Oathkeeper (48 page)

She could remember a time when fully half of the Eldrennai had great elemental powers, but the most gifted were also the most likely to be needed on the frontline, and the carnage had been greatest there . . .

The Armored could, over time, win against nearly any foe. But they were no longer immune to death.

“Kholster,” Wylant sighed, “we'd need divine intervention to win if there are anywhere near as many Zaur as I expect there to be.”

“That is likely, but do you believe the Harvester should do such a thing?” Kholster, clad as he was back in her chambers at Port Ammond, stepped into existence next to her. Muslin shirt and jeans. Those well-worn boots of his. No armor save a frown. But what other armor had he ever needed with the ones he loved?

“How else can we win?” Wylant asked.

“It is not my place to tell you how to win this war.” Kholster touched Clemency's helm, and it was as if he stroked Wylant's cheek. “I can tell you this, however. You are correct and you can win . . . if you are willing to do whatever is necessary. That much I have arranged. Victory is not sure, not even likely, but it is possible.”

“I don't see the solution, Kholster.” Wylant touched his hand, holding it tightly against her helm, leaning into it.

“I have faith in you, wife.” Kholster let his forehead rest against her own. “All conflicts are resolved eventually. It is their nature. It is yours to win at any cost. You have never needed my help.” He smiled, baring those doubled canines wolfishly. “I cannot imagine that you ever truly will. From time to time you get it, but that is only because I love you and also because mundane tasks are more enjoyable when they are shared.”

“But you implied you'd meddled.” Wylant chewed over his words even as she spoke. “Victory is possible. You arranged it?”

“No husband is perfect,” Kholster said, “especially me.”

“Kiss me and begone with you then, if you like.” Clemency's visor parted, revealing Wylant's smirk. “I have to think.”

And so it was.

CHAPTER 34

SNAPDRAGON'S DILEMMA

Inside the twin temple to Xalistan and Gromma, Yavi took off her boots and sighed in relief, tension ebbing from her body at the touch of the blessed soil on her bare bark. Rich black soil covered the floor deep enough to shove in her toes and sink down to the knee if she wanted, but this wasn't for her . . . except in the sense that the temple was open to all Vael. A priestess of Gromma clad only in the thick bark with which she'd sprouted examined Arri's stump, applying a mixture of ground worms and other nutrients to it, before chanting a prayer to the goddess of growth and decay.

“May you grow straight and tall and feed mighty sproutlings when at last you are felled.”

“I'll trust in Xalistan instead, priestess,” Arri growled. Her Root Guard armor was so much a part of her identity she looked out of place in the casual leathers she wore. “May I hunt long and well and slay my hunter when hunted I become.”

“Gah.” Priestess Goumi waved the words away with a shake of her evergreen head petals, twisted into braided fronds. “Next time have Lallaya treat that little clipping of yours. I think you come in here just to admire my bark and leave footprints in my loam.”

“How is she?” Yavi asked, deliberately cutting off the exchange. Arri's emotions ran raw with the loss of so many of her fellow Root Guard and the loss (though temporary) of Kholburran.

“Princess!” Face brightening, Goumi made her way across the room and touched the back of her hand to Yavi's, continuing on to the subject of Yavi's question, each step releasing a fragrant burst of fertilizer and pine. “We are doing the best we can for her. Queen Kari gave us strict instructions. We all know how special she is to the prince. How is he?” Goumi prodded. “I heard he made it back. Escaped, did he?”

“They let him go,” Arri growled. “And followed him back to make sure no misadventure befell him on the return trip. Cursed reptiles, I can't understand them at all or why the queen listens to that forked-tongued envoy of theirs.”

“Well.” Yavi closed one eye and quirked her lips against the thought, but it didn't go anywhere. “It sounds like they want peace, but have a very . . . ah . . . competitive way of showing it. It's total wolf pack behavior in a way . . . rather like the grim and gory way irkanth males fight for leadership of the pride.”

“We aren't animals,” Arri muttered. “That's why girl-type persons lead us.”

