by CJ Brightley
I squeezed her hand. “It was brave.” I opened my eyes to see her lip trembling.
“I’m sorry.” She wiped at her eyes. “I don’t think I can be a healer. I almost threw up when you, when…” she stopped, sniffling and trembling almost violently.
I pushed myself up so I could see her better. I was so tired I could barely see straight, and I felt dizzy and stupid with exhaustion. “You did well. A healer’s job is difficult.”
She shook her head and looked away as she wiped her eyes. Her voice shook a little. “I mostly told my Da I wanted to be a healer so he wouldn’t push me so much to get married. He’s afraid I’ll end up alone if he doesn’t take care of it for me. He doesn’t want me married yet. He just wants to choose the man and have me sign the papers in case…” she stopped. “He’s not doing well.” She brushed at her eyes again fiercely.
“Is he sick?” My question sounded inadequate to my own ears, but she nodded.
“He’s doing better, I guess. Saraid doesn’t know what it is.” She shrugged as if she didn’t want to talk about it, but she leaned forward and looked down so that I couldn’t really see her expression.
I rubbed my thumb over the back of her hand. My shoulder throbbed, and it took all my concentration to form my words. “He wants you married just so you’ll be taken care of? That’s why you started training with Saraid?”
She nodded. “I do want to help people. But,” her voice shook and she sniffed again. “I don’t think I can do what Saraid does.”
There was a long silence, and despite my best efforts, my eyes closed. “While I’m alive, you will never be without protection.” I had to stop and think before I could find the rest of the words. “That may not be worth much. But if you want, I can tell your father that he needn’t worry about you being alone.”
Riona was there, though I hadn’t seen her come. “Kemen, lie down. Please.” Her hands were gentle on my back and my good shoulder, supporting me as I leaned back feeling dizzy and sick with pain.
I heard Riona whispering quietly to Lani, then she spoke softly to me. “Do you want any lunch, Kemen? I have it for you here.”
I wasn’t hungry, but I thanked her anyway. They kept wanting me to eat. The berries were best, fresh and sweet after months of bread, tough meat, and old vegetables. I wanted to say something else, to tell Riona I wanted to speak to Hakan and to Lani’s father. I was so tired I couldn’t seem to say the words.
But I did not forget.
31
Riona
One afternoon I brought him lunch in the garden. He’d been outside most of the morning, dozing in the warmth. With his eyes closed he told me which birds were singing, warblers, tanagers, tiny siskins, vireos, and once the cry of a hawk far above us.
He pushed himself up to sit cross-legged on the blanket when I set the tray down on a little folding table. He was eating more, but he was still terribly thin. He was cold sometimes even when it was warm, and I kept a cloak or a blanket nearby in case he started shivering.
He smiled his thanks and reached for some of the cheese.
“What happened to your hand?”
He glanced at the scar. “I don’t remember.”
“It looks like it hurt.” It was still faintly pink, a thin arc from the top of his wrist to the outside of his forearm, disappearing into his sleeve.
He shrugged slightly. “It happened during battle. I had other things on my mind.”
I wanted to hear his voice. Even when I’d thought him ugly, frightening, I’d thought he had a pleasant voice.
“May I ask a question?” I was strangely nervous.
He nodded, pausing to smile at me again. He still looked so tired, but the brightness in his eyes was reassuring.
“I heard something in Kumar and I wondered if you would tell me what it meant.” At his nod, I tried to remember the words. The sounds of Kumar are quite different than those in Common, and I wasn’t sure I had it right. “Waratoshu hani maktai. Hanil amai. Ryuu soktai akashni. Hanil rulakshani amai.”
He stared at me. “Was there more?”
“I didn’t hear it all. But I remember ‘Hanil amai. Amai. Tavarin suvari, ekanska.’“ I hesitated, but finally asked, “What does it mean?”
He spoke slowly. “It is a quote from Kardanska’s account of Stonehaven’s founding. It’s a poem. Are you sure it wasn’t Ryuu sokti akashnai. Hanil rulakshanai mako amai?”
