Gail Z. Martin - COTN 03 - Dark Haven (V1.0)(lit)

by Gail Z. Martin

  Donelan's eyes were worried. "And the obvi­ous suspect is Lord Curane."

  "That's the only answer I come up with."

  "I had a long talk with Tris about Curane before the wedding. Curane—and Trevath— stand to benefit from unseating Tris. They have no common cause with the divisionists. This whole idea that Kiara would come running home to Isencroft is nonsense. Even if she did, the child is rightful king of both kingdoms. That suits neither Curane nor the divisionists."

  Tice stopped pacing and looked up. "Unless Curane's man is playing the rebels for fools. These divisionists are provincial. They want things to stay as they've always been. Curane was a savvy enough politician to keep his head under Jared's rule and come away with a prize, a royal bastard. He's got his eye on taking the throne of Margolan. Jared wanted Isencroft by force or by marriage. Curane's likely to want it, too."

  "What if Curane's using the divisionists to keep Isencroft busy while he gets rid of Tris and the Margolan army? The divisionists don't think like that. They won't realize that Curane means to betray them until it's done. If Curane can put Jared's bastard on the Margolan throne with himself as regent, there's only one thing standing between him and Isencroft," Tice looked from Cam to Donelan.

  "Kiara and the baby," Cam said.

  Donelan nodded soberly. "And Curane has a man inside Shekerishet."

  Cam looked at Donelan. "So what's the news from your spy? Surely Crevan's sent you some­thing recently. Has he told you anything that might tie back to either Curane or the divi­sionists?"

  "Crevan's a faithful correspondent. But his letters have been fairly boring, as spying goes. Tris has taken the army south. There's no word on how the siege goes. Since then, Shekerishet has been quiet. Oh, and Kiara's had very little appetite and she seems to be getting by on toast and scalded milk to keep her stomach settled, but that's the extent of the excitement. She's well guarded." He shrugged. "I learned a long time ago that most of what you hear from your spies is completely useless. Crevan's well placed, but if there's nothing to report, there's nothing to report."

  Tice stopped pacing. "Have you told Crevan that we know Curane has someone inside Shekerishet? Is he watching for a traitor? Even though Crevan's fairly new to the Margolan court, surely there are others who can help him identify suspects."

  "I sent word in my last letter. But with the snows, it could take a month to reach him, even riding in relay." Donelan tossed back the second brandy. "I had hoped that Kiara would be safe from the divisionists once she went to Margolan. It made the idea of having her so far away easier to handle. I'm feeling my years. There are days I admit I almost wouldn't mind handing over the crown and going on a long, long hunt. I'd hoped never to see war again."

  Tice laid a hand on Donelan's shoulder. "You've led Isencroft well through difficult years. These divisionists hardly resemble an army. If Tris routs Curane, any Trevath sup­port for the divisionists will disappear, and they'll probably disband. Take heart that Kiara's safe for now. Shekerishet is secure. And hard as it may be, try not to brood on it. Sure­ly there's some positive news."

  Cam grinned. "Care to take bets on how soon we hear from Dark Haven that Carina and Jonmarc are expecting? Now that the snows are deep, even the vayasb moru aren't traveling. I don't know when my letter will reach her, or when she'll be able to get a letter through." He shook his head. "It's a scary thought—Jonmarc as someone's father."

  Donelan chuckled. "I dare say that there were many who said the same about me. After a few decades on the throne, the memories of one's 'youthful indiscretions' fade. Perhaps when the history books are written, Jonmarc will emerge with a very different reputation."

  Cam walked to the windows and looked out. "Hard to believe it's almost Winterstide. Last year, Tris and the others were in Principality, in exile. Now—everything's changed. Maybe by next Winterstide, all of this will be behind us, and things can go back to normal."

  Tice set his glass aside. "I hope things are more settled by next Winterstide, but I fear they will never be normal. Too much has hap­pened. I just pray that whatever comes, the new balance will bring peace."

