Under the Vale and Other Tales of Valdemar (9 page)

“Idiots! Ham-fisted children! Delinquents! Fumble-fingered—” Serril interrupted her before someone came to investigate the furious ranting.

“Jayin.” Her name, backed by all of his authority, was enough to stop the Trainee midrant. She grimaced but bowed in apology to her mentor, eyes to the ground in a show of contrition. The apology was certainly genuine; everything else was for show, Serril knew from long experience. He
also
knew that the Healers who’d require her contrition would be the ones most likely to accept a display and not probe deeper. Brone immediately came to mind.

She had good reason for her irritation, to be sure. Ever since Elspeth had returned, the Collegia and Court had been all atwitter for their suddenly strange Herald-Mage and her even stranger allies. The two Hawkbrothers alone would be enough to turn anyone’s head; add the creatures called gryphons and their younglings, and it was no wonder that most of Haven occupied themselves with little else. Gossip left the court, galloped around the city and returned with three heads, seven legs, and no sense whatsoever. The Hawkbrothers were descended from the gryphons, or vice versa. Elspeth was nothing more than a chew toy for the ravening monsters that were set to take over Valdemar. Vanyel himself had been resurrected and somehow brought to the Court. And those were the tamer stories. It was enough to make a cat sneeze.

And the normally sensible Healers had mostly fallen prey to this absurdity. Essential duties had been let slide. Reports from the countryside were stacking up because the secretary was too busy loitering in the diplomatic wing, hoping for a glimpse of their exotic guests. Despite his incessant lurking, nobody quite had the heart to shoo the man away when this was probably the most excitement he’d ever had. The library was in disarray because nobody was thinking about putting books away. The greenhouse had suffered because not one Healer–until now–had come in to maintain it for at least a week. The sensible ones had simply been overwhelmed with trying to deal with everything their counterparts should have been doing.

Serril and Jayin had valid excuses though. They’d been at Briarley Crossing, attending to the results of what was best called a string of strange luck: an outbreak of the flux, several broken bones, and no fewer than five births–all within two weeks time. The local Healer and the midwife had been swamped and grateful for their help. Then, the day they were due to leave for Haven, a particularly nasty storm had blown up and made travel impractical for another two weeks.

When they had finally ridden into Haven, Jayin had muttered something about hiding from the Dean of the Healers for a few days. Serril had nodded, knowing exactly how she felt. Sadly, he wouldn’t be able to dodge that worthy as easily as Jayin, even if he hadn’t planned to visit the Dean to recommend that she receive her full Greens for their work in Briarley Crossing. They’d been assisting at a Healing station in the North and were on their way back to Haven when they’d arrived in Briarley Crossing just as things took a turn for the busy. So of course he had to report to the Dean to explain the whys and wherefores behind their late arrival and then give his report on Jayin.

Dean Ostel had mostly paid attention to Serril’s report and his recommendation for Jayin, massaging his temples as if fighting off an oncoming headache. Serril didn’t think the stocky man had a problem with his report, but several months outside of Haven politics made him more than a bit wary. He did his best not to play the games, but he knew how to watch for them and avoid the most troublesome ones. The Dean’s next words took him by surprise.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you rest just yet, my friend. I need you and your Trainee to deal with the greenhouse.” Ostel grimaced, his blue eyes a touch dull underneath furrowed pale brows. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard the rumors, but the truth is a bit more strange. I’ve made notes for you both, but the upshot is that nobody has seen to the greenhouse in about a week, and I trust you not to get, well, distracted.”

Serril snapped back to the present and watched as Jayin caught herself before she ran muddy fingers through her straight brown hair. “This is absurd, Serril. I mean, I can understand getting distracted by the Hawkbrothers and those astounding creatures, but this!” She gestured again, the trowel gripped as delicately as a scalpel might have been, slender fingers maintaining control at all times. Somehow the gesture took in the Healers’ Collegium, Bardic, the Heralds, the Palace and the surrounding city–and made it clear that she found them all lacking. Jayin had grown up in a traveling performers’ caravan, and the drama learned in the tents and the wagons occasionally surfaced.

