We'd stayed at court for several weeks after Orath's death, partly to accommodate Raym's weakness--and Tedor's, and my own, which was less distressing than Raym's and from which I recovered sooner--and in part because Afron felt a need for our support. Her father, despite the best care possible, shared by all of us and directed by Klaar, was beyond all help except the use of influence to diminish his pain, nausea, and craving for the liquor that had all but killed him.
Even so, Klaar refused to attempt such strong influence as had been Orath's practice. "The man's dying," she said, "and it's no kindness to him to pretend that's not so. Let him prepare himself for it, if he can."
No one disagreed. For several days he was almost constantly in the company of his daughter and young Tedor, whom he obviously thought of as a son. But he grew weaker, and after only a few more days he slipped into unconsciousness--which thankfully didn't last long--and then beyond. His death wasn't beautiful.
Klaar left the court immediately thereafter to rejoin her sister healers, Cilla and Merzik, in their practice.
Afron, who really had nothing more to lose, had decided to rule Maal in her own right. Despite the country's poverty, unrest, and general viciousness, I thought perhaps she had a decent chance of success. If, with her father's army to back her, she could convince the populace it would be better off under her rule than under that of one or more warring clan chieftains, she might even begin to influence the country's direction.
Immediately after her father's burial, I told her frankly that she might be more successful if Raym and I left right away. "Your country has a long tradition of unity, or more or less unity, under one rule, and of that rule being hereditary. That'll be in your favor. There's even the precedent of one or two female rulers. And your father wasn't feared or hated so much for himself as for his association with Orath, which may help you, too. But you don't want people to think that this will be another reign of witches. If Raym and I are here, that's what they'll think."
Maltuk's burial had just been accomplished with little public ceremony. Afron was dressed in mourning, and looking older than her years. "No. I've called a meeting of the King's Council, which hasn't met since my mother was alive, and I expect that most members will be there. The ones still young enough to travel, that is. It can't be for another week, to give them time to get here, and to give me time to get this place--" She gestured around the dirty, drafty sitting room where we were gathered. "--cleaned up and ready for them. No one has really cared for Father's palace for a long time.
"Anyway," she continued, "I want you and Lord Raym to speak to them when they meet. You can explain better than I can what Orath was, and how she was defeated. And you may be able to show them that not all witches--not all people of guile, that is--are like her."
"Will they support you, Afron?" Raym said.
"They might. They won't make up their minds until then, anyway, or so one member who will support me has said." She glanced at Tedor, who was there in all his tall, good-looking, and again youthful glory. "I want them to meet him, too. There have been queens of Maal, but it'll probably help if they know I'll have a man with me.
"Eventually," she added quickly. "After he's gone back to Monsara with you, Lady Vivia, and made his father happy. Then we'll be married, and we're going to divide our time between the two countries."
Tedor took her hand. "We'll rule them both together." His fifteen-year-old voice broke on the last word, which was endearing if not exactly reassuring of mature judgment. "And if they don't support you, we'll go to my country together and come back here when they're sorry they didn't."
So we stayed for another several days, and spoke to and with the King's Council--now the Queen's Council. The new Queen Maltuk--all the rulers of Maal took that name--seemed to have a better than even chance of success.
And now we were crossing the narrow continent in the midst of late summer, the lovely days of the changing season giving way to deep, cool nights. I was ready to see Tada and Fin again, having sent them an immediate message bearing the news, bad and good, from the West. I wanted to introduce Kenath into their company, and then to go home.
On the last night before we arrived, I lay quietly in my bed until the inn was quiet too and waited until I knew Kenath and Joli were both asleep. Then I dressed soundlessly in the dark, pocketed the room key, and tiptoed downstairs. The outside door was locked and I had no key to it, so I left it slightly ajar behind me and placed a small spell that would keep anyone but me from entering. Across the road was a deep forest, and in the forest was a glade I'd marked for myself almost two months earlier. The moon shone down on the road as I hurried across and into the darkness of the trees, where I stood very still and opened my witch sense to the night.
After a few moments I felt, like a small, soundless chime, the signal I'd left. I started toward it, stopping again every ten minutes or so to take my bearings. The wild creatures sensed my approach; little and not-so-little things scurried or leapt away as I moved toward them. Once I saw the dark shape of an owl flying from tree to tree before me.
In about an hour the chime was very near, and at last I entered the glade with its big, overshadowing oak. I'd brought a garden trowel from the inn. It took me several minutes to unearth the little leather bag I'd buried there. I opened the bag and turned it up over my hand. Out dropped a huge, icy blue diamond, set around with sapphires, all of them edged with tiny white diamonds like winking stars.
Back at the inn, I hid the Sea Star in the toe of one of my shoes and placed a spell around it to hide it further. Kenath, loyal as she was, was as curious as a cat and just about as much to be trusted. She'd never have taken the jewel, but she'd certainly remember it, and it would be a dangerous thing to remember--at least for a while.
The next day we booked passage on a ship that would be leaving for Monsara the following morning. Raym, Tedor and Joli went aboard, but Kenath and I made our way through the city to the ramshackle building that had housed Mani's commune, reduced now to Tada and Fin.
