappear at the snap of his fingers, Kenhodan. He did a remarkable job of pulling the poison back out of your system, but after that you slept like a rock for the better part of a full day. We’re just glad you were still around to wake up in the end.”

  “So am I,” Kenhodan said. “But what about our other damages? You said Walsharno had two broken legs. Is he really—?”

  “Fine, Kenhodan. He’s fine,” Wencit interrupted. “Bahzell’s had unfortunately extensive experience in healing combat injuries. Of course, until Walsharno’d had a chance to recover his own strength, there wasn’t anyone to heal Bahzell.”

  “You’re were hurt, too?” Kenhodan looked quickly back at the hradani, who shrugged.

  “Naught but four or five ribs and a dislocated shoulder.” The hradani waved one hand dismissively.

  “A mere nothing for any champion of Tomanāk, of course,” Wencit said dryly. “As for me, I had nothing more than a bit of fatigue to deal with, although I believe the Border Warden lost a little skin.”

  “In a place no lady will discuss,” Chernion confirmed demurely.

  “I see.” Kenhodan’s lips twitched and he looked back at Bahzell. “So Walsharno was able to heal you, as well?”

  “Well, as to that, no, not precisely.” Bahzell shook his head. “It’s no shape he was in for healing at all, at all. Mind you, he and himself would’ve seen to it quick enough once he was after having his feet under him again, so to speak, but they’d no need. South Keep’s an imperial fortress, lad, and Bostik’s after having first-class healers on his staff.”

  “But I—”

  A quiet knock cut Kenhodan off in midsentence. A moment later, the door opened and a slender, dark-haired woman stepped through. She wore a blue robe marked with a white patch bearing a golden sheaf of grain and a scepter, and her gray eyes were very calm. They swept the room, resting for a moment on Bahzell, then came to rest on Kenhodan.

  “I see your patient is back with us.” Her voice was clear and soft.

  “Indeed,” Wencit said. “Kenhodan, this is a Mistress Sharis—the very talented healer who glued Bahzell back together and then helped us keep an eye on you.”

  “Oh?” Kenhodan looked at the newcomer and smiled. “Thank you for putting him back together,” he said. “He’s big, noisy, and thinks he has a sense of humor, but he’s also a friend, Madam Healer.”

  “Mistress Sharis,” Wencit corrected gently, stressing the title very slightly. “Sharis is a master of the Axe Hallow Academy as well as a priestess of Kontifrio.”

  “Your pardon, Mistress Sharis.” Kenhodan flushed in embarrassment.

  “None needed, Kenhodan.” Her gray eyes were frankly curious yet strangely unintrusive. “You’re an interesting case, but Bahzell did all the heavy work before they brought you back to South Keep. I only had to clean up a little around the edges and damp the last of the venom’s effects. I want to monitor you again before I release you from my care—that’s why I’m here—but you’d’ve been fine in another day or so without me.”

  “Aye, it’s a fine healer she is, lad. Why, she’d my ribs and shoulder straightened out quick as quick. It’s scarcely a twinge they’re after giving me, and that only on cold mornings!”

  Bahzell rumbled a chuckle as he pushed himself up out of his chair and he, Chernion, and Wencit started for the door, but Mistress Sharis laid a delicate, fine-boned hand on his forearm.

  “Sit back down, Bahzell,” she said softly.

  “I’m hardly thinking as that’s needful, Mistress Sharis,” he said. “I was only after teasing the lad about my ribs.”

  “If Mistress Sharis says sit, sit!” Wencit said tartly. “And don’t worry about her telling Leeana about your carelessness. Magi are discrete.”

  “Indeed we are,” Sharis said calmly, her eyes flickering briefly to Chernion. “So take your ancient carcass out and let me see to my patient.”

  “At once! Come, Border Warden. I’d say it’s pretty clear we’re not needed around here at the moment.”

  “I agree.”

