Athyra

by Steven Brust

  Savn wondered if perhaps he was exaggerating their condition to himself. He couldn’t be sure, but he didn’t think so.

  Polyi was in the house, and her first words were, “Are they sick, Savn?”

  He thought about giving her an honest answer, but couldn’t make himself do it. He said, “I don’t know what’s wrong, Polyi. I just don’t know.”

  “Should we ask someone?”

  “Who?”

  “Well, Master Wag, maybe?”

  “I don’t think they’re sick.”

  “Well somethings wrong with them.”

  Savn sighed. “Yes, I know. Let me think about it.”

  “What good will thinking about it do? We have to—”

  “I know, we have to do something. But I don’t know—What in the world was that?” There had come some sort of rapping, scraping sound from the roof.

  Polyi rushed out the door, Savn right at her heels. They turned and looked up at the roof. Polyi screamed. Savn, though he had become used to such things, felt very much like doing the same.

  * * *

  For an hour or so after the large soft one left, the Provider seemed fine, and even after that, she couldn’t really tell that something was wrong, but her lover began to grow agitated, then worried, and finally almost frantic. He began to fly around, nearly hurting himself against the cave walls.

  She came to understand that the Provider was not well, and she wondered if the large soft one had done something to him, and if she should track him down and kill him. No, she was told, it had nothing to do with that one, it had to do with how he had gotten hurt before.

  This puzzled her, because it seemed that one would either be injured or healthy; the Provider had been injured and was now getting healthy again, so how could the same injury account for two illnesses? But her lover was in no mood to explain such things, so she didn’t ask.

  As he grew more frantic, however, she began to catch his mood. Desperate to do something that would alleviate his misery, she at last suggested that, if he had been cured before by something one of the Provider’s species had done, couldn’t it happen again?

  Her lover calmed down at this suggestion, only to become angry again, this time at himself, because he seemed to feel he ought to have thought of that before. But he seemed disinclined to waste too much time with such thoughts; almost at once he turned and flew out of the cave.

  She had nothing better to do, so she followed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I will not marry a sly intendant,

  I will not marry a sly intendant,

  I’d make money and he would spend it.

  Hi-dee hi-dee ho-la!

  Step on out ...

  Polyi clutched Savn’s arm and stared. The day’s light was nearly gone but there was enough to see, without possibility of error, what was sitting on the roof. Even to Savn, there was something horribly invasive in the jhereg’s perching on his own house; whatever they were, and however friendly they were, they didn’t belong here.

  It was only much later that it struck Savn as odd that neither he nor Polyi thought of calling Mae and Pae, which would have been their automatic reaction only three days before.

  At last Polyi said in a whisper, “What are they doing?”

  “Watching us.”

  “I can see that, chag-brain. I mean why are they watching us.”

  “I don’t know.”

  Savn stared back at them, refusing to be intimidated. That there might actually be intelligence behind those quick, tiny eyes made it worse. Well, he wanted to say. What do you want with me?

  Could Vlad have sent them?

  Maybe. But, if so, why not give them a note, like he gave to Fird?

  Perhaps because he couldn’t.

  But, if he couldn’t, how could he have sent the jhereg?

  Savn scowled. He just didn’t know enough about Vlad’s relationship with these things. It was a matter of witchcraft, and—

  Witchcraft.

  Just like the spell he’d put on Mae and Pae.

  He broke free of Polyi, turned, and walked away from the house. Behind him, Polyi was asking something, but he didn’t really hear her.

  Vlad was in trouble, maybe dying; that was the only possible explanation.

  Vlad had, for whatever reason, laid enchantments on Mae and Pae.

  Vlad needed help.

  Vlad didn’t deserve help.

  Savn slammed back into the house and got a small cooking pot, two wooden bowls, a little barley (Vlad could pay for that at least, and he’d better!), and some three-season herb, which was another thing Master Wag had recommended against fever.

  Polyi came back in. “Where are you going?”

