The Raven Ring

by Patricia C. Wrede

  Relief made her dizzy. “It’s all right,” she said in Cilhar. “It’s really me.” Switching to Ciaronese, she called to Daner, “I’ve found him.”

  “Is he all right?”

  Only then did the swellings and the lacework of fine cuts on Karvonen’s face register. “No,” Eleret said. “Give me a hand with this frame, so we can get at him.”

  Karvonen’s eyes closed, and his head dropped back to the floor with a thud. He did not move as Daner and Eleret lifted the wooden bedframe and moved it aside. With the frame out of the way, it was easy to see the marks of a thorough beating on his naked body, as well as the threads of dried blood that marked the path of a knife. His hands and feet were bound tightly enough that his fingers were blue and swollen, but he had not been gagged. Daner made a sickened noise and turned away. The thief neither moved nor spoke.

  Frightened by Karvonen’s stillness, Eleret knelt beside him and reached for the pulse point at his throat. Her fingers tingled as she touched him, and she pulled away. “Daner, I think there’s a spell on him.”

  Daner was beside her in an instant, muttering incomprehensible words as his hands hovered over Karvonen’s chest. “You’re right; it’s a silencing spell. No wonder nobody heard him while they were… Never mind. This will take a minute.” He frowned in concentration and began murmuring once more, his hands making odd plucking gestures in the air above Karvonen. “Halkana wilinin sala; valyra wilme sal,” he said at last, and sat back.

  An instant later, Karvonen gasped, coughed, and said in a raw, hoarse whisper, “E-Eleret?”

  “It’s me,” Eleret said in Cilhar.

  “Did—did—shape—” Karvonen broke off, coughing painfully.

  “I got your message,” Eleret said. “The shapeshifter is dead.”

  “Thoroughly dead,” Daner put in. “And if I’d known he’d done this, I’d have twisted the sword as it went in.”

  Karvonen’s cracked and puffy lips curved very slightly. “Good.”

  “Don’t talk.” Eleret studied Karvonen’s bonds for a moment, wincing in sympathy, then drew her dagger. “And try not to move. I’m going to cut the thongs around your wrists, and I don’t want to slip.”

  “You…won’t.”

  “Quiet.” Carefully, Eleret stroked the knife point across the taut leather. She counted under her breath, two, three, four times, each stroke slicing a fraction farther, until the thong parted at last. Working as gently as she could, she unwound the leather from the swollen flesh. Karvonen sighed as his hands came free at last, then shivered.

  Eleret looked dubiously at the rough blankets, but there was nothing else to use. As she reached for the top blanket, Daner undid the clasp on his cloak and swung it away from his shoulders. Leaning forward, he draped it over Karvonen’s recumbent form. Karvonen tried to raise an eyebrow, winced, and took a deep breath.

  “I told you to be quiet,” Eleret said before he could speak. “You can tell Daner ‘thank you’ later.”

  “What makes you think he was going to thank me?” Daner’s tone was bantering, but his expression was concerned. “It’s more likely he was planning another insult.”

  “Whichever it is, it is going to wait,” Eleret said firmly. She threw a grateful smile at Daner, and slid down to undo Karvonen’s feet.

  The sound of footsteps on the stairs outside drifted through the door. Eleret shifted to face the entrance, and Daner readied his sword. An instant later, they both relaxed as the innkeeper’s worried face appeared. “My lord? Lord Daner? I— Death storm on the open sea! What happened here?”

  Eleret turned back to her task, leaving the explanations to Daner. He gave the innkeeper a succinct and considerably edited story focusing mainly on Karvonen’s rescue and leaving the distinct impression that it had all involved a plot against the Emperor. The innkeeper, while impressed, seemed far more interested in who was to pay for various damages and what he was to tell the City Guards when they arrived.

  The last thong parted, and Eleret looked up. “Daner, settle this outside. Karvonen needs a healer; failing that, he needs quiet.”

  “I’m…not—”

  “Quiet!” Eleret said. “Daner, go away. And when you come back, bring a healer.”