  Chernion followed him out, resisting an impulse to eye Sharis searchingly, for she’d never felt easy around magi. Yet even if Sharis recognized what she was, there was nothing Chernion could do about it, and so she closed the door behind her with a silent curse for all wizards and magi alike.

  “Now,” Sharis murmured as the door latch clicked, and closed her eyes and extended one hand, palm down over Kenhodan’s forehead. He looked up at it in puzzlement for a moment, then twitched in astonishment as her hand began to glow ever so faintly with a silvery radiance and she moved it slowly down the length of his body.

  Her eyes opened once more and her hand paused. She looked down at him, and he flushed, embarrassed at having revealed his surprise, but she only smiled.

  “You haven’t seen a mage healer in action before?” she asked gently.

  “No,” he said, then gritted his teeth. “Or not that I remember, at any rate,” he added, looking away.

  “Kenhodan, I haven’t helped Bahzell and Wencit tend you for the last twenty-four hours without recognizing what was done to your memory. It isn’t your doing, and my advice as a healer is to be patient with yourself. Recovery from things like that takes time. Your memory may never come back—or at least, not fully—but that doesn’t diminish you or make you any less than who you are. My advice as your healer is to remember that and give yourself time to adjust to it.”

  “I’ll try to,” he told her. “Assuming that whoever took it does the same, at any rate.”

  “That I’m afraid I can’t help you with.” Mistress Sharis smiled briefly. “Now let me finish that monitoring.”

  She closed her eyes with an expression of concentration, and her hand began to glow once more. It traced the length of his body slowly, never quite touching him, and the glow grew momentarily brighter as it passed over the areas where he’d been splashed by the dragon’s venom. He felt…something, although he could put no name to what that “something” might be. It was like a cross between a caress and a strange, profound vibration deep inside muscle, sinew, and bone. It wasn’t unpleasant, and it certainly didn’t hurt, yet it was…unsettling, perhaps. A sensation for which he had no reference and no explanation.

  Whatever it was, it took no more than a minute or two for Sharis to complete her examination, and then she opened her eyes once more and gave him a deeper smile.

  “Very good, Kenhodan!” she said. “A champion’s healing ability’s very different from that of a mage, and we don’t do things the same way. I hope Bahzell won’t take this wrongly, but his healing technique is more of a brute force approach. It puts things back to rights rather more…forcefully, and sometimes it takes a while for everything to settle back
into position neatly. That’s what I’ve been monitoring you for, and it looks like things are coming along very nicely. I realize you’re still feeling weak and tired, but that’s only a lingering reaction to the venom’s toxicity. I promise it’ll pass quickly now that your system’s had time to purge itself completely. It’s my opinion you can be out of bed by tomorrow and probably back on the road to wherever it is you’re going by the day after that.”

  “That’s good news,” Kenhodan said. “I know you’re probably tired of hearing it, but—again—thank you.”

  “An honest healer will admit that she never gets tired of hearing that. It means we’re doing our job properly,” Sharis told him with a chuckle, but her eyes had slid sideways, to Bahzell. There was something…thoughtful in their clear gray depths, and the hradani’s ears twitched questioningly as he noticed the direction of her glance.

  “Mistress Sharis?” he asked courteously.

  “I asked you to remain because there’s a message for you, Bahzell.”

  Kenhodan’s eyes narrowed as the hradani thrust himself abruptly up out of the chair. Bahzell’s face paled, his ears flattened, and his cheeks tightened in unmistakable fear. Kenhodan had no idea what could affect him so, but his own nerves tightened in reaction.

  “Don’t worry, Bahzell!” Sharis said quickly. “Gwynna is fine.”

  “Gwynna!” Bahzell drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. For an instant he stood like a column of hammered iron, and then his eyes opened slowly and he forced himself to relax.

  “So it’s come,” he whispered.