“Which may well be the problem when it comes to understanding the Sri'Zaur.” Yavi placed the back of her fist gently against the small of Arri's back.

Eyes flashing, on the verge of anger, Arri did not step away, but Yavi sensed nothing had changed in Arri's spirit. The fury was dampened but not snuffed. Despite her innate desire for peace, Arri wanted to rip General Tsan to pieces and use her to fertilize her garden.

“If the prince is well . . . ?” Goumi let the question trail off.

“Mom won't let him out, yet.” Yavi chewed her lip, wondering how much to say. “I think she wants to give Malli and Snapdragon a little time apart.”

“It couldn't hurt.” Goumi gestured at her patient. “She's healing well enough, but there is only so much we can do.”

Overhead, stored sunlight shone down constantly on the temple's lone troubled patient, duplicating the long days of summer despite autumn's diminishing span outside in the real world.

Flat on the dark soil, Malli lay, eyes closed, concentrating on healing. Meditation wasn't Yavi's strong suit, but Malli was good at it. Even her spirit was a focused green mixed with gold. Wrapped tight with damp living moss, her air bladders inflated only minutely, enough to keep in practice, but they made a distressed sound when they did. A combination of the same moss, fishmeal and the substance Goumi had applied to Arri's stump filled up the cracks in Malli's trunk and held her together while Arborists sprinkled measured doses of animal blood on her outer layer to help sustain the fleshiest layers while her heartwood was taxed and normal nutrient routes were reduced due to the damage.

“Do you think she'll recover?” Yavi asked.

“If Snapdragon has his way,” Goumi whispered, “I hear she'll be a Root Wife, and then we'll have done nothing here but make sure she lasts to her wedding day. He can fix the rest.”

“And she will lose her place in the Root Guard,” Arri scoffed, “not to mention her ability to travel or do anything outside of her husband's shade.”

“My mother is a Root Wife,” Yavi snapped. “She doesn't seem to find it such a hardship.”

“But she traveled the breadth of Barrone first.” Arri gave her a knowing look. “Was pollinated by Kholster . . .” The look she gave Yavi was one she'd seen far too much of since her return. Still clinging to a false spring, her body gave all the signs that more had happened between her and Kholster than a kiss. Denying that, even though it was fact, had proved to be a waste of air. “She lived full and free before settling down to watch over her people and live in the shade of her husbands.”

“I—” Yavi began, only to hear a commotion in the chamber without.

“Malli?” Snapdragon's voice came tight and strained. “Look. I know she's in there, I just need to see her. I'll stand across the room, if you want, but I need to see her with my own eyes.”

“I'll turn him away,” Arri growled.

Yavi was opening her mouth to ask why they shouldn't just let him in—true, he was a boy-type person, but if he'd seen the injury when it was fresh, how could it hurt? Queen Kari might be against it, but—when Malli spoke.

“Let him in.”

*

How easily Yavi could wave away the Root Guard who wouldn't let him in. Kholburran liked to think they listened to her for reasons other than her gender, but he was royalty, too, so the argument didn't track well enough to catch a rabbit. But he supposed that went with the same sort of logic that let Yavi walk around carrying her heartbow in the city and around the Root Trees when he wasn't allowed to carry his weapon. He'd brought that up once, but the queen had asked why he thought his Root Guard couldn't defend him in his own home and was someone picking on him . . . should she have a word with them?

“C'mon.” Yavi motioned him in. “She doesn't look fabtastic, but she'll be fine.”

“Princess.” Seizal (one of the prince's Root Guard and one of the two who'd been blocking his path) stepped between him and the knot-like entrance to the temple—its entrance without door to symbolize an open welcome to all, which Kholburran found ironic given the circumstances. “The queen thinks it is unwise for—”

“Oh, who cares, Seizal?” Yavi stepped forward, palms toward the Root Guard. “The temple is supposed to be open to all. Yes, I know this one is mainly for royal use, but it hasn't got a door on it and if my brother saw the wound inflicted, then I don't understand what all this is about. Mom thinks he's going to pressure Malli into marriage? Hah. Is he going to be upset if she says no? Well, yes, but best make it a clean kill, as the Aern ought to say.”

