Bard's Oath (35 page)

Looking around, she saw Kaeliss was still asleep but Kiga was gone; hunting, no doubt. Pod hoped he brought back another rabbit. She was tired of dried meat; though last night’s rabbit had been old and rather tough, it had made a welcome change.

The thought of the Wort Hunter made Pod realize something: It was full light. She squinted at the sky. It was, she guessed, some four or five candlemarks after dawn. Had Fiarin overslept as well? Thank the gods!

No—his blankets were empty. So he was awake—or had never gone to bed. But where was he? And why hadn’t he gotten them up? He’d been an absolute bear about that. Was he hurt?

Pod staggered to her feet with a groan. She’d better find him as soon as she could. But where to look first?

Then she remembered his fascination with the esker that separated the two big lakes. She’d try there first. If he wasn’t there, she’d call Kiga and see if he could follow Fiarin’s scent.

There was no need to call her familiar. Fiarin stood at the edge of the esker, staring at the far end. Pod stayed within the shadow of the trees and watched him.

Every line of his body shouted of tension, of fear, of longing. He would step forward—then stop. His fists clenched and unclenched. It was as clear as the sun in the sky that though Fiarin wanted to cross the esker before him, something held him back.

Pod shook her head. She still had no idea what all this was about, but there was nothing she could do right now. It was back to the camp for her until the time was right. She also wanted to rest while she could before Fiarin dragged them off on another mad trek.

A long while later, Fiarin returned to camp. Kiga was back, Kaeliss was up, their packs and bedrolls were ready, and they’d broken their fast though Pod was disappointed that there was no fresh meat.

Which was just as well, for Fiarin knelt to roll up his blankets, saying, “We’re moving on. Hurry—there’s a swampy area I want to get through before dark.”

“Where are we going?” Kaeliss asked, her voice shaking.

At first Pod thought he hadn’t heard her as he worked. Then he said softly, “Never you mind where, girl. Never you mind. Just know that it will make your name in the Guild.”

Something in his voice sent prickles of unease down Pod’s back. Taking a deep breath, she said, “That’s not good enough. What is all this about? You haven’t shown us anything in days. And we’re well past the time we should have gone back, aren’t we?”

Fiarin surged to his feet, his face dull red with anger and his fists clenched. But before he could take a single step toward her, Kiga was between her and the furious Wort Hunter, just as she’d known would happen. The woods dog snarled, daring the tall man to strike his person.

Fiarin stopped short. He stared down at Kiga for a long moment, then slowly and carefully stepped back. He took first one deep breath, then another. Then came the last thing that Pod had expected: the Wort Hunter grinned wryly.

“Well played, young Pod. I suppose I have been, ah, rather mysterious of late, haven’t I?”

Pod just nodded; it didn’t seem to be right to add
And a damned bastard to boot
. Conor always said it wasn’t fair to kick a man when he was beaten.

“Well and well, then, girls—this is the truth of it. According to some old, ah, records I’ve studied, somewhere near here is a patch of King’s Blood. A very large patch.”

Pod heard a gasp behind her; Kaeliss was beside her an instant later.

“Truly?” the apprentice Wort Hunter said avidly.

“Truly. And think of this, young Kaeliss: That description is years old. So all this time that patch had had time to spread … and spread.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Pod, you won’t understand this, but Kaeliss will. As I said before, this will make your name—both your names, actually—in the guild. King’s Blood is one of rarest and most valuable plants a Wort Hunter can find. It grows in so few places and helps so many illnesses, and…” He faltered to a stop.

Pod eyed him. There was more to this; there had to be. Surely a man so senior in his guild wouldn’t risk his standing within it lightly. “This isn’t just about gaining prestige within your guild, is it?” she asked. “Or beating out Currin?”

Fiarin actually laughed at that. “No, though the thought of Currin besting me at our game does rankle. Nor is it about prestige. Over the years I’ve already earned the respect of my fellows. Yes, I
do
risk my rank and will most certainly be punished, but I think my hope is worth it.”

Kaeliss nodded. “You’re thinking of Master Emberlin, aren’t you?” she said softly.

“Just so. The guild can’t afford to lose him, Kaeliss. Young as he is, he’s already accomplished so much. Can you imagine what he could do if he has the years he
should
have ahead of him?”

“The King’s Blood that Currin found—it’s not enough?” Pod asked.

