Warprize

Chapter 2

I didn’t think. I just took the brooch off the bloody cloth and slipped it into my hand.

“Lara.” It was Arneath, Captain of the Palace Guard. There’d be no cozening him. “You must leave. Now.”

“Yes, I know.” Arneath would take great pleasure in preventing my visits to the prisoners. He’d made it clear long ago that I, a Daughter of the Blood, demeaned myself by learning a craft. I turned, placing the remaining jars in my basket, using my body to shield as I slipped the brooch inside. I stood, the handle tight in one hand, the bundle tucked under my arm. “I’m ready.”

Arneath stood behind me, unconvinced. I think he had been expecting an argument. I looked at Joden and spoke in his language. “I’ll return tomorrow. Do not let him try to walk or stand.” I ignored Arneath as he shifted from one foot to another, looming behind me.

Joden’s face and tone did not change. He remained kneeling at Simus’s side. His dark eyes glittered in the remaining light. “Do not betray him, or I will break you over my knee.”

I didn’t reply. I just turned and brushed past Arneath. Rafe nodded to me as I left, staying well back and out of the way. He had learned early on that Arneath struck hard when he was not obeyed.

Arneath followed me out. “What did that last one say to you?” He looked suspicious.

“That no matter the healer, medicines always taste terrible.”

One of the other guards guffawed at that. Even Arneath chuckled as he held open the tent flap for me. We emerged into the twilight. The cool night air felt good after the stuffiness of the tent. The stars above were peeking out. Once outside, I realized that Heath had already left. He was probably in the castle kitchens.

Arneath’s mirth faded as he took up his position. “Don’t see why you waste time on them. Nothing but animals.” His gruff, oily tone followed me as I started off toward the castle. “Or maybe you’re thinking that helping the dogs will make you friends in the enemy camp. In case things go bad.”

I pulled up short, stopped in my tracks. There were chuckles from the guards, but they were uneasy ones, as if they believed that evil lie. I turned and managed to keep my voice even. “It is by the King’s command, Arneath. Besides, I am a Master Healer. I treat any who are in need.” I tilted my head and smiled. “Did the ointment you asked for clear up that crotch rot?”

Arneath flushed as the guards guffawed. Amidst the laughter and taunts now aimed at him, I turned and continued on my way, entering the overgrowth. Once out of sight, I let my shoulders sag a bit. I shouldn’t have done that. Father would have shook his head in despair at my flash of temper, and my crudeness. Worse, Arneath was in a position to take his frustrations out on the prisoners. I scowled at the hapless path below my feet. Still, he’d deserved it. How dare he imply that I, a Daughter of the House of Xy would—

I remembered the brooch in my basket and flushed.

The shadows were deeper now. I narrowed my thoughts to staying on the path and shivered slightly in the night air. As I walked, I mentally started to inventory my supplies. I wanted to go to the market early on the morrow to get what I needed. Xymund had made it clear that none of his supplies were to be used on the prisoners. I rolled my eyes. As if he had ever gathered herbs for the still room.

At that, I started to worry my lower lip. It was easier to think about herbs than to think about the brooch in my basket. It marked the large black man as a leader of men, something I was sure no one had yet realized. If Father were still alive, I’d have no hesitation in telling him. He’d have used the situation to his advantage, but he’d not kill a man in cold blood. I could tell Heath, but he’d have no choice but to go to his superior, which was Arneath. My steps slowed as I thought about that option. Arneath would kill the man, of that I was certain. If Heath took the information to Xymund directly, it would place Heath square between us if it came to an argument, and I’d not do that to him. Same for Othur, the Seneschal. Now, Lord Marshall Warren, he I could trust. Father had appointed him to his office and had faith in him. He would stand against Xymund to the extent that anyone could. I took a deep breath. It would be some time before the man was conscious. I would tell Warren and let him decide what to do with the information.

I remembered the rose hips as I came to the briar and decided to try to gather enough for a potful of syrup. It was dusk, true, but I could see well enough and touch would tell me if they were ready. I set the basket and bundle down and reached into the bushes, feeling my way. The scent of the remaining roses surrounded me and filled my lungs. And my memories. The scent of roses by Xyron’s bedside, as he lay dying.

Father had sickened slowly, gradually. Like the shades of gold that dust the trees at summer’s end. The signs had been there, but I’d missed them along with everyone else. Once it was obvious, the illness had continued, regardless of the remedies that we’d tried. He’d wasted away slowly, growing weaker with every passing day. Nothing had helped.

Xymund had slowly taken up the reins of power, trying to ease the burden on our father, but that had not gone well. At first, Xyron had encouraged Xymund to take up his ceremonial duties, so that he could conserve his energies for the business of ruling. But as his energy waned Xymund had to try to fill the holes. I’d credit him that, for my half-brother never once moved forward unless he saw that Father was no longer able to perform a duty, or concentrate on a problem set before him. But Xymund had fumbled a few decisions while learning his role, and members of the Council and the Guilds had gone to Xyron directly, setting ailing father against fledgling king.

Serving my apprenticeship and performing my journeymen duties had pulled me out of active Court life. I ’d been isolated even further when Father grew ill, for my attentions were all spent on him. Xyron was a warrior betrayed by a body that had served him long and well, and his temper grew worse as his body failed. He was quick to anger, and even quicker to blame, finding fault with everything. This made his relationship with Xymund harder. It made keeping servants to attend him almost impossible. So my role was healer, daughter, and peacemaker. I rarely left my father’s side, and at the end, rarely left his chambers. We’d used flowers and rose oil to sweeten the air as he lay dying. I suspected the scent would always bring back those long hours.

I continued to pick, dropping the fruit into the basket, covering the bottle and jars. I had to move slowly to avoid the thorns. Best to get some before Anna the Cook descended on the briar to pluck and snip for her own uses. Her rose-hip jell was wonderful in the winter months, spread on toasted bread with honey. My arm stretched in further, getting several good scratches for my pains. Perhaps this had not been such a good idea after all.

I froze of a sudden. The hairs on my neck had risen and drew my attention to the unnatural stillness.

There was something out there.

I held my breath. All the normal sounds of the garden were gone. The tiny birds settling in for the night, the small sounds of rabbits and the like, all were missing, as if a large predator was in the area. I wondered for a moment if one of the hunting dogs had gotten loose. Though my brother rarely hunted, he still kept a few dogs for the use of the huntsmen. But those dogs were all tail and wiggles, eager for a touch on the head and a scratch behind the ear. They’d not stay still for a minute.

I pulled my arm back slowly, and took a step away from the briar. I drew in a deep breath and held it, straining to hear over the noise of my own body. Nothing moved, and I could hear no sounds. I remained quiet and unmoving for a minute or two, glancing about as if my eyes could pierce the night.

Then my stomach growled and reminded me that the morning meal had been some time ago, and that Kalisa’s cheese only went so far. I laughed nervously. Overtired for certain. I dropped the last of the rose hips into my basket, then indulged in a good stretch. Which, in turn, caused my hair to fall out of its bun. Again. I cursed and fumbled with it, managing to get it pulled back. There was a tie in my pocket and I pulled it out to restrain the curly mass. The night was still silent when I picked up my basket and moved on.

Apparently I was the only large predator prowling the garden tonight.

The warm light spilled out of the castle windows as I moved through the kitchen garden and approached the back door. The High Court must be in fine fettle tonight. Considering that there was a war on, it seemed rather odd and inappropriate. But then, the lords and sycophants that made up the bulk of the Court would think nothing odd about it.

In our glory days, Xy had been a center for trade. The valley and the mountain passes were a gathering point for caravans, according to the history books. Xy had maintained a standing army, bolstered by the wealth of the merchants and the produce of the fertile soil. But in my great-grandfather’s time, the trade routes had dried up. To make matters worse, in my grandfather’s reign the Sweat had devastated the land. Grandfather had sealed the great trade gates, closing the mountain passes and isolating Xy even further. The standing army had been disbanded, leaving only the Palace and City Guard, and not many of them. The landed gentry that remained farmed the valley and Xy survived, small and alone, a shadow of what had been.

Xymund longed for the glorious days of old, and attempted to maintain a ‘court’, gathering the ‘lords and ladies’ and their children to fawn upon him. Since my father had added the craftmasters and the clergy to his council, there was quite a crowd willing to eat at Xymund’s table, and play at the game of nobility.

Once the Warlord had started his march up the valley, many of the Lords had fled their farms and manor houses and sought the city, bringing the fighting men at their command. This left the hamlets and villages normally under the lord’s protection to the mercies of the Warlord, and allowed the brute to advance swiftly, apparently to our very gates.

I slipped in through the old wood door, and tarried for a minute on the threshold. For all its size and huge hearths, the kitchen always seemed hot, overcrowded and cluttered. Here Anna the Cook reigned in all her glory. She was standing in the middle of the room, directing serving staff, cooks and footmen like the skilled general she was. A huge, fat woman, whose apron was covered in food stains, she tolerated nothing and no one. I noticed with envy that all her straight black hair stayed in its bun. Wielding her wooden spoon, she was a force to be reckoned with. Nothing escaped her scrutiny.

Including me.

She took one look and gave an exasperated snort, which set all of her chins wobbling at once. “Child, look at yourself.” Her voice boomed across the kitchen. Some of the staff looked up and glanced at me with sympathy, but then continued on with their work. Anna made her way over, scowling, her keys to the spice cupboard rattling as she moved. “You look like a ragged pilgrim.” She threatened me with her spoon. “You haven’t eaten, have you.” Her voice carried easily over the noise and confusion.

“Anna, you can read me like a book.”

“As if I would waste time reading a book.” She bellowed something out and before I knew it, she and I were seated at a corner of the large, battered wooden table amidst the dishes, eating fresh hot bread with her special honey butter slathered all over it. My bundles had been added to the dirty rag pile, and my basket sat on the table. She kept a stern eye on the staff as we ate and occasionally erupted into admonitions when things weren’t being done to her standards.

She sighed. “Have you been out working all this day?”

I stuffed my mouth with a bite of bread and waggled my eyebrows at her. Anna leaned back in her chair and let out a laugh that set her whole body to shaking. Anna, Goddess love her, knew how to laugh. She caught her breath, laid her fat arms on the table and looked at me shrewdly. “His Mightiness pulled the army back within the walls this day, against Warren’s wishes. The Warlord’s men are before the walls.”

“I heard as much in the market. Is that true?” Not that I doubted her. Anna always seemed to be the first to know.