“Ought to say?” Seizal asked.

“I've never heard one say it, but it sounds like something they ought to say. Just like you should say, ‘Yes, Princess,' and clear off. I'll take responsibility for this.”

“We're only trying to look out for you, Prince.” Seizal stepped slowly to the side. “You know that, right?”

*

Malli was clothed from hips to armpits in a tight wrap of moss and meal. Kholburran winced at the tell-tale blue of leaves plucked from Hasan's upper branches. He'd learned to make bandages out of them (all boy-type persons did; the ones suitable for Taking Root wound up having to practice even more) when he was just a sproutling mainly so he could render emergency aid to himself if he were to be injured and no girl-type person were around to take care of him.

Ground-level Vael probably never even saw them. They had to be carefully harvested to avoid harming Hashan . . . and Warrune, well, his leaves weren't good for anything. The healers said it was because his leaves had been harvested too roughly in the past and too often, but Kholburran suspected it had more to do with the rumor that Warrune hadn't wanted to Take Root in the first place and had only agreed on the condition that Hashan Take Root in the same spot and that Kari be their Root Wife.

I know the feeling
, he thought.

Taking Root was not a thrilling thought. It was well and good for girl-type persons to talk about the honor, and Vael like Uncle Tran did seem to relish the opportunity to grow beyond the humanoid form and serve the whole rather than himself, but others . . .

It would be worth it to save her
, Kholburran thought. He was double-checking the healing wrap and redistributing the mixture of worm and fish meal for more direct application before he felt Malli's eyes on him.

“Sorry,” he coughed. “I'm sure Goumi is taking excellent care of you, but I . . . worry.”

“'S cute.” Malli spoke, her voice a strained whisper with a hint of flatness at the end of her words like a leaking bellows. Her air bladders hadn't been this bad back when she had first been injured.

“Hi.” Kholburran looked into her eyes and tried to smile.
She's got a fungal infestation
, he thought, trying to think of the best way to treat it without doing more damage or alarming her.
We could remove her air bladders.
She didn't actually need them for much of anything, and, if everything else healed, they would grow back, but that meant she wouldn't be able to speak for the duration of her convalescence. “You look beautiful.”

“Have Goumi check your head for injuries.” Malli smiled briefly, the spots of animal blood on her skin giving her the look of someone stricken by rot or some other blight.

“Well.” Kholburran lay the back of his hand against her cheek, trying not to jump at the coolness of her bark. Vael were only warm to appeal to the Aern, which was funny given that the Aern would never have noticed. Had Uled done it for his own people, then?

Never mind that
, Kholburran berated himself, trying to home in on one topic, but his mind went off on a thousand different trails: how to treat her wounds, signs of body failure, how attractive she looked even covered in blood and moss, her beaded leggings replaced by a top soil that had been mounded over her lower extremities to help absorb nutrients . . .

Second behind Malli's health came the other thought, the thing that could correct the first problem while making so much of his future existence tolerable, joyful even.

Will she marry me?

Wincing, as if she could read his thoughts and did not like them, Malli shook her head.

“Not until this heals, Snapdragon.”

“What?” He asked the question, feeling stupid even as he did it because he knew what she meant.

“No answer until then.” Malli struggled through the words. “I can't marry you, become a Root Wife, to heal my wounds. Can't even think about it until after.” He wanted to interrupt but held his tongue, not wanting to force her to start over. “Don't want to say yes or no without knowing I did it for the right reasons.”

Eyes drooping closed, her body went still.

“She's turned her mind back to healing herself now, Prince Kholburran,” Goumi told him. “Best leave her to it.”

“Her breathing is worse than it was on the road.” Kholburran stood. For all that he'd hated those lessons in self-treatment, he was glad to have them now. “Did you notice?”

“I have things well in hand,” Goumi said.

Kholburran leaned over, pressing down ever so slightly on her chest to push out a little air. A certain amount of lichen was healthy. Each Vael's was different, but Malli's gave her breath a light violet odor. That odor was now tainted by the trace of an unpleasant meaty scent.