by R. J. Price
“Fine, you can have your precious friend.”
“And if you ever strike her again? I will kill myself, and then we’ll see just how long you last without a rank to bring them in.”
Danya turned on her heel and marched off, trying to look as if she were confident about her own threats. She made it into her home before the tears started. Locking the door, she sank down and cried silently until the tears would come no more.
Sometimes that was the only way to feel better, was to let the tears come, but that didn’t mean she would cry in front of Rewel, not if she could help it.
Alone in her home, Danya looked around and almost wept from loneliness.
There had been a time when she would enter her home and her mother would be there, just waiting for her. The woman would talk and talk for hours, would respond to her if she were crying. She would even pat the air around Danya, as if to comfort her.
But her mother was gone.
The Other Danya had called her mother, whose name she had never learned, had disappeared almost twenty years previous. One day during one of the more desperate times, when they had been without a queen almost a full year, she had simply vanished. Several Others had vanished with her, though the Others had been weaker from the start.
The village had been cursed shortly after Danya had been born, this had been the only life she had ever known.
Danya saw a flicker out the corner of her eye.
She turned and there stood the healer. He was there one moment, seemingly staring right at her, then gone the next.
He had been the man who had taught her about healing, who held the title but not the rank. He had always visited when Danya’s mother went away for a few hours though the man never spoke directly to Danya, or even in her direction. He would walk through the house, his old home, lecturing some unseen person on the ways a healer might use herb and skill to aid a body. He spoke of how magic could be used to heal a body, if one was a healer and had enough magic of their own, as well as an older kind of healing.
Sometimes those with their own magic simply need to be reminded that their body was not whole.
Which was not a fact that Danya had shared with Rewel. There was some trick to this reminder, she knew, though she wasn’t certain what exactly. She had been more than capable of mending several young women who had stumbled in bloodied or wounded, simply by taking their hand and reminding them silently that this was not how their body should feel.
Aren was another, though Danya had hardly had time to remind the body that it should function a different way before the queen began warming to the touch. Perhaps due to her strength, or her other oddities, or even because she was linked to the throne. Aren’s flesh reacted eagerly to the urging of magic, which made Danya wonder what Aren would be capable of were she to turn her magic onto her own flesh.
Suddenly, teleportation and flying didn’t seem so far-fetched, once Danya had time to think back. Once her mind was focused elsewhere but looking for a distraction.
The things that Aren might be capable of were only limited to what she thought she could do.
How far she could walk from the wall she was chained to was limited only by how far she thought she could go.
Danya wondered for what reasons the throne had sent Aren to the village. For rest? For time away? To solve the small problem of a village that was not working properly?
To teach her that she was limited only by her own self-doubt?
Chapter Twenty-One
The children were ushered off to the neighbour’s for a night of fun and games with other children their age. In trade, they gave nothing more than thanks, making Av suspicious that his father was doing more than simply training the village.
Ervam had retired to the country. Retiring meant not working more than necessary. It did not mean training everyone for miles around, which apparently was the case. Trainers in their prime worked with villages or people nearby to train them to defend themselves. Not men past their prime who were retired.
When Av pointed this out to his father he had been given a look that strongly encouraged him to drop the topic.
Upon entering his home, Ervam immediately went to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle. Av grimaced and sat at the table. Jer took the seat across from him.
“One really shouldn’t drink so early in the morning,” Av said.
“If we get you drunk now,” Ervam said, setting a glass in front of Av, “you might be recovered by tomorrow morning, rather than having a hangover all day. As this isn’t for fun, I thought you might appreciate the extra time to recover before the children return screaming from the sweets they’ll be given before they come home.”
“Why are they being given sweets?” Jer asked.
Ervam opened the bottle and poured the drink before he answered with, “Because the last time I had their children, they found my sweets and ate the entire bag. Their parents blamed me for not paying close-enough attention.”
Av pulled the drink towards himself. “If I’m still aching, you two need to deal with them. Since this is your experiment and all.”
“Quit stalling and drink the damned thing,” Jer said.
Downing the alcohol in one gulp, Av shuddered. He set the glass down gently and took the bottle from his father when Ervam attempted to pour another drink. No sense wasting the time to pour it out if drunk was the state he was going for. The quicker he drank, the drunker he’d get.
“I’ll just pull from the bottle, if it’s all the same to you,” Av said.
Ervam took the seat beside Jer.
All was quiet as Av drank. The edges blurred a little, his limbs heated with the drink. Satisfied that he was not quite in his right state of mind, Av set the bottle to the side. He was determined to remember what they asked him, whether they wanted him to or not.
“Ask away,” he said.
“I don’t think you’ve had enough,” Ervam said.
“He’s definitely not blackout drunk,” Jer grumbled.
“Ask,” Av said, slapping a hand down on the table. “Or I stop drinking.”
