Silver Eve

by Sandra Waugh

  “So they say.” My hands were at his heart—they were the vibration itself, for I was shaking.

  “ ’Tis part of your power, my lady.”

  “There is…there is a healing song I can sing if you’d like.” And then despite the energy, the touch, the closeness, and all the yearning that made me tremble—this suggestion made me suddenly awkward. I offered it shyly, as if I were of Lark’s timidity.

  A faint smile played at the corner of his mouth. “I’d like.”

  I nodded, looking away, trying to reclaim some Healer neutrality. Then I sang it low, barely above the rush of the waterfall, my hands still pressed against his heart.

  Take of wind, of rain, of ember, of wheat.

  Flow through, surround, include, complete.

  Heal breath, heal bone, renew, restart,

  Raise me up, clear my eyes; make it whole, my heart.

  A lullaby. The first healing tool I’d learned to use. Grandmama had taught it to me when I was very young, when she first understood I’d inherited her gift. I had a memory, then, of our cottage in Merith, of the hearth and Lark’s dog, Rileg, sleeping before it, and Lark and me helping Grandmama stitch sachets for market. The warmth, the golden firelight, and remembered smell of apple wood and lemon balm and lavender shuddered a pang of homesickness through me—and yet it was not homesickness, for stronger was the smell of sandalwood and oak, Laurent’s scent, which to me had become something far more like home than I’d ever known.

  I understood then, how Lark had found a new home. I felt at home with Laurent, even on that slab of stone, even with the relentless gush of water drowning any serenity. Even in pain. Life could never reclaim those sweet days of childhood, but it could be as beautiful. Maybe more.

  He murmured once, “There is the matter of the ring….” But then Laurent fell asleep while I sat watch, humming, holding him. Above us the stars danced their way across the night sky.

  And, far later, when those stars were fading into the grayness of first light, there was a new sound, of feet treading up the path and a shout from Lill, “Laurent!” And the clamor of help arriving, hands replacing mine to lift and transport Laurent back to Gren Fort. Someone wrapped Laurent’s arms over his chest to keep them from dangling. The ring fell out of his hand; I caught it against the rock, then picked it up and slipped it on my finger. And then I saw Lill was watching, looking at my hand and at the little braided thing there. She turned away.

  THE SOFT BED was a luxury. So were clean clothes. As thanks I helped in Gren Fort’s kitchen, keeping busy while I waited for Laurent to heal.

  I would have sat at the Rider’s side, but the minion repaired without me. In truth, I’d hardly be steady tending the man I’d touched with needy hands; whom I’d kissed awake. Besides, Lill had taken that vigil from me, making it clear with silence that I should stay away, preferably disappear altogether. I didn’t argue her claim; I’d hurt her enough, and I felt sorry for her—a refugee who’d suffered cruel loss. So I worked far from the Rider’s room. ’Twas worth the impatience, feigning indifference while waiting for posts on Laurent’s progress, if I could mend a fragile peace with Lill.

  Still, to her disappointment, I wouldn’t leave. Eudin could direct me out of the quarry, I could find the way to Castle Tarnec without the Rider’s aid, but I waited. I did not want to return the amulet without my Complement. I did not want to be without him at all.

  I liked the kitchen—’twas the busiest place in Gren Fort. Something delicious was always simmering over the fire, and gossip was passed as freely as bread. The room was the first carved in the quarry. Wide and deep, with the largest open-aired entry exposing a huge vista of distant plains and the blue-deep lake far below. ’Twas smartly situated on the rock face—where smoke from the cooking fires did not interfere with rest of the fort, yet dissipated before it could be traced from above. Fresh water spouted from three places—ease for cooking and washing that made the memory of drawing well water a crude drudgery.

  I assisted with preserving fruit and curing barrow fish, but I was better at conversation and showing how plants from the fort’s hanging gardens could be used in medicinal arts just as well as food. “Wash hands with rosemary before attending to healing,” I explained. “Groundsel is good for toothaches. Ellhorn will cure warts….” A noisy little crowd would gather around the table, reminding me of any market day in Merith, of our booth where I once held court, loving the banter of sale. The information was popular, the crowd expanded, and it helped take my mind from Laurent. ’Twas comic the efforts made with all the plants at hand and what was scavenged cliff-top, shreds of leaves and stems brought to me with eager interest.

