by J. T. Hartke
“Straighten those lines and close up those gaps!” their escort shouted out at several lesser officers.
As they neared the front, the professionalism of the Bluecloaks and the standing armies of the eastern nobles showed in the sharp formations and rhythmic steps. A few units had drummers who kept time for the ranks.
Most of the soldiers’ faces remained neutral, their focus on putting one foot in front of the other. However, many of them, especially those in the lesser trained companies, exuded a pervasive sense of fear. Maddi opened herself to her Talent and reached out to see their psahnii. It almost held a hint of sickness, results of weeks of marching and eating travel rations. Sleeping outside every night at the end of winter doesn’t help.
“Do you sense him?” Tallen asked. “I cannot find his pattern.”
Maddi shook her head. “Who…oh…” She looked back at the marching soldiers, her concerns rising as she examined them from afar. “I was sensing them. Not all are healthy. That will not aid us in a fight.”
“Ah,” Tallen replied, a quizzical look on his face. “I could feel you tapping into your Talent. It is so strange, yet so similar to Psoul. I cannot explain it.” He looked behind them. “Perhaps this is what Tomas and Dorias are always on about.”
The deep horn that signaled the end of the day’s march sounded close by. The same call then echoed down the line. Maddi spied a dizzying patch of colors on a ridgeline up ahead. The king’s blue and silver banner hung limp in the absence of a stiff breeze. Figures scrambled to set up dozens of tents, each in the colors of the noble house residing within. Cast against the gray-brown sea of switchgrass, it almost took on a carnival look, like when the circuses had come to Dern when she was young. Though none of them had such dangerous animals.
The Bluecloak messenger led them straight to the largest tent.
“Blue silk with silver dragons embroidered on it,” she snorted. “Who would have guessed? Your people are not very original.”
Shaking his head, Tallen dismounted with her. “We have a thing for order. Everything in its place. Everything clearly marked.” He shrugged. “It’s handy for a cook.”
Maddi pinched his side and he squirmed. “That leads to predictability and boredom,” she said.
He grabbed her wrist and held it firm so she could not pinch him again. “Yes. Well, we are about to meet the king of order, so a little predictability and boredom might just be what’s called for.”
Maddi gave him a smile and relented in her attack. “Yes, Milord.” She gave him an overdone curtsy. “As Milord wishes.”
The messenger cleared his throat. “If you would please, His Majesty will be waiting.”
Tallen turned, almost as if he were a soldier at attention.
Maddi drew a deep breath as thoughts of Lord Doctor Marten washed away any fun she was having at Tallen’s expense. Her giddy nerves bundled into a pit of fear in her stomach. She swallowed and followed Tallen inside.
Grim knights stood at the entrance to the tent and opened the flap. Inside, Maddi’s vision adjusted to the magical glowglobes. Their light revealed lush carpets and wide divans. A potted fichus tree stood in one corner. Half a dozen Bluecloaks gathered close around a map-strewn table, each with three stars on his tunic and two with red trim on their cloaks.
The old man Maddi recognized as the Lord Magister sat on a small chair in one corner, his flowing white beard stark against his multihued robe. Tallen and he exchanged a long look that ended with Tallen bowing his head in respect. The man returned the gesture.
Wizards…
A screen of ebony partitioned off half the tent, set with jade and lapis in the design of fish leaping from a forest pool. That thing is worth half the city of Dern…in its prime!
Three more Bluecloaks emerged from behind the screen, escorting a pale old man in a white tabard. One of the escorts had the yellow trim of a healer on his cloak. Tallen went instantly to one knee and Maddi gracefully followed.
“Please, my dear, rise and come close.” The king’s voice sounded frail. “I have not seen you since Midwinter, and your healing was so effective that I danced for the first time in half a decade.” He chuckled. “I insist. Rise and come forward.”
She stood. Tallen remained on one knee, his head bowed. Maddi took two steps and the Bluecloaks surrounding the king moved to stop her.
“Now, now,” the king commanded. “Allow her to come close and grant me healing.”
