“And to prolong the suffering,” Josiah added.
“We should not aid them.” Bethral lowered the man to the bed, and rose. She drew a ragged breath. “He will waste away then. We should grant him mercy, sword-sister.”
“Wait,” Josiah said. “I’ve a friend who might be able to help him.”
Red gave him a sharp look. “I thought you were alone here.”
“I am.” Josiah looked out the open door. “I’ll send for her.”
“How?” Red demanded.
“I’ve a way,” Josiah growled. He looked at Bethral. “If she can’t heal, she can at least offer him the last rites of the Lord and the Lady.”
Red narrowed her eyes as she studied him. She’d no desire to be indebted to a madman, but if he could get help….
Bethral looked down at the man on the bed, pulling the blanket up to cover him. “I’d thought to see him healed,” she said. “But without a tongue, I don’t see how it matters.”
Red tilted her head to the side and considered the prone figure. “How long before your friend arrives?”
“There’s time before dawn. If possible, she will be here within the hour.” Josiah shrugged. “If not, then midafternoon.”
“It would take an hour to dig a grave, anyway,” Red mused.
Josiah sucked in a breath.
Red ignored him, and turned to her sword-sister. “He seems to be resting easier, Bethral. I know you would follow the ways of your mother in this, but wait a bit.”
Bethral gave her a narrow look, and Red puffed out a breath impatiently. “He’s breathed this long, hasn’t he? What’s an hour more?”
JOSIAH stood and watched as Red headed back to where she’d left the horses. Once Bethral had agreed to wait for aid, they’d left her with the slave in the hut. Red would finish her tasks and fetch water. Josiah was going to send for Evie.
Had that been a glimpse of compassion he’d seen in Red as she’d looked at Bethral? For a moment he’d have sworn she’d been grateful for his offer of assistance. Odd to think a hardened mercenary would be so concerned.
Of course, once they’d stepped outside, she’d asked where she could find a spade.
Josiah shook his head, and headed toward the ruins of the old chapel. He’d taken the lantern, since his path wove through the trees where the darkness still clung. If he was lucky, he’d catch Evie before she started to prepare for the Dawn Greeting.
There was soft bleating behind him, and then the goats ran up around him, scampering to keep pace. He reached down to scratch Snowdrops’s ears. She rubbed against his leg, then danced away, her white coat glowing in the soft light of the lantern.
He took the path as quickly as he dared, and entered the ruined shrine. Not much left, except the back wall. It stood with its stylized sun design, a silent witness to the destruction all around.
The goats pressed through with him, their hooves clattering on the rough stone floor. He kept it swept clean, except for the rough pile of stones in the center. He knelt, set down the lantern, and piled the stones in the pattern that meant he needed aid. Evie usually checked on him before the Dawn Greeting. With any luck…
Josiah left the lantern and retreated back up the path until the doorway was just visible in the moonlight. Far enough that it wouldn’t cause Evie a problem, yet close enough that he’d see her when she stepped out.
The goats explored around him, sniffing at the plants. He seated himself on the ground, leaned back against a tree, and looked up at the night sky. It would be no bad thing if Red were indebted to him. Maybe he could get her to understand what that birthmark meant, who she really was.
He’d despaired when he’d found them gone, and cursed himself for a fool. There’d been other ways to convince her, maybe, but he’d fumbled it badly. The empty foaling room had brought his hopes crashing down around him. But they’d returned, thank the Lord of Light and the Lady of Laughter. Bethral’s impulse had brought Red back to him; he’d not lose this chance again.
How bad things must be, outside. What was happening, that slaves were abused so? He’d known that people were being bought and sold—Evie had told him—but this? Josiah frowned, curious. He’d ask Evie, later. Maybe she was hiding the truth from him.
Dapple bleated, and trotted toward the shrine. The others followed, and Josiah stood, brushing off his pants.