  “An unnecessary stipulation,” said a new voice. “Livarti! Double time; you’re needed.” And a stocky man in the uniform of the Imperial Guard stepped through the door. Bowing to Daner, he said, “I’m Captain Sheverin, at your service by Commander Weziral’s order and with his compliments, my lord, Freelady. Some of my men are cleaning up downstairs; do you require any additional assistance?”

  “Not at the moment, Captain,” Daner said. “Your arrival is very timely.”

  Another uniformed man appeared in the doorway. “Captain, I hope you’ve got a good reason for dragging me up here. There are two men downstairs who need my attention.”

  “The man up here not only needs it, he deserves it,” Daner said. “That is, if you’re the healer Captain Sheverin called for a minute ago.”

  “I’m Livarti.” The man eyed Daner suspiciously. “You’re not injured.”

  “Over here,” Eleret said. “Daner…”

  “Perhaps we should continue our discussion in the hall,” Daner said to the innkeeper. “I’m sure Captain Sheverin will want to join us.”

  “Indubitably.” The Captain bowed, Daner bowed, and between them they shepherded the awed innkeeper out of the room.

  The healer was already shaking his head over Karvonen’s condition. “Close your eyes and try to hold still,” he told the thief. “This shouldn’t hurt, but it may feel a little strange. If it does hurt, tell me immediately.”

  “Yes,” Karvonen rasped, and Eleret had to repress another automatic command for him to be still. Karvonen must have realized what she was thinking, because he caught her eyes and winked very deliberately before following the rest of the healer’s instructions.

  Livarti folded Daner’s cloak back, then began muttering rapidly, while his hands wove through the air above Karvonen’s body. Blue light sprang up and faded almost at once, first around Karvonen’s head, then his chest, then each arm and leg in turn. Eleret watched in worried fascination. She hadn’t realized how different a practiced healer’s work would be from the tests Gralith had run on her father the day before she had left the mountains.

  At last the healer paused. “A cracked collarbone, two broken ribs, and a damaged kidney, plus an amazing assortment of bruises, sprains, and cuts. What happened?”

  “I…was—”

  “Tcha,” said Livarti. “A moment, please.” He laid his right hand against Karvonen’s throat and made a series of strange gestures with his left. Orange light bloomed around his hand. Frowning, the healer made another complicated gesture and began muttering under his breath once more. Slowly the light changed color, fading from angry orange to clear yellow and then to white.

  Finally, Livarti stopped muttering and let the light die. When the last glimmer was gone, he lifted his hand from Karvonen’s throat and flexed the fingers. “How’s that?”

  “It’s…much better.” Karvonen’s voice was still slightly hoarse, but he no longer sounded as if every word were painful.

  “If you didn’t have so much else wrong with you, I’d have pushed a little further, but under the circumstances it wouldn’t have been wise. You’re going to need the rest of your energy for more important repairs.”

  “You’re the healer.”

  “Now, then—what happened?”

  Karvonen started to shrug, winced, and stopped short. “I ran into a man who wanted some information. The only way to convince him that he was getting what he wanted was to let him…persuade me to give it to him.”

  “But the silencing spell…” Eleret said, then stopped, uncertain how to continue.

  “He put it on and off like a gag. Very effective. It’d be a useful trick to know, under some circumstances.”

  “This, I take it, represents the fellow’s means of p
ersuasion,” the healer said with a disapproving frown at Karvonen’s injuries.

  “Not all of it. Some of the bruises are from rolling off the bed.” Karvonen gave Eleret an apologetic look. “I couldn’t get loose, but I thought I could make it look as if I had. So I rolled off, and sort of slid underneath, and pulled the blankets down. It was the best I could do.”

  “You must have either an iron constitution or an iron head,” Livarti said acidly. “With a damaged kidney, that kind of movement—”

  “It…wasn’t one of the more pleasant things I’ve ever done,” Karvonen admitted.

  The healer snorted. “You’re luckier than you deserve. About this man you met—the Commander will want details. The Emperor frowns on incidents like this; whoever did it—”

  “The Commander already has details, and the man who did it is dead,” Eleret put in. She looked at Karvonen. “Are you sure you weren’t a little too convincing?”

  Karvonen smiled very slightly. “Now that you mention it, I think maybe you’re right.”