“Aye.” She leaned forward and snagged the last of the bread. She turned her head and bellowed at someone over by the fire. Then she looked at me. “I hear tell that Warren was saying that His Mightiness panicked.” She sniffed. “Blood tells.”

“Anna.” I scolded her. She hadn’t liked the foreign queen and didn’t like Xymund and never had. But Anna was an institution and Xymund loved his comfort and his meals. So there was a truce of sorts. He stayed away from her domain, and she let him run the kingdom with a full stomach.

She shook her head, setting the chins to wobbling. “Heard tell he’s sent a messenger to ask for terms.”

My eyes flew open at that. I thought that the battles had been going well, but perhaps Xymund’s pride would not allow him to admit to anything less. For Xymund to even agree to talk to the man who had beaten him so soundly, so recently, was a sign that things were bad.

A plate appeared on the table, this time with slices of toasted bread and cheese, with roasted onion. I dug in, getting a piece before Anna could reach for one first. The cheese was still hot and bubbling on top, and I blew on it, eager for a taste.

Anna inhaled her piece, impervious to the heat. She reached out a fat finger and prodded my basket. “ Does he know that you were out there again today?”

I shrugged, my mouth full.

“I suppose you charmed your way past that son of mine.”

I shrugged.

She tapped her finger on the table, which caused ripples to move up her fleshy arm. “Watch yourself, child. Xymund is not Heath, to be wound around your finger. You are a thorn in his side, and you can only push so far.”

“Look whose talking.”

Anna focused a serious look on me, but said nothing more.

The doors to the main dining hall opened and in walked Othur, Anna’s husband and the castle seneschal. A great barrel-chested man, he made his way through the servants toward us. He was sweating, his brown hair plastered to his skull. He looked very tired and very pleased at the same time.

“Anna, my love.” He put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a hearty kiss. “You did a wonderful job as usual.”

“Goddess spare me from High Courts.” She grumbled, but I could see that his praise had pleased her.

Othur grabbed a chair and sank into it with a sigh. He snagged the last slice of bread and cheese. “And you, young lady.” He bit into the bread and chewed. “He is looking for you. And getting worked up about it.”

I didn’t have to ask who “he” was. I sighed and started to wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Anna smacked my head and bellowed something that resulted in a bowl of warm water and cloths being set in front of me. “Child, you are filthy. At least see to your face and hands. What is that on your jerkin? ” Anna pushed away from the table. “No, I don’t want to know. Let’s see if we can clean you up.” I did not resist. Since I had been a child, and after the death of my mother, Anna had the raising of me. While my smiles had no effect on her, she was always there with the warmth of her hearth and her love. I knew better then to try to avoid her fussing.

Othur wisely sat quietly, with a mug of ale, while I washed. He was always a quiet one, but when he spoke, you needed to pay attention. Anna tsk’ed over the state of my tunic, and took a wet cloth to the worst of them. The activity of the kitchen seemed less frantic now that the meal was done, and the clean up started. After I passed Anna’s inspection, and been given a quick hug, I swept up my basket and followed Othur out to the castle proper.

We kept to the back halls, passing the occasional servant. The cool quiet made for a relief from the busy kitchen. I worried my lower lip with my teeth. Perhaps I should tell Othur about the brooch after all. But all my reasons remained the same. I frowned as we walked. There was no one that I could really confide in, no one to turn to for advice. Maybe at least Othur could advise me as to how to…

“Lara.” I looked up as he drew me to a stop.

“I need to see to some of the guests that are staying. You’ve heard about today’s events?” He placed a hand on my shoulder. I nodded.

“He is in his study.” Othur squeezed my shoulder. “Try not to anger him.”

That was like asking fire not to burn.

I grimaced, but nodded. Othur gave me a doubtful look, then hurried on his way toward the guest tower. I continued on mine, up the spiral stairs to the King’s tower, shaking my head as I walked.

It was soon after Xymund’s mother died when the King married my mother and I was born. Xymund had been well in his majority and acknowledged as heir at that time, but I was sure that his resentment of me had started with the first coo from my father’s lips, and intensified with every word of praise that followed.

I still had no understanding of it. He had been the rightful heir, and anointed King since our father’s death these three years past. But the jealousy was still there, even when I had made it very clear that I would not train for high office, that I would follow the healer’s path. I smiled, thinking back to Father’s outraged reaction to my decision. But he had come to accept it and was grateful at the end for my skills, even though I could not defeat death’s shadow for him.

But even when Xymund had been acknowledged King, anointed and crowned, the envy and ill feeling continued. I didn’t understand. He had power, wealth, and women falling in his path eager to become the next queen. But some form of happiness eluded him, and I was fairly certain that I was to blame. It soon became apparent to everyone in Court that being a ‘friend of Lara’ did not advance one in the King’s good grace.

Even so, I’d tried to step back into the Court life after Father’s death, only to find that I could no longer tolerate the pomp and nonsense. The conversations were inane, the meals long and tedious. I had little in common with the ladies, and the lords all looked at me as they would a prize breeding mare.

Which gave me more time for my studies and exercising my skills.

Father had left me lands, which generated a modest income. Xymund held those in ‘trust’ saying that a healer knew little of managing lands. I had tried to leave the castle, tried to retire to an estate, where I could set up a house of healing and maybe a school. But when I raised the topic, Xymund would refuse, saying that my value as a potential wife in an alliance marriage outweighed the value of my school. Although there were limited candidates in the neighboring kingdoms, especially given my age, he had always refused any offer for my hand.

