Keepers of the Flame (43 page)

A
medica apprentice hurried up, biting his lip. “Exotique Medicas,” he said
hoarsely, cleared his voice and gathered himself. “As ordered, I checked on
every Chevalier. I found the Chevalier with the Dark sickness dead in his
rooms.”

Elizabeth
looked around blindly, glance sliding over other wounded. “He wasn’t here?”

“No.
He carried not the slightest injury, but shows the symptoms of one who has died
from the disease.” The apprentice looked a little nauseated himself.

“No
injury, something new.” Bri sounded punch drunk.

Elizabeth
drew sparks from the starfire. So much easier than working through the
exhaustion she’d experienced as an intern. She put a hand on the apprentice’s
shoulder. “Show me.”

“He
is dead. No hope.”

That
echoed around the Castle, too.

31

T
he next day
those of the Castle mourned. And they Sang. The air was filled with Song. Bri
and Elizabeth were included in all the formalities and, like everyone else,
wore their best clothes. Lady Knight Swordmarshall Thealia Germain’s and
Shieldmarshall Partis Germain’s grown children had come, the oldest a middle-aged
man who appeared resigned. Alexa made no effort to hide her tears.

Bri
was uncomfortably aware that Alexa had lost two sets of friends: the other
Marshall pair had died in their first fight.

Since
bodies sank into the ground of Amee, there were only possessions left of those
who’d fallen. In the great temple, Bri and Elizabeth watched as the Marshalls’
armsmaster unfolded the cloth case that held the batons and returned four
dull-looking ones to empty pockets. The simple ceremony had tears prickling
behind Bri’s eyes.

Late
the next morning Bri attended a briefing for the first time in the large
Marshalls’ council chamber in the Castle keep. Sevair came too. She was glad to
have his solid, quiet presence.

Alexa
sat on three pillows at the head of the long, scarred but polished table. Her
intricately carved chair was nearly thronelike and showed a banner and sword on
the back. Bastien sat at her left hand in a chair marked with a shield. The
rest of the Marshalls, sixteen pairs, sat in chairs marked with a sword or
shield. Bri had heard that two Chevalier pairs were testing for Marshall over
the next few days.

The
Chevalier representative, a middle-aged woman, sat in a chair with a carved
flying volaran at the top. Calli and Marrec were seated next to her. Marian was
in the Tower Community’s chair shown by a Castle, Jaquar beside her, and Luthan
Vauxveau in the chair with a singing woman.

Elizabeth
sat in one with the outline of a town hall, gazed at Bri and Sevair, then
stood. Sevair waved her back down with a slight curve on his lips. “Unusual
that we of the City and Towns have more than one representative here, but not
unprecedented.” He motioned to Bri and she saw that there were two chairs with cottages
carved on them. Faucon was on the other side of Elizabeth.

Bri
slipped into her place, Sevair did the same. They were the last to arrive. Even
Zeres and the city medicas were there, sitting along the edge of the room with
their Castle colleagues. From the shifting going on in their ranks, Bri got the
idea that this was new to them, too. A full complement of medical people,
interesting but not unexpected.

People
crowded the wooden-paneled chamber with windows showing baton insets of stained
glass. All were quiet, intense.

Bastien
stood. “This meeting has come to order. Let us Sing.” Song lifted, seemed to
penetrate the gloomy keep walls into the gray day. The prayer rose, speaking of
dedication to Amee, the fight against the Dark, and asked for blessings. Bri
thought
she felt a little pulse of an answer, a warming of the soles of her toes where
they met the floor, didn’t know for sure. She shared a quizzical glance with
Elizabeth. What the others felt, she didn’t know.

The
meeting proceeded, Bastien following some sort of agenda, one of the female
Shieldmarshalls, the archivist, Bri thought, keeping notes…by tapping a piece
of paper with her finger. Nice trick if you could do it.

Arms
were tallied, spell weapons discussed, the frinkweed destruction shown on a
map. At least that was proceeding well. Then the Chevalier sickness was brought
up.

Everyone
turned to Bri and Elizabeth with palpable interest and no accusation.