“Healers are only human. And with the Heir renouncing the Crown on top of everything else–”

“Smartest thing she
could
have done,” Jayin muttered.

“–it’s upset the apple cart, as it were. And yes, Herald-Mage Elspeth was politically smart to do what she did, but, my goodness, Jayin, I’d expect you to keep that opinion to yourself. There’s more than enough uproar throughout the capital without a soon-to-be Healer interjecting her opinions in so impolitic a manner.” He chuckled as he dug his fingers into the next pot, where a plant was barely surviving. He added quietly, “Not that the rest of them haven’t been, but at least
we
can attempt to present an air of neutrality.” He had the Healing Gift–like Jayin, which was why they’d been paired–but greenery responded to his particular Gift quite well. Serril gently pulled the plant out of the pot and transplanted it to another, cushioning it with his Gift against the shock of the move. The new soil was better suited for the plant anyway. A faint surge of energy, and he felt the roots “wake up” and settle into the new soil with what, in a human, he’d have called a contented sigh.

Jayin snorted. “Since you yourself taught me about maintaining that neutrality, I’ll presume you’re teasing me, especially since there’s not another Healer anywhere near here–” She stopped, about to gesture yet again with the trowel, when the hurried knock at the greenhouse door interrupted her. Serril kept himself from laughing, but only barely. Fatigue had lowered his guard too, it seemed.

“Come in!” he managed.

As the Healer walked in, Serril thought,
Thank goodness it’s Tessa and not Brone.
The Healer was obviously distracted, though. As she began speaking, Tessa didn’t even see the interior of the greenhouse or the two Healers painted with mud, fertilizer, and pieces of dead plants.

“I’ll need a few leaves of the woundwort, no more than three, and—” She stopped dead as she refocused on her surroundings. “Blessed Haven, this place is a disaster! And look at you two!”

At that, Serril lost control completely, sagging against the workbench and wheezing laughter to Tessa’s obvious surprise. Jayin very primly placed the rusted trowel next to her and then planted her hands on her hips. In the midst of his laughter, Serril managed to remember her pose for the next time he teased her about how you could take the girl from the theater, but you couldn’t take the theater out of the girl.

“If it weren’t you, Healer Tessa, I’d tell you there was none to be had. It’s in bad shape and might not survive another few days.” She steadfastly ignored her mentor’s further laughter, instead giving him a polite yet disapproving look. As Jayin’s left eyebrow went up, Serril turned away to keep himself from giggling further.

Tessa grinned at them both. “Back less than a day and Ostel’s already put you to work. My apologies, Trainee Jayin. I’m on an errand for the female gryphon–Hydona, her name is–and we’re comparing medicinal herbs and uses. She may well be a treasure trove for all that she can’t use a mortar and pestle.” She paused a moment, then continued, “Fair enough, the woundwort’s out of bounds. Why don’t we pick a few leaves from the plants that will survive it, then?”

Jayin’s eyes drooped, and Serril reflected that he probably didn’t look much better. The greenhouse had been set to rights as best as they were able: floors, tables, and tools cleaned, the plants likely to survive given as much care as possible, and requests sent off for replacements for the unrecoverable ones.

When they’d arrived, it had been midmorning; they hadn’t eaten all day, and they’d barely made it to dinner. The two of them had gotten what food was left, and they now slowly made their way from the refectory toward their rooms. The long day had definitely taken its toll on both of them; Jayin navigated the path more by memory than by actually looking at it.

“I don’t care if my bed hasn’t been aired out yet, I’m going to fall in and not get up for a week.”

Serril opened his mouth to suggest she might want to change out of her dirty clothes when a sound interrupted him. It took him a moment, but for anyone who’d spent time in Haven–and at the Palace–the sound of hooves chiming on the gravel path was unmistakable.

A Companion.