“Fair enough,” Ervam said, adjusting in his seat. “This village you want to raze to the ground, you’ve been odd about it, so let’s start there. It could be the line of conversation that leads us where we need to go.”
Av nodded and took another swig from the bottle. He was thirsty suddenly.
“Can you tell us anything about the village?” Jer asked. “Fortifications, people, children? Population or placement in the land, even?”
“That’s a little specific,” Ervam said to Jer.
“None, there are, none, two, and by a little lake,” Av said quickly. “Come on, give me a hard one.”
“Did he just say the population is two?” Jer asked Ervam.
The older man nodded. “That he did. Doesn’t mean it’s completely wrong. He answered very quickly. Could be two ranks, rest commoner.”
“True,” Jer said with a nod.
Av sighed and picked up the bottle. “You won’t believe me until I’m blacked out, will you?”
“This is just an experiment,” Jer said.
“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault the information you’re hearing isn’t making sense because you’ve never seen a village riddled with lines,” Av growled before he swallowed as much as he could.
The edges were more than just blurred now. The warm tingly feeling flooded his senses, blurring his instincts.
“Is Aren all right?” Ervam asked.
“Define… all right,” Av said.
“Physically?” Jer asked.
“There’s a rank there, so she’ll be fine,” Av said, waving Jer off.
“Mentally,” Ervam countered.
“About the same as when she left,” Av said. “Maybe a timeout will make her better, give her time to think about things instead of being all impulsive and just listening to whatever is told to her.”
“That’s good,” Jer said. “Wonder what happened, then.”
Av slammed his hand on the table, which also happened to still be clutching the bottle. “Don’t bring that up!”
“We don’t have to talk about that,” Ervam said. “Maybe we could talk about the strength of this healer?”
“I don’t want to talk about that; there are other things to talk about,” Av grumbled.
“Like what?” Jer asked. “Aren is infected, there are things we need to know to keep her protected and we can’t exactly ask her right now.”
“How about we talk about…” Av slapped the table again and paused, making absolutely certain he had both their attentions before he continued. “…Whether or not any of you idiots has told Aren that she is infected?”
Silence.
Jer frowned in thought. Ervam’s face went blank for a moment before horror came over his features. The silence continued as Av gloated, rewarding himself with a sip from the bottle.
“Everyone’s talking about it,” Av said. “Everyone’s got an opinion on it and everyone says that’s why she’s acting the way she’s acting. That the infection is why these things are happening to her. But have any of you sat her down and really explained what’s gone on?”
“I’m sure someone—” Jer started.
“Must have, someone must have filled her in,” Ervam said.
“Unless one of you did it,” —Av waggled a finger between the two of them— “she doesn’t know.”
“Why didn’t you tell her?” Jer demanded.
“I been chasing after her and trying to break off an arranged mating,” Av slurred at his brother. “Why didn’t you tell her?”
“It’s not my place!” Jer protested.
“You adopted her before the thone,” Av said.
“The what?” his father asked.
“The throne,” Av repeated, making certain his mouth made the sounds he meant to make.
“As a ploy to keep her father off of it,” Jer said. “The lords and ladies recognize my right to sit there, but not any other connection to her.”
“Next you’ll say you stubbed your toe and got distracted,” Av growled.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Ervam said to Jer as Av took another drink from the bottle. “Take the lumps with the answers. We should have sat that girl down and explained what was going on.”
“Fine,” Jer growled. “How do you destroy a link that is like the throne, but isn’t the throne?”
“Ask Telm,” Av said.
“Like we should ask her about her amulet?” Jer asked Ervam.
“She’s the only one who can say no to the connection,” Av said pointedly.
Ervam sighed. “Not the throne speaking, just Av.”
“Drunk Av,” Av growled. “We didn’t tell her when she was here?”
“No, we didn’t want to worry her,” Ervam said. “Why put a panic into her when we suspected it could be her last days?”
“When she took the throne,” Av countered.
“We didn’t have time between her parents arrival and all else,” Jer said.
“Maybe I mentioned it when she kicked me between the legs,” Av said, trying to get his mind to focus on that one place in time.
Nothing came to mind. He could not narrow his thoughts down to the present, let alone a moment days before when Aren had been upset with him. Upset, Av blew a breath through his closed lips.
Thinking was hard.
“I’m going to bed,” he announced and stood.
The room did a sickening spin. Jer and Ervam appeared at his side, hands getting in the way as they insisted on stepping into his path and moving about whenever he turned away for a moment. He grudgingly gave over the bottle he had been drinking from, but only because one of them promised to return in a little while with another full one.
“Wait, wait,” Av said when they tried to leave him. He motioned to the ring box on the nightstand, seemingly too far away for him to reach. “Open the box.”
“Open the…” Jer’s voice accompanied the blob that moved from the door, to the nightstand.
Not even his eyes were focusing any longer. What bottle had he pulled down to drink?
“There, see?” The box was shown to him, closed and set back on the nightstand. “It’s safe and sound.”