Following
an idea that had stirred in the pool of her mind the night before, Bri stood
up. The quiet intensified. “It’s time medicas fly with the Marshalls and
Chevaliers to battle.”

Immediate
and loud protest. She raised a hand and her voice. “Not simply us, Elizabeth
and me, but others, too.”

“We
will not allow this.” Bastien’s expression was as commanding as his voice. “You
are our hope. We cannot let you fly to every battle.”

“Just
one battle, then,” Bri said. “To see if we can understand how a Chevalier is
infected.” She turned and looked at the seated line of medicas behind her. “To
develop a team to fly with the warriors.” Some of the men and a couple of the
women nodded, determined eagerness in their gaze. Bri’s breath silently sighed
out of her. She’d
felt
that there might be some who’d wanted to help on
the battlefield.

Her
glance swept them. “If you wish to assist the Marshalls and Chevaliers on the
field, let me know.” She saw fearful faces. “If you don’t, no disrespect to
you.” She held out a hand and Elizabeth stood up and linked fingers. Bri felt
surprised pride from her twin. “We don’t want to fracture the medical society
further.” She held out her other hand to Zeres. He blinked and slowly rose,
took it. “We
do
want to emphasize that a different way of healing should
not be shunned.” She gave Zeres’s fingers a little squeeze. “It might just mean
that a person is ahead of his time.”

Turning
back to Bastien, she said into the quiet room, “I believe we must do this to
understand what is happening, to try to prevent it, or learn how to cure the
sickness. We’ve explored every other way.”

Alexa
joined her husband. “I’ve been chosen the new Lady Knight Marshall.” A slight
smile flickered over her face. “The first time ever that there have been two
women in a row. I agree with Bastien and with Bri. Let the Exotique Medicas
come once to see how the battle fares. We Marshalls haven’t been hidebound to
our Lorebooks for a while and we would welcome on-the-scene medicas. However,
the medicas must have volaran partnering training for battle. Calli, can you do
that?”

“Ayes,”
Calli said. Her forehead furrowed. “I must judge how this’ll work. Marrec and I
will fly to the next battle, too.”

“I
don’t like this,” Bastien muttered. “Four Exotiques on the battlefield. Asking
for trouble.” He stared at Marian. “Under no circumstances will you be allowed
to go.”

She
nodded. “I agree one of us needs to remain safe.”

“No
one except Bri and Elizabeth will stay together,” Alexa said. “Calli, you and
Marrec will
not
dress in your colors. Medicas, you will not wear red and
white.” Alexa smiled again and it was a little wider. “Camouflage for you.
Soul-sucker leathers, maybe. They blend best with the countryside.”

“Listen!”
Bastien raised hands and Sang. Bri’s tongue thickened in her mouth, the edges
of her mind fizzed and her fingertips tingled under the silencing spell. Dazed,
she listened to his chant. None here could communicate of this to anyone else,
could not speak within the hearing of outsiders.

Then
they were all dismissed. All the Exotiques and their men lingered. When
everyone else was gone, Bastien closed the door.

Marian
sucked in and blew out a breath, then said, “Bossgond and Jaquar and I have
discussed your problem.” She frowned as she studied Elizabeth, then looked at
Bri. “You were magnificent when you established the healing circle. But your Songs
are uneven. You worry about your parents and it stresses you.”

Bri
shot her a sour look. “You think?”

“I
thought we’d made the matter clear that we would be distressed if our parents
were worried about us,” Elizabeth said.

“Point
is…” Alexa tried and failed to hitch a hip onto the table that was too high for
her. Bastien picked her up and set her on it. She smiled at him and went on,
“None of us can afford distractions. Not now and not in the crucial months to
come.” She gestured to Bri and Elizabeth. “You got a problem—” she waved to the
rest of the Exotiques “—we have a problem. So…” Now she stared at Marian. “Fix
it.”

Nodding,
Marian said, “I can tell that you’ve followed all the necessary requirements
for the ritual. So we’re moving up the schedule. If you’re agreeable to
spending the day in solitude on Bossgond’s island, we’ll try to reach your
parents tonight.” Marian grimaced. “They’ve been going to bed early.”