As we approached, Kenath looked at the place with some distaste. "Here? You mean this is where I'll be living? Vivia, our farmhouse back home was old and falling down, but nothing like this. Eeew. It doesn't look safe."
"It probably isn't safe," I said. "But you can risk it for today. I'm going to give some of that pirate's gold to Tada, so she and Fin can find a better house and you can share it. They don't need this much space, and I'm sure you'll all be happier in a building where the floors don't run downhill."
Fin was at work, and Tada had a roomful of people waiting to see her, so Kenath and I waited for a few minutes. But then it occurred to me we'd save time if we helped, so I spent the rest of the morning as Tada's assistant, with Kenath helping too. The job brought back pleasant memories of my girlhood with Katra, and Kenath was so good at the work that I knew Tada would be pleased to have her. When all the patients had gone, I told Tada the circumstances of her friends' deaths, leaving out the most horrifying details.
She wept. "But Orath is dead? And the Red Prince too?"
"Dead as flounders. Deader, if possible."
"You saw it, Vivia? Did you kill them?"
"No."
"She didn't kill them," said Kenath, "but she beat the Lady Orath with her guile, and I helped. Along with a few others too, of course. Do you want to hear about it?"
Tada did, and Kenath was determined to tell it, so I let her do the honors while Tada scrambled eggs and I fixed a salad. Fin's cat, its black tail draped decorously over its white paws, blinked at me once and turned its attention to Kenath. It knew what was what.
"Taso Raym was Orath's captive?" Tada said as we sat down to eat.
"Yes," I said. "He told me how that happened. She used the Great Shift to arrive at his house and came to his door without a glimmer, disguised as a village woman. He realized it was a disguise but had no idea who it really was.
"She attacked immediately, turning his guile against him, the way Riga did to
me that evening here. But he was never unconscious, the way I was, only stunned. He said it was like partial consciousness, like sleepwalking without being able to wake. Like delirium. He was able to leave me a sign, but he didn't know when or if I'd find it. And she had him, had control of his guile, for weeks. It must have been awful."
It had been like a nightmare without waking, he'd said. Like being in hell.
After our meal I sent Kenath out of the room and gave the pirate's purse to Tada. "This was Mani's," I said. "He stole it from me but gave it back in the end. Both of us had more right to it than the man I took it from. You can use it. Find a better place to live. And take care of Kenath, although she can earn her own keep. She has a solid gift, I think. And she's a good girl, smart and kind. Inquisitive, too. She'll need a firm hand."
Tada laughed. "I can provide that." She glanced into the purse and looked back at me, surprised. "There's too much here, Vivia."
"No, there's not. I have plenty besides. Send some of it to Mani's people, if you want. And to Kai's, if she left anyone. And," I added, "If that pirate, Krinos, left a family, you might want to give a little to them. Not all of it."
"Krinos left no one. I've already found that out. Neither did Kai. But Mani had a sister. Two of his friends were here yesterday, and when I told them of his death they said they'd take her the news." She closed the purse. "They told me that word of Maltuk's death had reached them. And word, too, of a sea-change affecting the whole kingdom. Rumor only, but they said that the piracy, the raids on your country, would stop if it were true. They said it was already becoming too dangerous, and the profit too small. So you've done more good than you knew, Vivia."
"I really didn't have a choice," I said. "And I had a lot of help, including yours and Fin's. I only wish I'd been able to get to her before she killed our friends. But the rest of it came out all right, thank God. Anyway, it was definitely an adventure."
* * * * *
But now my adventure was over, and I felt a descent into a dark mood. I hired a carriage to take me to our ship, and with every turn of its wheels the mood deepened. "Will you be glad to be home again?" Tada had asked, and I'd said I supposed so. But I knew better.
Ladygate, ruled over by Harken, wasn't my home. Katra's little house had been that to me once, and then Raym's cottage. Now I had no home. Would I ever find another? Maybe, but as a child I'd lived for a long time on the road with my father and brothers, and even that kind of rootless life, I knew, was better than settling for a "home" like Ladygate, a place where they had to take you in because you had nowhere else to go.
Once on board the ship, I went straight to my cabin, and Joli was there, waiting, with nothing to look forward to and... nowhere else to go. She jumped up as I entered, ready to spring into action at whatever order I might choose to give. I wanted to cry. I felt ashamed for worrying about my problems, which were minor compared to hers. Here was a child, only a little older than I'd been when I'd gone to Katra, with a past I could scarcely imagine and a future that must be bleak indeed. Her only skill was to do as she was told as well as she could and take her punishment as soundlessly as possible, so as not to annoy other people nearby. She'd been fed on scraps, had gone to bed hungry and awakened hungry for as long as she could remember. Her defect, the cleft lip and palate she'd lived with since she was born, was not so extreme as some I'd seen, but it was still a wall between her and the rest of humanity. Her speech could scarcely be understood, even if anyone had ever cared to understand her. People turned away, in disgust or pity or both, at the sight of her.
For a long time she'd been the servant of a witch to whom cruelty was a pleasure, and now fate had made her the servant of another witch.