One of the generals refused to step back. “Your Majesty, this is not wise. She is a foreign woman of questionable past who recently left the Doctor’s College in disgrace. I must insist that you let Doctor Stavath here try again, or perhaps the Lord Doctor.”
King Arathan chopped his hand through the air. “Enough, Raemus. I have heard my fill of your counsel for today.” He pointed at the doorway. “You are dismissed.”
General Raemus stalked out of the tent, but not without a harsh glare at Maddi and Tallen both.
The king cast his rheumy blue eyes over the remaining officers. “This woman is also the one that the people call Lifegiver, and I will not have her slandered without proof.” His gaze switched back to kindly in an instant. “Now, my dear, if you would be so kind…”
The remaining Bluecloaks moved back, the healer’s expression full of interest. Maddi reached out for the king’s waxy hand, almost shivering at its icy touch. She embraced her Talent, and the images of all the other lives nearby popped into her mind. She felt the reticence of the generals, the curiosity of the king, and the Bluecloak healer watching her with his own Talent. Maddi also perceived a pervading sense of concern from Tallen. His life force glowed like a cosmic white light. It comforted her and gave her a sense of peace.
The king’s life force glowed as brightly as Tallen’s, but it did not offer the same tranquility. Maddi sensed the strains on muscle and tissue from the king’s advanced age, and a hint of black disease congested in a lobe of one lung. Beyond that, however, a gray haze disturbed the once ardent light of King Arathan VII. A strange, dizzying field that emanated from his mind. Is that what madness looks like?
Maddi drew the sickness from his lung, careful to shield herself not just from the disease, but from the haze that obscured his life force. Stretching her Talent throughout the lines of energy within the king’s psahn, Maddi spackled in pieces of her own life force here and there. The king’s joints strengthened and the tears in his muscles healed. She fixed a small hole in the lining of his stomach, and withdrew the poison from a pustule forming near his heart.
The Bluecloak doctor handed her a towel to wipe her hands. “I would never have imagined someone could pull that much more out of him.”
She dove back into the king’s life force, wrapping him in her own psahn. She found a brittle hip that needed strengthening, and the beginnings of decay in one tooth. All the while she kept the strange, chaotic shadow at bay. Maddi could not sense any way of removing it, and it caused her enough apprehension that she dared not experiment. At last she withdrew, a gasp of breath escaping her.
The king stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders. He danced a wobbly jig that caused the doctor and his companion to reach out to offer aid. The king shooed them away and turned a beaming smile on Maddi.
“Thank you, my dear.” He raised his nose at his generals. “Make certain she is well cared for in a fine tent. Any food or drink, anything we have, is hers at her request.” He wiggled one finger at her. “I know how you healers need good nourishment to use your Talent.” The king patted his belly. “As for me, I am famished…but first we must deal with your young friend here.”
King Arathan shifted his face into a far sterner expression. “Magus Tallen Westar is it? That surname is not unknown to the kings of Gannon. How would you be descended from Baelor and Shaela?”
Tallen kept his head bowed, but spoke with confidence and respect. “My grandf
ather was their son, Your Majesty. I grew up in the Sleeping Gryphon, the inn built by the grace of your honored ancestor to reward them for their service. That same spirit was bred into us as children.”
“You know your family history. That is a good sign.” The king lifted a white eyebrow, the bushiest hair on his head. “What else do you know?”
Maddi could hear Tallen gulp. She looked at the king, but from his stance and tone, she knew no interference would be brooked.
Lowering his eyes even further, Tallen spread out his hands. “I am sorry, Your Majesty. I know something of magic, and something of cooking. I have read a few books, but none that might match your own wisdom.” He lifted his head enough to see the king’s waist. “If you might have a specific question for me…”
Arathan laughed, a long chuckle that morphed into a disturbing cackle near the end. “You are the newest interest of the Ravenhawke. You travel with his old friend, the traitor of Harlong.” He took a step closer to Tallen. “My spies in the elf sorceress’s Academy tell me you are a Dreamer too, and quite powerful.”