  Cam turned from the window. "I guess we'll know when we get there, won't we?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  M'lady, you're tired. Please, rest now." Lisette pulled at Carina's sleeve. Carina looked out over the long line of vil­lagers who still waited for treatment.

  "I've been here since sixth bells this morning, and the line isn't any shorter now than it was then," Carina gratefully accepted a cup of kerif. From sunup to sundown, mortal servants assisted Carina. Come evening, she and Lisette worked late into the night. Word had spread of Carina's talent. Her patients came from within the manor house, the village, and from several days' ride away. That the sick and injured peo­ple-braved Principality's harsh winter storms to come was testimony to how much they needed a healer of true power.

  "You sound like Lord Jonmarc, always push­ing for more."

  "Stubborn, willful, driven, and damn good at what we do. Nothing in common," she chuck­led.

  "Hmm?"

  "Something Jonmarc once told me. You're right. But they've come so far, and the need is so great."

  "If I see to it that those you don't treat tonight have a warm place to sleep in the sta­bles, will you stop after another candlemark? Lord Jonmarc was quite clear that I'm to watch over you." She-grinned. "But perhaps between the two of us, we can keep some small secrets, no?"

  Carina laughed. "All right. Let's see if there's anyone who is in real danger out there. I'll see them tonight. We'll make the rest as comfort­able as we can. Sweet Mother and Childe! I won't be surprised if their number doubles by morning."

  Lisette made Carina eat a bit of cheese and meat and finish the rest of her kerif before going to triage the waiting villagers. While she waited, Carina stretched, trying to relieve the knotted muscles in her neck and shoulders. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Probably just exhaustion, she told herself. She'd been working long hours, expending a lot of energy. But it wasn't just fatigue. Something was changing in the magic itself, something that made healing more difficult. The longer she stayed at Dark Haven, the more she could feel the imbalance in

  the Flow. And while she was not conscious of drawing on the great river of energy, she could feel ripples in the power, a swift undercurrent, like water flowing over shards of rock. The disturbance was growing stronger, as if she were trying to walk against the wind.

  Carina felt a presence touch her mind. As quickly as it came it was gone.

  "M'lady?"

  Carina blinked. The vision was gone. "I must be working too hard. I could swear I felt some­one reach out for me. Whoever it was wanted to tell me something."

  "I don't understand."

  Carina shook her head. "Neither do I.I don't think it—whoever it was—was dangerous. Curious. Like it was looking for something."

  "You really should rest."

  "Have you seen the line of people out there? I'll rest later. Have I told you how glad I am to have your help?"

  Lisette returned her smile. "Thank you, m'lady."

  They cared for two more patients before Carina signaled for a few minutes' rest. "You know, before I came here, I couldn't have imagined something like that last patient, the old woman with the sore back. That young man with her—the vayasb moru. That was her husband, wasn't it?"

  Lisette nodded. "He was brought across forty years ago."

  "They've stayed together all that time," Cari­na said admiringly. "Openly. I used to think Isencroft was a welcoming place for the vayash moru because no one's gone hunting for them in generations. But I've never seen the living, the dead, and the undead go on together like this. I realize now how low my expectations were."

  "In the farmlands of the other kingdoms, many families provide sanctuary for loved ones who've been brought across. It works so long as their neighbors don't notice, or don't care. That doesn't usually last."

  "T
hen why don't all the vayash moru come to Dark Haven, if it's safe for them here to exist openly?"

  "They stay for all the reasons mortals stay. Because those places have always been their home. Because their family is there, and they don't wish to leave them, even if they can only watch over them from a distance. Because it's familiar. After a lifetime or two, 'home' changes so much that it's no longer what you remember. That makes the leaving easier."

  "I think I understand, a little," Carina said, washing blood from her hands. "My brother and I were forced to leave our home, our fam­ily, when we were young. We were twins, but I had magic. Being twins was a scandal; having magic was unforgivable."

  "Not too different," Lisette said. "To be driven out for what you are, what you had no choice about being. And in places like Nargi, mages and vayash moru often suffer a common fate."

  "The further I stay from Nargi, the happier I'll be." Carina dried her hands. "How many more patients must be seen tonight? I nearly fell asleep during that last healing!"