It sounded very similar, but finally I shook my head. “I don’t think so. What does it mean?”
“The quote is wrong. It’s from the death scene of Aitor. It should say, ‘Remember me, I gave my honor for your life, beloved lord. Forgive me. Great is the glory I claim for you. I have given all I have; forgive me for my weakness.’“ He licked his lips. “The second part is from earlier. It should be, ‘Forgive me. Forgive. I have lost the suvari for your crown.’“
He looked down at the table. “But what you said translates to, ‘Remember me, I gave my life for your honor, beloved lord. Forgive me. Great is the glory I discard. I have lost all I desired; forgive me.’ And the second part, ‘Forgive me. Forgive. The suvari is ready, but I won’t lead them.’”
We sat in silence, and he stared at his own hands clasped together on the table. I reached out to run my finger over the pale pink line curving over the back of his wrist, wishing to soothe him somehow.
“Where did you hear it?”
“You said it, when you were sleeping and fevered.”
He nodded as if he’d expected that answer. I waved at a fly buzzing around the meat, and finally he began to eat a little. Afterwards he lay back with his eyes closed. I read to him, but he slept soon.
The garden hummed with life, bees buzzing and tiny lizards scuttling through the grass. He made me notice those things as I never had before. Lani came out to see if he needed anything and sat with me a while. He murmured in his sleep, and I reached out to touch his shoulder gently. He frowned and shivered, and I pulled the blanket up around his shoulders. He let out a sigh, almost a groan, before shifting and sleeping more easily.
32
Kemen
Those weeks with Riona were balm to my heart. I needed comfort, and she was comforting. I needed rest, and she let me rest. I needed peace, and she was peace to me.
I did nothing. I asked nothing. I had nothing to offer.
But she was there. When I could eat, she sat with me. She touched my hand and was not repulsed by the darkness. She sang to me. When I dozed and jerked awake with dreams of men I had lost, she was there. When I wanted to walk and didn’t have the strength, she lent me hers. When I leaned on her, she supported me and did not scorn my weakness.
I had long loved Riona. But in those weeks, I better understood why.
33
Riona
Kemen went riding with the king not long before he departed again for the north. The queen was very large with child by then, and we followed in an open summer carriage as the men rode ahead. They kept to an easy pace, more the king’s doing than Kemen’s.
From a distance, he looked splendid, tall and proud, his shoulders broad and his waist narrow. He wore his sword as he wore his shirt, without thought or effort. But closer, I could see his left arm still bound to his side, the hollowness of his cheeks, the king’s careful courtesy and effort not to tire his friend.
Drokan drove the carriage. The royal couple walked with Kemen to the top of a small hill while Drokan and I spread out the blankets and set up the trays of food.
I served during the meal. When I refilled Kemen’s goblet, his smile nearly made my heart skip. He let his hand linger on mine a moment. He has beautiful hands, with fine straight bones and lean strong fingers. He didn’t talk much, but that was hardly unusual. He didn’t seem to be in much pain. The queen Kveta told a Rikutan fairytale, complete with all the dramatic voices she could devise to make the men laugh.
Kemen hardly ate anything, and I wasn’t the only one who noticed. The queen glanced at him worriedl
y several times.
“Won’t you eat any more?” she asked.
He shook his head.
She opened her mouth as if she wanted to argue with him, but the king curled his hand around hers and she only frowned at the tablecloth. Kemen didn’t seem to notice, leaning forward to rest his head on one hand, eyes closed.
The king spoke quietly. “Kveta and I are going on a walk. We’ll be back soon.”
Kemen nodded, looking up to smile at them as they rose. The king had to give the queen a hand, and she struggled to her feet, ungainly and beautiful with pregnancy, her cheeks rosy in the warmth. They walked up the hill hand in hand.
“How do you feel?” I reached out to touch his hand.
“Could be worse.” He shrugged and smiled a little, but even in the warm sun, he still looked grey with illness and fatigue.
“Will you rest?”
