The Caller

by Juliet Marillier

  ‘I do.’

  ‘This way,’ he said. ‘I hope you’re ready for this.’

  Weapons sharp; backs straight; hearts high. ‘I’m ready,’ I said.

  Flint introduced me to Summerfort’s steward, Brand, a man of about five-and-thirty who walked with a limp – I wondered if he had once been a fighter, for he had a no-nonsense briskness of manner – and his wife, Scia, a tall woman with freckled skin and nut-brown hair in a tidily plaited crown. Then he left me.

  Scia was a sometime assistant to Toleg, Summerfort’s healer and herbalist. During the busy summer months, she told me, she helped him all day; in the quieter time, when the court was at Winterfort, she managed the household with her husband and only worked in the infirmary when Toleg needed her. I felt awkward at first, wondering if she would consider my arrival a threat. But she seemed delighted, saying the extra pair of hands would free her for myriad other tasks.

  Scia quizzed me on my experience. I’d had limited practice in some areas of healing, but my herb knowledge was good enough to have her nodding and smiling.

  I would not meet Toleg until the morning, for he was engaged in a complex decoction and had ordered that nobody disturb him. ‘He’s not the most even-tempered of men,’ Scia said. ‘But expert; he’s taught me a great deal. If you keep quiet and get on with your work, he’ll come around to accepting you.’

  She took me to a great hall for supper – a cavernous chamber barely warmed by the fire burning on its broad hearth. Of the five long tables, only one was occupied, and it was not full. The serving people were few. Among those seated there was a group of Enforcers; I counted ten.

  ‘Men of Wolf Troop,’ Scia said, seeing me watching them. ‘They keep a complement here over the winter to guard prisoners, maintain the watch, attend to local problems. The rest of them are helping Stag Troop with the training. You won’t see many of them in the keep, not now they’ve got the . . .’ She hesitated. ‘You’ll have spotted them, I imagine, as you rode in. Folk from the south, a different kind of folk, here to learn how to fight. Camped outside the wall; they come into the practice yard during the day. The less we say about that the better. That man over there, the one in the dark robe, is Master Brydian, the queen’s councillor. He’s told us all to keep our mouths shut about it. If I could give you only one piece of advice, it would be this: never disobey an order from Master Brydian.’

  The councillor was sitting with three other men, quite a distance down the table from us. He was the man who had sat beside Queen Varda at the Gathering; I had seen him again escorting the captives on that terrible journey from the south. Two of his companions wore Enforcer black. The other was a young fellow; I guessed his age as no more than twenty. I was fairly sure he, too, had been riding behind the enslaved Good Folk, and from what little Flint had been able to tell me, I deduced this was Esten. He looked unwell. His skin was sickly pale and grooves bracketed his mouth, as if he was in constant pain. Brydian leaned toward him, murmuring something, and he answered. I made myself look away.

  ‘You won’t see those strange folk in the infirmary,’ Scia said, keeping her voice down. ‘When they get hurt, Toleg goes out to tend to them in the yard. He’s not happy with the situation, but don’t tell him I said that. It’s not as if we don’t have a steady stream of our own fighters coming in with sprains and bruises and cuts.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘I’m not sure anyone could understand, really, until they’d seen it. But I’m pleased you’re here. Toleg will be, too, especially if you can work without supervision. I can’t always come and help him. My children are still small, and there’s other work to do.’

  I asked her their names and ages; while she spoke of them, her face softening, I considered how appalling it would be to raise a family here, within the walls of Summerfort. Perhaps she and Brand sent them away during the Gathering. A child who witnessed such acts would surely be scarred forever. ‘Maybe, now I’m here, you can have more time with them,’ I said.

  Her smile was rueful. ‘I doubt it, Ellida. This new venture – it’s testing us all hard. And once the court moves here, nobody gets a spare moment. But enough of that. Tell me about this new husband of yours. How did you meet?’

  I did my best to be the blushing new bride, telling her the romantic and completely untrue story of how Morven and I had met, and how thrilled I was that Rohan Death-Blade had offered my husband the opportunity he’d longed for since he was a lad. Scia seemed happy to listen. It was a rarity, perhaps, for her to have another woman to talk to when the court was at Winterfort; here in the dining hall I could only see one other, and she was busy collecting platters. I talked about the clothes I had brought, and how I doubted they would be fine enough to wear once the king and queen arrived at Summerfort. Not that I would be seeing much of them, I supposed.