  “Vlad’s gotten sick again,” he growled.

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do.”

  He rolled up his sleeping furs and tied them into a bundle.

  “Aren’t you coming back?” said Polyi.

  “Yes, I’m coming back, I just don’t know when.”

  Prairiesong grew next to the road; he could pick some ; on the way. What else did he need?

  “What do you mean, you don’t know when?”

  “I’m going to stay with Vlad until he’s well, or until he dies, or until they find us. And, when he’s well, I’m going to make him—I’m going to talk to him about some things.”

  He carefully wrapped Pae’s best kitchen knife in a towel and stowed it among his furs.

  “But,” said Polyi, “that could take—”

  “I know.”

  “Mae and Pae—”

  “Won’t even notice.”

  Polyi shut up. Savn continued to pack as quickly as possible, ending up with one large roll that fit over his shoulder and a light sack that he could carry.

  “I’m going with you,” announced Polyi.

  Savn looked at her in the light of the stove. Her hair, which always gave her trouble, looked completely disorganized; her thin brows were drawn together in a line, and her mouth was set in an expression that he’d often seen before and thought of as stubborn; now it looked determined. He wasn’t certain what the difference was, but he knew it was there.

  “Of course you are,” he said. “Hurry up and get ready. We have to take the long way around, and I don’t want to waste any time.”

  The two jhereg shadowed them as they walked. It was too dark to see them, but Savn and Polyi heard the occasional thwp thwp of their wings, which made Savn nervous, though he didn’t mention it. Polyi didn’t mention it, either. In fact, Polyi didn’t say anything at all, though a couple of times Savn tried, halfheartedly, to engage in her conversation. The only thing she said was, “How are we going to see in the cave? It’s bad enough out here.”

  “I left a torch just outside; maybe we can find it.” Their progress through the woods was very slow. There was no light at all save for the diffuse glow from the sky and the faraway beacons from His Lordship’s manor house, which, faint as it was, got fainter as they went further from Manor Road and into the woods above Bigcliff. Savn was afraid they would miss the path altogether and step off the cliff itself. He made Polyi take hold of his arm, and he went very slowly, feeling for low branches with his free hand and exposed roots with his feet.

  “I’m glad you came along,” he said. “This would be even scarier alone.”

  Polyi didn’t answer.

  Soon the light from the manor house was gone entirely, and Savn was afraid he’d lose his sense of direction and wander the woods all night, but shortly thereafter they emerged, and he realized that the soft glow from the sky was enough to allow him to pick his way with care down the path to the caves.

  Finding the torch proved difficult indeed, and he might not have managed it if he hadn’t bumped into the tree he’d been leaning against earlier. He scraped his cheek slightly, but was otherwise unhurt, and by feeling around at the tree’s base, discovered the torch he’d brought out of the cave.

  It was only then, with
the unlit torch in his hand, that he realized that it was chilly. “Are you cold?” he asked Polyi.

  “Yes,” she said, “but I’m all right. Hurry up and light the torch so we can go.”

  While Polyi waited by the cave mouth, Savn pushed together a pile of leaves that weren’t too damp and succeeded in making a fire. The glow hurt his eyes so much, he had to look away while igniting the torch, and once he’d managed to do so, he had to look away from both while he stamped out the fire. When he’d done this, he hesitated, wanting to wait until his eyes adjusted to the light, but not wanting to remain outside the cave where the light could be observed.

  As he stood, undecided, Polyi said, “Come on, Savn,” so he squinted as best he could and headed into the cave. The jhereg, visible now in the torchlight, stayed with them, as if to be certain they completed their journey.

  At last they reached the chamber where Vlad lay. Savn put the torch in the wall, lit another from the stack on the floor, brought it over to the Easterner, and gasped.

  “Savn, what’s wro—”

  “Hand me the sack, Polyi. Thanks. Now, find the mortar and pestle. Quick.”

  “Where? Oh, here it is.”