  “Next time, don’t overdo it,” El?ret said, and touched his shoulder lightly, careful not to add to his pain. “Or Jaki will be convinced you’ve taken up that Fourth Profession of yours.”

  “There had better not be a next time,” Livarti said. “I don’t like patching people up twice.”

  “Don’t worry,” Karvonen told him. “I never disobey a healer’s orders.”

  “Then you’re the first patient I’ve ever had who doesn’t. Quiet now. I’m going to do some preliminary work on that kidney, and set a few binding spells to hold the rest of you together until we get you to the infirmary. Freelady, would you tell the Captain to send two men up with a litter in about half an hour? I’ll tend to that arm of yours as soon as I’m finished here.”

  That was a dismissal if she’d ever heard one. Reluctantly, Eleret rose and left the room. As the door swung closed behind her, she heard the low murmuring of the healer’s spells begin once more.

  TWENTY-NINE

  FOR THE NEXT TWO days, Karvonen lay in a small room in the infirmary of the Imperial Guard of Ciaron, tended alternately by Commander Weziral’s healer Livarti, and the Vallaniri healer, whom Daner insisted on sending over the moment they returned to his home. Eleret was impressed by the speed with which Karvonen’s bruises purpled and faded; in the mountains, he’d have rivaled a rainbow for a week. The cuts, too, healed unnaturally fast. By the evening of the second day, there was only a network of darker skin to show where they had been, as if someone had painted a diagram of Ciaron’s streets across his face and chest in walnut juice.

  We need someone at home who can do things like that, Eleret thought, watching Karvonen devour a dinner large enough for three men. Such rapid healing, the two physicians had explained, made unusual demands on the patient’s physical reserves. Until he was well enough to leave, Karvonen would spend whatever time was not occupied by the healers’ treatments either eating or sleeping. Maybe Climeral can send a teacher to the mountains next year, or maybe he’ll let Orimern or Calla come to school here. I’ll have to ask him before I leave.

  Finally, Karvonen pushed the tray away and sat back with a sigh against the pile of pillows at the top of the bed. Daner frowned. “Are you sure you’ve had enough? You’ve left half the fish paste.”

  “I’m sure,” Karvonen said. “Anyway, they’ll be back with another load in two hours. If I’ve missed anything, I’ll make it up then.”

  “Livarti says—”

  “Livarti can go shovel fish-heads. I’m not eating any more tonight, and that’s that.”

  “I’m pleased to see that you’re feeling better,” Commander Weziral said. As one, Eleret and Daner turned to find him standing in the open door of the room. “And since you’re all in one spot, perhaps you can fill in a few details in regard to this shapeshifter of yours. I’ve put off making my report as long as I can.”

  “What do you need to know?” Daner asked.

  “What that shapeshifter was after, for a start,” the Commander replied promptly. “After that—well, it would be nice to know exactly what happened before my men got to that inn, and why.”

  “I usually charge for this, you know,” Karvonen muttered.

  “No you don’t,” Eleret said. “That’s a different branch of your…family business.”

  “Ah? What business are you in?” Weziral asked.

  “Oh, my family has broad interests,” Karvonen said. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in the details. I’m in the acquisitions end of things,” he added blandly.

  Daner made a choking noise.

  “I thought what happened at the inn was fairly obvious,” Eleret said quickly. “Mobrellan left some Syaski there in case we came before he found us, and we had to fight our way through them when we arrived.”

  Weziral sighed. “Yes, but why? Posthumous revenge is well enough in minstrel’s tales, but—”

  “He didn’t expect it to be posthumous,” Daner said. “And— Well, it will be easier if I start at the beginning.”

  “I’ve been waiting for someone to say that. Hold on a minute.” Weziral went out, returning almost at once with another stool. He sat down and looked at Daner expectantly. “You were saying?”

  “Mobrellan was the bastard son of a Rathani wizard,” Daner said. “Illegitimate offspring aren’t highly regarded in Rathane, so even though he had his father’s magical abilities, he didn’t have much of a future to look forward to.”

  “Until he got himself hooked by a Shadow-born,” Karvonen said.