  ‘Well, no,’ Scia said. ‘You’ll be even busier when they get here, what with all the men filling the place up. By midsummer every troop of Enforcers will be in residence, and we’ll be run off our feet stitching up wounds and dispensing draughts. That’s not even to mention those folk out beyond the walls –’ She came to a sudden halt, looking up over my shoulder. Her face had turned white.

  ‘Idle talk, Scia.’ The voice was deep and soft. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. ‘And who is this? A new face? I did not know anyone was expected.’

  I rose to my feet; turned to look up into the dark eyes of Brydian, the queen’s councillor, who had moved as silently as a wild cat stalking its prey. I could not read his expression, but his tone had alerted me. ‘I am Ellida from Glenfalloch, Master Brydian.’ I dropped my practised curtsy, hating myself. ‘I rode here with my husband, who has been accepted to train as an Enforcer. Rohan Death-Blade came with us from Winterfort.’ I paused to draw breath, and when he said nothing, simply went on examining me as if he did not believe a word, I added, ‘I am an experienced healer, my lord. Rohan believed there would be work for me here, as well as for my husband. Scia was just explaining the duties to me.’

  ‘I see.’ A long pause. ‘Then Scia must make sure she keeps to that. She and her husband have been in this household a long time. How many little ones is it now, Scia, three, four?’

  ‘Three, Master Brydian.’ Scia’s tone was uneven.

  ‘Ah, yes. I believe I’ve seen your son in the courtyard playing with a ball. So tender at that age, aren’t they? Fragile as spring flowers.’

  Scia said nothing. I swallowed sudden rage. It had been a threat, clear as clear.

  ‘We have rules here,’ Brydian said, his cool gaze back on me. ‘Rules designed for the good of every member of the household. Start with this: no idle questions and no gossip. Of course, that may be a little difficult for women to adhere to.’ He gave a wintry smile which I did not return. ‘But we expect obedience. Complete obedience. I hope that is understood.’

  I made myself speak courteously. ‘It’s understood, Master Brydian. Morven – my husband – and I are here to work. We know it’s a rare opportunity. We won’t give you any cause for concern, I promise.’

  He smiled again. ‘Good, good. Make sure you don’t forget.’ He turned on his heel and was gone, back to his place beside the Caller. I would not ask Scia about him. I hardly dared ask her about anything, lest I put her and her family at risk.

  We sat in silence, finishing our meal. Only after Brydian arose to leave did Scia murmur, ‘The winters are easier.’

  ‘Mm. Fewer people here?’ No Brydian. No king and queen. Only a half-troop of Enforcers, who, under the circumstances, would perhaps be somewhat more relaxed.

  ‘That’s right. Now, if you’re finished, I’ll show you the women’s quarters. Almost empty at present; you’ll have a choice of beds.’ Her manner was briskly cheerful, but her face was still pale.

  As we went out, I looked across the hall and saw Brydian and the Caller leaving through another doo
r. Brydian had a hand on Esten’s shoulder as if to steer him along. Flint had said Brydian was in the queen’s pocket. I had observed Queen Varda at the Gathering. I had seen how often the king turned to her for advice before making a choice; I had seen how often she chose the cruellest, the most repellent option. No wonder Esten looked like a man plagued by nightmares. A shiver of utter terror ran through me. Here, within the walls of Summerfort, I was only one step away from discovery. If Brydian guessed what I was, if anyone did, I could find myself in Esten’s position, a pawn in the queen’s perverse games. A tool for the king’s ambition. Before that could happen, I would use the hemlock I carried with me. Better no Caller than a Caller forced to the king’s will.

  ‘Feeling cold?’ Scia glanced at me as we walked along one of Summerfort’s many hallways. ‘I’ll see about getting you another shawl, maybe something more suitable to wear in the queen’s presence, later in the season. She likes a certain standard at supper. Your things are perfectly suitable, but she can be . . . fussy.’ And, when I made to protest, ‘It’s all right, we do have a few garments set by. Her ladies leave behind whatever they’re tired of; nobody seems to mind if we make use of those items. I may even find you a gown or two, though you’re very slight. Perhaps we can make some alterations.’

  ‘Thank you. That’s kind of you.’ Just don’t give me anything that was worn by Queen Varda herself, I thought. The queen was of a similar height to me, though considerably more shapely. The thought of touching any garment of hers, even something as small as a ribbon, repulsed me.

  Scia gave me a warm smile. Now that we were well away from the hall and Brydian’s watchful eye, her cheeks had more colour. ‘It’s a pleasure, Ellida. Here are the sleeping quarters. You can claim any bed that doesn’t have someone’s possessions stored under it. There’s a little yard with a privy out the door there, and a pump for washing. I won’t see you again until the morning – Brand and I have our own quarters. As for idle gossip,’ she looked over her shoulder, as if Brydian might have followed us like a dark shadow all the way from the hall, ‘you won’t find much of it here. Everyone knows the penalty if they break the rules. Besides, by the time the women finish their work for the day, they’re too tired to want anything but sleep.’

  There were only four other women sharing the long sleeping chamber, and Scia was right; when they came in some time after she had left me, they greeted me without a great deal of interest, told me their names, then rolled into their beds and fell asleep.

  For me, sleep came less readily, and when it did, my dreams were full of all I feared most. In the morning I woke still weary. I washed and dressed; most of the other women were already gone to kitchen duties, but a girl who looked after the household mending walked to the hall with me. The keep was large, the steps and hallways and outbuildings many and confusing. I must learn my way about quickly.

  After breakfast, Scia took me to meet the healer, Toleg. He had not come to eat in the hall, but Scia said that was nothing unusual. Toleg was most content in his own domain, and often had someone bring him a meal of bread and cheese rather than bothering with formal dining. So I met him in the infirmary, which consisted of a roomy chamber with several pallets and a well-stocked stillroom.

  I had plaited my hair tightly, not a wisp astray, and over it I wore a neat cloth that one of the other women had found for me. A clean apron covered my gown. I’d made sure my hands were well scrubbed.

  Toleg was a small person, not much taller than me, and quite old, his hair and beard grey, his face marked with deep lines around the brow. He wore a long robe something like Brydian’s, but of brown homespun, and over it an apron similar to mine. The sleeves of the robe were rolled up.

  Scia introduced us. ‘This is Ellida from Glenfalloch, wife of the new Enforcer in training. You’ll have had Brand’s message about her. Another assistant for us. Ellida, this is Master Toleg, who taught me most of what I know about healing.’

  ‘Did I say we had need of an unskilled helper, Scia?’ Toleg’s brows went up.

  ‘Master Toleg,’ I ventured, ‘I am not unskilled. I’ve been working in the household of –’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’ve been told all that,’ Toleg said dismissively, reaching for a cloth to wipe his hands. He had, it appeared, already started work for the day. A tray with an untouched platter of bread and cold meat stood at one end of the work bench. On a board were orderly heaps of finely chopped herbs, and on the small hearth a kettle steamed. There were no patients in the infirmary, but tools of surgery were laid out in meticulous order on a side table. ‘How can you be skilled? You’re not much more than a child.’

  ‘I’m sixteen, Master Toleg.’ This was not like talking to Brydian. Here, I could prove myself if he gave me a chance. ‘I’m a married woman. My grandmother taught me herb craft from an early age. For the last two years I have been assisting the healers in Gormal of Glenfalloch’s household. A large household with many men-at-arms. I can perform most of the everyday duties you must require here.’

  He said nothing, only went back to chopping his herbs. The scent was powerful, spreading through the warm air of the chamber.

  Scia had put on her own apron, which was hanging from a peg, and was tending the fire.

  ‘Everyday duties,’ Toleg echoed with his back to me. ‘Can you deal with a suppurating wound? Set a broken bone? Deliver a child from a dead mother?’

