Time of the Eagle (24 page)

One man came to us, riding slowly. His bronze breastplates gleamed in the sun; the plume on his helmet was red. Under his armor his uniform was blue-gray, and across his upper body, formed of two wide sashes tied diagonally, was a vivid blue cross. He must have left his sword behind; he seemed unarmed. Halfway to us he stopped and dismounted, and knelt beside a fallen Igaal warrior. The Igaal was still alive. Astoundingly, the soldier helped him up onto his own horse and brought him over to us. Very gently he helped him down, and two women rushed forward and led the Igaal man back among us. The rest of us stood silent, stunned, unsure.

The soldier took off his helmet and wiped his forearm across his sweating face. His hair was the color of corn.

“Can anyone here speak Navoran?” he called.

I tried to speak, but my mouth was too dry from dust and fear. So I said nothing but limped forward, slowly, until I came to him. I looked up, and shock went through me.

He was clean-shaven, boyish looking. Even through the sweat
and grime, I saw the crooked zigzag scar on his chin. His green eyes danced, and he smiled.

“So, we meet again, Shinali woman,” he said.

It was Embry.

F
or long moments I could not speak.

He dismounted and came closer on foot. “You do understand Navoran?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Will you please tell all these people that they are in no danger from us.”

I turned and faced the Igaal people, silent and bewildered behind me, and repeated his words. Then I said to him, “You fought your own people, to save us. Why?”

Sighing heavily, he nodded. “We are not part of the Navoran army. We were once, but not now. What happens to my city and my Empire, under the Emperor Jaganath, sickens me. And it sickens my men. We deserted, formed an army of our own, and we fight now against the forces of Jaganath. Our aim is to one day bring his reign to an end.” He turned, and his arm briefly took in the Hena warriors. “These fine warriors joined us four months ago,” he added. “We all fight for the same thing—freedom.”

That, too, I translated. When I looked back at the man Embry,
he was staring at me strangely, as if he knew me, and not just from the river that other battle-day.

“I have three surgeons among my soldiers,” he said. “They'll work with your Igaal healers, to save as many as we can of the wounded.”

“I'm the healer here,” I said. “I, and a woman called Chimaki.”

Again he looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “You remind me of another healer I knew, a long time ago. He was . . . Never mind, we'll talk later. We have much to do. My men will help put up the tents again, those that are not too damaged. Is there somewhere we can put up a large tent for a hospital?”

I gestured toward the small healing tent. The rows of waiting wounded could be clearly seen, and many more still lay about where the battle had raged.

“You can put up a tent beside our small one,” I said. “There's plenty of fresh water there, and it's cool under the trees.”

And so it was that, when I mended and bound up the wounded, I worked beside three Navoran surgeons. While a large Navoran army tent was being erected for a hospital one of the Navoran surgeons bound my ankle for me, for it was only sprained. When that was done, I got the pouch of surgical instruments Salverion had given me and went to the hospital tent. Chimaki was there, supervising the women who would clean our instruments between healings, and bandage up the wounded when the surgeons and I had finished with them. I asked her to find what news she could of Ishtok and Ramakoda and others we loved. She was gone a long time, and an awful fear ran through me, though I felt that Ishtok was alive. I tried
to put my fears aside and fixed my mind on the healing work before me.

Our healing-mats were in a semicircle around the tent, so we could face one another and talk if we wished. The Navoran surgeons worked standing up, makeshift tables made for them out of the largest wooden chests from the tents, covered over with clean mats. The surgeons had their own packs of Navoran instruments and were surprised when I produced the instruments Salverion had given me, and set them out on a mat on the floor, for that was the way I preferred to work. By the time we had washed our hands and threaded our needles, there was a long line of wounded waiting, beside those I had dragged here.

