The Andarian Affair

by Jones, Loren K.

  Stavin smiled and bowed, then winced. He automatically reached under his arm as something stabbed him and came up with a pin. “Just like my sisters,” he complained as the nobles looked on in surprise. Then Princess Marina giggled, and a ripple of laughter rolled across the room. Stavin had to laugh as well as he walked toward a potted plant at the side of the room. He never made it. A wave of dizziness swept over him and he staggered, then collapsed, unconscious before he hit the floor.

  Chapter 11

  IT TOOK A WHILE FOR THE word to spread to the rest of Kavinston, but within five days everyone knew of Sallin’s amazing invention. Karlit and Farlit were wildly enthusiastic about it.

  “Sallin, that light of yours is a gift from the Gods Above,” Karlit said as he inspected the beam of light. By moving the bowl and lamp in relation to the bottle they could vary the size of the spot of light up to a hand’s span or down to the size of a very bright silver crown.

  Farlit agreed. “No more shivering in the winter cold to get enough light to do intricate work, Dad.” He grinned. “We can even do filigree.”

  “We’re going to need a lot more of them,” Marinis said as she studied her husband and son. “There aren’t many bottles like that in Kavinston, and the bowls are rare as well.”

  Karlit nodded. “We can send a group to Trade Town if we need to. If enough people want one of these contraptions to make it worth the trip.”

  It soon became evident that everyone in the valley, need it or not, wanted one of Sallin’s inventions. Barban Kel’Kaffrey was one of the first to approach Marinis.

  “Marinis, that light device your servant devised is amazing. I’d like one to cast brighter light when I’m delivering babies. It’ll make fixing any damage much easier.”

  “The bowl is the only thing that will be expensive, Barb,” Marinis said with a grin. “We all have lamps, and Sallin says they also work well with candles. And the bottles--” She grinned. “I’m not the only one who loves elderberry wine.”

  Barb had to laugh at Marinis’ expression. “Oh, the merry time we’ll have emptying enough bottles to make lights for everyone.”

  It was only a few days later that the Elders’ Council authorized an expedition to Trade Town. Eleven men took one of Stavin’s wagons down for the purpose of purchasing as many copper, bronze, or brass bowls as they could find. Experimentation had proven a medium depth bowl to be more useful than a very deep or shallow one.

  Farlit drove his brother’s wagon while ten men rode beside him on guard. They pushed the wagon’s pace to make the usual camping spots, and after six days they arrived in Trade Town.

  Warleader Third Varkal Kel’Chamlin was in charge, and he immediately approached one of the local Traders. “Your pardon, good Sir, but I am seeking a metalworker who makes bowls of copper or brass.”

  The trader looked at him, then at the wall of armor behind him and stammered, “U-U-Up that way, Warrior.” He pointed to the west. “There’s a silversmith and a whitesmith both in that direction.”

  Varkal nodded and walked away with all of the warriors except Farlit following him. Farlit stayed behind to guard the wagon and their horses. It didn’t take long to find what they were looking for. The whitesmith’s shop was obvious due to the large assortment of copper, bronze, and brass objects on display, and Varkal walked straight up to the whitesmith.

  “I am in search of brightly polished bowls two or three hand-spans wide, and a hand-span deep. Preferably rounded.”

  The man looked at him with an expression of near terror and brought his hands up in front of his chest and started making signs. A girl came to his side immediately and bowed deeply.

  “Your pardon, good Warriors, but my father cannot speak,” she explained. She looked at him for a moment, then turned back to Varkal. “How many such bowls are you seeking?”

  “All he has.”

  The girl shared a look with her father as his hands flashed. She turned back to Varkal and bowed again. “We have ten such bowls on hand, Warrior.” She went to the side of the shop and brought back a large brass bowl. “Is this what you’re seeking, Warrior?”

  Varkal examined the bowl and nodded. “Yes, this will do. Are there others who make such bowls in Trade Town?”

  “Yes, Warrior,” she answered carefully. “There are two other whitesmiths and five silversmiths in Trade Town.”

  Varkal looked at the old man and asked, “What is your price?”