  “Yes,” Sharis said compassionately. “The word came this morning. You know the fortress is barriered, so they had to send a wind-walker from Belhadan, and I’m afraid he touched down in the middle of nowhere. Wind walking,” she added dryly, “isn’t always the most precise of talents. In this case, it seems the wind walker was just a bit overconfident when the got his orders. He thought he knew where he was going, but he confused two locations in the East Walls when he visualized his destination. Fortunately, the snow wasn’t too deep.” She rolled her eyes. “It only took him five days to walk out and make his way to South Keep.”

  “But how did they know to be sending word here? By our reckoning, we should have been through South Keep long ago.”

  “I don’t know, but at least the news reached you. She survived crisis—not without difficulty, I understand—and Master Lentos says she shows great promise. Very great.”

  “Thank the gods.”

  Bahzell fell back into the chair as if suddenly exhausted and buried his face in his hands. His huge shoulders shook, and Kenhodan suddenly realized that his friend was weeping—weeping in great, silent, heaving shudders. He looked blankly at Sharis, but she only shook her head to silence any questions and put her hand on the hradani’s shoulder.

  Bahzell’s weeping stopped finally and his hand rose to envelop the small, slim one on his shoulder. He squeezed it gently and shook himself like a man waking from a dream, and his face relaxed.

  “My thanks,” he said softly. “I’m after owing you much for that word.”

  “I only wish it had reached you earlier,” Sharis said compassionately.

  “How…how long ago?”

  “Almost three months now. I understand—” the healer’s lips quirked pettishly “—that she’s giving the Belhadan Academy fits.”

  “Aye, she would that.” Bahzell grinned with something like his usual humor, but then an edge of anxiety crept back into his voice. “And her mother?”

  “Fine, Bahzell. Master Lentos saw her before he sent word, and she asked that he send her love—and Gayrfressa’s—as well and tell you not to worry.”

  “Well, then!” Bahzell said much more briskly, even his ears relaxing. “If Leeana says as how all’s well, then all’s well.”

  He smiled and leaned back, his eyes going slowly distant as he sank into his thoughts, and Sharis smiled at him again. Then she nodded courteously to Kenhodan and glided noiselessly from the room while the red-haired man lay back on his pillows, brain whirling, and tried to digest what had happened.

  * * *

  Evening filled Kenhodan’s room with shadow, and still Bahzell sat with him. The hradani seemed unwilling to plunge back into life, and Kenhodan was content to leave him to his silence. Indeed, he felt honored that Bahzell chose to remain with him while he absorbed the news from home. But finally, as the clock in the palace’s central tower chimed the hour, Bahzell stirred. Kenhodan could barely see him in the dimness, but he heard the chair creak under the hradani’s weight.

  “Bahzell?” he asked softly.

  “Aye?” Bahzell sounded strange, as if he were both relieved and sad.

  “Bahzell…is Gwynna a mage?”

  “Aye, I suppose she is…now.” Bahzell sighed, and his chair creaked again. “It’s after coming as a shock—not that she’s the mage talent, but the timing, as you might be saying. Wencit was after warning us long ago as how any child of ours would be mage-born. Truth to tell, it’s why we were after settling in Belhadan.”

  “Why?”

  “Belhadan’s mage academy’s after being the best in the Empire, and we’d reason to be wanting the best. We’d thought as how we might send her to Zarantha’s academy in Jâshân, but Zarantha herself advised as how Belhadan would be the better choice. Truth to tell, I’d thought much the same even before that, after Master Trayn was after moving to Belhadan. There’s never a finer empath’s ever been born than Trayn Aldarfro, and we knew as how Gwynna would be after needing the best. The more powerful a mage, the worse the crisis when the talent comes upon him. There’s few survive it unassisted if they’ve more than a single talent or two, and it’s a hard thing to be judging when it might come. Especially with parents of different races.”

  His last words caught Kenhodan’s attention, more for the tone than the words themselves. There was something in it, something almost like guilt. It was the first concern Bahzell had ever expressed over his union with Leeana, and even now he spoke slowly, shaping his thoughts carefully into words.