It walked right up to Serril, staring at him and Jayin with impossible blue eyes, as if evaluating the two. It nudged gently at Serril’s shoulder and then Jayin’s. The creature looked for all the world as if it–no, she–were on the verge of tears as she took a step back, shifting her head in an unmistakable “follow me” motion.

Jayin gaped and looked on the verge of tears. Serril swallowed and said, “Your pardon, but my Trainee and I haven’t had any rest for the past day–”

:I know, and if I had any other choice, I wouldn’t be asking this.:
The voice–decidedly female, anxious and fearful–came from the Companion in front of them. There was really no other explanation. Jayin must have heard it as well from the strangled squeaking she made.

:I’m breaking a host of rules by doing this, of course, but it seems to me that the rules are going to get rewritten soon enough. My Herald has need of your particular talents, the both of you. And she doesn’t have much time.:
The Companion blew air through her nose in not quite a snort.
:I’m Layelle, and my Herald is Mellie. Please, please, please say you’ll come?:
The worry came through even without the words being spoken out loud–in fact, it was even more apparent this way.

Jayin squeaked a bit more–she’d had dreams once of being a Herald–but Serril gave the Companion a slow nod. No, Layelle. “If you have need of us, Companion Layelle, then lead on. We’ll do what we can.”

They followed Layelle to the hospice meant for the most seriously wounded who could still be treated. Firm beds made it easier to move patients, detachable wooden railings prevented accidents such as rolling off the bed, and various pulleys allowed for broken limbs to be kept elevated. And a quarter of the beds were meant for Heralds as well, since they had wide near-doors by each bed that could allow a Companion to stick his or her head in during decent weather.

They reached Mellie’s bed about the same time as Layelle nudged open the wooden panel. The evening was temperate enough that Serril didn’t object–for the moment, it seemed to not be raining. As he looked down into the bed, he sucked in air through clenched teeth, shock jolting him awake. Mellie was tied to the bed frame as gently as possible but her wrists and ankles showed signs of resistance. Her sweat soaked hair flared around her head across both pillow and blankets. Already pale features looked ghastly against the sheets. The young woman, barely older than Jayin, muttered despite the depth of a slumber produced by the contents of the cup next to the bed.

Serril looked over the slate board at the foot of the bed. Convulsions and fever were the only obvious signs of illness. No bite marks from insects or snakes, no unaccounted bruising to either body or head, and no trouble breathing–in short, nothing the Healers could label and treat. Mellie was capable of taking in light broth and milk sweetened with honey, according to the notes, but alone those were not enough to sustain the Herald.

“Companion Layelle,” Serril began, “since this information isn’t helping me, what do you know?”

Blue eyes met his even as Jayin ran a standard round of tests. Absently Serril noted that his Trainee had woken up as well.
:It began when all the Heralds in Haven were struck with that headache. Mellie and I weren’t too far from here, but her headache seemed particularly bad. She got over it, though, and I didn’t think about it until she started having trouble sleeping. We were headed out on Circuit but Mellie kept insisting that we had to go back. Her Mindspeech wasn’t good enough to reach the capital, and I didn’t feel the same pull she did.:
The Companion paused, though Serril only noticed it because he was listening so hard.
:A few nights ago, we slept at a Waystation. Mellie had been irritable all day, as if she had a mild headache, but it wasn’t anything I felt through her. The next morning, she barely woke up enough to get up on me, practically crying from the pain. I came back here as fast as I could, but nobody here seemed to know what to do.:

Jayin must have heard something in the Companion’s mind-voice, because she asked, “You have an idea of what’s going on, though, don’t you?”

The brilliant white head sagged, like a child caught with a hand in the candy jar.
:The thing that caused the headache was a source of magic landing right in the middle of Haven. I think that woke something up in Mellie, maybe Mage Gift, but. . . :
Here the Companion paused obviously.
:I think the Mage channels were damaged in the process. And the two of you are my best hope of healing those channels, because each of you has worked directly on Healing channels before. Unlike the other Healers here in Haven.: