The Caller (39 page)

She turned on me. ‘Why were you tending to him in here, with only Maelan present? Why was the door closed? Where is Toleg?’

I took a considered breath. ‘My lady, we have a very sick man in the infirmary, as you probably saw and heard as you came through. And the nursemaids were – less than calm. Your son needed a friend with him, and I needed someone who could hold him still and reassure him. I asked Maelan to do that job.’

‘And Toleg?’

‘I’m here, my lady.’ He appeared behind the nursemaids, his grey hair tousled. ‘I’m sorry I was not at hand when your son was brought in. But it appears Ellida has coped admirably in my absence.’

‘And where were you?’

‘Sleeping, my lady. Our patient requires constant supervision. It’s my practice to sit up with him overnight so my assistants can get their rest. The place is busy at this time of year, as I’m sure you will understand.’

‘I see.’ Her voice was wintry. ‘This is unsatisfactory. What ails that man out there, that he cannot be kept quiet when there are other patients requiring your attention?’

‘A combat injury, my lady. Ruarc sustained a severe blow to the head; his recovery will take some time.’

Varda turned on her heel and stalked through to the infirmary, brushing past Toleg as if he were not there. The rest of us followed in her wake. At the foot of Ruarc’s pallet she halted. One of his comrades was holding him steady while the other sponged his red and angry face. ‘You say it will take time,’ she said coolly. ‘How much time?’

I could see Toleg wanted to lie. But this was the queen, and he told the truth. ‘I cannot answer that, my lady. We are still working on ways to help him.’

‘Out with it, Toleg. You are far from certain he will recover, yes?’

‘I cannot be sure either way, my lady. But Ruarc is a loyal member of Bull Troop, one of the king’s valuable fighting men. The king would surely want us to keep trying.’

A delicate frown appeared on Varda’s brow. ‘It is not up to you to judge what the king may or may not want, Toleg. One thing is sure: this man cannot stay here, shouting and screaming day and night and disrupting your regular duties. And these two should be with their troop, doing their work as Enforcers, not acting as nursemaids. I will send Brydian to make an assessment.’

Toleg’s jaw tightened. ‘Yes, my lady.’

‘You,’ Varda said, whirling and pointing a finger in my direction. My heart skipped a beat. ‘Your approach to your duties seems a little unconventional, but you have done well today.’

‘Thank you, my lady.’ The words came through gritted teeth; never had I wanted so badly to tell someone exactly what I thought of them.

‘You!’ She addressed the cringing maidservants. ‘Maelan tells me my son was playing with other children when this episode occurred. What other children?’

‘Brand and Scia’s younger children, my lady.’ The woman’s voice was trembling. ‘Dai and Eda.’

‘And which of them put a bead in my son’s nose?’

It seemed to me quite likely Ochi had done it himself in a spirit of experimentation, but it was not for me to speak.

‘I – I can’t say, my lady.’

‘Were you not watching over my son?’ The hushed tone was truly terrifying.

‘Yes, but – I did not see what happened, exactly. It was so quick.’ The woman had clasped her shaking hands together.

‘It would have been Dai,’ one of the other maids said. ‘Eda is only a baby.’

‘Maelan, take Ochi back to the nursery, then have someone summon Brand to my audience chamber. You three, report to the kitchens.’ She turned the full, chill force of her stare on the nursemaids. ‘At this time of year there’s sure to be work for scullions. It has escaped you, perhaps, that my son will one day be King of Alban. A future monarch requires more responsible attendants.’

It took time to calm Ruarc again once Varda and the others were gone. When he was reasonably quiet, we left the Bull Troop men to watch over him. Toleg prepared tinctures; I brewed more of the sleeping draught we were using to maintain precarious control over Ruarc’s moods. Time passed, but for all our orderly activity, the infirmary was full of tension. How long did we have before Brydian came and declared our patient unable to recover?