He seemed to take pleasure in denying my dream.

I shrugged and gave myself a shake. Anna, Othur, and I had talked this out and agreed that when Xymund wed and had his own heir, he would let me live my life as I chose. It seemed likely that he would wed within a year’s time. There had been talk of at least two prospective alliances. Or at least it had seemed so before the Warlord’s attack.

Which reminded me of that man in the tent. I stopped and chewed my lip.

Goddess forgive me, I was not going to betray a wounded and sick man to Xymund just so that he could undo all my work. Others might think it a betrayal of my king, but to my mind it was extending the Goddess’s mercy. Just in case, I ducked into one of the alcoves off the hall and put the brooch into the top of my boot. I pushed it down far enough to insure that it would not fall out. The boots were big enough. One would not be able to tell it was there. I’d wait and speak to Lord Warren tomorrow. He’d make sure that the right thing was done.

A moment more, and I was before the guards at the door to the King’s study. I nodded to them and set my basket down against the wall. There was the sound of raised voices from within. The argument sounded heated. I glanced over at the guard, who shrugged. He knocked on the door. There was instant silence, then Xymund’s voice granted entrance. The guard swung the door open. I kept my eyes down, advanced five steps and sank to my knee.

Xymund loved the pomp of his circumstances and required the formality. Father would have kicked him in the buttocks for it. Othur felt it showed Xymund’s lack of self-confidence and I agreed.

The guard behind me cleared his throat. “Xylara, Daughter of the House of Xy.” I turned my head and shot him a look out of the corner of my eye. He caught my meaning. “And Master Healer.”

The argument hadn’t stopped when I entered, they were too caught up in the dispute. I could have been a chair for all that they noticed. I risked a quick glance up at my half-brother. He was not a tall man, but looked impressive, still dressed in formal court garb, bedecked in a dark blue tunic and pants with silver trim. He wore a simple coronet, having discovered that the full crown had an annoying tendency to fall if he moved his head too quickly. His brown hair was graying at the temples, and his face bore lines of worry that had not been there a few months ago, although the lines were hard to see in the angry flush that covered his face. When he shifted in the chair behind Father’s old desk, it creaked. He had gained weight in these last few months.

Another quick glance at Lord Marshall Warren, standing over by the fireplace. Spry and thin, he always seemed to me to be in motion. No flushed face there, instead his face was white, drawn and pale. “ Please, Your Majesty. We can drive them back from the walls if you let—”

“Do you question my competence, Warren?”

The slight pause didn’t help matters. Xymund tightened his lips, but Warren was quicker. “Majesty, none of us have had to deal with horse archers before this. We’re not used to their tactics—”

“Damned horses.” Xymund was snarling. “I hate those horses.”

“Their horse archers are devastating against the foot, Majesty. But they have no siege equipment at hand, and the snows will come before they can build sufficient—”

“ENOUGH!” Xymund barked and Warren closed his mouth with a snap.

I looked down at the carpet, unwilling to rise from my knees and draw attention to myself. Xymund’s breathing was audible, harsh and fast. It took long moments to slow.

“Rise, Xylara. You were not at dinner.” Warren was standing at the fireplace, looking at the smoldering coals. Xymund continued. “You should make an effort to attend our Courts.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The word ‘brother’ had not seen use since Father died.

He looked me in the eye. “You went out there again, didn’t you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

His face hardened. “Why do you insist on aiding my enemy?”

So it was to be the same old argument. I started with my usual rebuttal. “Sire, I tend to our wounded before I go…”

He held his hand up, and I stopped obediently. I saved my defiance for when it really counted.

“Let’s not start.” He glanced off with a frustrated look. “It’s not like you will obey me in this anyway.” Xymund continued. “How many prisoners are in the tent?”

Surprised, I thought for a moment. “I have not taken an ac-tual count, Sire. I would guess around twenty. I don’t really know.”

He looked unhappy. “Well, the exact number is not important.” He fixed me with what he thought was an intimidating glare. “You are not using my supplies on those animals.”

I shook my head no. “I am following your instructions, Sire.”

“Are any of them likely to die in the next day or so?”

An odd question. “Not likely, Sire. I have one that is badly wounded, but other than that they are healing well.”

“Very well. You are dismissed.” He had the look of a man thinking about something else, and not happy in his thoughts.

I looked over at Lord Warren, but his gaze was fixed on Xymund. I sensed that now was not the right time to request an interview. Instead, I bowed to the King, and backed away. I managed to leave without banging into the door.

The sun on my face woke me the next morning. I rolled over, burrowing my head in the blankets and pillows, and sought the return of sleep. My muscles were warm and limp and the bed was so comfortable. I could feel myself starting to drift. But something niggled at me. I drowsed for a bit, trying to remember what was so urgent. Then I heard horns from outside.

I threw back the covers, darted to the window, and threw open the shutters. From my little window, I could see the city sprawled below, beyond the walls, and into the valley stretching far below. The Warlord’s army lay there, the small white tents covering the fields beyond. It was an impressive sight. I stood for a moment, then scrambled about my small room, looking for the clothes I’d tossed aside last night.

I took a sniff, and decided that fresh ones would be a good idea.