  It took longer to bargain using the girl as an interpreter, but Varkal soon laid out two gold crowns for the ten bowls. He raised a pair of copper sparks between his fingers and looked at the girl. “These are yours,” he offered, “if you lead us to all of the other whitesmiths and silversmiths.”

  The girl looked at her father and he was nodding vigorously, so she bowed and said, “I would be pleased to, Warrior.”

  Varkal sent two men back to the wagon with the first bowls as the girl led him up the street. They visited each of the whitesmiths first, purchasing twenty-six additional bowls, then the silversmiths.

  Farlit had left one of the other men with the wagon and caught up with them by then. While Varkal bargained for copper and brass, he was looking for silver.

  “Your pardon, good smith,” he said as soon as Varkal had finished purchasing the three copper bowls the man had, “I am in search of a similar bowl made of silver. Do you have such a bowl?”

  “I do, Warrior. Of course I do,” the man said, turning to bring out a three-span wide by a span-and-a-half deep, brightly polished bowl. “Is this to your liking?”

  Farlit nodded and examined the bowl. “How much?”

  “Oh, Warrior, I couldn’t let that go for less than three gold crowns.”

  Farlit looked at him as his eyebrows drew down. “Don’t try my patience, smith.” He looked at the bowl and hefted it. “Two gold.”

  “Warrior, please be reasonable,” the smith said in a cajoling tone. “That bowl is made of the finest silver from the north of Farindia. Two and eight?”

  “Two and four.”

  “Two and six?”

  “Two and five.”

  The smith sighed and nodded his head, but he looked sad. “Two and five,” he agreed.

  Farlit pulled a pouch out of his armor and fished the coins out, laying each on the table beside the bowl. “Two gold and five silver. I hope Shari appreciates this.”

  “Shari?” one of the other warriors asked. “She already has one.”

  Farlit chuckled. “Yeah, but Mom wants her bowl back.”

  The rest of the warriors chuckled as well, and Varkal had the girl lead them to the last smith. He handed her the coins, and she stashed them in her bodice, then hurried away.

  “Now for the hard part,” Varkal said as he looked around.

  “The hard part?” one of the others asked.

  Varkal nodded. “Those bottles aren’t that common. Let’s find a wine merchant and see what he’s got.”

  It turned out that the bottles were, in fact, quite common. The first vintner they approached had cases of them--all full of wine. The warriors all grinned as Varkal bargained for them and ended up paying six gold and nine silver crowns for six assorted cases of elderberry, blueberry, and raspberry wine.

  Farlit was laughing about it for half the day. “Well, at least Mom and her friends are going to be happy about this.”

  Chapter 12

  STAVIN REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS IN A bed, seemingly bound because he couldn’t move his arms or legs. He blinked to clear his vision, and a shadow moved toward him. “Do you wake, lord?” a feminine voice asked.

  Stavin’s vision was remaining blurry no matter what he tried so it was only her voice that told him it was a woman. He tried to ask where he was and what had happened, but all that came out was a strangled croak. He tried again, but cool fingers lay across his lips.

  The woman said, “Shh, lord, don’t try to speak,” as she held a finger to his lips. “I have to fetch my master,” she continued, and h
er shadow vanished from his field of view.

  Stavin laid still and tried to remember what had happened to him. He’d been at the princess’s party--that was it. He couldn’t remember anything after he and Dahvin arrived.

  A pair of shadows entered his field of view and a man’s voice asked, “How do you feel, Stavin?” It took a moment for him to recognize the king’s voice. “Don’t try to speak. You’re still suffering the after-effects of the poison.”

  “Stavin,” Princess Marina’s voice said, “the pin that jabbed you was coated with worm-fish toxin. If it had pricked you when you were alone, you would have died. You nearly did anyway, and would have if Ehrwan hadn’t acted as quickly as she did. I’m afraid your new clothing is ruined. She ripped it off you and sucked some of the poison out of the hole.” The princess chuckled. “She vomited for two days from the little bit she swallowed, but she’s fine now.”

  Stavin mouthed the words, How long?

  “You’ve been unconscious for five days,” the princess replied. “We very nearly lost you.”