Bri
sagged. Sevair put a strong arm around her waist. “That’s good.”

“It
hasn’t been easy restraining myself,” Faucon said lightly, brushing Elizabeth’s
cheek with his finger. “Let’s go make arrangements.”

“Excellent
idea,” Marian said, and they filed out.

Sevair’s
iron grip on Bri’s wrist radiated temper. They stayed. He kicked the door shut,
muttered a locking spell and Bri knew her impulsiveness had landed her in
trouble again. She had also decided that she didn’t like the room. Lots of
negative energy. Much of it from the man beside her.

“You
must be mad,” Sevair said through gritted teeth. His hands clamped around her
upper arms and he lifted her from her feet. She’d never seen him so angry—pale
under his golden skin, mouth thinned tight into a narrow line.

“Don’t
call me mad.” She wet her lips. She didn’t mind being eccentric, New Age,
different, but she’d never been—hardly ever been—out of her mind.

He
plunked her onto her feet. She glared up at him. “It’s time medicas go to the
battlefield.”

“Let
them go. You stay here.”

Eyeing
him, she did a quick pace around the council table. “We need to determine the
cause of this sickness.”

“Let
someone else do that.”

She
stopped, put her hands on her hips. “It’s our responsibility. The Exotique
Medicas. You understand all about responsibility.”

Jaw
clenched, he turned away.

Bri
continued. “We can’t just stay here and watch people die. I can’t do it.” Her
breath caught and she hated that. She steadied her voice. “We have to take
action!”

He
swung back, hands fisted at his sides. “You’ve tried to heal every single
Chevalier, no matter how tired you were.”

“Tried!”

“Elizabeth
and you have done autopsies.”

Bri
rubbed her temples, sure the silver would be sprouting any minute and wouldn’t
that surprise everyone if she got home.
When
they got home. Elizabeth
already had a swatch over her right ear. “We tried pulling the tumor and its
tendrils from a living body. Elizabeth even kept one poor woman alive after her
soul had gone, as she tried to surgically remove the mass.” Bri had bowed out
of that experiment. Most of the medicas had thought the invasive procedure an
abomination. Zeres had assisted Elizabeth. Since then, Bri’s medica friend and
Elizabeth had gotten along just fine.

Bri
tugged at her hair, brought it around to look. Still brown. “There must be an
answer on the battlefield.” She sucked in a breath. “And the new Marshall team
needs all the help it can get.”

“You
haven’t done this on Exotique Terre,” Sevair snarled.

Stiffening,
Bri said, “I’m not trained in military medicine. But I can organize health care
workers and the sick in refugee camps, and Elizabeth is an emergency-room
doctor. We can put a battlefield medica team together and train them. I think
some of the men have been itching to do this for years, just couldn’t go
against tradition.” She glanced at Sevair. He was still tight-lipped, seething.
Standing her ground, she lowered into her balance. Nothing would move her on
this. “I don’t think Faucon will make this much trouble for Elizabeth.”

“He’s
a warrior, and you can bet everything you own that he’ll have an extra team of
his Chevaliers protecting her alone.”

“Protecting
me, too.” Bri jutted her chin.

“Ayes.
If you stay near her.” Sevair’s lip curled. “When do you ever stay in one place
if not constrained?” Finally spitting out what was really bothering him, she
was sure. In two strides he was standing toe-to-toe.

“I’m
sorry if my wanting to return home hurts you. But you knew all along—”

He
kissed her. Hard and hurting and wanting. She heard all from him, felt all.
Tough muscles, warm heart, Sevair. She loved the tensile strength of him, his
working-man’s muscles. Then he set her down again. Met her gaze with an intense
one of his own. “There’s nothing to do but go to battle with you.”

Fear
spurted through her. “No! You’re not a Chevalier.”

“You’re
not going alone.” His jaw clenched, relaxed. He touched a big-bladed knife at
his hip. “I can fight.” After one last sizzling look he headed for the door. “I’ll
be going to that Circlet’s island with you, too. Where you go, I go. Faucon
isn’t the only one who must organize for an absence. I’ll talk to someone about
the battlefield. Luthan, I think.”