“Josiah?” A soft voice called, and the light of his lantern moved toward the doorway. He smiled as Evie stepped out, reaching to pet the goats. She was dressed in all her finery, with a white robe edged in gold, a heavy cloak with a large hood, and white gloves. The perfect portrait of a Lady High Priestess of the Lord of Light and Lady of Laughter.
“Josiah,” she called again, lifting the lantern. Not that it helped all that much, with her being a head shorter than himself. Josiah stifled a chuckle. Evie was a bit sensitive about her height.
“Here,” he answered, and started to walk toward her.
“What aid do you need, cousin?” Evie asked, worried. “Are you hurt?”
“It’s not for me,” he explained as he swept her into a quick hug. “Can you come?”
“I’ve an hour before services. Who’s injured, then?” Evie started down the path.
Josiah took her hand to aid her, not sure how he was going to explain. “It’s a long story, Evie.”
She looked at him with concern, but said no more. It was only when they drew close to the hut that she spoke. “Is that someone by the barn?”
Josiah nodded, as Red headed toward them. “Yes. I let them bed down in the foaling room.”
Evie stopped dead. “You went into the barn?”
Josiah ignored that. “Red,” he called out, “help is here.”
As Red walked closer, her eyes widened as she took in Evie’s finery. “Where did she come from?” she blurted out.
“This is Lady High Priestess Evelyn, of the Church of the Gods of Palins.” Josiah said. “Evie, this is Red. She’s—”
Red gave him a grim look, and Josiah changed his mind about mentioning the birthmark. “She’s a warrior—”
“She’s not hurt,” Evie said impatiently. “Who is?”
Josiah pushed open the door. The heat of the room washed over them, as did the light of the fire. Evie ducked in under Josiah’s arm, and made for the bed as Bethral stared at her in shock.
Once again, Evie stopped dead, staring at the man on the bed. “Flame of the Sun,” she breathed out. “Who did this?”
“Slavers,” Bethral responded, recovering her poise.
“This is Bethral,” Josiah said from the doorway.
Evie threw back her hood, revealing her thick white hair pulled back in a perfect braid. She started to pull off her gloves, revealing her small hands and the silver ring that she always wore. “Josiah, you need to leave.”
He’d expected that. She’d want to get to work as quickly as she could. “Call out if you need anything, Evie.” Josiah stepped past Red, who looked confused, and went back outside.
EVELYN wasted no time. The poor man needed her help. She cast a quick spell, and set a small ball of light hanging above the bed. It bathed the room in daylight, and let her see the man better.
The two women were startled, but Evelyn didn’t have time for their surprise. “What happened to him?” she asked the warrior next to the bed as she removed her heavy white gloves, careful not to catch them on her ring.
“What hasn’t?” the blonde woman answered sadly. “We’re not sure. He hasn’t spoken since we rescued him. We don’t know so much as his name.”
“When was that?” Evie asked. She swept off her cloak, folded it, and put it at the end of the bed.
“Yesterday, midafternoon,” the one named Red answered.
Evie frowned. There was more to this story, that was clear. But she’d work to do and not much time to do it. “Has he moved his bowels? His bladder?”
“No,” the blonde responded. “He opened his eyes once, but I can’t claim he
was sensible. He sucked a bit of ale from a cloth, but his tongue has been cut out, Lady.” The woman sighed. “I do not know what else has been done to him.”
“I will.” Evie sat on the edge of the bed, and reached over to touch the man gently on the forehead. She closed her eyes and whispered a soft prayer.
Knowledge flooded through her, and she set her lips tight against it. Her own body ached in sympathy, but that was the price one paid for this spell. She took a breath and probed further, wanting to know all that she could.
She opened her eyes and looked at the two younger women. Bethral was staring at her with a worried look, but Red was regarding the light ball as if it might bite her. “His suffering started about a year ago,” she told them. “Whipped and beaten daily, combined with starvation and a lack of water.”
“Rape?” Red asked.
“I saw no sign,” Bethral offered.
“Everything but that,” Evie said as she turned the man’s wrist to study the wound there. “His body is failing within, beyond the marks that you see.”