“No,” Fiarin said. He sighed. “Not when we’re certain that when the lung sickness returns, it will be even worse than it was this past winter. Our supply of King’s Blood was low then. If what you heard about the fire destroying that storeroom is right, this winter … Oh gods, this winter will be devastating.

“Emberlin has always refused to take more King’s Blood than is enough to keep the thing that’s eating him at bay. He knows that many lives could be saved with the amount he’d need to cure him. Now he might refuse to take any at all. But if we had enough…”

He looked at Kaeliss. “You will
not
face punishment. When we get back, I’ll tell the guild elders that neither of you had any idea of what I’d planned. It’s naught but the truth, and when we find the King’s Blood, it will be share and share alike.”

Kaeliss said slowly, “You’d share equally with us?”

“I’d already been planning to—it would be the only fair thing after I’ve made such a mess of your training. The two of you will have missed most of your treks by the time we get back. But I promise you that it will be worth it. Are you with me?”

Kaeliss crowed “Yes!” and caught up her pack and bedroll.

Pod wasn’t as certain, but what could she do? She had no idea how to find her way back. And if this plant was so useful, and next winter’s lung sickness as bad as Kaeliss and Fiarin feared it would be, surely it was a good thing to find a lot of King’s Blood, right? So she nodded and swung her own pack and blanket roll onto her back. She had no choice but to go on.

Thirty-five

As they were on their
way to Yarrow and Raven’s camp to share ale and news, Linden, Maurynna, and Shima crossed paths with Conor as he walked through the fair. The Beast Healer had his familiar cuddled upside down in his arms and tickled her stomach as he walked. Trouble “chuckled” when she saw Linden.

“Hoy there, Conor! Well met again,” Linden called.

Conor grinned. “Well met indeed.” He bowed carefully to Maurynna and Shima; Trouble scolded him anyway for bouncing her about.

After he made the introductions, Linden said, “You seem lighthearted. Any particular reason?”

Conor laughed. “Do I now? Well-a-well, I’m guessing that still having all my fingers and such would account for that.”

“Ahhh. Been to see Summer Lightning again, have you?”

“That I have. He’s in fine fettle if foul temper.” Conor shook his head. “Sad, it is. Just sad.”

I agree,
Linden said in Conor’s mind, using mindspeech because he didn’t want the next part to be overhead by any fairgoers.
And I’m afraid I have to agree with Sevrynel. When it became clear he was that vicious, Summer Lightning should have been put down. At the very least, he should have been gelded.
Aloud he went on, “We’re on our way to visit friends. Are you free?”

“I’m on duty now at the guild’s tent. I was just on my way back.”

“Then I hope we’ll have a chance to see you again.”

“The three of you are to marshal the Queen’s Chase, yes? Then we’ll likely cross paths there.” He bowed once more. “A fine day to you, Dragonlords—and Linden,” he added with a cheeky grin and a wave.

The Dragonlords set off once more. As the camp came into view, Maurynna asked, “Was that the old friend from the other day? I’d meant to ask you how you met him.”

“It was. Let’s get everyone settled with a tankard of ale and I’ll tell you the tale of Conor and Pod.”

The Llysanyins greeted each other happily and went off to one end of the horse lines where they stood in a circle, heads together.

“Look like a bunch of old grannies settling in for a good gossip, don’t they?” Yarrow whispered as she led the way into the common tent. “Sit down, sit down.” She waved a hand at the trestle table in the center. The grooms and handlers grinned at them and cleared the table of the remnants of their meal.

Tankards of ale and a platter of cold chicken and vegetables appeared like magic before them even before they’d seated themselves on the benches.

“Where’s Raven?” Shima asked.

“With his friend Lord Ar—make a liar of me, lad!” she said as Raven ducked into the tent.

He grabbed a tankard of ale and joined them at the table. “Gods, but it’s good to see friendly faces!” He took a long pull of his ale.

Yarrow asked sharply, “What’s wrong?”

“What else? I ran into dear Lord Tirael.”

Maurynna made a rude noise of dismissal. “That spoiled brat? My sympathies.”

Linden nodded. Maurynna had told him of Raven’s wager—a foolish one in his opinion; even a Llysanyin could go lame—her own encounter with Tirael, and finally of how that spoiled young lord managed to squirm out of paying if he lost the race with Raven. He rarely made judgments of someone before he met them; this Tirael would be an exception for which he would feel no guilt. “What happened?”

