Revenge of the Horseclans

VII

Mahrnee and Behrnees Morguhn, wrapped warmly against the chill morning air, received Komees Djeen and Bard Klairuhnz in the broad foyer of Morguhn Hall. Standing on the main staircase, the ladies were flanked by Vahrohnos Spiros Morguhn and Clan Bard Hail Morguhn.

The trim old warrior marched in, his braided grey hair coiled about the crown of his head to pad the helmet he now bore in the crook of his left arm. He halted and stiffly bowed, his armor clanking.

“Ladies Morguhn, Cousin Spiros, Cousin Hail, greet the Sun. I am sorry to rouse your hall at so early an hour, but midnight last saw a brisk little melee at the Forest Bridge. I’ve brought a son of this House and another nobleman, both of whom are in urgent need of a physician’s care.”

The two women paled, but otherwise did credit to their stern upbringing.

Vahrohnos Spiros asked in a tight voice, “Be candid, Djeen. How bad are Bili’s wounds?”

A smile flitted across the Komees’s thin lips. “Ladies and Kinsmen, we may all be proud of the lad, according to Bard Klairuhnz here. You do not know him, of course, but he is a clanless Kinsman who took part in the action, until his horse was slain and he was rendered senseless.

“He states unequivocally that our Chief-to-be fought like a treecat! Indeed, Bili captained the defense.

“Our boy has suffered a nasty split of his scalp and a deep stab in his leg, but he’s now fully awake, obviously experiencing pain, and hungry as a wolf, so I doubt me not that he’ll live.”

A note of sadness then entered the old man’s voice. “The other nobleman is Vahrohneeskos Ahndros. Ahndee is not really conscious and he frequently raves in delirium.”

At Komees Djeen’s insistence, Master Ahlee saw first to Ahndee. After cursory examination, the physician and his apprentice firmly but courteously ushered all, even Mother Mahrnee, out into the corridor. When at some length he allowed them to reenter, Ahndee appeared to be sleeping peacefully and his color showed a marked improvement.

All this gave Bili time to prepare. With the aid of Mother Behrnees and a few servants, he removed his bloody, sweatsmelly clothing, bathed and donned an old, soft lounging tunic. His experience with the practice of the physician’s arts had been in the Middle Kingdoms, whose nobles saw scant need to put good gold, which could be better invested in arms, armor, and condottas, into the bottomless pockets of foreigners. Therefore, although he was ravenously hungry, he refrained from eating.

When the two strangely garbed men entered his chamber, he sat on his bed, propped against a mound of pillows and taking long draughts from a leetrah-flagon of wine and brandy, steeling himself to endure the inevitable, and hoping that his body would not betray his honor- that he would neither scream nor befoul himself when the whitehot iron was pressed into his flesh.

He found the physician impressive, though he did not immediately recognize why. His height was average and Bili would have estimated his weight at perhaps eighty Ehleen keelohs, though his loose, flowing garments could easily have concealed a bulkier body. But Bili did not think this the case, for there was little surplus flesh on the dusky face and his hands were fineboned.

The master and his apprentice were dressed almost identically-loosesleeved, anklelength white robe; sleeve-less, kneelength jerkin of softwoven, pale blue cotton; and well-made boots, plain ones on the feet of the apprentice, richly tooled ones on the master. The shaven scalps of both men reflected the lamplight, that of the master furrowed with old scars.

The master physician literally radiated a calm dignity and Bili found himself addressing him as an equal. “Greet the Sun, Lord Ahlee. It is not my wish to try to teach the horse how to eat grass, but I am no longer bleeding much and my pain is bearable, so tend you first to the noble Ahndee. When his hurts are eased, come you then to me.”

The physician’s voice was deep, rolling, and melodious. “Peace be with you, Lord Bili. We are but come from Lord Ahndee, where we corrected the well-meant damages wrought by those who first treated him. He now sleeps peacefully.”

Bili nodded, set down his flagon, and turned to Mother Behrnees. “Please leave us now, Mother.”