  I swallowed. This was somewhat more testing than Rohan’s inquisition. ‘Ill humours in a wound? That would probably require surgery, Master Toleg, and I would be lying if I claimed I could do that, though I am very keen to learn. I would be able to assist you without fainting away. In a less severe case the problem might be solved, at least in part, by the use of maggots to eat away dying flesh. I cannot set a bone on my own, but I have assisted with it several times and, given a helper with strong arms, I can ensure the process is carried out correctly. The delivery of a child after the mother’s death would also be a matter of surgery. I hope I never have to help with such an event, but if I had to do it, I would. The child would have to be cut from the womb. Its chances of survival would be slim at best.’

  ‘What am I making?’ He shot the question at me, arrow-quick.

  My sense of smell was good; I hoped my memory was as good. ‘I would guess someone has a skin condition, a severe rash, an itch, and that you are making a curative wash. Or you may be preparing a poultice for a tumour of the skin.’

  ‘And the components are?’

  ‘Figwort; mandrake; speedwell. Perhaps other herbs in quantities too small for me to identify.’

  ‘What other possibilities might one investigate for such a tumour, assuming this is a poultice?’

  I thought fast. ‘All parts of slippery elm, Master Toleg. Heather twigs and flowers. But I understand mandrake root, if it can be found, is the most effective.’

  ‘Mm-hm. Scia, show Ellida where we keep everything.’ He turned. ‘It’s a trial only, understand? Anyone can spout theory. Show me you can stay calm when there’s a man screaming under the knife, and I might consider keeping you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I’ll work hard.’

  ‘Work hard and work well,’ said Toleg. ‘Now go and learn where to find things quickly. Would that this might be a place of peace, where there was time to teach a new assistant properly. But it’s quite the opposite, as you’ll soon discover. We must be ready for anything.’

  I wanted to act without delay: to talk to the captive Good Folk, to find out if Whisper was all right, to know if Ean and the other young men from the south were safe. I wanted, oh so badly, to talk to Flint again.

  Instead, I spent my days between infirmary and stillroom, keeping quiet and making myself useful. Toleg was terse at the best of times, but to the extent that such a man could thaw, he did so day by day, thanks, I guessed, to my ability to work hard, learn quickly and show honest respect. I was far from an
expert healer, but Toleg soon realised I knew enough to be genuinely helpful.

  There were small milestones of trust: the first time he let me make and apply a poultice unsupervised, the first time he left me in the infirmary alone while he went to tend to one of the Good Folk who had been injured. The first time he sent me, with the key, to his locked cupboard to fetch substances too dangerous to be stored where idle hands could reach them. I brought exactly what he’d asked for and locked the cupboard after me.

  As the days passed Toleg began to entrust duties to me that had been Scia’s, and increasingly, when she came to the infirmary to ask if he needed her, he’d tell her to go off and spend time with her children. She didn’t speak of them much; perhaps Brydian’s threat had stopped her tongue. But she and Toleg had worked together a long time, and he would sometimes ask her about them, revealing a softer side of himself that was seldom on show. Scia kept her answers short, but her tone was full of love and pride. She might as well enjoy her time with them now, Toleg said, as once the royal party arrived none of us would have a moment to ourselves.

  I did not see Brenn and I did not see Flint. The household guards from Wolf Troop were the only Enforcers who took their meals in the hall. When Stag Troop was afflicted with a vomiting and purging malady, an Enforcer named Tallis came to the infirmary to request a large quantity of the draught Toleg made up for such problems. He needed sufficient to dose everyone, he said. I risked asking after my husband, and was told Morven was as sick as a dog like the rest of them, but otherwise doing well – Owen Swift-Sword had commented recently that his newest recruit hardly needed training.

  I had no plausible excuse to go beyond the inner wall that guarded the keep. A large kitchen garden was maintained within that wall, including a herb patch to supply us with the more commonly used plants. Toleg would go out to the woods every so often with a basket over his arm and come back with wild-harvested herbs. He never said anything about what he had seen out there, and neither Scia nor I asked him. I thought escaping the stone walls and enjoying the smells and sounds and sights of the forest would lift a person’s spirits. But when Toleg returned from these trips outside he was more taciturn than ever, his shoulders hunched in a posture that said more plainly than any words, Leave me alone. It was blindingly clear that he did not like what was happening at Summerfort. But he, too, obeyed Brydian’s rules.