The Caller (40 page)

A lengthy pause, then, ‘Go on,’ the king said.

I had hoped I might not need to say more. I held my hands together behind my back to conceal the shaking. ‘I heard there’s a man here who can perform mind-mending, my lord King. One of your Enforcers.’

‘Owen Swift-Sword?’ The king’s tone was not encouraging. ‘The man’s locked up and awaiting punishment for a grave offence. I imagine that news has reached the infirmary by now.’

‘Yes, my lord King.’ I should curtsy again, thank him for his kindness and make a retreat for the sake of the greater cause. But the memory of Ruarc’s cries was strong, along with the look in the eyes of his comrades earlier today. I could not walk away from this. ‘But could not Owen Swift-Sword still be asked to help Ruarc?’

‘You know Owen Swift-Sword, Ellida?’ There was something new in his voice now; something like pain.

‘I met him on the day Morven and I arrived here, my lord King, but I have not seen him since.’

‘Once my most loyal man. Once my trusted friend. He turned against me.’

I held my silence. How long would it be before someone came in and my chance was gone? Perhaps even now Brydian was in the infirmary determining that Ruarc was too much of a burden to be kept alive.

‘Why would I allow Owen to do this? He might work his magic against me; use some trickery to turn this man into another like himself, wayward and disloyal.’

It seemed to me Keldec was not talking to me now, but thinking aloud. ‘The men were suggesting the mind-mending could be done in the place of incarceration, my lord King, with guards present.’ This was dancing on eggshells. ‘Might not this be an opportunity for Owen Swift-Sword to make amends?’

‘Owen deserves no further opportunities.’ Keldec did not look angry, only deeply sad.

I forced the words out. ‘No, my lord King. But Ruarc surely does.’

He paced for a little, then, arms folded, brow furrowed. I had risen to my feet when he did, and I waited, not daring to hope for anything except that I might get out of the chamber unharmed, and that he would then forget about me.

He halted, turned, looked me in the eye. I could not read his expression.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Tell Toleg he has my approval to try this. Owen Swift-Sword is not to leave the place of incarceration, and the full complement of guards is to be present at all times while this process is taking place.’

‘Thank you, my lord King.’ My belly was tight. I could not walk out of here without telling him about the queen and Brydian, even if that meant he changed his mind. ‘My lord, Master Brydian was due to make an assessment of the injured man, perhaps today. For purposes of . . . of deciding whether it was appropriate to keep him in the infirmary any longer.’ My heart was hammering.

‘I see.’ Keldec strode over to the door and called, ‘Guard!’

Breathe slowly, Neryn.

The door opened. A guard in Stag Troop uniform stood there. ‘My lord King.’

‘Fetch your troop leader. He’s to accompany Ellida here back to the infirmary. She will explain to him what my orders are.’

‘Yes, my lord King.’ The man moved off down the hallway; another guard who had been stationed further away came to take his place by the door.

‘This decision won’t be popular in all quarters, Ellida,’ the king said. ‘That makes it all the more important that the treatment is successful. You should hope Owen Swift-Sword does not fail.’

A threat. So I had indeed taken a dangerous step. I swept into my curtsy once more. ‘I understand, my lord King.’

‘I believe you do,’ Keldec said, and as Rohan Death-Blade appeared at the end of the hallway, the king went back into his council chamber.

While Rohan and I made our way to the infirmary, I discovered he already knew about Galany’s mind-mending idea. I told him about Brydian’s assessment and what the king had said. Rohan asked a question I had not expected.

‘Will you be alone in the infirmary at some point later?’

‘I imagine Toleg will want to supervise getting Ruarc to the cells. He may wish to be present during the mind-mending. Scia is ill; she won’t be at work today. I expect I’ll be the one who makes up the draught to send Ruarc to sleep.’

‘Oblivion.’

‘I imagine that’s what will be needed. One dose for tonight, and if further treatment is required, a fresh brew each time. Oblivion doesn’t keep its potency for long.’

We were nearing the infirmary, and there were guards in the passageway. ‘I’ll come and speak to you later,’ Rohan said in an undertone, ‘after we’ve installed Ruarc down there. Try to make sure you’re on your own.’

No time to reply to this, for we were at the infirmary door, and the voices of Brydian and Toleg could be heard from inside, arguing, along with the sound of Ruarc weeping.

‘Make this work,’ murmured Rohan, ‘and every Enforcer in Summerfort will be your friend.’

‘It won’t be me making it work, it will be Owen Swift-Sword.’

He glanced at me sideways. ‘Then they’ll be friends to both of you,’ he said, and opened the door.

Rohan’s authority as acting troop leader, along with the fact that we had brought a direct order from the king, silenced the dispute that had been raging when we arrived. Brydian departed, looking displeased at the waste of his time. With little fuss and much speed, Rohan and Galany organised a team of men to convey Ruarc down to the cells. I bundled up bedding and other supplies to go with him. Toleg went too; he would stay as long as he was needed.

When everyone was gone, I sat for a little while staring across the empty chamber. I had seldom felt so exhausted. The place was eerily quiet. But this did not feel like peace; it felt like the calm before the storm.

I made myself get up. Work to be done; a man’s life to be saved. In the back of my mind, as I fetched what I needed from Toleg’s locked cupboard, was my dream of Flint behind the bars, his hand close to mine, his voice drained of hope. Would that be today? And if he had indeed become that shadow of himself, half-blind, how could he be called upon to practise his demanding craft?