“These medicines can’t help, then?” Bethral showed her the sack just under the bed.
Evie looked over the contents, smelling a few of the salves. “Save these for later. Right now, we need to make him comfortable. Clean and warm is a good beginning. You must also try to get him to drink.”
“He can’t swallow.” Red reminded her.
“He can,” Evie said. “It’s just very difficult, especially since he is unconscious. Trickle it down the inside of his mouth, and stroke his throat with your fingers. You will feel it when he swallows. Go slow.”
“Why bother?” Red asked, looking away at the floor. “He’s as good as dead.”
“No, he is not,” Evie insisted.
Red and Bethral both gave her surprised looks. Evie just smiled. “He’s not dead yet. We will see what the Lord and the Lady will for him.” They still looked puzzled. “You’ve never seen a priestess heal?”
When they shook their heads, she sighed. “It’s rare enough, these days.” Evie knelt by the bed. She stretched out her arms, holding her hands a few inches over the man’s belly. “I’ll—”
“Water,” Red blurted out. “We need more water.” She snatched up an empty bucket, and bolted out the door.
Evie looked at Bethral, who shrugged. “Gods make Red nervous.”
Evie arched an eyebrow, but didn’t waste words. She turned back to her patient and spread her hands over him. The white star sapphire in her ring glittered in the light, the star gleaming on the stone. She closed her eyes and began to pray.
JOSIAH sharpened the blade of his axe as he waited a good distance from the hut. He’d seen Red bolt out the door, but she’d taken herself off to the barn, and looked to be in no mood to talk.
That suited him as well.
He concentrated on his task, working the blade with a stone. He’d need to cut more wood if they were going to keep the poor wretch warm enough.
The goats lay about him, making soft noises as they dozed. The sun was a hint on the horizon when the door opened and Evie stepped out. Josiah stood, relieved at the sight of her tired smile.
She held the lantern, and he met her on the path. “Will he live?”
She grimaced then, putting her free hand up to smooth her hair. “That’s in the hands of the Lord and the Lady, Josiah. I think I disappointed Bethral. She seemed to expect him to be instantly healed and spring out of the bed.” Evie looked at the morning sky. “I am going to be late.”
Josiah stepped ahead of her, heading toward the shrine. “Did you explain?”
Her voice floated to him from behind. “I did. All the healing went deep, so he looks much the same as he did. Bethral is going to clean him, and try to get some broth or gruel into him. I’ll return, after the services and a good nap. I might bring help.”
“Is that necessary?” Josiah asked carefully.
“Josiah”—Evie was using her “priestly” voice—“you know that it is. The Lord of Light and the Lady of Laughter give us the gift of their magic, but it has to flow through me. If I have another here, I can channel more into the patient, without exhausting myself.”
“You will take care,” Josiah stated. “You will—”
“I will take every precaution.” Evie’s voice softened. “Figure that I will return about midafternoon.”
They had reached the point where they could see the shrine. Josiah stopped, and looked down into her blue eyes. “Evie, how is it that a slave can be abused so? Isn’t the Church doing anything? Are the Regent and Elan—” his voice cracked, and he had to stop to clear his throat.
Evie looked up, and studied his face. “The Church supports the Regent, Josiah. And the Regent and his supporters do nothing to protect the people.” She tilted her head to the side. “That’s the first time you’ve even seemed curious about what has happened in Edenrich.”
Josiah looked away.
“So tell me, my ‘little cousin,’ how is it that I find you with two young, comely women and a beaten and abused man?”
He turned back to look at her, his mouth open but without any words to explain. It was the glint of humor in her eye that saved him. Josiah relaxed. “‘Little’ cousin? You have only a year on me, Evie.”
Evie looked up into his eyes and gave him her rare impish grin. “To think I towered over you when we were smaller.”
Josiah sighed. “That was a long time ago, Evie.”