One of the generals near the map table stepped closer. “And it is reported that you had some troubles with the enemy while patrolling the Wastes with these companions of yours.”
The king stamped his foot. “By the Balance, General Bahalan, I will question the young man. The army is not the only counsel I keep.” He regarded the Lord Magister, sitting in the corner. “This young man is quite useful, and he comes from a long line of loyalty…” The king narrowed one eye at the general who had spoken. “…far more than yours has always shown.”
The general bowed his head in acquiescence and backed away.
King Arathan returned to examining Tallen. “I would have you stay within my royal camp as well, young man. Your usefulness to me far supersedes any plan the Ravenhawke has for you. You may go.” He waved his hand in dismissal before wandering back behind the screen. “Now, to find something to eat…”
Tallen rose, an expression of relative shock on his face. Maddi grabbed his hand and pulled him from the tent. Outside, a porter offered to lead them to a small tent set up near the edge of the camp for the two of them. Thankfully it was simple brown canvas.
“I’ll have a meal brought for you,” the porter said with a bow, before turning and disappearing into the dusk.
Inside, their saddlebags and packs had been neatly stacked next to a pair of stools and a small camp table. An oil lamp, already lit, cheered the inside of the tent, casting shadows against its walls. A pile of luxurious pillows and furs lay near the back.
“Not bad,” Maddi declared, her fingers running through the fur of a thick bear pelt. “At least we’ll have some private time before the Lord Doctor tries to kill us.”
Tallen lowered the flame on the lamp. “At least we know he is here, and that the king doesn’t wish to harm us…” He tossed his saddlebag farther into the back of the tent. “…at least for now.”
A loud flutter sounded from outside the tent, and the flap opened just a bit. At first, Tallen saw no one, until a squawk drew his focus downward. Merl peeked his head inside the tent and croaked again.
“Well,” Tallen said, a smile at last touching his lips. “At least we have one friend with us.”
A cleared throat behind the flap signaled the arrival of a servant. The smell of roast mutton and cornbread wafted into the tent.
The raven folded his wings. “Food!” he squawked.
Their second day in the Wastes passed with little incident. Maddi and Tallen rode next to each other at the rear of the king’s entourage of nobles and generals, keeping to themselves and avoiding conversation. Merl flew somewhere far above them. The army marched almost ten leagues before the horn to stop sounded from the vanguard ahead. By the time they gathered their saddlebags and passed their horses off to one of the king’s servants, their tent had already been set up. A short time later, another porter brought them roast beef and root vegetables fresh from the cook fires.
Merl swooped down in time for the food to arrive. Maddi pulled the first hot piece of meat from her skewer and tossed it to him. The raven gobbled it down in one swift bite.
“No Marten today either.” Maddi pulled a second piece from the skewer and popped it in her mouth. It was a little salty, but she knew she needed the nourishment and forced down another bite. “The bastard must be hiding from you.”
Tallen laughed with skepticism around his own chunk of beef. “Or you. I inquired with one of the horse handlers, and he said the doctor worked among the soldiers to keep them healthy for the battle.” He tossed one of his own pieces to Merl, who swallowed it down just as greedily.
Maddi snorted, pushing as much derision as she could into her tone. “He’s buying himself loyalty and listening to camp talk. Or just using it as an excuse to avoid us.”
Tallen shook his head, his expression unclear in the light of dusk. “He is more of a predator than you realize, Maddi. He might well be stalking us. From the way he uses his Talent, he may also be stalking others.”
A shudder ran down Maddi’s spine. “You are probably right, but both of us have been scanning for his life pattern, and we have not found him.”
Tallen shifted a branch on their tiny fire. The precious wood had been carted into the Wastes for the king’s party. Few fires dotted the rest of the army, and those stank of coal. Maddi watched those fires spring to life as night overtook the wasteland. Her taste for meat dampened, she tossed the last couple of pieces to Merl. The raven went to work storing them in proper fashion.