I’d heard the others talking when Ruarc was asleep. I knew what they feared. When an Enforcer was so badly wounded he could no longer perform his duties, he was culled. That this was not Ruarc’s fault, that he could not plead his own case, that his companions would willingly go on looking after him even if there was no improvement – none of this would make a bit of difference. Anyone who challenged the decision was likely to find himself paying the price at the Gathering.

I read on Toleg’s face how much he hated this, how hard it was for a healer of many years’ standing to let such a thing happen. I wondered, not for the first time, why he had not seized some opportunity to walk away from this place and from his duty to the king. Surely he’d been tempted, on one of his solitary trips into the forest, to turn his back on Summerfort and head off into the hills, never to return. One day, I told myself, when all this was over, when the battle was won, I would ask him. He was a man of conscience. That was clear in everything he did, even at the times of ill-temper. Perhaps he stayed because, in this place of fear and cruelty, his work gave him a rare chance to do some good.

When someone knocked on the infirmary door, my heart jolted. All of us turned our heads; none of us spoke.

‘Open the door, Ellida,’ Toleg said.

I expected Brydian. But the man who stood there was Galany of Bull Troop, Ruarc’s leader. Someone was going to have to tell him about the queen’s visit.

‘Shut the door,’ Galany said. ‘Toleg, something to ask you.’ His voice was hushed, urgent.

‘Go on, then.’ Toleg glanced at me, at Ruarc and his two comrades. ‘Unless this is private?’

‘You’ll all need to know. It’s about him, Ruarc. You know Owen Swift-Sword? He’s agreed to try mind-mending, if we can arrange it. Might help, might not, but worth trying. Not an enthralment, you understand, but the other thing, the old way. Owen’s the only one who can do it. Will you consider it?’

Toleg opened his mouth and closed it again at the look on Galany’s face, all naked hope.

‘Galany,’ I made myself say, ‘even if the king would agree to that, we’ve just had Queen Varda in here, and she expressed dissatisfaction with the situation.’ I wasn’t going to talk about culling in front of Ruarc, even if I was fairly sure he was beyond understanding. ‘She is sending Brydian to . . . to make an assessment.’

‘When?’

‘I don’t know. Soon, perhaps.’

‘Then we need to do this now.’ Galany squared his massive shoulders. ‘Get him down there, give him the draught –’

‘You’re not thinking,’ Toleg said. ‘Owen Swift-Sword?’

‘Galany,’ said one of the Bull Troop men, ‘do this without the king’s approval and you’ll find yourself in the cell next to Owen.’

‘Say I go out that door and come in again,’ said Galany, ‘and we forget we’ve had this conversation. All I’ll do is ask my troopers here to bring their wounded comrade out of the infirmary; all I’ll tell you is that you’re to pass him over into my custody. We’ll convey him elsewhere, and when Brydian comes, you’ll say it was taken out of your hands.’

Black Crow save us. The man was writing his own death sentence.

‘And risk losing all four of you, instead of just the one?’ Toleg’s tone was mild. I guessed he admired Galany’s courage as much as I did. ‘You’re not thinking, friend.’

Footsteps outside; another knock at the door. My hand was shaking as I opened it. Not Brydian; one of the household servants, a youngish man in grey.

‘You are Ellida, the assistant healer?’

‘I am.’ What was this?

‘King Keldec has sent for you. You’re to come with me immediately.’

The king was in a council chamber, alone. The serving man announced me then retreated, closing the door. Keldec had his back to me; he was standing by one of the long windows, looking out over the silver-grey expanse of Deepwater. From this vantage point, it might be possible to pretend for a little that the unhappy household, the chaotic army of fey and human folk, the visiting chieftains and their followers did not exist, and that all was peace and beauty.

I stood with my hands behind my back, waiting in silence. This could be anything. Someone – Brenn, Ean, Whisper, even Flint – might have cracked under pressure and revealed who and what I was. Or I might have revealed my gift in some way without realising it. I tried to remember everything I had said to Esten when he’d begged me for help; had I shown too much understanding? But that had been some time ago. Why had the king only summoned me now? Perhaps he had an ailment that needed tending in private. But he’d surely consult Toleg for that, not me. I breathed slowly, making my mind calm, as the Hag had taught me.
Be strong, Neryn.
The silence drew out.