Behrnees opened her mouth to protest, but a deep look into those blue eyes-so like her loved father’s-stilled her voice. And she wanted to cry, to shed tears to mourn the passing of the child and to rejoice the now obvious presence of the man.

“Please, Mother, you must go,” Bili insisted in firm tones. “I know what must now be done, for I have suffered it before. And a wound burning is no place for a lady.”

As Behrnees departed through the door held open by the apprentice, she thought that her heart would burst of her pride.

When his mother had gone, Bili offered a grim smile. “I await your pleasure, sir.” Dubiously, he eyed the two leatherbound chests which the apprentice was opening. “Where is your brazier?”

Master Ahlee seated himself on the edge of Bill’s bed and smiled. “I shall close your wounds in due time, Lord Bili, never fear. But first, tell me how you received these hurts and what varieties of weapons inflicted them.”

Bili raised a hand to tap at the fresh cloths which Mother Behrnees had wound about his head. “The head wound is not much. My helm was struck and dented and the scalp beneath it split. I was struck from behind, so 7 can’t say what kind of missile hit me. But I’ve suffered such injuries many times ere this. You have too, I’d imagine.” He smiled, waving at the scars on Master Ahlee’s own head.

The physician smiled also, saying softly, “No, I am no stranger to the sight of my own blood, Lord Bili. But to continue, did you swoon at the tune of the injury or at any time since? Did you become dizzy or queasy? Did your vision blur? Did you feel a heaviness or a prickling in your arms and legs?”

Bili shrugged. “At the time I took the blow, it was all I could do to sit my horse, nor do I know for how long it was so. I could hear, but I could not move or speak or even open my eyes. But eventually I came back into control of myself, and then Ahndee, Mahvros, and I fought until both Ahndee and Mahvros were wounded. Then…”

“Wait a moment, please, Lord Bili.” The physician looked puzzled. “I was not told of a third casualty. This man, Mahvros, did he return with your party? Do you know how serious is his wound?”

Blankfaced, Bili said, “Yes, Lord Ahlee, Mahvros was beside me for most of the journey. As concerns his wound, he took a javelin in his right shoulder. One of Komees Djeen’s troopers is tending him down in the stables.”

“Lord Bili,” Master Ahlee spoke urgently, “this Mahvros must be removed from the stable as quickly as possible. There are many guest chambers in this hall. Can he not be accommodated in one?”

“No,” said Dili flatly. “His kind are not allowed inside the hall.”

Master Ahlee’s manner cooled noticeably. “If this Mahvros was good enough to fight beside you, surely he deserves better lodgement than a stable! You disappoint me, young sir.”

Bili kept his face blank with great effort. “Where else, Lord Ahlee, do the men of your own land lodge their horses?”

The physician regarded Bill’s twitching mouth and mirth-filled eyes for a long moment, then grinned broadly, chuckling, “When I am done with you, Lord Bili, I shall be happy to take a look at Mahvros … in the stable.”

Bili sobered. “Now that is most gracious of you, Lord Ahlee. I would much appreciate such generosity, for Mahvros and I are … well, we’re closer than you probably could understand.”

The physician nodded. “But I do understand, Lord Bili, and I will certainly see to your friend. Now, back to you. Have you lost consciousness or control since that first time?”

“Only once,” answered Bili. “I unseated a man, threw him off his horse into the stream. But when I mounted his horse, I became very dizzy and couldn’t lift my axe. Then I fell off the horse and I recall nothing more until I awakened in a horse litter.”

Ahlee nodded, then shifted his position and pointed at the bandaged leg. “And how was that wound inflicted, Lord Bili?”

“I don’t know,” Bili admitted. “Honestly, you know how things are in battle. I can’t remember even taking that wound, much less when or where or with what. From the look I got when I bathed though, I’d say a small-bladed spear or a javelin.