I found a simple gray dress in my trunk and dressed quickly, shoving the brooch back into my boot before I finished. It was safer with me than not.

I would get a hurried look at the big man, check his wound, go to market and get the items I needed, do my rounds with Eln, then back to the tent, spend a few hours brewing in the stillroom, and with luck, be back in bed before the next dawn. I dug my money pouch out from under a pile of notes, and stopped in dismay.

I hadn’t realized how little was left. My only income was from the sale of some of my mixtures and lotions to ladies of the court. I usually had enough for my needs, since by living at court I had no real expenses. But I had been buying herbs and other supplies for a while now, and my coin had depleted quicker than I expected. I frowned, dug out what coins there were and glanced around my room. There was nothing here that had much value, and I had not the time to make any lotions. I reached for my belt pouch and the pile of notes that I had shifted fell to the floor to reveal a potential source of funds.

It was an old book, the first that I had purchased for myself. A listing of herbs and a discussion of their properties. I stared at its leather cover. I almost had the darn thing memorized, I’d had it so long.

I didn’t think twice, because it would have hurt too much. I swept up the book, grabbed a satchel and crammed it in. I slung the whole thing over my shoulder and headed down to the garden.

The garden seemed its usual self this morning, bright in the sunlight. I had to stop when I entered the tent and give my eyes time to adjust. No one was stirring, so I made my way quietly to the big man’s pallet. I managed not to step on anyone or anything as I made my way.

He looked good and seemed to be sleeping. I hesitated to rouse him, but curiosity won out. Carefully pulling back the blankets, I uncovered the leg and lifted the bandage, holding my breath at what I might see.

I let my breath out with a whoosh.

It looked great. The heat was down, the redness had eased. There was still pus, and it would need to be cleaned, but I could already see signs of healing. The skin had that healthy tone. It would scar, no aid for that. Although I had heard that a mixture of…

A soft sound drew my attention away from my musings.

Joden had awakened and was lying on a pallet on the other side of my patient. I looked into his eyes and smiled at him in delight. He looked at me for a moment and then slowly, a smile crept over his face as well. “Simus is well?” He said softly in his own language.

My face almost cracked, my smile was so wide. “He is very well. Very good, very well.” I didn’t have the word for fantastic or wonderful, but I was fairly sure that the glee in my voice made up for the lack. I carefully replaced the bandage and the blankets, and tucked him in tight. The big man never stirred. “Has he woken?”

“Yes. He knew me, but slept most of the time.”

“Do you have any of that drug I gave you yesterday?” Joden nodded. “Good. Keep giving it to him. I will bring more tonight.” I leaned back, rejoicing quietly. I’d not lose this one. I scrambled to my feet and threw a last smile at Joden. “Do you have everything that you need? Food?”

Joden sat up, rubbing the sleep off his face. He shrugged. “The food is food.” He got a soft smile on his face. “This one will be like a wet raffled bird because there is no kavage.“”

I cocked my head. “I do not understand ‘kavage’.”

Joden chuckled. “A drink. Very strong.” He gestured at the sleeping man. “He will be…”

I lost the rest, unable to understand. “He needs the kavage? Like a drug?”

Joden looked at me, puzzled. It was clear that we weren’t communicating well. I just shrugged and repeated the word, wanting to make sure that I had it right. Joden nodded. I grabbed my satchel and threaded through the tent. I lingered for a moment and smiled at the guard like a lunatic, feeling almost giddy with relief. He blinked at me a few times, then smiled back.

I barely noticed the walk back up to the castle, and through the gates. The big man was healing very well, something I had not been sure of when I had first seen the wound. Oh, there was still danger of fever and blood poisons, but I was optimistic. I wound my way through the city to the markets with a light step and lighter heart.

It was early enough the market was not crowded. Most merchants should have been setting out their wares. But there was an eerie quiet to the place, an unusual stillness. When I reached Remn’s shop, the door was closed, the windows shuttered. I knocked, and he let me in with a worried expression. Shorter than even me, and twice again as round, he greeted me with a smile, but there was a sadness in his eyes. “Xylara. What are you doing out this morn?”

“Good morning and good trade to you, Master Remn.” I slipped through the door, and watched him bolt it behind me.

“Trade.” He heaved a sigh, and gestured at his shelves. “In war time, no one buys books, Lara. We are free to sit and drink and eat my wife’s tarts in the echoing silence of my shop.” He shook his head in despair.

I pulled the book from my bag. He smiled when he saw it. “Ah, I remember when you bought this. Your first, yes?” He turned it over and ran his large hand over it. “Does it need a repair?”

“No. I was wondering how much you would give for it.”

He looked at me, dark eyes questioning. “Word in the market is that you are buying healing supplies for the prisoners.”

I shrugged.

He thinned his lips and thought for a moment, tapping the book with one long finger. “Wait here.” Abruptly, he went in the back, and returned with a small pouch. He handed it to me, and it clinked in my hand. “My brother’s son was lost in battle. We have heard no word, but I do this in his name. I pray to the gods that there is one on that side with a heart such as yours.”

I opened the pouch and looked in. “Remn, this is too much…”

He held up his hand. “I hold your book as surety, Lady. I know that you will repay me.” He pointed his finger at me. “Mind you don’t take too long about it.”

I laughed and hugged him. He brushed aside my thanks and urged me to go home. I refused, gently.