  "I have half a dozen for you m'lady," Lisette said. "A woman in labor—she thinks the baby did not turn—and a girl who struck her head and hasn't awakened. There's a man with an arrow through his hand, a boy with a bleeding eye, and a vyrkin with its foot in a trap. And a young woman delirious with fever."

  Carina set aside her empty cup. "Let's get started. Let me check the woman in labor. If I can get babe turned, perhaps you can sit with her while I treat the others."

  "As you wish, m'lady." Lisette smiled. "Babies haven't changed since I was mortal. That's something I understand."

  It took more than a candlemark to tend to the last of the patients. Lisette and Eiria gently herded the remaining villagers out of the room, guiding them to the place Neirin had cleared for them in the granary. Carina washed her hands in a basin. She felt a sudden chill behind her, and straightened. Months of working closely with Tris made her highly aware when spirits were near, and she was quite sure that a ghost was right behind her.

  Carina turned slowly. The room was empty, except for a green haze that floated like wood smoke about waist-high near the fireplace. "Don't be afraid," Carina said, taking a step toward the haze. "Can you show yourself?"

  The haze grew brighter and changed to gray as it swirled and coalesced. The figure of a sad-eyed young girl stood before her. Carina guessed her to be a few years younger than her­self. "Are you looking for me?"

  The apparition nodded.

  "Did you come for healing?" Carina guessed. As the girl's form became more solid, she could see a fevered look in the ghost's eyes. Again, the ghost nodded.

  "Show me." Carina had no idea how she was going to help. The girl's gown was a fashion that was long out of favor. What if she doesn't know she's dead? Carina wondered. What if she's still waiting for a healer to come? I wish Tris were here!

  Now the girl's ghost was fully formed, as if someone stood before Carina covered in gray gauze. The girl's neck looked badly swollen on either side of her jaw, and from the way she stood and held her arms, Carina guessed other places were painfully swollen also. Darker patches appeared on the girl's arms and face, and Carina guessed that in life, they had been lesions. The longing in the ghost's eyes brought Carina to tears.

  "I have no idea whether this will work," she said, more to herself than to the ghost. "Do you know that you're dead?" she asked gently.

  The ghost slowly nodded. "Something is keep­ing you here. I'm not a Summoner. But I'll do what I can." Carina drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. She stretched out her hands until she felt the chill of the mist fold around them. The hairs on the back of her neck prick­led. Keeping the image of the ghostly girl in her mind, Carina drew on her healing power. And in the back of her mind, she felt a tingle of magic, old and deep. Someone is watching, she thought. She shook her head, unsure which was more irrational—the idea that she could heal a ghost or the thought that she was being watched.

  Carina felt healing magic warm her hands. Keeping the mental image of the girl firmly in mind, Carina let her hands move from the ghost's forehead down to her swollen neck, imagining how her power would heal a living person. Slowly, she let her palms glide over the ghost girl's body. She imagined the painful swelling decreasing, the fever abating, the lesions closing over with new skin. Gently working her way down the girl's form, Carina mentally pictured joints aching with fever gain­ing relief beneath her touch. Nothing but air met her touch. Without Tris's ability to move on the Plains of Spirit, Carina relied on her intuition, hoping that if the girl's spirit could manifest within the space between her hands, enough of the girl's essence remained to absorb the healing energy Carina's magic projected.

  When she finished her mental "treatment," Carina opened her eyes.

  The ghost girl stood before her, and Carina saw the shadow of tears streak down the specter's cheeks. "I don't know whether I've done anything at all," Carina said, embar­rassed.

  The ghost knelt before her and reached for and through Carina's hand in gratitude. Through her tears, the girl smiled, standing. She gave a deep curtsey, and then her image began to fade. Carina found herself staring at an empty room as the last hint of the ghost's' pres­ence disappeared.

  "Lady be! Never have I seen someone heal the dead!"

  Carina turned, blushing as she saw Lisette standing by the door. "I don't really know that I did anything at all," Carina murmured. "She was in so much pain. I figured that since she was already dead, it couldn't hurt to try."