Eventually Keldec turned, as casually as if I had only just entered the chamber. ‘Ellida,’ he said with a smile.

I was struck, again, by how ordinary he looked. If I had not known who he was, I would have thought that smile quite pleasant. His manner was open and friendly.

‘Yes, my lord King.’ I performed the curtsy, eyes down.

‘Come closer. Sit down, here.’ The king motioned to a bench. I sat, and so did he, on a rather grand oak chair carven with little creatures. There was no table between us. Whatever this was, it was not a formal hearing. I wondered if I was to be tidied away like Ruarc, made to disappear because I was inconvenient. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ he said. ‘I won’t eat you.’

I failed to force a smile. ‘No, my lord King.’

‘I wanted to thank you, Ellida. I understand you did my son a service today.’

Oh gods, was this all? I released a long breath. ‘I did tend to Ochi earlier, my lord King. He was more frightened than hurt. His guard, Maelan, helped me very capably; Ochi seems to trust him.’

‘Maelan, yes,’ Keldec said, ‘a good man. My son is fond of him.’ He scrutinised me. All I’d had time to do was take off my apron; I was in my working clothes with my hair caught back under a kerchief so it would not get in my way. That was just as well, since it was some while since I’d had a chance to reapply the dye. Not that the king would recognise me from last year’s Gathering; I had not been close enough to him.

‘You must be proud of your little boy, my lord,’ I ventured. I wanted to add that I suspected Scia’s children were not responsible for the bead incident, but I held back.

‘He’s a fine boy, yes. I think, sometimes, it is more curse than blessing to be born a future king, Ellida. On occasion I find myself wishing my son had a choice in the matter; that he could follow his own path. What do you say to that?’

His candour startled me. How could I possibly answer such a question? Most certainly, I could not point out that under the law Ochi had no claim to the throne. This was a man who could – and would – change the law as it suited him. ‘Morven and I have no children as yet, my lord King.’ I chose my words with care. ‘If we are blessed with them someday, I would wish for our sons and daughters that they lead good, wise and happy lives, no matter where their paths take them.’

He got up and went back to the window, resuming his contemplation of the loch. ‘You would not wish them riches? Power? Status?’

‘When my husband is fully trained, he will be one of your Enforcers, my lord King. I have my own work as a healer, satisfying work. I would not wish more than that kind of life for our children.’

‘No?’ He did not turn. ‘Then I must not insult you by offering silver, or a promotion for that husband of yours. But it would please me to reward you for your services to my son today. You speak well; what you said makes it difficult for me to determine what I should give you. Perhaps you should decide that, Ellida. What would please you most?’

Black Crow save me. My mind filled with all manner of impossible requests:
Send Esten home, set your fey captives free, pardon Owen Swift-Sword. Stop listening to your wife. Become a just ruler.
‘Your thanks is sufficient reward, my lord King.’ I waited to be dismissed.

‘You have Ruarc of Bull Troop in the infirmary just now,’ Keldec remarked.

Let this not be a confirmation that Ruarc was to be culled. I willed my heart to slow. ‘Yes, my lord King. He’s gravely ill. We’re doing our best for him.’

‘A fine warrior. One of my bravest and best. I have been much saddened by the news of his injury. Is it true what they tell me, that there is no cure for this?’

Far from slowing, my heart now threatened to leap out of my chest; my palms were clammy. The king’s manner suggested he was genuinely concerned; his expression was one of sorrow. And here I was, with an opportunity to make a difference for Ruarc, if only I were brave enough to risk it.

‘Toleg does believe we’re close to exhausting the possibilities, my lord King. But . . . some of the men were talking today, and I heard them say there might be a way to help Ruarc. They were talking about an ancient practice called mind-mending. It’s been suggested that if someone with the right skill tried that, the damage might perhaps be reversed.’