He scowled at me. “Very well, then. Take one of my apprentices with you. You should have an escort, young lady.”

/“I’ve only to go to Estoval’s. I’ll be fine.” He grumbled, but opened the door and I waved as I continued on.

I stopped briefly at Kalisa’s cart. She was busy with actual customers, who looked close to buying all of her stock. So I tucked a bottle of my joint medicine into her gnarled hand and moved off. She called her thanks behind me.

Next to Estoval’s. He was farther down the street, and now the early morning crowd was beginning to enter the market. But the merchants weren’t opening their windows to display their wares, instead they were dealing from behind their doors and shutters. There was an air of desperation from those seeking to purchase goods. I hurried my feet and concentrated on trying to remember another mixture that was supposed to help scarring. I could remember goat’s milk boiled thick, but the rest eluded me. Ah, well. Perhaps Esto-val would know. Also, I needed plenty of lotion makings. I’d no wish to sell any more books.

As I moved through the crowd, a funny feeling began to creep up the back of my neck. As if someone was watching me. I stopped for a bit and rummaged through my bag as if looking for something. I glanced through my hair, trying to see if someone was following me, or watching me, but I saw no one. I shrugged. Guess the hours that 1 was keeping were getting to me.

“Xylara.” Estoval greeted me cooly, surrounded by his pungent stock. “How may I help you?”

I rattled off my mental list, and he gestured for his apprentices to gather up the items. I moved about, picking up the items that looked best for some of my lotions. “Estoval, do you recall an unguent to prevent scarring? With goat’s milk boiled thick?”

His tone was even cooler as he recited the recipe for me. I added those items to my growing pile. He stayed close, nervously sorting some of the stock near me. “I was wondering if you had heard anything, Lady? About the war?” His tone was fawning, but I heard the fear underneath.

I responded, keeping my tone calm and my information general. He nodded, listening carefully, and I was sure my words would be all over the market within minutes of my departure. I kept it simple, and positive, and made no mention of the truth. That was for Xymund to announce, not I.

Finally I had what I wanted and headed to the counter to where the apprentices had set out the other items. I gave them a sharp look, for they were clearly Estoval’s older stock—wilted and withered and not at all suitable. I gave Estoval a sharper look when he named his price.

He avoided my eyes. “Prices go up when supplies are limited.”

“Supplies aren’t limited yet, Estoval. And I wouldn’t feed some of this to a goat, much less use it in medicine.”

He lifted his chin. “You’re healing those barbarians. The better stock is reserved for Xyians, not those filthy—”

I cut him off. “By the Order of the King, Estoval.” I drew myself up, and fixed him with my best High Court look. “As I am a Daughter of Xy, and as I execute the King’s Command, you will sell me the best you have and at your normal prices. Or answer to Xymund and his Council.”

Estoval shriveled up. With a quick gesture, his apprentices brought out fresh items, and I paid a fair price for it, exchanging herbs for coins in silence. I was grateful that he had relented for there would have been no support from Xymund. Of that I was certain.

As I was packing the last of my purchases, Estoval’s normal civility to a customer took over. “Was there anything else you required, Xylara?”

“No, I think that I have everything for today, Estoval.” I hesitated for a minute, thinking. “Have you ever heard of kavage?”

Estoval wrinkled up his nose. “Is it a herb?”

“No.” I shook my head. “It is a drink of some kind. I have no idea what it is. I think one of my patients would enjoy some, but I doubt that there is any to be had.”

“One of the prisoners?” Estoval sniffed, but his merchant’s instincts won out. “You might try the tinker’s cart three stores down, if he is there. I think he has snuck out of the city and is trading with the warlord’s men. Mention my name, Daughter of Xy.”

I nodded my regal thanks, and headed off in the direction he’d indicated.

I spotted the tinker’s cart easily, decorated with pots and pans, and ribbons aflutter in the breeze. I paused for a bit, since he was dealing with a customer, a tall, broad-shouldered man in armor. I occupied myself by looking over his wares. There was all matter of trinkets and metalware that gleamed in the sunlight. After a bit, the tinker turned his attentions to me.

“How may I help you?” His eyes gleamed in anticipation.

I smiled. “I am in no hurry.”

The tinker winked. “This fellow can’t make up his mind. While he ponders, you and I will treat. What can I interest you in?”

“Estoval told me that you might be able to help me. I am looking for some kavage.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. What would you be wanting with that foul stuff?”

“I am tending some of the prisoners. One mentioned that it is a drink that they enjoy.” I wavered, thinking. “Is it some form of spirits?” I had visions of trying to explain a tent full of drunken prisoners. Xymund would kill me.

“No.” A deep voice with a faint accent answered me. I turned to see the other customer looking at me. Short black hair and skin tanned dark by the sun caught my eye, but what startled me were his bright blue eyes. Tall, with broad shoulders, he seemed to tower over me and the tinker, almost blocking the sun. My guess was he was one of the mercenaries that had been hired by some of the wealthier lords to guard their lives.

The tinker laughed and agreed. “The land take me, no. It is truly foul tasting stuff that they make by dripping water through seeds.” He started to rummage through his cart, head and shoulders stuffed into one of its compartments. His muffled voice floated back at me. “In truth, I traded for some a while back, but once I tasted it,” He emerged with a good sized sack and some kind of strange metal implement. “I knew I could never sell this here. The citizens would cry themselves poisoned and the City Guard would be on my neck.” His eyes gleamed. “I will sell it to you, fine lady, but give me no blame when it eats at your insides.”