  Savn dumped the contents of the sack on the floor, and found the prairiesong. “Crush this up with some water,” he said.

  “Where’s the water?”

  “I don’t know, look around. Wait, in the wineskin, against the wall, below the torch. No, the brown wineskin; that one still has wine. Yes.”

  “How much water?”

  “After you’ve crushed the prairiesong, fill the bowl. Wait, give me the water first.”

  Savn inspected Vlad, looking at each wound carefully, then got a cloth wet and put it around Vlad’s head. Then he began fanning him.

  “What happened?” said Polyi.

  “The Imps of Fever have entered his body, but I don’t know how. His wound isn’t infected.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Have you mixed the prairiesong yet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we will help him drink it.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then we’ll get the fire started again. Is there any wood left?”

  “Not much.”

  “After he’s had the prairiesong, take a torch with you and get some wood. Don’t stay out there any longer then you have to. Be careful not to be seen.”

  “All right. What will we do when we’ve got the fire going?”

  “We will sit here with him, keeping him cool, chanting the charms against fever, and feeding him water with prairiesong until his fever breaks.”

  “What if it doesn’t break?”

  “It will,” said Savn.

  “But what if it doesn’t?”

  “It will. Here. I’ll hold his head, you open his lips and pour. Slowly, we don’t want to spill any.”

  They helped the Easterner drink. He was only semiconscious, but he was able to swallow normally. His skin was still very hot. Savn wiped Vlad’s forehead again, while Polyi got the firewood. He reviewed the chants against fever, while he ground up more prairiesong and set it aside, then began fanning Vlad. I’ll have to send Polyi out for more water, he thought, but that can wait until the fire’s going.

  He began the chant clumsily. It was difficult to perform the invocation with the proper rhythm while fanning Vlad, until he managed to adjust his fanning to the rhythm of the incantation. After that it was easier.

  Polyi returned with the firewood, and built up the fire, got more water, then sat down next to Savn. “How is he?”

  “He burns,” said Savn, his voice already hoarse. “Come, listen to the chant so you can help me with it. I’ll fan him, you make sure the cloth on his forehead stays damp, and we’ll perform the healing together.”

  “All right,” said Polyi.

  Vlad moaned softly then, and mumbled something. Polyi made a soft exclamation. Savn glanced at her and said, “We do not pay attention to the ravings of those under our care.” Then he resumed chanting. Presently his sister joined him.

  Several hours later, when both of their voices were raw and sore, when Savn felt more exhausted than he ever had in his life, when he was afraid that his arm lacked the strength to lift up Vlad’s head one more time, he felt his forehead and found it was cool to the touch.

  “You can stop, Polyi,” he said.

  She kept chanting, stumbling a little, slowing down, then at last ran down like a spinning doll at the end of its string. She looked at him blankly, as if unable to comprehend the silence. Perhaps they said something to each other—Savn later had a memory that they exchanged a hug, but he was never certain. All he knew was that within a minute after the sudden silence boomed through the cave, he was sound asleep.

  When Savn awoke, the first thing he did was stifle a cry and look at Vlad. Then he realized that he’d only dreamed that he’d fallen asleep while Vlad’s life was still at stake, and he relaxed. The Easterner slept, but his color looked good and his forehead felt cool, though perhaps slightly clammy.

  The next thing he did was make sure Polyi was all right. She was still asleep (or, for all he knew, asleep again). He badly wished for tea. Then he noticed a dead norska lying by the fire. He looked at the two jhereg who stood over it, either guarding it or showing off, and said, “Now, I suppose, you’re going to want me to skin it and cook it, aren’t you? Haven’t we been through this already? Fortunately for you, I have a stewpot, because I wouldn’t want to risk the smell of roasting it again.”

  The smaller of the jhereg hopped over to him, jumped coolly onto his arm, and licked his ear. Savn wondered why this didn’t bother him, and, moreover, how the jhereg knew it wouldn’t bother him.