  “Weeds,” I had to tell them most of the time. Though nothing was truly useless, just easier than explaining too much.

  I learned from the crowd as well. They taught me a potion that I’d not known of, a concoction of spices and goat’s milk dried to a hard curd so that it could be traveled with—melted into boiled water to create a richly fragrant drink. “Balm,” they called it, simply. “It helps clear the mind and give strength. ’Twas passed down through stories from the oldest realm, Tarnec. It is our most prized recipe.” Castle Tarnec, I learned, was as much lore as land. The way to it was so long steeped in mystery, it seemed forgotten by most outdwellers.

  And I learned of Gren Fort’s history. The seven original families came from Tarnec; over seventy generations they’d carved the fort into the deepest curve of the quarry and spread their descendants through the realms, leaving the fort both as a bastion for the Keepers and allies as well as a sanctuary for anyone discovered seeking refuge. Of the hundred folk caretaking Gren Fort, twenty had been rescued only recently. Burned out of villages, barely escaping capture…Eudin and his men frequently scouted for such survivors.

  On the second morning after our return from Hooded Falls they deposited an exhausted man in the kitchen, found unconscious near the quarry lip. His discovery caused a greater stir than usual, it seemed, for Eudin ordered all of us confined to the fort—no more herb gathering—and took a posse topside once more to track the man’s path. The kitchen crowded with even more people who’d come to watch this ravenous stranger spoon bowlful after bowlful of barley mash with trembling fingers. Little Merrye whispered to me that it was a worry, this too-close rescue. Gren Fort had gone undetected for generations, and now to be so nearly breached!

  Though ’twas not the man who was the worry, but who chased him.

  “Soldiers,” said Merrye, hushed and wide-eyed, far too young to bear such information. “We’ve heard they are looting not far from here.”

  “Not far from here, but far from home,” someone else hissed.

  “Try nearby.” A surprising grunt from the stranger. Everyone turned. “Dark-armored men,” he muttered. “Thirty of them. Razed everything in the vale of Pembrake four nights back, claimed the territory, and took the inhabitants. All of them.”

  “So close…,” gasped one of the mothers, hand to throat. “Why must they keep filling their mines?”

  Another woman answered what the rest were thinking: “Because they work the slaves to death, those viles of Tyre.”

  There was a collective shudder at the city’s name, and I thought of Lill’s poor sister. But then surprisingly Blind Kerl, who snored the days away in his seat by the fire, lifted his head from his chest and said, “These are different days. Tyre does not venture this wide just to stock the mines.” He focused his milky stare on the stranger. “They build a slave army.”

  The stranger turned back to his stew, silent, but another mother scoffed. “You dream, old man. Why wouldn’t they go far afield for their miners? Eudin says the villages nearest the city have already been culled and others are destroyed from within, villager to villager. The drought has spawned many jealousies.”

  “Jealousies? Do you have an herb for that?” Merrye asked me. They’d been asking for herbs for everything.

  I shook my head and turned to Kerl. “Why
would they need an army to invade hamlets? A few soldiers do more than enough damage. I’ve seen it.”

  The old man gave a toothless grin. “To see has different meanings, young Evie. Perhaps you saw destruction but not the reason why. All inhabitants, he said.” Kerl gestured toward the stranger. “Babes are of no use in the mines, but they can be reared into allegiance, taught the skills of violence and no more. Given new language so that they cannot communicate with any but themselves.” He snorted. “An army built from those who know nothing but to fight for Tyre. An army for the future, raised for the longer battle.”

  There was general chatter; half of the group believing age brought wisdom, half believing Kerl’s mind was addled. But then the stranger spoke, and silence fell like a pall over his audience. “It is not only a future army. Tyre masses troops to join the greater march.”

  We all stared at him. I asked, “What march?”

  “The blind man is right,” he answered roughly. “Tyre will use up villages to reap bodies for the mines. But the army is for another target. There is rumor that a path to Castle Tarnec has been uncovered.”