“Well then,” I replied with a smile “must not be worth much.”

The tinker tried for an offended look, but burst out in a laugh. “Ah, Lady, you have the advantage.”

We dickered a bit, just to be polite, but were quick to come to terms. I paid him, well satisfied with my purchase. The tinker was kind enough to give me a sack to carry the beans and the pot in. As I toddled off with my burdens, I heard him call behind me. “Come again, lady, and buy some more of my wares.” If my hands had not been full, I’d have waved farewell.

“They drink it with milk.” The man with the bright blue eyes had moved up next to me, walking, matching my pace. He’d apparently lost interest in a purchase. “Would you like some help?”

The market was filling up. I would find it difficult to avoid the market-goers with my bulky bundles. I felt my face flush a little when he took the sack and satchel. His gaze was steady and very disconcerting. It was rare for anyone to pay attention to me like that. I told myself not to be foolish.

“I am Lara.”

The man smiled. “I am Kier.” We started back up the street. “The liquid is drunk with milk and honey.” The phrasing was awkward, and that faint accent was there again. I couldn’t place it.

I nodded, thinking. I had money remaining, and the cost of those items would be small. I smiled at Kier. “ Then I must get some. It will be a treat for my patients.” I looked at him. “You learned this in the fighting? ”

He gave me an intent look. “One must always know the enemy.” Kier shifted his burdens. “You are treating the prison-ers, are you not?” I nodded. He continued. “Are you treating one named Simus?”

My feet slowed, wiser then my head. It took my head a minute longer to realize the implication. And before either could react, I was pushed into the alleyway off to the side, pressed up against the wall by a large body, and a large hand was covering my mouth. The packages lay at our feet, scattered.

I’d been warned, oh yes, Anna and Eln and Remn and the others. That if I wasn’t careful I’d be assaulted in the market, alone and helpless. I’d never believed them. I’d always thought that I’d be able to scream or fight or get away from any foolish enough to try anything. But the body pressed against mine was strong and hard and held me effortlessly as I fought, trying to kick, struggling to get my hands free, anything to win my release.

“Be still. I will not hurt you.” The voice rumbled, and his warm breath on my ear made me shiver. I forced myself to relax, glaring at the man, since it was all for naught anyway. I wasn’t moving anywhere until he was ready to let me go.

Given the location of where we were and what he was doing, there was no reason to believe his words and every reason to believe that he would hurt me. And yet…

I believed him. I was not scared. In fact, I had never felt more alive. My whole body seemed newly aware of itself. It was like my skin had taken on a life of its own. He had pressed himself up against me, holding me to the wall, his mouth a scant inch from my ear. The power of his body warmed me even through my clothing. Was this what it was like to—

His voice cut through my shameful thoughts, his eyes focused intently on mine. “All I want is information. How is Simus?” He pulled his hand back slightly, enough for me to talk. I could still feel the warmth of his hand on my face.

“He is well.” I darted a glance off to the sides, but there was no one near.

“When could he travel?”

I could see where this was headed. “Days. Even then, he would have to be carried.”

He locked his eyes on mine for a moment, then seemed satisfied with the truth of my answer. “You will carry a message to him.”

“No.”

He looked at me sharply. “You heal the enemy…”

I cut him off. “No. I don’t know who you are, or what you hope to do, but I will not help you.”

His blue eyes gleamed. His hand moved down to my throat and rested lightly on it. “I could kill you now. ”

I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. “Who then would take the kavage to Simus?”

There was a huff of amusement. The hand left my throat, and I felt the heat of his body move away. I opened my eyes onto an empty alleyway.

I stood for a moment, just breathing, trying to let the feel of my body return to normal. But I could still feel the weight of him pressed against me, and the warmth of his breath on my cheek. Outside the alley, traffic ebbed and flowed, and the normal sounds helped me get myself under control. My packages lay at my feet, and I picked them all up, hoping that none of the bottles and jars had broken. There was still so much to do and time was wasting. I took a deep breath and started walking.

I was a fool. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. An ignorant fool. I would talk to Lord Warren as soon as he was available.

Between the still room activities and helping Eln, it was late before I got to the prisoners’ tent. I yawned as I took the final part of the path, heading for Heath’s post. I stopped when I got to him, put down my satchel, sack and jugs, and stretched as high as I could, yawning with my mouth wide open. He smiled. “ Tired?”

I grinned and nodded. “After this, I go to bed… no stops along the way.”

Heath jerked his head toward the castle. “I heard the horns announce the arrival of the Warlord. Have you heard anything about the talks?”

I snorted. “Heath, I’d be the last person anyone would tell. I know that Warren is involved, but that’s all I know.” I sighed and picked up my bundles. I was tired, and the damn brooch was raising a blister on my ankle. I was frustrated as well, since I’d tried to speak to Lord Warren, but it hadn’t been possible. “ I hope they went well. It’s nice not to have more wounded.”

“Aye.” Heath had that mischievous look in his eye. “You’ll have more ladies of the court looking for lotions and potions.” I rolled my eyes, and he chuckled as he lifted the tent flap.

I looked for Rafe when I went in and saw him near Simus’s cot. As I moved through the tent, I could see that there were more men up and moving about. Although some were shaky and had others assisting them, they were moving.

