Shards of Time (23 page)

“Did you see which way he went?” asked Thero.

The cook shrugged and pointed in the general direction of the road. “Off that way, I think.”

Had Mika disobeyed and followed him into the city? Thero had never known the boy to be willful. But if not that way, then where?

Thero made his way through the east side of the camp, asking after Mika again. A sutler remembered seeing a young boy heading down to the river that afternoon.

Hours had passed since then. Mika could have fallen in the water and been swept away. Thero had no reason to think he could swim. Heart pounding, he ran back to the tent and flung open the equipment chest. He had something better than a search party.

In an upper tray was a tiny leather pouch containing a slip of linen dotted with Mika’s blood: a charm made for just such a time as this. He clenched it in his left hand and sent a wizard eye spell out into the surrounding darkness. His inner vision spiraled over the starlit camp like a bat, then swooped down to the riverbank. Almost immediately he saw a small form sprawled beside a boulder near the roadside, still in sight of the encampment. It was Mika, asleep, unconscious, or …

Thero ran for the riverbank. Mika hadn’t gone far, after all. The boulder was easily visible from the outskirts of the camp. Running to the boy, Thero cast a light orb and fell to his knees beside the still, small body.

Mika lay on his face, arms thrown over his head as if he’d fallen. Thero rolled him over and gasped. The left side of the boy’s face was dark with blood, his left eye was swollen shut, and there was a nasty gash on his forehead by his left temple. The skin not covered in blood was white as milk. Thero felt for pulse and breath. The boy was alive, at least. Thero carefully brushed the hair back from the gash and found that it had bled copiously before scabbing over; it had been hours since he’d received the wound. Blood showed dark on a stone where he must have struck his head.

He patted Mika’s blood-crusted cheek gently; the boy’s skin was frighteningly cold to the touch. “Mika, wake up.”

When there was no response Thero quickly felt his neck, chest, and limbs, looking for breaks or other wounds.

“Oh, Illior!” One of the bones in Mika’s left forearm was broken; a bone end protruded through the skin, shockingly sharp and white and bloody. Thero carefully positioned the broken limb across Mika’s chest and lifted the boy in his arms, grateful for the moment that Mika was unconscious. He hurried back to camp, bringing the light orb along to illuminate the way. People saw him by its glow and ran out to help.

“Can I carry him for you, my lord?” a soldier asked.

“I can manage, but find the drysian and send her to my tent at once!”

Klia met him crossing the circle and followed him to his tent. “By the Four! What happened to him?”

“I don’t know yet.” Ducking through the tent flap, Thero placed Mika on his cot and took a better look at him. His clothing was damp and streaked with mud, and his boots were missing. The bottoms of his feet were cut in places; he must have been running barefoot. Undressing him gently, Thero looked for other wounds, but other than bruises and scabby scrapes on his knees, there was nothing else amiss, except for the arm and the clammy paleness of his skin.

“Where’s the damn drysian?” Klia shouted out to someone outside.

“Here, Highness.” Yana stepped in, staff in one hand and a boy beside her, carrying a heavy leather pack. “If you’d move aside, please, I’ll see to him,” she said to Thero. Pulling back the blanket, she made a quick inspection, then turned to her assistant. “I’ll need a small brazier, a pot, splints and bandages, and water.”

“Yes, mistress.” He left the pack by the bed and turned to go.

Klia drew Thero over to the other bed and made him sit. Settling beside him, she took his hand in a reassuring grip, callused fingers warm against his cold ones.

They sat in tense silence as the drysian continued her examination.

“He’s had a nasty blow to the head, in addition to the broken arm,” Yana said at last. “Was he attacked?”

“He fell and struck his head on a rock,” Thero told her.

“Well, it certainly does look like a mild concussion, and he has a chill. We must get some warm stones tucked around him right away.”

“I’ll see to it.” Klia went to the door to give the order, then rejoined Thero on the bed.