“But, Lord Ahlee, let me warn you. I don’t think I can remain unmoving whilst you sear these wounds. It might be better if you strapped me down, or called for servants to hold me … a good dozen men, anyway, for Sacred Sun has given me great strength.”

Ahlee smiled again. “Yes, I am sure you are a very strong man, Lord Bili. But wait.” He extended his right hand over his shoulder, palm open.

Having been busy arranging the lamps, Eeshmaheel, the apprentice, stepped back to one of the opened chests, took something from it, and laid that something in his master’s pink palm.

When the physician opened his hand, Bili saw that it contained a disk of clear, smoothly polished quartz, sus-pended from a thin, golden chain. Ahlee held the ends of the chain, allowing the disk to dangle before Bill’s eyes for a moment, then set it to spinning.

In a low, soothing, monotonous voice, he intoned, “Watch the crystal, Lord Bili. Do not take your eyes from it for a moment. Watch it, watch it, see the beauty of the light. You see? Is it not the most beautiful light you have ever seen? See the light, Lord Bili. Sink into the light…”

And as the voice murmured on and on, Bili found himself obeying. He sank into the light, became one with it, and it was good, that oneness was infinitely good. It was the Light of Sacred Sun and he was part of It and It was part of him, It streamed through him and of him. And from Them, worlds and universes received their sub-stances and were born and lived countless eons and died and returned their life gift to Them. And Bili continued to sink, faster and faster and faster, spiraling tightly, bodilessly, through the unbearably beautiful, wondrous light-which-was-one-with-darkness, and Sacred Wind roared in his ears. But it roared steadily and soothingly and reminded him of the sound of that voice-what voice?-and the roar gradually faded and the spiraling went on and still he sank, descending toward the tossing waves of a great, vast, dark-light ocean. Closer to those dark, lightcrested waves he came, closer and closer and closer.

Bill steeled his light-filled, bodiless body for the chill of the water, but he eased gently into it and it closed over him and there was no chill. He was enveloped in a moist, nourishing warmth, a warmth which soothed and comforted and lulled. And in the warm, caressing, darklight nothingness, everything vanished-pain, pleasure, worry, fear, pride, desire. And Bili could not bring himself to wish them back, for all of them together could not, he knew, replace one-ten-thousandth part of the exquisite beauty of his newfound but never forgotten nothingness…

“The young lord journeyed quickly, Master,” commented Eeshmaheel.

“Both quickly and deeply,” Ahlee nodded, handing back the disc. “As I oft have said, some journey more easily than others. It helps if they have no fear, Eeshmaheel, such as this young man.

“Eeshmaheel, there are noblemen and noble men, and a man need not be one to be the other. But this man is that rarity, both together. It is seldom that Ahlah grants long life to such, but, in His wisdom, He allows them to do much good within the short time that they remain amongst men.

“Now, Eeshmaheel, uncover the head and tell me of the wound.”

The apprentice first peeled back the lids and minutely examined the eyes. Then he removed the bandages, start-ing a fresh flow of blood. Disregarding this, he tenderly probed about the wound site, then spread the edges and sponged away enough blood to allow him a glimpse of the depths of the injury.

“Master, there is no blood on the eyes and the pupils are of equal size, nor did the patient have difficulty in focusing them before he journeyed. The swelling around the opening is hard and the bleeding had entirely ceased, ere my examination started it afresh. There is no bone visible, nor is the scalp torn, only cleanly split.”

Ahlee asked, “Were you the master, what would you do?”

Eeshmaheel’s brown eyes never left the wound while he answered. “Master, it has bled copiously, so is certainly cleaned of foreign matter and dirtinesses; nor is there sufficient depth for matter to hide. Since he is a cleanly man, the scalp need not be shaved. I would but place over it a thick cloth well soaked in brandy and tightly bandage it.”

Ahlee raised his brows. “You would not, then, suture it? Why not?”

“Master, Ahlah already has begun to heal this wound, so it were impiety to attempt improvement upon His work. But even were the injury fresh, it is very shallow and not quite so long as my thumb. I would do no more than I have said, Master.”