He nodded, and though I wanted to help him, I knew it would hurt his pride if I did, so I waited while he carefully and painfully lay back, his eyes closed against the brilliant sun. I moved closer, so that my shadow fell across his face, and he smiled again.
“Thank you.”
I ran one finger down his cheek, tracing the line of his lips. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else to eat?”
For a moment he looked like he might be sick. “I’m tired, Ria.”
“Darling, I’m sorry. Just rest.” I ran my fingers through his hair, hoping to comfort him.
He clasped my hand, held it to his cheek with a sigh, then kissed my fingers. “Your voice is beautiful.”
I bent to kiss him and he blinked in pleased surprise. “Shall I sing to you?”
He smiled even more, pressing his cheek against my hand. “Please.” His skin was cool and smooth; he’d shaved that morning.
I sang to him softly and watched him doze in the heavy summer warmth. His clothes were too large for him now, and the collar of his shirt was open to show the smooth skin of his neck, the slow pulse of his heartbeat, the sharp angle of his collarbone into the muscles of his chest. If he hadn’t needed the rest so desperately, I might have been bold enough to kiss him again. Once he jerked half-awake with a sudden gasp. I shifted a little and he rested his head against my knee with a murmured apology.
The king and queen returned in a little over an hour, flushed from the heat and smiling. They wanted water and wine before we packed everything and started back toward the palace. When the king and Kemen mounted their horses, the king offered Kemen a leg up, but he refused it.
I don’t know if Kemen realized that we all stopped to watch him mount, worried that he didn’t have the strength yet. Even without using his left arm, and so tired he could barely stand, he mounted in one fluid motion as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I helped the queen into the carriage and we were off again, the pace easy and slow.
I found Saraid in her herb garden. “He’s still barely eating.”
“What did you expect, Ria?”
“I thought you said he was getting better!” I blinked back sudden tears.
When we’d returned to the palace, he’d stumbled a bit from exhaustion as he dismounted. He’d smiled, bowed to the king and queen, kissed the queen’s hand. I’d walked with him to his room. Once he’d even stopped to lean against the wall a moment, his hand trembling when I put his arm around my shoulders. When we reached his room, he’d collapsed into the nearest chair. I’d pulled off his boots for him, and when I bent to kiss his cheek, he was so dazed he’d blinked in surprise before smiling apologetically. He was already asleep, or perhaps unconscious, when I draped a blanket over him, his elbow on the arm of the chair and his head braced on his right fist.
She shook her head. “Ria, he’s healing, but he’s not well yet. It takes time for a body to readjust. He’s still in pain. You’re not pushing him to eat, are you?”
I shrugged a little guiltily. “Not much.”
“Don’t. He will when he can.”
I knelt to help her pull weeds from around the mint and lemonbalm and threw the torn stalks onto her growing pile. “He’s too thin. How can he heal if he won’t eat?”
“Ria, it takes time. He’s doing better than I’d ever have expected.”
I frowned. “I still don’t think he should be riding yet.”
“He went riding?” She looked up at me suddenly. “Today?”
“With the king. The queen and I followed. They had a picnic.”
She yanked up another weed savagely. “Stubborn fool! How far did they go?” She scowled; she’d uprooted a lemonbalm plant along with the weed.
“About an hour at a slow walk; a league at most. The king and queen went on a walk and he slept before we came back.” I swallowed hard.
“How was he when you got back? Tired, I know, but did he look like the pain was worse?”
“Not really. Just exhausted.”
“I should expect so. He shouldn’t be riding for another month.” She sighed. “I’ll speak to him tonight. I did tell you, Ria.”
“It wasn’t my idea! The queen suggested it, but they wanted him to ride in the carriage. You think he’d consent to that?”
She sighed. “I know it wasn’t your idea. I meant that I told you about men like him.”
I bit my lip. True. She had.
As usual, I kept my eyes well away from the wound when Saraid changed his bandage. Saraid said I didn’t need to hold his arm, because he clenched his jaw and kept still even through the worst of the pain. But I knelt in front of him and watched him, my hand gentle on his arm. I don’t know if it comforted him, but it was meant to. His long eyelashes brushed his cheeks, dark and beautiful.