“No.” Av dragged out the word. “Leave it open.”
A sigh, and the box was opened once more, placed right on the edge of the nightstand. By him but still too far away to reach.
They left him then, turning out the lights as they went, closing the bedroom door. Av watched the ring in the darkness, ever aware of where it was despite the lack of light. Like Aren. He couldn’t see her, but was still aware of where she was in the world.
The bedspread whispered to him and Av rolled over, tugging the blankets up higher. He closed his eyes and tried to get the world to stop spinning.
“Can’t break it, just got to mash it in with the others,” Av grumbled to himself, tugging blankets over his head. “Not the first person stupid enough to make one.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Leaving Av sleeping, Jer looked at his father, then at the bottle in his father’s hand. Ervam looked at the bottle as well, sniffing at the opening before he made a face. Over half empty, it held an amber-coloured liquid.
“What is in that?” Jer asked.
“Brandy of some kind,” Ervam said, setting the bottle on the table. “You’ve seen him drunk more often than me, so how much do you think he’ll recall?”
“I think the last two hours are gone. He won’t recall threatening our lives for endangering the life of the one who sits the throne. Or when he started talking in another language. I wasn’t aware Av learned another language.”
Av did know another language, but that language sounded nothing like what he had been speaking, and none of them had spoken it since Mirmae had passed away. None of them could bring themselves to do it.
“As far as I know, he doesn’t,” Ervam said quietly. “Your brother’s not a moron, but he’s definitely not bright enough to pick up on a language without one of us knowing he was learning, if you get my meaning.”
Meaning the only way Av would have learned another language was if Ervam or Jer sat him down and taught him themselves.
“Know the language he was speaking?” Jer asked.
“No. Could be ancient,” Ervam said. Jer opened his mouth to ask if anyone knew how to speak ancient when his father added, “There are hundreds of dialects of ancient. Also, given the tone of the language used, I’d rather not get it translated and take it for what it was. A threat.”
“It could have been a recipe for some spicy soup,” Jer said.
“I’m pretty certain all languages have the same tones to them,” Ervam said with a grumble.
Both sat at the kitchen table and contemplated the bottle that Ervam set between the two of them.
Av had talked for hours. Jer knew that Av wouldn’t recall most of the conversation, and that was how they wanted to keep it. No need to be bringing up that sort of information when Av was stuck on palace lands until spring.
The roads might let him through, though the snow would eventually lock him into one village or another for the remainder of the winter. There was no way to mobilize men.
Winter simply was not the time of travel.
“I can’t believe we didn’t tell her,” Ervam said finally.
“I’m sure we did,” Jer responded. “There’s absolutely no way that we neglected to mention to Aren what her bodily condition was. Surely Av did at some point.”
“Perhaps he made mention of her being changed by the cave, but did not tell her what the infection would entail,” Ervam said, rubbing a hand on his face.
“I will write to Telm in the morning and we will put this to rest. Aren’s grasp on what’s happened to her has to be made clear, if it’s cloudy at all.”
“Absolutely. Can you imagine a queen infected, walking about in public without knowledge of why she did what she did?” Ervam
asked. “It would be madness.”
“Aren knows more about sex than she does about queen’s stone,” Jer growled. “She wasn’t here for the conversation. Is now a good time to start drinking?”
“No, her not knowing about the stone does absolutely nothing. She can’t infect others, she can’t change the magic capabilities of others. I think…” Ervam trailed off, frowning at the bottle of brandy. “The only real difference is that her magic is stronger. Something that could help her greatly in the situation she’s in now. And she’ll get herself into more trouble… and go mad eventually.”
“Like the trouble she’s in now?”
The trainer growled. Jer watched his father stand and snatch up the bottle of alcohol. Ervam marched to the alcohol cupboard, placing the brandy back with a loud thump. Jer couldn’t hide his smile as Ervam marched back to the table and sat down.
“Back to the original question,” Ervam said. “What are we to do about Av?”
Jer shrugged. “We go with whatever. Know of a rank who’s available to court a healer? Might as well start vetting now.”
“No, none of them are too pleasant, but Er is planning on sending a few of the younger warriors on down to seek mates amongst those on palace lands. Wait until spring for that one,” Ervam said.
“Fair enough, how about we talk instead about the fact that you, sir, were supposed to be retired,” Jer said, sitting forward in his chair. “You registered as retired in the archives, which means that the only position you could take at court, or anywhere, is that of master, barring a better candidate.”
Ervam sighed. “I was bored. Besides which, there are absolutely no ranks in the area besides myself and the healer. If a raid started, the village would have been wiped out. All I did was to give them a few directions.”
“She’s now unsettled and capable of bashing a warrior’s face in,” Jer snarled.
“And?” Ervam asked. “Your brother wants commoners and ranks trained alike. Teaching a healer to keep her own against a warrior—the most likely person to be in a raiding party when upswings in strength of ranks are seen—was not a bad idea.”