The drysian’s boy arrived with the supplies, and Yana set to work. Mika let out a groan now and then as she set the bone, bathed and stitched the wound, and splinted his arm, but still didn’t wake. As she tended his head wound, a soldier returned with a bucket of warm river stones.

It seemed to take an eternity for the healer to finish and to get Mika safely into bed with his splinted arm tied across his chest. Yana brewed a strong-smelling herbal concoction on the brazier, let it cool, then fed it by drops between Mika’s lips with a spoon.

“The tisane will help dull the pain, and I’ll give him a healing blessing,” she said, motioning for Thero to join her at the bedside. “I’m going to try and wake him now. It’s best if you’re the first thing he sees. He’s had a bad shock.”

Holding her hand over Mika’s head, she murmured something in the healer’s tongue and warm yellow light glowed over his brow. He gasped in his sleep; then his right eye fluttered open. He looked up at Thero uncomprehendingly for a moment, then burst into tears.

Thero knelt and took Mika’s right hand in his. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

“I—I—I’m sorry, M-master!”

“Nothing to be sorry for, I’m sure. I’m just glad I found you.”

“We were only p-playing.”

“Who were you playing with?”

But Mika only cried harder. Tears ran down his pale cheeks toward his ears, and Thero used the edge of his sleeve to wipe them away. More came, and Mika’s nose began to run.

“Hold him.”

He glanced over his shoulder. The drysian and her apprentice were gone, but Klia was still seated on the other cot.

Feeling a little awkward, Thero gently got an arm under Mika’s shoulders and pulled the boy up to lean against his chest, taking care not to jostle his broken arm. Mika grabbed folds of Thero’s coat with his free hand and buried his face against it, nearly hysterical now.

“Calm down, now,” Thero said, rocking him a little. “You’re safe. I’m here. You’re not in any trouble.”

“I couldn’t help him,” Mika sobbed, voice muffled against Thero’s coat. “I tried. I really did!”

“Help who?”

“My friend. We were playing and a man came with a cudgel and—”

“You were attacked?”

“Yes. My friend tried to stop him. He hit him and he fell down.” Mika let out a shuddering sob. “I couldn’t help him. I was angry—and then the red came out, and it stopped the man and—”

After that Thero couldn’t get any sense out of him, so he held Mika until the boy cried himself to sleep, then placed him back against the pillow and pulled the blankets up to his chin. He tried to recall what he’d been like at that age. Had he been so tender, so hungry for Nysander’s approval, before his own arrogance and pride drove a wedge between them? He felt a stab of empathy with his old master, thinking how painful it would be if Mika took that path.

Sitting down by Klia on the other bed, he cradled his head in his hands. “I shouldn’t have left him. I thought he’d be fine on his own. He’s always so responsible.”

“It’s not your fault, love.”

“Of course it is. I’m his guardian. What am I to tell his parents?”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “Children have accidents. Nysander didn’t keep you wrapped in wool batting, did he?”

Thero sighed. “I was never hurt like this.”

“What do you think happened?”

“You know as much as I do. Sounds like he ran afoul of some local.” He rubbed his eyes. “Seregil and the others are waiting for me.”

“Send word to them and stay with Mika.” Klia kissed his cheek. “I’ll go see about something to eat.”

When she was gone Thero conjured up a message sphere and sent the little light speeding off to the city, then pulled the chair over to Mika’s bedside and sat down. The drysian had done her work well; the boy was breathing easily, and color had stolen into his cheeks.

The red came out
. Perhaps losing control of his innate magic had saved Mika’s life this time, if not the other boy’s.

Klia returned with two servants carrying enough food for four people. She sat on the carpet with Thero and ate.

“You seem to have recovered,” Thero noted as Klia started on a second slice of bread stuffed with mutton.

“I told you, I’m fine.” She gave him a wry look. “If you’re going to fuss over me like I’m some helpless maiden, I may have to rethink our relationship.”