Ahlee nodded his approval and ordered, “Then do it, and Ahlah guide your hands.” While he watched the sure, quick actions of the apprentice, he thought that very soon now Eeshmaheel would be departing, taking ship to the north. He would bear with him Master Ahlee’s letter to the Elder Masters of Kohoz, to whom he would swear his oaths and begin to train his first apprentice. And the Elder Masters would send Ahlee another gangling lad.

When Eeshmaheel had done, he and the Master gently turned the patient facedown on the bed. Ahlee watched while his apprentice removed the bandage from the leg. Removal brought on no such crimson flood as had the lifting of the head bandage. There was but a continuation of the slow, steady ooze and trickle of pale-pinkish water.

“Eeshmaheel… ?”

The young physician-young being a relative term, for he was a good ten years older than Bili-scrutinized the wound, leaned close to sniff it, moistened a fingertip in the discharge, touched it lightly to his tonguetip, then gently kneaded the flesh about it.

“Master, it appears a deep stab, I would say at least a fingerlength. Almost did it pierce through, for the flesh opposite shows much discoloration. I would agree with the patient about the weapon involved, for a sword or dirk would have cut cleanly, but here there is some evidence of tearing. The spear was probably not poisoned though, for I can neither smell nor taste any venom. But it should have commenced to close by this time, unless those who washed him damaged it.”

“Very good, Eeshmaheel, very good, all save the last. Bring the surgical chest and the brandy and I will show you why the wound continued to weep.”

The apprentice never ceased to marvel at the master and had long since despaired of ever being his equal, in any save the simplest ways. Wordlessly, he poured brandy into a shallow pan, then immersed those instruments indicated by the master in the liquid. That done, he poured a generous quantity of the brandy over the master’s hands, then his own.

A brief but knowing glance at the pile of clothing as he entered had provided Master Ahlee the answer to the weeping wound. Within a few, short minutes, that answer was clamped betwixt the jaws of a bloodsmeared brass forceps.

“What is it, Eeshmaheel?” He opened the instrument, dropping the gory morsel into the younger man’s palm.

“Why, it is a bit of fine leather, Master. But you knew, even before you extracted it, didn’t you?”

Extending his bloody hands, that the apprentice might pour over them more brandy, Ahlee admonished, “Observe, Eeshmaheel, observe! A good physician prides himself upon missing nothing. Look at that boot atop the pile near to the door. See the place where the point tore through? There is a piece missing, yes? Now, true, it could be inside the boot, or lying in the horse litter or somewhere on the road, or even back at the battleground.

But combine the two details, Eeshmaheel, a stab which will not close and a missing bit of boot.”

When Bili opened his eyes, the physician still sat before him, but he no longer held the disk pendant.

He moved his leg slightly, then grimaced. “There is now a fierce stinging in both my wounds, Lord Ahlee. Perhaps your apprentice had best fetch your brazier and irons and get on with this unpleasant business. But give me a good burn on the first try, please. It’s not the sort of thing I want a second serving of.”

“There will be no burning of your flesh, Lord Bili,” Ahlee softly boomed, smiling. “Your wounds have both been tended. The scalp will close of itself, if you are con-siderate of it. I have cleaned out the stab and closed it with stitches which I will remove in a week or so, Ahlah willing. The stinging is caused partially by the stitches and partially by the reaction of the raw flesh to the brandy with which the innermost bandages are soaked. It is uncomfortable, true, but it has been observed that wounds heal more easily and quickly when such bandages are employed.”

Bill’s skin crawled, his neck hairs prickling. “Are … are you then a … a sorcerer, Lord Ahlee, to have accomplished so much in but the twinkling of an eye?”

Again, the warm, comforting smile. “Some might call certain of my skills sorcery, Lord Bili, especially my manner of willing you to sleep. But sleep you did, feeling nought of the pain of my surgery. It was barely dawning when first I came to you. The sun is now above two hours in the sky.”