  “It’ll not be easy for our Gwynna,” he said. “Oh, we’d not have missed her, but we knew as how we were courting trouble. Folk in the Empire are after being more tolerant than most, and if Leeana and I love one another, there’s few would be say us nay, yet there’s those as eye hradani sidelong, even there. There’s some as would object, I’m thinking, though there’s none brave enough to be saying so in our presence. It’s the gods’ own jest, but truth be told, there’s after being less of that kind of prejudice amongst the Sothōii and my own folk than anywhere else these days. But it’s in my mind—aye, and in my heart—as how one of these days, Gwynna will be discovering those bigots, and she’ll be after bearing the added burden of the mage power when she does.

  “I see,” Kenhodan said softly.

  “It may be as you do, and it may be as you don’t,” Bahzell said even more softly. “Gwynna’s after being more than just a…a halfbreed. It’s a hybrid she is, like neither sire nor dam. She’s after being smart, for starters—Tomanāk, but she’s smart!” He chuckled, but it didn’t break his tension. “And it’s long-lived she’ll be. She’ll be after outliving Leeana and me both, and we hradani are a long-lived race.”

  Kenhodan noticed that he didn’t say anything about the apparent extension of Leeana’s lifespan. He wondered if he should mention it, given Bahzell’s obvious concerns. But the hradani’s next sentence blotted that question from his mind.

  “Aye, it’s a long life she’ll be after living…and it’s alone she’ll be all those years.”

  “Surely not!” Kenhodan protested sharply. “She’s a beautiful child, Bahzell, and not everyone’s prejudiced. Surely she’ll find someone to love her!”

  “Will she?” Bahzell’s voice was bleak. “I wonder. Aye, you’ve the right of it, for it’s a beautiful child she is, and I’ve no doubt at all, at all, she’ll be after showing her mother’s beauty when she’s grown, as
well. But who’ll be after wedding a barren wife?”

  “What?” Kenhodan wasn’t certain he’d heard correctly.

  “Aye,” Bahzell said sadly. “Hradani and human—like all the Races of Man, we’re after springing from common stock. But not all races bear ‘normal’ children when they wed. Leeana and I knew that, which is why I know as how Gwynna’ll not be after bearing children.

  Bahzell paused and looked down at his hands, speaking with quiet determination and difficulty.

  “There was a time, Kenhodan, as I realized I’d been fool enough as to be letting myself fall in love with someone scarce half my age who’d be after living—maybe, if the gods were good and fortune smiled on us—half as long as a woman of my own folk. There’s never a foe I’ve ever faced as scared me the way that did, and it’s a hard fight I fought against admitting it even to myself. But Leeana—it’s a rare strong, fearless heart she has, and she’d no mind to let any foolishness of mine be tearing away what it was we were meant to be. I told her then, told her plain, as how human and hradani are after having precious few children when they wed, but that was something she already knew, and she told me just as plain as how it was me she was after wanting. If the gods were after giving us a child, she told me, she’d be love that child with all her heart, but she’d be having me as husband even knowing as how there could never be a child.”

  He looked up from his hands and met Kenhodan’s green eyes.

  “As it happened, the gods’ve given us more years than we’d any right to be expecting, and then, greatest gift of all, Gwynna. I’ve no words—Tomanāk, Brandark’s no words!—for the joy that gave us both. From the day that baby girl was born, it’s my heart she’s held in those hands of hers, and the same for her mother. But for all the joy’s she’s brought us, it’s twice as long she’ll live, and more, than even my folk. My family, and Leeana’s, they’re after understanding, and there’s no doubt in my mind at all, at all, as how they’ll be loving her, come what may. But as they’re after growing old, as their children—aye, and their grandchildren—see as how she’s young and beautiful still, will they be feeling the same? And what of folk who aren’t family? There’s some as resent even Wencit, Kenhodan, with all the price he’s been after paying for so long to keep them safe in their beds at night. How will folk like that react to someone as never seems to age and who’s after being half-hradani into the bargain?”