He took a quick, sharp breath, his arm tensing suddenly, and Saraid apologized quietly. Then she said, “Sir, I heard you went riding today.”
He made a soft, affirmative sounding grunt.
“I wish you wouldn’t. You really shouldn’t be riding for at least another month.”
The same sound, with a slight quirk of his lips into a faint smile.
“Is the pain worse when you ride?”
“No.”
“How’s your appetite?”
He made a noncommittal noise and she frowned at his back as she positioned the bandage carefully.
“I’m leaving next week for Fort Kuzeyler.” He opened his eyes to look at me.
She scowled even more at his back but kept her voice calm and soothing. “It isn’t wise, sir. You can’t send a message instead?”
“No.” Even facedown on a bed, exhausted, with his eyes closed again and his shoulder opened to the bone, his quiet voice had absolute authority. “I won’t take a healer for the journey, but an officer named Kudret Askano will be going with me. Will you show him what to do to change the bandage?”
“As you wish, sir.”
I don’t know why he didn’t take a healer. I would have asked, but I wasn’t bold enough to question him yet, not about military matters. I took Captain Askano to Kemen’s room the morning before he departed again for the north. He was younger than I’d expected and I felt an odd sort of affection for him. Kemen had said he was a good officer, talented and honorable, and I could believe it. He was handsome; he looked like someone’s younger brother or someone’s sweetheart. If I’d met him before I met Kemen, I might easily have lost my heart to him. I knocked on Kemen’s door and he bid me enter, rising to greet the young captain.
“Sir.” Captain Askano dropped to one knee as he bowed far more deeply than was proper to anyone but a king. He spoke with solemn courtesy. “I am glad to see you better, General Sendoa.”
Kemen bowed to him, and then they both smiled broadly, clasping elbows in the soldier’s gesture of friendship.
“Have you met Riona?”
“No, sir.” Captain Askano shook his head.
I felt my face heat. Kemen stepped closer to put his hand behind my back, the tips of his fingers just brushing my shoulders. “Kudret, this is Riona. Riona, this is Captain Kudret
Askano, a good friend and good soldier.”
Captain Askano swallowed, flushing slightly at the compliment. It made him look very young. He bowed to me politely. When he raised his eyes, I was startled by his look. Toward me, there was a flash of… what? Resentment? Anger? Those words are too harsh; it was more of a coolness, as if he knew how I had hurt Kemen. When he glanced back at Kemen, it was with worship in his eyes. Hero worship.
Saraid came then. I untied the cloth that bound Kemen’s arm close to his body, a sort of sling that supported it to keep it from pulling his shoulder, while Saraid spoke to Captain Askano about the herbs she used. I didn’t have much to do after that, but I stayed and watched.
Kemen pulled off his shirt and Captain Askano seemed to pale a little, though Kemen didn’t notice. He lay face down on the bed, and Saraid untied the bandage, peeling the thick cloth back carefully. I kept my eyes on Kemen’s face, wondering if he would want me to kneel by him as I usually did. He glanced at me and smiled a little, a warm smile that seemed to say he was fine.
“Thank you for agreeing to do this, Kudret.” Kemen spoke mostly into the mattress.
“Aye, sir.” He bowed slightly as he said it, as if he was honored by the request.
Captain Askano nodded as Saraid told him what to do. To boil the bandages. To dust the wound with a mixture of herbs that she had already prepared for him. To pack it with honey. She had already told Kemen how to make lavender tea for the pain, but she told Captain Askano how much lavender and white willow could go in how much wine. That oatmeal and boneset tea would be helpful. She showed him how to clean the wound gently and Kemen closed his eyes, his jaw tightening.
Kemen said something in Kumar, and Captain Askano grinned broadly before he followed Saraid’s instructions on how to tie the bandage. Then again, quiet banter back and forth, with several grins and one chuckle from Captain Askano. It soothed my worry to see Kemen joking, though I didn’t understand his words.