“Rafe.” I called a greeting. He, Joden, and the other man, ummm… Prest, were near to Simus’s pallet. I set my parcels down and knelt to look at my patient.

“Has he woken?”

Joden shrugged. “He has been in and out all day.”

Prest looked at me. “Will he be well?

“Let us look.” Prest and Joden started the unwrapping process. I looked over at Rafe and grinned. “I found this in the marketplace. Maybe you have a use for it.”

He looked puzzled, but took the sack and opened it. His eyes got very big and excited. “Kavage! It is kavage!” He looked at me as the others started to react. “Where did you… ?”

“There was a merchant in the market that had some. He could not sell it, everyone thinks it is a poison.” The tent laughed, but Rafe paid me no attention as he and a few others started examining the contents and commenting on the seeds. They seemed sort of obsessed. I bit my lip and started to worry that I had done the wrong thing.

Joden caught my eye and smiled. “Have no fear, healer. It is a drink like any other. But it is a taste of home, and it will divert them for a time while they figure out a way to grind the beans.”

I smiled with relief and turned to the wound.

It was doing very well. I took a closer look than I had earlier and was still pleased with his progress. We cleaned and redressed it, smearing it this time with an unguent made of fever’s foe and fairysfoot.

Satisfied, I left it to Joden and Prest to wrap up my patient. I started on my rounds, tired but pleased. Each man was well out of danger and healing well. As I worked, I could hear Rafe and his group talking excitedly as they apparently found different ways to grind the beans I had brought. I stopped to watch for a moment as one man tried to grind them against a piece of wood with his bootheel. “Will that not affect the taste?”

He nodded without looking up. “Aye. It will add flavor.”

Eventually there was no noise at all, and I looked over to see the men in fierce contemplation of the metal pot the tinker had given me, hovering over one of the braziers of hot coals. I just shook my head and continued my work. Before long, an odd aroma filled the tent. Odd, but pleasant.

Finally, the last one was done. I went over to where Joden sat by Simus, and dropped down next to him. I dragged my satchel along, and started to re-pack everything in it. I was almost done when Joden nudged me, and I looked up to see Rafe standing before me, a mug of something steaming in his hand.

“We want you to have the first taste.” Rafe looked proudly at me as he handed me the mug. The rest of the tent was watching me, all eyes bright. I took the mug in one hand.

“You would not try to poison an innocent young healer, would you?” I looked suspiciously at Rafe, who stared back as innocent as a lamb.

“No.” Rafe looked very serious. “On my honor.” Then his grin flashed. “I would not waste kavage that way.”

Everyone in the tent started laughing, and a few pounded on Rafe’s back for his jest.

Taking a deep breath, I put the mug to my lips and sipped.

Once again the tent exploded in laughter as my face screwed up in disgust. I managed to swallow, but it was a near thing. The liquid was hot, thick and bitter.

Joden patted me on the back as the rest of the tent started to share in the pot and make plans for another one. “Most prefer it with some milk and honey to take away the bitter.”

“Yes! That’s right.” I looked around for my other purchases. “Kier told me that. So I brought some with me.”

The silence in the tent was immediate and thick. I froze under all those eyes drilling into me. And a voice, thin and weak, arose from the pallet that lay beside me.

“Kier? You spoke to Kier?” Simus struggled to sit up.

Joden and Prest reached out and pushed him down. I handed the milk and the honey to Rafe, who took it without comment. I turned back to Simus.

“I met a man in the market this morning who told me that the kavage was taken with milk or honey.” I was suddenly very thankful that there were two guards inside the tent with me. Two guards that were looking very nervous. One caught my eye and I gave him a smile. They relaxed a little.

Joden made a gesture, and the rest of the tent started to break up, talking and drinking from their mugs. He helped Simus to sit up and Rafe came over to help. He brought with him a mug, and Simus’s hand emerged from the blankets, weak and shaky, but latched onto the mug like a desperate man.

Joden looked at me. “A man with eyes like blue flames?” I nodded. “Did he send any message?”

I returned the gaze. “He wanted to. I refused.”

Joden’s eyes narrowed. Simus watched me over the brim of his mug as Rafe helped him drink from it.

I did not back down. “I am a healer of any in need of my services. But I am not a…” I could not think of the word for ‘traitor’. “I am not an oath-breaker. I have an oath as a healer, but also to my king. Any rescue attempt this Kier tries will be without my aid.”

The minute my mouth closed, I winced. Joden, Rafe, and Simus relaxed, I could feel the tension leave them when they heard my words. I had probably just delivered the very message Kier wanted them to have anyway. I flushed again.

Simus sighed. “This kavage is terrible. Who made it?”

Rafe coughed.

“I should have known.” He looked up at Joden. “How long?”

“Two days.” Joden replied. “You were brought in with a bad wound and fever.” Simus raised an eyebrow at that, and gave Joden a long look. Joden looked away, as if ashamed, but continued on. “ Lara here treated you, and the wound does well. I do not think you will lose the leg.”

Even more tension left Simus’s body at that news. He took another sip from his mug. “Any news?”

Joden shook his head. “I have had none.”

Simus looked at me and raised both eyebrows. I saw no harm. “All I know is that the Warlord arrived about midday to talk peace.”

Simus thought about that. “You are wrong, little healer. The Warlord is here to talk surrender.”