"Oh, Joli, Joli," I said. "Thank God we're here. It'll all be better now, I promise." She blinked, her eyes big and dark as a deer's. "Does the motion of the ship make you feel sick?" She shook her head. "Are you hungry?" She hesitated for a moment and then nodded. She was always hungry. "Good," I said. "Stay right here and I'll go find us a snack." I tried to share food with her; it was something no one else had ever done.
I had no idea in the world what to do for or with her, so I decided to talk to Raym.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I wondered why speaking to Raym about Joli hadn't occurred to me sooner. In fact, I'd been searching since we'd left Maltuk's court for a subject of conversation to break the layer of ice that had somehow formed between us, and this might do it. Raym liked the girl; indeed, he liked all the young people who'd been our traveling companions. And there was no question that Joli's condition was far beyond my skill as a healer, so Raym would surely know that my consulting him about her was more than just a ploy to have a real conversation with him at last.
The truth was that he'd been avoiding any real conversation with me almost since the moment he freed himself from Orath's hold and, weak as he'd been at that moment, helped to overpower her. Not that he'd been unkind, and certainly he'd been grateful. In the presence of Klaar and her colleagues, when he was still in great pain and barely able to talk, he'd thanked us all for rescuing him and refused to take credit for his own part in Orath's defeat.
Klaar had said to me later, privately, that she was astounded at his modesty. "What we'd always heard was that he was a proud man," is how she put it, "maybe not overconfident but certainly confident enough. Maybe this business has knocked him down a peg."
Maybe it had. Perhaps the reason for his aloofness was a sense of shame at having been used so disgracefully by Orath. I'd tried to make him know that no one, least of all I, blamed him for what had happened to him. Of course I couldn't come out and say this in so many words, especially to someone who was acting as if he and I had been something in the nature of colleagues once but were now strangers.
In answer to my direct question, he'd told me how Orath had captured him and what his state of mind had been like while he was in her thrall. He hadn't volunteered anything more. I'd attempted several times to talk with him in a friendly manner, and had been rebuffed--gently at first, but at last almost brusquely.
Since then I'd occupied myself with other things. If Raym's pride was hurt, so be it; my own pride wouldn't let me try again.
But now I had a perfect excuse--no, a distinct and unavoidable reason for conferring with him on a subject that was both professional and personal. I found a cabin steward, ordered a meal for Joli and me to be brought to my quarters, and, while we ate, planned my strategy.
One thing in my favor was that I obviously couldn't talk to Raym about Joli in Joli's presence, so I'd have to send her elsewhere or go away myself for this conference. Because we were first-class passengers, there were plenty of gathering places available, but I wanted a private talk with Raym. Of course I wouldn't send Joli into a public space where she'd be uncomfortable. Luckily, this was a problem easily solved.
Raym had taught both Tedor and Joli the rudiments of chess. They both liked the game and had become remarkably proficient. This wasn't surprising in Tedor's case--he was a bright young man. But Joli's eagerness and her ability had taken me by surprise at first. I'd made the mistake of thinking that her mute timidity was a sign of low intelligence. The fact that I'd been wrong was part of what persuaded me I had to do something to help the girl.
So the next morning I found Tedor, explained the situation, and asked him to bring the chessboard to my cabin and engage Joli in a game while I talked with Raym.
The boy grinned. "I'll be glad to. I don't mind her, you know. She's had a hard life. And she's getting pretty good at the royal game." Raym had wisely emphasized the nobility of chess when he began with Prince Tedor, who was now convinced that the game was a metaphor for his own existence. He mounted a fierce defense of his king.
My second step was to engage Raym. I wrote him a note, telling him what Tedor had agreed to do and asking if I might come to his cabin to consult with him about Joli. Next I tore up the note and wrote another, telling him I was going to be there and at what
time. If he had to reply, I thought, it would be just as easy for him to say no as to say yes, whereas this way he'd be spared writing at all.
I dressed carefully. This was not an occasion, but I didn't want to look less than my best. I ordered refreshments for the chess players, sent my message to Raym, and went to mingle with the passengers in the large salon. If Raym should happen to send a return message telling me not to come, I wouldn't be there to receive it.
At the appointed moment I rapped smartly at Raym's door. He opened it immediately, as if he'd been standing with his hand on it, and took several swift steps backward. I closed it behind me.
"Vivia," he said, "how good to see you. I'll be happy to confer with you about Joli." He was dressed quite formally, as if for a royal audience. He was shielded; his smile was forced. His cabin was in perfect order and a tray of tiny sandwiches sat on the table beside a steaming teapot and two cups. He couldn't have had the note for more than ten minutes, for that was how long ago I'd sent it.
I suspected him of using guile at some stage in these preparations. Or maybe Tedor had mentioned where he was going.
"Please be seated, won't you?" He made a ceremonial gesture toward a chair near the teapot. I perched on the edge of a locker instead. No doubt all this rigid courtesy was another aspect of the remoteness he'd been demonstrating for all these weeks. Now that he couldn't actually avoid me, he could pretend I was someone else, a visitor whom he chose to welcome politely but didn't really know.
I decided to ignore it. "It's good to see you, too. Thank you so much for having me." Not that it was his choice.
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