At first I had only the simple injuries to heal, for Embry's soldiers carried in the hurt, and I think they presumed I was unskilled. Because the wounds I healed were simple, I did not use the skill of blocking nerves, for it would have taken vital time; I simply cleansed and sewed up, as the Navoran surgeons did. Sometimes they spoke to me, asking if I needed help with certain things, but they soon realized I was doing well enough. Soon after we began our work, a man was brought in who had two arrows in his chest, and an appalling belly wound. It was Chro, brother of Ramakoda and Ishtok. Screaming he was, and four soldiers were struggling to hold him down for the surgeon. Stopping what I was doing, I went over and asked if I might speak with Chro a moment, before they began with him. The surgeon working on him looked annoyed but nodded and stepped back. “Be quick,” he said.

I bent over Chro and placed my forehead on his, my fingers behind his head. He did not know it was me there; he struggled and fought, and they still had to hold him. It was hard to concentrate, for I was distracted by his howls for mercy, and the moans of those waiting, and the general noise all around, and most of all by my own fears for Ishtok; but I managed at last to find the way into Chro's mind, then down into the deep nerve pathways. He slumped on the makeshift table, his eyes still open and aware, but his body relaxed and calm. Seeing me, he smiled faintly and his lips moved in thanks. I said a blessing-word on him and went back to my own place and picked up the needle again, for I was sewing up a sword cut.

I was aware, then, that they all were watching me—the three surgeons, and the soldiers who were there to hold Chro down, and the soldiers in the tent doorway who were waiting with the next four to be healed. One of the older surgeons said, “Where did you learn that skill, woman? I've only ever seen it done once, by a Citadel healer, before they all were murdered. Who taught you?”

“My mother,” I said, truthfully enough, and carried on.

After that they often asked me to stop the pain of those most badly wounded, before they worked on them.

Of all the days I had known, that day was the longest. I do not know how many wounds we mended, how many arrow wounds we packed with salving cloths, how many bones we set in splints. I do not know how many people helped us, who brought water for us to wash and drink, who put food into our mouths while we worked on, who cleaned up the injured a little before we saw them and bandaged
them afterward, who brought clean binding cloths, and replaced the mats we worked on when they were soaked in blood. At some time, between healings, someone crouched beside me and put a cup of water into my hands. I looked up to see Ishtok, uninjured. For the first time all day, I smiled.

“It's good to see your face,” he said, lightly touching my cheek. “The gods were surely with us this day. We have much to talk about, later. Thank you for what you did for Chro. The Navorans say you are a marvel.” As he took my empty cup the next wounded warrior was laid on the mat in front of me. I picked up a clean blade and forgot all but the work of healing.

The rest of the day was a blur, bloodied fighter after bloodied fighter brought to the mat in front of me. Some were Igaal men or Igaal women, some Navoran soldiers from both armies, though not many from Embry's, and there were Hena warriors. Once a child was brought to me, who had fallen from the mountain path and broken his leg. And still the wounded came, one scarcely off the mat in front of me, before the next was laid there. Someone—I do not know who—took away the bloodstained instruments each time, and put down clean ones, Navoran instruments and Igaal knives all mixed up. I suspect they were only washed and not boiled, but it could not be helped. They tell me that sometime that day Embry came to watch me work, but I do not remember it.

At last I became aware of a voice calling, “Only nine more, and you're done.”

And then—incredibly—the healing-mat was empty. I looked up. There were lamps around us, for it was evening, and two of the surgeons were leaning over their tables, their heads bent. One
was lying on the ground, heedless of the blood and gore. He looked asleep.

Then one of the surgeons roused himself and came over to me and took my wrist in the Navoran handshake, a sign of respect between people. “It was an honor to work with you, Igaal girl,” he said.

I told him I was Shinali, and he shook his head and walked away. I heard him say to a companion, “I thought they were all Igaal in this camp. But there are Shinali, too. Perhaps this is the beginning of the Eagle's rise.”

I was too tired to put him right.

For a long time after, I slept, though I had terrible dreams, and once I woke to feel Ishtok's arms about me, and his lips against my ear, telling me to hush, that all was well. When I woke fully it was morning's middle the next day, and I was alone in the tent. I went outside and found that our Igaal camp was now a place of makeshift shelters, for few tents had escaped the burnings. Alongside the Igaal shelters were many rows of small brown tents belonging to Embry's army, some of them painted with Hena signs. People had lit fires and were cooking food. Beyond the camp, back along the shore toward the gorge, Navoran soldiers were digging pits to bury their dead, and on the far lake shore the Hena and Igaal were holding their funeral rites. The sky was full of buzzards. But there were two fires over there, and I guessed that, like my people, the Hena burned their dead.