Much hangs in the balance here
, the king had said. If Flint proved incapable of curing Ruarc, might my impulsive request spell death not only for the sick man but for the rebellion as well? What if Keldec had me culled, not for my canny skill, but simply for poor judgement? Tali would think this was a mistake. Whether Ruarc lived or died had nothing to do with the cause.

But this felt right. Just as the White Lady had shown me the one-in-all, Ruarc’s plight was showing me the all-in-one. I had seen how patiently the Bull Troop men tended to their damaged comrade. Yes, they were the same Enforcers who rode from Summerfort every autumn to carry out the Cull; they were the same men who hammered down doors and torched buildings and put folk to the sword. Ruarc, too, must have done that. Perhaps some of them enjoyed the power, the excitement, the status their work for the king provided. Some doubtless performed those duties without question, simply because that was their job. But they were not evil men. I had seen their courage, their forbearance, their generosity of spirit. Whatever lay in their past, at heart each was the man the old song spoke of:
I am the
warrior, sword in hand
. Yes, even poor damaged Ruarc. Saving him was the same as saving Alban.

I set out the components for Oblivion on the work table. The formula was not complex, but it was important to make no errors in the measurement. Before he left, Toleg had made me promise to check everything twice, no matter how busy I might be. I was fortunate; nobody disturbed me until I had the mixture ready in a corked jar and the bench clean and tidy. When the knock on the door did come, it was Rohan Death-Blade. He entered and slid the bolt shut.

‘The draught is ready,’ I said. I was tense again, not knowing if this was a time for the revelation of perilous secrets. ‘Will you take it down to him?’

Rohan did not answer. He came to sit by me on a bench, elbows on knees, hands clasped, looking at the flagstoned floor.

‘Rohan,’ I said, ‘was there something you wanted to ask me?’

He looked up. Like Flint, he was good at masking his expression. Rohan’s face had a naturally guileless air, and it was not hard to imagine him in a different kind of life, as a craftsman, a trader, a farmer, with a loving family and honest work for his hands. He was not a man who fitted the trappings of an Enforcer.

‘A simple request.’ His voice was held quiet, though there was a locked door between us and the nearest guard. ‘Owen has had a look at Ruarc and spoken to Toleg about him. He’s fairly sure the healing can’t be completed in one night’s work. So he’ll be needing you to make up the draught three days in a row. Possibly longer.’

I waited, sensing there was more to come.

‘Can you make a double dose each time? Without anyone else knowing, I mean?’

I stared at him. ‘You do know how dangerous Oblivion can be if not administered correctly.’

‘I’ve assisted Owen more than once in an enthralment. Yes, I know.’

What in the name of the gods was this? A trap, designed to see me lose my position as Toleg’s assistant and perhaps my place at court? Or something quite different? ‘Can you explain why?’

‘Best if you don’t know that.’

‘Then how can I do it, when I know a double dose could kill a man?’

‘Does it help if I say nobody’s getting a double dose?’

So he planned to drug not only Ruarc, but someone else as well. Why would that need to be secret?

‘When you say nobody else should know, does that include Toleg? Scia?’

‘It does.’ My doubt must have been plain on my face, for he added, ‘I’m acting on Owen Swift-Sword’s instructions.’

Black Crow save us. This was perilous indeed. Could their target be Esten? But no. With Ruarc needing one dose a day, Rohan’s request would not provide them with sufficient Oblivion to do more than put one more man to sleep for a night. The draught did not keep for long enough to be used in any other way. Besides, he’d said nobody would get a double dose.

‘Very well, I’ll do as you ask. You’ll need to fetch it yourself. You realise how much trouble this could cause for me if it became known.’

‘High stakes,’ Rohan said. ‘For all of us.’

‘You’ll be wanting to take the fresh draught for Ruarc; it’s here.’

‘Ah. Owen’s asked that you bring it down yourself; he thinks both you and Toleg need to be present. We’ll leave two men on duty here; one of them can come and fetch you if there’s a patient needing urgent attention. It’s nearly supper time. Shouldn’t be too much call for your services now.’

Flint had asked for me. For a moment that was all I could think of. Somewhere inside me, I felt the flickering of a tiny flame, hope in the darkness; my heart grew warmer.

‘One more thing.’

‘Yes?’

‘A simple poultice for the eyes; Toleg said you’d know how to make it. Something that’ll soothe inflammation quickly. Wants you to prepare it and bring it with you now. I’ll organise the guards while you’re doing that, then I’ll escort you down there.’

‘For –’ I stopped myself just in time.

‘For Owen. Sustained some damage when they put him in there. Seems to think he can still do the job, but Toleg says he needs this first. Maybe each night. You’ll be busy, Ellida.’

‘I’m always busy.’ I managed a smile, though my voice was shaking. ‘If I prepare a poultice now, it’ll have cooled too much by the time I can apply it. Is there a brazier down there?’

A grim smile. ‘There is.’

‘Then I’ll get the components ready and make the poultice when we get there.’

Lacking a ready supply of fresh leaves, I powdered dry ones and mixed them to a paste with a little hot water. I found clean bandages and rolled them; packed everything in a basket. Curse the need to do this in such haste! If there’d been time to go up into the woods, I’d have been able to gather several herbs whose juices were effective in eye drops. I could have made a tincture of rue, with honey to keep it fresh. I could have . . . Never mind. The best I could do right now was make this basic cure with as much love as I had in me, and hope Flint’s eyes were not as badly hurt as my dream had suggested.