  Stavin again mouthed a word. Who?

  “We don’t know who, Stavin, and that troubles us,” the king replied. “Master Fel’Hordan and all of his apprentices were dead before the guards got there. They were killed by the same poison that nearly killed you.”

  Why can’t I move?

  “You can’t move because that’s how worm-fish toxin works. It paralyzes you, and you die because you stop breathing and your heart stops beating.” The princess moved closer and ran her fingers across his brow, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from his eyes. “It would appear that you’ve joined us on the traitor’s death list.”

  Stavin blinked his eyes rapidly several times, but a tear escaped anyway. He was embarrassed to be crying in front of the king, and even more embarrassed when the princess wiped it away.

  The king said, “I know it’s a shock, Stavin, but we half expected it after you saved me last year. You ruined someone’s very carefully laid plans. They are probably extremely annoyed with you.” There was a hint of humor in the king’s voice that surprised Stavin.

  “Father,” Princess Marina scolded.

  “I know, Marina, but you have to admit that it is funny. A year ago, not one of them would have given Stavin a second glance. Now they feel that he’s such an obstacle that he has to be removed. And it has to be driving them mad that they keep failing.”

  Stavin was thinking back, and suddenly something became clear. “They tried before,” he croaked.

  “They tried what before?” Princess Marina asked.

  “In Kavadia. Ten men. Private guards. Aimed for me.”

  “This is separate from the Kel’Portan Guards incident?” the king asked.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Stavin whispered. With exercise, his voice was coming back. “No markings. Good horses, no brands.”

  “That makes sense,” Princess Marina said as she looked at her father. “A Chosen clan could afford to send their private guards on new, unmarked horses.”

  The king was nodding as he said, “So our supposition that it is Evandian nobles and not Andarian infiltrators is confirmed.”

  “It would seem so,” the princess replied without taking her eyes off Stavin’s face. “Stavin, we’re going to send in some servants to help you out of bed. Now that you’re conscious, your muscle control should return quickly. Let them do as much of the work as possible. You are -- and are going to remain -- very weak.”

  “Where am I?”

  The king answered. “You are in the Prince’s Rooms of the Royal Suite. You’re the first person to sleep in that bed since my son died fifteen years ago.” With that he turned and left, and Princess Marina was only a step behind him.

  Four men and six women entered the room as soon as the king and princess were gone. Stavin still couldn’t make out their faces, but he could make out the differences in their clothing. The men came to both sides of the bed, and one of them said, “Friend Stavin, we are going to lift you out of the bed and put you in a chair. Please let us do all of the work.”

  Stavin nodded and the blanket was pulled away, then four sets of strong hands grasped his arms and legs and slid him to the foot of the bed and lifted him upright. As soon as he was vertical he felt nauseous, and vomited in spite of himself. One of the women was there with a basin, as if they had expected his reaction, so the carpet he could feel beneath his bare feet wasn’t ruined. He was shaking like a leaf in a gale by the time the men set him in a large, overstuffed chair.

  His vision was clearing now and he could see the women busying themselves around the bed. One of the men came back to his side and knelt with something in his hands. “Friend Stavin, this is pear juice. It is sweet, so you need to sip just a little at a time.” He held the glass up to Stavin’s lips and tilted it so that just a trickle entered his mouth. “Can you swallow, Friend Stavin?”

  Stavin concentrated and managed to swallow the juice. It was almost revoltingly sweet and he gagged a little. He shook his head when the man raised the glass again. He croaked, “Water?”

  “If you wish,” the man said and turned away. Someone else brought him a different glass and he brought it up to Stavin’s lips. “Just a sip, Friend Stavin. It’s been five days since you’ve had anything to eat or drink.”

  The water felt wonderful as it slid down Stavin’s throat. “Thank you,” he managed to whisper.

  “It is our pleasure to see to your needs, Friend Stavin.”

  A woman came to stand by the man and said, “A bath is drawn, Master.”

  The man glanced up and said, “Very good. We’ll see to Friend Stavin while you finish the room.” He raised his hand and the other three men came to his side immediately. “Lift gently. We’ll carry him to the bathing chamber.” To Stavin he said, “Let us move you, Friend Stavin. It’s not far.”