  The general murmur fell away. “That kingdom is long disappeared,” someone said.

  “But not gone,” the stranger corrected. “Just well protected. And it is said they hold things more precious than any gem that can be pulled from the earth. ’Twill be a full-on war to bring down this kingdom of Tarnec, a long war, even if a weakness is discovered. Tyre joins with others to conquer it.”

  “What could be more precious than Tyre gems?”

  The stranger wiped the stew from his beard. “Horses.”

  Tarnec—murmurs ran through the room, waves of curiosity that such treasures of the old realm were not just a figment of legend. Little Merrye cried in excitement, “Horses!” and one of the older women shushed her. She glanced at me as she turned back to hear the stranger. And I realized most in Gren Fort knew very well about Castle Tarnec, about the horses, but pretended ignorance. No one was going to expose the Rider and his steed to a stranger.

  I caught Lill’s eye then. She was watching me carefully so I made the slightest nod—understanding that we’d not speak, that whatever differences we’d had, we still shared the desire to keep Laurent and Gren Fort safe.

  Lill brought my breakfast tray after that, ruined scones and all, as a peace offering. She wouldn’t stay, but on the third morning after the stranger’s arrival Lill entered my little cove earlier than usual, flushed and frightened, flitting like a wren. I pressed her until she burst out that Eudin had returned. His posse had killed four soldiers. And four was nothing, of course, when the stranger had implied so many more were nearby.

  “They will find us,” she fretted, pacing. “This time they will find us. They are too close.”

  I said, “Even so, you are well protected here.”

  “We are not!”

  “Then well hidden,” I tried.

  Lill waved her hand and stalked on. “How can you understand? You are only calm because you know how to care for the wounded. We don’t have your materials, your skill. If we battle…” She paused to give me a grateful, if fleeting look. “Laurent heals because of what you did. But you’ll be gone, and they’ll find us and we’ll…we’ll all bleed dead.”

  “Skill is learned,” I soothed. “I can teach you.”

  “We know how to put a bandage on!” Lill rejected harshly. “ ’Tis the herbs. You’ve shown us what our gardens can do. But it’s not enough. We don’t have enough. We need to eat, we can’t use all our gardens for wounds!” Her lips were trembling. “ ’Twill be like my family’s capture in Tyre. Nothing to save us.”

  “Lill, we can prepare.”

  “With what you carry in that satchel?” she scoffed, remembering. “That only offers pain.”

  “Not this. We’ll collect what’s needed topside and then I’ll show—”

  “What? No!” Lill said it with such a gasp that she flumped on the floor. “No, Healer! You cannot go above. ’Tis too dangerous! Eudin forbade it.”

  “Because of a few sightings?” It was my turn to scoff. “You said it yourself: Eudin found only four soldiers in three days! Herbs are far easier to find.”

  A shrug. “What if you cannot find any healing herbs? Last time Merrye came back with nightshade and you made her throw up and it was only on her hands.”

  I grinned. “At least tell me if you have seen something like vervain up there. That’s especially good for wounds. Long narrow leaves—”

  “With purple stalk flowers.” She nodded dully. “I remember your teaching. I’ve seen it. It grows above.”

  “Then quickly out, quickly back,” I said, knotting the tie on my braid.

  “No. You cannot go alone, you don’t know the way.”

  “And you are too scared to show me.”

  I knew that would offend her. “I’m not,” she said after a moment. “I’ll show you but you have to swear ’twill be quick. Even if soldiers do not find us, Eudin will kill me himself that we’ve gone topside.”

  “Then we’ll be quick.” I buttoned my sandals and slung my satchel over one shoulder. Lill balked at that, not wanting to be anywhere near the shell. “Must you always bring that…that thing with you?”

  I hadn’t opened the satchel since we returned because of what had happened to Lill. Still, I’d hardly leave it. “Safer with me,” I said brightly, then grabbed my cloak. “We’ll use this to hold what we gather instead of a basket. Then no one will think to be suspicious.” I took a last swallow of tea, avoiding the stone-hard scones on the tray. “Let’s go.”

  “It’s a walk,” Lill insisted with unfortunate generosity. “Take them.”