There was a strong wind, fitful like the
shoorai
wind, and dust scudded along the plain where yesterday people had fought.
Dogs and children rushed about, unruly and wrought up, disturbed by the changes in the camp and the tension in the air. I looked up at the sky, saw the clouds streaming like banners in the high gales, and felt my own heart stirred by huge, unseen forces.

When I looked down again the man Embry was walking toward me. He wore no armor, but over the tunic of his uniform he still wore the blue sashes in the form of a cross. All his men wore those blue crosses, though I recalled that the soldiers in Jaganath's army did not.

“Good morning, Avala,” he said.

“I suppose it is,” I said, “but for the funeral rites. We owe you thanks, Embry. If it were not for your help yesterday, most of the Igaal men in this camp would be slaves in Navora by now, or else dead. Thank you.”

“I'm owed no thanks,” he replied. “I remember a day when I raided this chieftain's camp and took slaves to Navora. I have many wrongs to put right.”

“You were not wholly bad that day,” I said. “There was a Shinali girl you did not betray. For that I thank you, with
sharleema
.”

He smiled then, and his face suddenly appeared younger. “I remember you well. I could not have betrayed you. Your father was my friend.”

“I know. That day I saw you in the pool, I told my mother what you looked like. She said you were one of the guards at Taroth Fort, and that you were very kind to my people. But how did you know that I am Gabriel's daughter?”

“The mystery of a blue-eyed Shinali wasn't hard to figure
out. I knew it straightaway, for you look very like your father. The same forthright look, a bit stern at times. And you have his eyes, and his gift of healing. I watched you work yesterday for a while. The surgeons told me you healed with ways taught only at the Citadel when it was at the height of its power, before Jaganath closed it, sealed up its gates, and threatened death on anyone who entered. We were told that he had burned all the books in the libraries, and murdered all the Masters and their disciples. The place is derelict now, but I'm glad some of the teachings survived. Of course, when I was with your father in Taroth Fort, I didn't know he was a healer from the Citadel. I found that out later, when I took his message to the Empress Petra.”

“I would like to hear about that,” I said, “but first I must go and see how the wounded are.”

“My surgeons are with them. Let's talk, you and I. We have much to discuss.”

So we sat in the shade of the trees by the shore, not far from the healing tents, and there he told me of his meeting with the Empress.

“Your father had written a letter to the Empress Petra, and I was asked to deliver it,” he said. “Weeks before, Gabriel had told me that if ever I was given anything to deliver to the Empress, I had to guard it with my life and deliver it to her personally, into her own hands. He didn't explain more, and I didn't know what he meant, until I was asked by the fort commander to take the letter to Her Majesty. It wasn't only a letter; there was a ring with it, a little silver ring in the shape of a snake, made
in the first letter of the Empress's name.

“I met Jaganath at the palace—if meeting him is the way to describe it. Before we even spoke, he knew where I was from, and what I held. I'll never forget the way that man looked at me. I felt skinned alive, all my bones exposed, and my heart and brain. He knew everything. He demanded the scroll and the ring, though I had both concealed under my tunic. I defied him. I saw . . . things. Demons, I suppose. Shadow-creatures. Your father had warned me about them, about Jaganath, and told me he was a master of illusion. So I ignored the beasts, ignored Jaganath's commands, ignored the guards, fought off two of them, outside the Empress's door.

“By God, I felt sorry for her! I'd seen her a year earlier, at an army parade in her honor. She'd been a beautiful woman then, but something had worn her down. She looked haunted, terribly afraid. I don't know what your father wrote to her, but when she looked up from his words, she was a different woman. She looked joyful, strong, though she was crying, too. She said that all that Gabriel asked would be done, and told one of her personal guards to escort me safely from the palace.”