  Stavin was once again lifted so he was upright, and carried with his toes just barely brushing the floor. “He’s light as a feather,” one of the men commented.

  “If you’d been through what he’s been through, you’d be light as well,” another of the men said.

  The bathing chamber had a large, sunken tub that was already filled with water. The man who seemed to be in charge tested the water and nodded his approval. “Not too hot. I’ve been told you prefer very hot baths, Friend Stavin, but we must be cautious. At this stage, your body has no defenses against extreme heat.” Stavin felt himself lifted completely off the floor and handed forward. Two different set of hands lowered him into the tub, and he felt the water rising up his legs. The water was just barely skin temperature, but Stavin was beginning to feel prickling all over as the feeling returned to his body. He muttered, “Damn,” in a harsh whisper.

  “Is there a problem, Friend Stavin?” the leader asked, moving so he could see Stavin’s face.

  “I feel like my whole body has been asleep,” Stavin whispered, “and now it’s waking up.”

  “Good,” the man said with a slight nod. “That means that your body is rejecting the last of the poison. Not many people survive worm-fish toxin, but those who have describe exactly what you’re feeling.”

  Stavin was gritting his teeth against the feeling that was engulfing his body as he asked, “Who are you, Sir?”

  “Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My apologies, Friend Stavin. I am Healer Adept Taris Kel’Sarin, the King’s Healer. Princess Marina summoned me as soon as you collapsed, and my staff and I have been tending you since then.”

  “I feel like I’m on fire,” Stavin managed to whisper through his clenched teeth.

  “I understand, Friend Stavin, but you must trust me when I say that is a good sign. If you weren’t feeling that, it would mean that the treatment was too late and you were going to remain paralyzed.”

  Stavin froze as the implications of that pronouncement filtered through his mind. Paralyzed. Unable to work. Unable to fight. Useless. He was suddenly grateful for every burn, every itch, and every tric
kle of pain he was feeling.

  The Healer and his helper lowered Stavin down so that all but his head was in the water. “The cool water will help with the discomfort you are feeling, Friend Stavin. I’m sorry that we can’t give you anything for the pain, but experience has taught us the dangers of mixing anything with the toxin. At this point you’re just going to have to tough it out. It shouldn’t last more than six or eight spans. It’ll seem longer to you, but that’s normal.”

  Stavin nodded his head as he gritted his teeth against the fire that was coursing through his body. I’ve been hurt worse. I survived that and I’ll survive this. He kept telling himself that as time passed by one ragged breath at a time, until he suddenly noticed that instead of feeling like he was burning alive he just felt like he was in water straight from the valley’s thermal springs. Soon that feeling faded as well and a new feeling made its debut. “The water feels cold,” he whispered.

  “I agree,” the Healer said and signaled one of his men. Stavin felt a current of warm water flow past his feet. “One more bucket, I think,” the Healer said, and more warm water flowed into the tub.

  Stavin’s breathing was more normal now and he sighed. “That’s better.”

  Healer Kel’Sarin said, “I want you to begin testing your limbs, Friend Stavin. Can you raise your arms?” When Stavin had managed to raise both arms, he said, “Test your hands. Can you wiggle your fingers?” When Stavin had accomplished that Herculean task, he said, “Rest now. You’re out of breath.”

  Stavin panted for breath and nodded, then whispered, “So weak.”

  “Be thankful. What you just did means that you’ll probably recover fully. Worm-fish toxin can have lingering effects including numb spots, loss of coordination, and loss of the use of extremities. You just showed nearly normal movement in your arms, hands, and all of your fingers.”

  The Healer shifted his attention to his helpers. “Let’s lift him out now. Carefully.” He and the other man by the tub lifted Stavin to his feet, then the other two men lifted him out of the tub. They supported him as they dried him, then one of them pulled a long shirt over his head and helped him get his arms into the sleeves. It suddenly dawned on Stavin that they’d been carrying him around the room bare-butt naked and he flushed with embarrassment. At least Marina wasn’t here. Or worse, Shari. She’d laugh herself sick at how embarrassed I am.