  —

  We climbed to the ridge, hiked west and crossed two of the handmade bridges. The sun had not yet risen above the far treetops but ’twas already hot. There was bone-dry scrub along the top edge followed by knee-high weeds—most of it brown. I’d almost forgotten the drought.

  “Are we near?” I asked.

  “We have to cross the last bridge.” And she added a bit tersely, “Don’t wonder about the way; watch for soldiers.”

  There were no soldiers. I bundled my cloak more tightly in the crook of my elbow and followed Lill. She walked quickly, eyes darting back and forth, not trusting I was vigilant enough. I watched her, curious at her fear, wondering about the memories she had of Tyre, of losing her sister, her parents….How skittish she was. How scarred.

  We crossed the last bridge to the quarry. I thought of Arro and asked Lill if the horse was housed somewhere near here, and she shrugged. “ ’Tis well hidden, the caretaker’s post. You would not find it.”

  “Do you not want to visit the horse?” I stopped. “You’ve never seen one, have you?”

  She shook her head vehemently. “This is not an outing!”

  I started to snap, “Neither is it a death march,” but bit my tongue. Sweat trickled down my neck and I paused to wipe it.

  She whirled back. “Don’t tarry, Healer, it’s not safe!”

  “Which way then?” I looked around. We stood hip-deep in a swath of dead grass. Ahead was a stand of birch and ash.

  “Through there,” she said, and started quickly for the trees. I followed, looking behind as I entered the grove—the last bridge was completely obscured by the grass. Gren Fort and its outposts were all well hidden. Unless it was known what to look for the approach would be completely missed.

  Lill was standing in the shade of the last trees staring out over a huge plain of scrub and weed, keenly looking, listening. Her face was white.

  “Now where?”

  She pointed off to the right. “Over there.”

  I looked, then turned back to her. “That cannot be right. Vervain does not grow near ash and it does not grow near ansel thistle.”

  “That isn’t ansel,” she retorted.

  “Lill—”

  She snapped, anxious. “To be sure, I saw it. I’ll show you.”

&nb
sp; She made two tentative steps onto the plain as if she were testing the first ice on a pond. I sighed. It was not hard to recognize ansel thistle, it grew almost like a shrub. Still, it wasn’t worth picking another fight with Lill. “Stay here,” I said, and strode out those hundred paces to where the ansel grew thick and the vervain did not. “There’s none,” I called back, cross now that she’d led us on a goose chase under so harsh a sun. There weren’t even any purple stalks to mistake. I could not hear her answer, just the steady rasp of burr beetles cutting through the silence, the heat.

  But then I did see something. A few steps beyond was a heavy trampling of the scrub. I frowned, went closer. Trampled, matted, as if several had stood—nay, camped there. Animal carcasses were torn apart, gnawed and scattered; the ground was scored where sharp-edged metal might have dug in. There was a pit as well—I dropped down into it to look. ’Twas for a campfire, so sparks would not spit, nor flames show. I kneeled to touch a piece of charred wood. It was faintly warm.

  “Lill!” I shouted then, at half voice. “Lill! The soldiers!” I scrambled out of the pit, my palm crushing brittle bone and fur. Violent deaths. I wiped my hand on my frock, repulsed.

  “Lill…?” I said it more to myself, for my eyes played tricks in the blaze of sunlight. Lill was not there. My heart quickened, but it was impossible to think she’d been captured. There would have been noise—screams, or the heavy tread of those armored soldiers, at least. I squinted, marking each trunk along the grove’s edge. There was no one. I shook my head to clear it, to prove my instincts were not wrong, that I had not been fooled. “Lill?”

  Only the burr beetles hissed back.

  I ran then. Back to the grove, back to the bridge. I fisted my cloak in my hands to keep it close, tore into the shadows of the trees, under branches and over roots ’til I burst out into the sunlight again, panting, “Lill!” Scared or not, she couldn’t have left me like this. “Lill!”

  The bridge—where was the bridge? Hidden blind of course in the tall grass. But there—there was the faintest parting between the dry stalks—Lill’s tracks. She would know I’d study the plants, could figure this out for myself. Surely she’d wait for me at the bridge. I could probably find the way back, but surely she’d wait….