  He built up the fire, skinned the norska, and put it in the pot with water and more three-season herb than probably ought to go in. That was all right; it might make the stew a little sweet, but it should still be edible. The smell woke up Polyi, and, at almost the same time, Vlad.

  Savn realized the Easterner was awake when the two jhereg suddenly stopped nibbling at the norska skin and flew over to land next to his face. Savn followed them, knelt down, and said, “How are you?”

  Vlad blinked, cleared his throat, and said, “What did I say this time?”

  “I have no idea,” said Savn. “You sound stronger than you did yesterday.”

  “Do I? I think I feel a little better, too. How odd.”

  “Did Fird do something to you?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I don’t think he could have done anything I wouldn’t have noticed, and he doesn’t seem to be the type that would try anything, anyway. No, I think it just happened.”

  “You do sound better.”

  “Thanks. I really didn’t say anything?”

  “I wasn’t paying attention. What was Fird doing here, anyway?”

  “Giving me some information I’d paid him to find out.”

  “Oh. I hope it was worth it.” .

  Vlad laughed, weakly. “Oh, yes. It was worth it.”

  Savn grunted and stirred the stew, spilling some, which made the fire hiss, and thick smoke curled up into his eyes. He waved it away and stepped back. He added a little wine, Figuring it couldn’t hurt anything and remembering Vlad’s comments last time.

  He glanced back at Vlad, who had struggled to a sitting position on his own, and was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, his eyes closed.

  “You’re going to make it,” said Savn quietly.

  “Eh?” said Vlad.

  “Nothing. Rest now and I’ll wake you when the food’s ready.”

  “Thanks, but I want to be awake. I need to think.”

  “Are you afraid they’ll find you?” He didn’t think the stew sinelled as strongly as the roasted norska had, and hoped that the smell wouldn’t manage to sneak its way out of the cave.

  “Are they still looking?” asked Vlad.

  “Yes.”

  “Hmmm. Well, that’s part of it. If they found me no
w I wouldn’t be able to give them much sport. But even if they don’t find me, I have to figure out what to do.”

  “About what?”

  “About Loraan, of course. Excuse me, I mean Baron Smallcliff.”

  “Oh.”

  Eventually the food was ready. Polyi splashed water on her face, visited the cave they’d designated as a privy, and rejoined them, still looking groggy. They ate in silence, not even commenting on the quality of the stew, which Savn thought was fine (although, as he had feared, a bit sweet), even if it was not as exciting as the roasted norska had been the first time.

  They had to share bowls, since Savn had only thought to bring two, but they finished every morsel. When they had given the bones and scraps to the jhereg, Vlad rested for a while. Savn thought he was looking better and better, but resolved not to leave him unattended until he was certain there would not be another relapse.

  Polyi, who, as usual, had been the last to finish eating, watched Vlad as he rested. Savn wondered what she was thinking about, a question which was answered when she suddenly said, “What did you mean about not wanting to work again?”

  Vlad opened his eyes. “Excuse me?”

  “When you were feverish, you said you never wanted to work again, and you wouldn’t, and swore by Verra. Or maybe at Verra, I couldn’t tell.”

  Vlad looked reproachfully at Savn, who said, “When did he say that, Polyi?”

  “While we were chanting.”

  Savn looked at Vlad. “I didn’t notice,” he said.

  “I meant,” said Vlad, “that, basically, I’m a pretty lazy fellow. What else did I say?” The Easterner was staring at Polyi, and Savn felt the intensity of that stare.

  “Stop it,” he said.

  Vlad turned to him. “Excuse me?”

  “I said, stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Whatever you were about to do to her.”

  The Easterner seemed genuinely confused. “I wasn’t about to do anything to her; what are you talking about?”

  “You were about to cast a spell on her.”

  “No, I wasn’t. What makes you think I was?”

  “I saw how you were looking at her, and I know what you did to Mae and Pae.”