“Am I interrupting something?” an iron-wrought female voice called from the edge of their pool of firelight.
Maddi looked up to see the elder woman who had greeted her at the Midwinter Ball. Two armed men stood close by her, so alike in stature and face that they could only be brothers. Hopping to her feet, Maddi pulled Tallen up behind her.
“My Lady Duchess, it is an honor to greet you again.”
The woman moved closer to their fire and lifted her hands to warm them. Gold and sapphires ringed her strong fingers, and a fine blue lacquer covered her nails. “It is an honor to greet again the woman called Lifegiver, though I understand you prefer Maddi.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The duchess spread her lips in a smile, while her guards scanned the darkness. “I hear that you began work to build another of your hospitals for my peer in Gavanor. I had hoped you would keep your promise to do so in Allanor for House Lindon.”
A strange mix of fear and excitement churned in Maddi’s heart. Her fear of the Lord Doctor had driven away thoughts of the High Elder’s claim on the hospital in Gavanor. Joy at being with Tallen again hid the memories of rushing Ami and Tanya into hiding. She met the duchess’ gaze for a second then returned to examine the fire.
“The High Elder took away my control over the hospital.” Maddi let her stare sink into the flames. “He claims that it is the Temple’s place to manage the healing of the people, while the College only trains healers. I’m not even a part of the College any more. The Lord Doctor has seen to that.”
“Tymin Marten is a scheming prig and the High Elder is a perverted slob.” The duchess shifted her heavy cape. “Neither of them have much sway in my duchy. You would be more than welcome when all this is over.”
The duchess began to turn back toward the camp. Before she left Maddi called out. “Why have you come with the army, Your Grace?”
A soft laugh met Maddi’s question. “Do you mean to ask why an old woman chooses to be out in the Wastes, camping and slogging through the mud?” The duchess chuckled again. “You, my dear, should know as well as anyone that a woman must work doubly hard to be seen as half as strong as any man.”
The guards closed in around her as she strolled off into the twilight.
Tallen wrinkled his nose. “What was that all about?”
The silhouette of the duchess and her guards faded into the looming night. “I think she just wanted to make sure we knew we had a friend.”
Tossing a wool blanket around both their shoulders, Tallen squeezed in closer. “We are being swept up in their game, Maddi. They’ll want to find ways to use us against their opponents.” He shifted one arm around her waist. “And have no doubt that the nobles are aware of much more than we think they do. Who knows what the rumors are of why we left the capital.”
Maddi leaned her head against Tallen’s shoulder. “We’ll just have to be smarter than they are.”
The next morning, a rustle at their tent flap woke Maddi with a start. Tallen’s eyes took on the far away cast she had begun to recognize as a sign he had taken hold of his power. She could almost feel it radiating from him, like the heat from a furnace.
“His Majesty requests that the Lady Doctor attend him this morning, before the army resumes its journey.” The voice held a sharp formality. “Magus Westar is requested to visit with the Lord Magister, Elrin Dantos.”
“One moment…” Tallen called.
The barest hint of light fed through the cracks between the tent flaps. Maddi threw off their blankets and pulled on her clothes. Within a few minutes, both of them stumbled out to see the messenger still waiting. The man led them toward the king’s pavilion, where he gestured at the doorway for Maddi to enter. Tallen gave her a confident nod, and she ducked inside alone.
“Ah!” The king stood in his nightshirt while a quartet of servants tried to get him dressed. “There you are, my dear. I had hoped you would grant me the touch of your Talent this morning, before I broke my nightly fast.”
Maddi granted the king a deep curtsy. “I doubt there is much more I can do, since I treated you the other day.” At the slip on the King’s face, Maddi added, “But I would be honored to make the attempt.”
The servants scattered as she delved into the king with her Talent. Again the haze of madness hung about him, and again she avoided it. She cleansed the king’s lungs, liver, and kidneys, and then eased the soreness in his hip joints. Only a bit of green wiped onto the clean towel, no black or even brown.