  Lisette looked overcome with emotion. She closed her eyes tightly, a mortal gesture against tears that the undead could not shed. "M'lady, that girl has wandered these corridors for two hundred years, seeking a healer who never came. She was the daughter of the first Lord of Dark Haven. It was the last time a great plague swept over this land. The girl took sick, but the healer they sent for never arrived. Some healers died tending their patients, and others fled, afraid to catch the disease. The girl died, and took with her many of the servants. In his grief, the Lord hanged himself. It's said that she's bound by her guilt over those deaths. No one ever thought to try to set her spirit at rest. She was only a ghost. But you tried. That changed something, m'lady. She looked to be at peace."

  "I'm not a Summoner," Carina stammered. "I spent a year with Tris Drayke. I don't have any­thing like his power."

  "The girl wasn't asking to pass across to the Lady. She wanted someone to end her pain. You were willing to try." Lisette took Carina's hands in her own icy grasp. "You're so over­burdened now, I shouldn't ask. But if such a thing is possible, might it not be possible for you to become a mind healer? It's not just the power—it's the willingness to touch those of us others dismiss. Please, m'lady, won't you think on it?"

  "Sister Taru in Principality City is the only mind healer I know. I'll write her a letter. Per­haps when the snows melt, she'll be willing to come if there's a chance I might be ready to learn from her."

  Lisette smiled broadly and embraced her. "Truly the Lady sent you! Hope dies long before life ends. But after what I saw today, I have hope once more. Thank you, m'lady."

  Eighth bells had chimed before Carina wearily climbed the steps to her quarters, look­ing forward to a chance to clean up and change clothes before dinner. Lisette spoke with two servants briefly before joining Carina on the stairs.

  "Lord Jonmarc is expected back shortly," she reported as they reached Carina's room. "There are preparations to be made. It's the first night of Winterstide, and as lord of the manor, he has many responsibilities. I believe he and Lord Gabriel went to fell a tree for the Dresill log. The cooks have been busy all day. I no longer require your food, but Winterstide is the one season when I can't resist a few tastes of my old favorites."

  Carina stripped off her stained healer's robes and welcomed the warmed basin of water Lisette brought for her. "I think we'll both be grateful if Winterstide passes quietly this year." Lisette listened wide-eyed as Carina recounted the previous year's celebration in King Staden's
court, ending with the assassination attempt on Tris's life that had nearly cost Jonmarc his own.

  "Lady bless! I should hope Lord Jonmarc is safer here. I don't think even Uri would be bold enough to strike, with Gabriel and Yestin so close." She handed Carina a fresh shift. "You may find Dark Haven's celebrations much dif­ferent from either Isencroft's or King Staden's court. We keep the old ways here."

  Lisette laid out a black dress that shimmered with strands of silver and small crystals bead­ed into the elaborate bodice. "Each nightbelongs to one of the Aspects of the Lady. Tonight, we pay homage to the Formless One."

  Carina slipped into the dress. "Tris saw the Formless One take Jared's soul. He said She was a fearsome presence."

  "Fearsome, yes. But not evil. Chaos is neces­sary for creation. Those who know the old stories understand that Nameless is the Aspect of ending and beginning. She takes the souls of those who must be re-formed in the great caul­dron, those who are not ready yet for rest. During Winterstide, Nameless leads a wild host through the skies. She rides a pale steed, and the wights and spirits ride with Her. Those whose hearts are secretly evil fear Her, because She knows their thoughts. Sometimes, she catches an evil-hearted person up with Her to ride across the night sky, and leaves him like one dead many leagues away. But Nameless also blesses the fields and the trees and the live­stock." Lisette grinned at Carina. "And it's said that the wild winds favor new brides who wish to conceive."

  Carina blushed and busied herself with the lacing of her bodice. "Healers are able to con­trol such things, as the hedge witches do."

  "Bearing children is one thing my kind can't do, and I was brought across before I became a mother. I would dote on your children as if they were my own."