  “Exactly. I don’t know whether he tried to summon the Shadow-born, or whether the Shadow-born felt some of Mobrellan’s more…unusual magical experiments and reached out to him without being called, but it doesn’t matter. Mobrellan—”

  “How did you find out all this?” Eleret asked, frowning.

  Daner gave her a guilty look. “Jonystra Nirandol has recovered enough to talk. My father and I spent the afternoon asking questions. You were busy with Adept Climeral, or I’d have asked you to join us.”

  Ciaronese have no sense of priority. “I see. Go on.”

  “Jonystra really was a Trader once, but the caravans threw her out. I think she was cheating the customers.”

  “All Traders cheat their customers,” Karvonen said.

  “Then it must have been for getting caught cheating the customers,” Daner said with exaggerated patience. “Anyway, she and Mobrellan have been together for a long time, so she was able to tell us a lot.

  “Mobrellan learned how to draw on the Shadow-born’s power—that’s where his shape-changing ability came from—but it still wasn’t enough to get him accepted by the Rathani wizards’ guilds. Then Grand Master Gorchastrin announced that he’d discovered something that would put his particular guild at the helm, and Mobrellan went a little crazy. He thought, you see, that Gorchastrin had hooked his own Shadow-born, which would mean that the guilds wouldn’t need Mobrellan’s borrowed abilities at all.

  “What Gorchastrin had really discovered, of course, was the existence of Eleret’s ring.”

  “But my ring wouldn’t have been any help to a Rathani wizard,” Eleret objected. “Would it?”

  Karvonen grinned. “It bounced spells, didn’t it? The Rathani wizards’ guilds have such a complicated stack of spells and counterspells and counter-counterspells among them that all it would take is one little disruption to bring the whole mess down around their ears.”

  “That’s what Jonystra said.” Daner threw an annoyed look in Karvonen’s direction. “Mobrellan went to see Gorchastrin the night he died. Jonystra doesn’t know that Mobrellan killed him, but… In any case, Mobrellan came back determined to get his hands on the raven ring. He thought he could use it to control a Shadow-born completely, instead of having to accept whatever dribbles of power it chose to offer him.”

  “The more fool he,” Karvonen said, shuddering.

  “Mobrellan and Jonystra left immediately for the border, w
hich was where Gorchastrin had detected the magical disturbances that led him to the ring.”

  “Ma must have been wearing it in a battle,” Eleret put in.

  “If a Rathani tried a battle spell, the ring would deflect it, and from what you’ve said, the wizard would notice for sure.”

  Daner nodded. “It took them a while to track your mother down. When they did, she was recovering from wounds. Mobrellan used his shape-changing to slip into the infirmary tent and try to talk her into giving him the ring. When she wouldn’t, he used his shadow magic. Someone interrupted him before he finished, and he left, planning to return the following night.”

  “But by then Ma was already dead,” Eleret said softly.

  “Yes.” Daner gave her a sympathetic look. “He’d overestimated her strength, or the ring’s, or underestimated the power he’d put into his attempt at persuasion.”

  No, he underestimated what Ma would do to keep him from getting hold of what he wanted, Eleret thought, but she did not say it aloud. After all, she had only her own inner certainty as evidence. Pa would understand, but not these Ciaronese. Well, maybe Karvonen…

  Daner glanced at Commander Weziral. “Mobrellan had also underestimated the efficacy of the Ciaronese army. By the time he came back, Freelady Salven was on her pyre, and her personal effects had been sealed to send home.”

  “I suppose Mobrellan was responsible for the various attempts to get at the effects afterward, as well,” Weziral said.

  Daner nodded again. “He heard someone talking about Eleret one day when he was here looking for a way to get at them. That’s how he found out she was coming to pick up her mother’s things.”

  “Rathani are idiots,” Karvonen said disgustedly. “With a little practice and a bit more common sense, that man could have made a fortune as a spy, but did he even think of it? No. He was too busy haring off after Eleret’s ring on the chance that it would get him into that rat’s nest the Rathani call guild politics.”

  “It’s as well that it didn’t occur to him,” Weziral said, frowning. “The chaos he could have caused doesn’t bear thinking of.”