Her eyes softened, and she reached out her hand to cup his cheek. She raised an eyebrow, silently repeating her question.
He shrugged, and looked at her feet. “It’s a long story, Evie.”
She puffed out a breath and lowered her hand. “To be certain. And it would be, when you know that I must not be late for services.” She lifted the lantern, and walked past him toward the shrine. “But I will want the full tale later, when I return.”
He watched as she walked within the shrine, and noted that the shadows moved as she placed the lantern on the floor. He retreated down the path.
The goats bleated as they came to stand around him.
“She’s gone,” Josiah said softly, “but she will be back.”
They walked down together, and entered the ruins. The area was empty, except for the lantern on the floor.
Josiah lifted the lantern. But before he turned to leave, the light caught the stylized sun on the back wall, and it refracted the light all about, banishing the shadows around him.
RED met him at the door of the hut. Josiah suspected that she waited for him. “Well,” she demanded, “did it work?”
He pushed open the door.
Bethral was half-seated on the bed, her arm around the slave’s shoulders, supporting his head, a mug in her other hand. Her smile was bright as she looked at them. “He swallowed.”
Red stepped in behind Josiah. “He doesn’t look any better,” she said. “Those wounds are still open.”
“Evie said the magic went deep within, where it was needed most,” Josiah explained.
Bethral nodded. “I’m to get as much liquid in him as I can. She wants him to void his bladder.”
“And soil the bed, no doubt.” Red wrinkled her nose. “I’d have thought she’d have done more.”
“There are limits,” Josiah growled. “She will be back later today. I suggest we eat, and take turns seeing to him.”
“We should sleep as well,” Red pointed out. “We’re all tired. We can take watches and share in the burden. There still might be pursuit. I’ll watch first.”
“Bethral, get some sleep, I’ll sit with him for a while.” Josiah offered.
Bethral smiled and nodded. She stood and stretched. “I’ll curl up here, on my bedroll. In case you need me.”
“Won’t that be cozy?” Red snorted, and made for the door. “Guess I’d better go fill in that grave, then.”
Her words were harsh, but Josiah didn’t miss the obvious relief in her eyes just before she closed the door.
>
SEVEN
“WHY did I let you talk me into this, Evelyn?”
Red’s lips narrowed as she watched Evie lead a blindfolded man out of the ruined shrine. Josiah had told her to wait here for her, and that she would be bringing help. But Red didn’t like the man’s looks, or his tone of voice. He was tall, towering over Evie, with long black hair that flowed down his back. He was dressed as a priest of Palins, but his voice was—
“We are only supposed to heal with the approval of the Church.” The man spoke again as he stumbled on the doorsill. “Are you even being paid?”
Whiny. Definitely whiny.
Evie reached out to steady the man, and took his arm. “Dominic, you know they can’t all afford to pay.”
The man recovered his balance and looked damned arrogant while he was doing it. Red curled her lip.
“Some commoner, then,” Dominic sniffed as Evie drew him down the path. “Really, Evelyn, you go off to the worst hovel at the first suggestion of a need. All some lowlife has to do is snivel that he is ill, and off you go, no questions asked, no permissions granted.”
Evie looked apologetically at Red as they neared. “Dominic, you know that is not—”
“Who is there?” Dominic stiffened, sensing Red’s presence.
“A lowlife,” Red spat. “With a blade.”
Dominic reached for his blindfold, but Evie stayed his hand. “Stop that,” she scolded. “It’s your own fault for being rude. She isn’t going to hurt you.”
Red snorted.
Dominic snorted right back. “It is not rude to speak the truth. You may be one of Evelyn’s lost lambs, but you should respect her office. One of the lesser priests, or a lay healer with herbs and ointments, would certainly serve your needs. Certainly not the most powerful priestess in the—”
“Dominic!” Evie tugged on his arm, and got him moving.
Red followed. The man continued his chiding as they reached the croft. His personality did not improve with his speech, as far as Red was concerned. He cursed every root and rock on the path, as if it was a personal affront.
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