“Arisyn and I had just parted ways when I ran into Lord Tirael and a few of his hangers-on. Even for him he was in a foul temper and I think I know why. Gossip around the fair has it there’s a young woman he’d decided was the one for him, but she had the good sense to send him packing, though no one seems to know just who she is—or else they’re not saying. Now she’s turned up at the fair and is being courted by someone else, someone who’s succeeding where Tirael failed. And I get the feeling that her suitor is someone that would set Tirael off something fierce. It seems if there’s one thing our dear Lord Tirael can’t stand, it’s losing.”

“He’d best get used to it,” Maurynna said sweetly.

Raven chuckled. “Too true. But could we talk about something else? Being told that there soon won’t be two fingers’ width of skin on your back tends to spoil your day.”

Shima said, “We met a friend of Linden’s on the way here and Linden said he’d tell us how the two of them met.”

“Don’t forget Pod,” Maurynna added. To Linden she said, “That’s an odd name even for a Yerrin, isn’t it?”

Linden laughed. “It would be indeed. It’s even odder for a Kelnethi, which is what we guessed Pod to be. We never knew for certain because she was an orphan. At least, we think she is. It was a nickname Conor, who was just a journeyman Beast Healer then, gave her because of her hair—it’s short for Milkweed Pod.”

“How did you and a journeyman Beast Healer end up playing nanny to an orphan child, anyway?” Raven asked. “This sounds like one of my great-uncle’s funny stories.”

“It wasn’t,” Linden said, frowning. “But at least it had a happy ending.”

He stretched out his legs. “The short version is that about, oh, ten years ago I got restless and went on a journey. Decided it was time to pay my respects once again at Bram and Rani’s tombs. When I got to Waylshire in Kelneth I found the countryside at the end of horrible cattle plague. The Beast Healers had sent out everyone they had above the rank of apprentice trying to stop it before it spread throughout the country, so there were a number of young journeymen about that normally would not have been on their own for some time yet. One of them was Conor.

“When I came across him, he was sitting by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. He was exhausted from working nonstop, hadn’t eaten for three days, his horse had thrown a shoe, and he had a bad case of ague to top it all off. Oh, and there was a small pile of dead mice at his feet. His familiar then, a little ferret named Havoc, kept bringing them to him. She seemed quite put out that he wouldn’t eat them; as I reined Shan up before him she was standing on his shoulder, a dead mouse under one paw, scolding him.”

“Familiar?” Shima asked. “Are these Beast Healers witches, then?”

Linden shook his head. “No, but the bond is similar enough that most people call the animals that. Each Beast Healer seems to bond very strongly with one kind of animal, though they can care for any beast. In Yerrih we call the familiars
kal-enteya,
‘brothers-in-fur.’ I think that’s a closer description than ‘familiar.’”

“And the bond does something to the animal that chooses to partner a Beast Healer,” Raven said. “It somehow, I don’t know,
enhances
them. You’d swear they could think sometimes. They’re often much smarter than others of their kind, and they’re utterly devoted to their person.”

“Just so,” Linden said. “Anyway, I found Conor—he was barely seventeen—almost done in. I gave him some of my food, cared for his horse, set him on Shan, and went with him to the last farm he was due to visit. It was a remote holding belonging to some lord or another, almost a four-day ride, and I was afraid he’d never make it alone. Poor lad was frantic to get there. He was certain they’d lost most of their cattle and was determined to save what he could for them even though he’d heard they were a hard, inhospitable lot.”

When he paused to cut himself another slice of cold chicken and began eating, Maurynna prompted, “Were they?”

“Maurynna-love, you’ll never have any idea how tempted I was to leave them to their troubles—and that was less than half a candlemark after meeting them,” Linden said wryly. “Conor, though, was still resolved to do his duty. But even he wavered after we found the little girl—she was, perhaps, four years old?—living in the barn like another animal.”

He shut his eyes and saw once again in his mind’s eye his first view of the child he and Conor would name Pod. The farmer and his family called her Pig Girl or just Pig for short. Filthy rags hung from a skinny frame and half-healed cuts and sores covered the thin arms and legs. She was covered with mud and filth and her hair was a witch’s nest of snarls and yet more filth. He hadn’t even been able to tell what color it was then.