“You are the least helpless person I have ever—” An uncontrollable yawn took him. “Sorry. I think the day and the wine have worn me out.”

“And me. Let’s get some sleep.”

“I’m afraid this cot is too narrow for two. Go get some rest. I’ll pull my bed next to his, in case he stirs.”

“All right, then.” Klia kissed him and brushed a stray curl back from his cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Klia?”

“Yes, love?”

“You are still returning to Deep Harbor tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“I’m not so sure I should.”

“Please, Klia. You brought a pack of nightrunners for a reason. This is our sort of work. I don’t like what we’ve found so far and I’ll be happier when you’re back at the governor’s villa, meting out justice in the name of the queen. Please, love?”

She sighed and nodded. “Shall I take Mika back with me?”

Thero felt Mika’s forehead. “He’s a bit feverish. I think he’ll be all right here. I’ll find someone to keep an eye on him.”

“Good night, then. Pleasant dreams.”

“I’
D
like to see the tablet that was removed from the second cave, Lady Zella,” Seregil said when they’d arrived back at the palace.

“Of course, my lord. There’s a treasure room and it’s kept there.”

One of the guards lit a torch for them, and she led the way down a corridor off the receiving hall. Stopping at a nondescript door, she took the heavy ring of keys from her belt and unlocked it. As they stepped inside, figures seemed to leap at them in the torchlight. Momentarily startled, Seregil laughed as he took in the collection of statuary that filled the large room. Some were whole, representations of people or animals. Others were headless or armless. Against the far wall the remains of the stone tablet were propped up on a table. As Seregil had hoped, there was writing on it.

“Can you make out what it says?” asked Zella as they gathered around it.

Seregil ran his fingers over the stark, deeply incised letters of the few words there. “It’s Konic, of course, and says ‘Here resides grief.’ ”

“That makes sense,” said Alec. “The ghost is very sad.”

“So there is a ghost there,” said Zella. “The workmen who went down there were convinced. I didn’t want to say anything to influence your first impression, but there are old, old stories of a man who haunts the oracle caves.”

Seregil exchanged a look with Alec, thinking of the drawing they’d seen in the journal at Mirror Moon.

“Is there anything else from the cave here?” he asked Zella.

“No, the rest are things salvaged from around the city.”

Thero’s messenger spell found Seregil, Micum, and Alec talking with Sedge and a few of the watch guards in front of the palace entrance. The little light hovered a few inches in front of Seregil’s face, and he heard Thero’s voice say, “Mika has had an accident. I’m going to stay with him. See you in the morning.”

“Shouldn’t we go back?” asked Alec when Seregil told them what the message was.

“No, it sounds like he has matters in hand. Let’s go to work, shall we?”

The three of them split up and interviewed various soldiers on guard duty around the grounds. From them they got solid reports of comrades who’d gone missing since Toneus’s death, and vociferous denials that their friends would have run away. A few claimed to have seen dark figures, like shadows in the night, and this gave Alec further pause, amulet or no amulet.

The braziers had been lit; shadows jumped and danced in all directions, and flashes of light flickered eerily from distant windows. Sedge and his people invited them to share their simple supper with them at their nearby encampment, and they accepted.

A circle of small tents stood a little way off from the entrance, in an open space where a building had once stood. The outline of the foundation was still visible. They sat around the fire and the cooks laid out a cold meal for them.

“Sorry about the provisions, my lord,” one of them said to Seregil. “We haven’t had supplies in a couple of days.”

“I’ll speak to Princess Klia, your new governor, about that as soon as I see her again.”

“Much obliged,” said Sedge.

“Thanks,” said Alec, accepting a thick slice of cold mutton on a slab of bread.

“I’d like to spend the night in the royal suite,” said Seregil, nibbling at the mutton.

“My lord, do you think that’s wise?” asked Sedge.

“We’ll keep him company, won’t we?” Micum gave Alec a wink. “Captain, you’d best keep an eye on things out here for us.”