Reshner's Royal Ranger

by Julie C. Gilbert

  Reia bid the anotechs to dampen odors coming from the prince so the lady wouldn’t faint away. She already had them working for her.

  Anotechs are useful things.

  She followed the prince and the lady toward the guest chambers. During the past few months, she had snuck in a few stream baths and waterfall showers and even rubbed her skin with sweet-smelling fenria petals. For the most part, however, she’d settled for daily rinses from small brooks and an evening ritual of having the anotechs clean her.

  After a wonderful bath, Reia dressed in the fine clothes Lady Zelene had placed out for her. The soft tunic and rich satin robe felt strange, but Prince Terosh looked magnificent in expensive clothes. Master Niklos’s lessons on interacting with nobles included how to dress appropriately. Unfortunately, the lessons never covered her growing feelings for the prince.

  The evening meal contained dozens of items. Reia recognized six species of fish, eight meats, and twenty-six vegetables and fruits. Several types of fish, including praja, comooli, and edakk, were new to her. Reia cautiously tried the odd dishes. Three out of four times the food pleased her palate, but the times it didn’t, she struggled not to spit the thing across the room. She ended up drinking a lot of water and had little room for treacle pudding, cudri pie, or rielberry tarts. Nevertheless, she thoroughly enjoyed the meal.

  Prince Terosh spoke easily with their hosts, but Reia said little. Instead, she focused on watching Lady Zelene. The young noblewoman defied every one of Reia’s preconceived notions about those in the upper echelons of society. She played hostess beautifully and often sent her father reassuring smiles and encouraging nods.

  The evening hours disappeared. The meal had destroyed most of Lady Akia Zelene’s initial awkwardness. Still, it took Reia and the prince an hour to get her to consistently use their familiar names, but soon thereafter, Reia considered the lady one of the loveliest people she had ever met.

  Reia wondered how to get Lady Akia to open up. Her sister would simply demand the woman speak her mind, but Reia didn’t think the tactic would work. Lady Akia struck Reia as the sort to shut down if confronted, so she endured mundane conversation until the truth emerged late in the evening.

  A comfortable stillness swept the room, broken only by Lady Akia’s pacing. Her voice vibrated with passion as she finally presented her concern.

  “An Ashasten—a Great Storm—is about to hit Ritand.”

  “The island or the city?” Terosh inquired.

  Reia’s mind scrambled to locate Ritand on her mental map. Master Niklos’s geography lessons were over a decade old.

  “Both,” Akia answered.

  “What do you seek from us?” Reia asked, infusing the question with formality yet tempering it with friendship.

  Turning to the prince, Akia lapsed into formal speech.

  “My Prince, my father forbids me to join the Ritand relief efforts. Though I am of age, I seek his blessing. The Great Storm will be enemy enough without making a foe of him who is all I have left.”

  “What can I do?” Terosh’s expression said he doubted he could do a blessed thing.

  Reia knew better and told him so with an unladylike noise.

  “You are Prince Terosh Minstel. Your name carries enough weight to sink a waterhov. Besides, your fathers are friends.”

  Akia was speechless; Terosh chastened.

  “What else can we do?” Reia asked. She rose, took Akia’s left hand, and led her to the couch, lest the noblewoman fall over. “I cannot speak for the prince, but you have my support as a friend if nothing else.”

  Akia swallowed a few times.

  “Would you teach me?”

  “Me?”

  Terosh shot her a triumphant look.

  Reia shot him an I’m-ignoring-you look.

  “To heal?”

  “Yes! One of my father’s greatest arguments is that I have no skill to offer. But if I could heal, I could help. Even if I can’t, I must go. They’re a fascinating people. So simple, yet so real.”

  Reia silently queried Terosh. She truly wanted to help, but it wasn’t her place. Her mission consisted solely of guarding the prince. She couldn’t even promise to train the lady if they planned on leaving in the morning. She had forgotten to ask how long they would be in Resh. This was his Kireshana.

  THE SIMPLE QUESTION in Reia’s eyes moved Terosh. For a moment, he couldn’t think. Like Akia, Reia’s spirit hurt at the notion of people facing pain and hardship. Her expression contained curiosity and hope. Hope for what, Terosh couldn’t fathom, but the question deserved an answer. He didn’t even realize how long he’d been silently staring at Reia. Her half-smile and pink cheeks said she felt the attention. He cleared his throat, thinking furiously.

  “Lady Akia, I doubt the Ashasten will wait for us, but you have our support. I know little about healing, so I defer to Reia on that, but I will speak with the governor.”

  After uttering his speech, Terosh retreated to his quarters. Too much time with women—especially those two—did strange things to his head.

  Chapter 21:

  Healing

  RETSI (MAY) 26, 1538

  Eighty-five days into Prince Terosh’s Kireshana journey

  Governor Lord’s Estate, City of Resh

  As Prince Terosh headed for Governor Darmon Zelene’s office, he fought a surge of nervousness. He was so distracted that he got lost twice, but finally, he knocked on the correct door.

  “Enter!” thundered a voice from within.

  Terosh did so, feeling like a kamria about to face down a viper.

  “I’m sorry to distur—”

  “Forgive me, Dulad Prince, I did not—this is certainly a welcome surprise!”

  Terosh had carefully considered how to approach Governor Zelene with Akia’s request. Straightening his shoulders, he decided to go with the formal approach.

  “My Lord, I have heard about the Ashasten facing Ritand and her people.”

  The governor’s features turned neutral, but traces of his initial expression, which mixed irritation and helplessness, remained.

  Terosh analyzed the expression and decided to further aid both Akia and the Ritand people. Though technically submissive to House Minstel, Ritand was a poor, fiercely independent island province. They had no representation in the Senate or the Governors Council—unless one counted Darmon Zelene. To Terosh’s knowledge, the tension between Rammon and Ritand had its roots in his own family. In 1311, Prince Edeen accepted a commission from his brother, King Tarel, and became Ritand’s ambassador. They disagreed on nearly every issue, and eventually, Tarel had Edeen exiled to the island. Since that time, the kings and queens have been cold in their care for Ritand.

  We know how to hold a grudge. Perhaps it’s time to end this nonsense.

  “I doubt my father will send them aid from Fort Riden, but as Governor of Resh, you possess the authority and duty to care for the people,” Terosh said.

  “Do I have your blessing to evacuate the island?” The governor smiled hopefully.

  “You do, Governor Lord, and I have a request.”

  The man’s smile faltered, replaced by a wary expression.

  Terosh hesitated, still gathering his thoughts.

  The wary expression morphed into a sad frown.

  “She sent you, didn’t she?”

  Terosh plucked up his courage, considered all the diplomatic advice Sedir had ever pounded into his head and discarded most.

  “My Lord, I do not know the depths of pain caused by separation from one’s child, but Lady Akia seems determined to go.”

  “Will she defy me?”

  “Will she have to?” Terosh returned, meeting the man’s gaze. Silence ruled until Terosh continued, “Let her go, Governor.”

  “Do you know what you ask?” the governor demanded. “Do you know what it’s like to love someone so deeply it hurts?”

  “I ask much, Governor, but I am only a mouthpiece. Let your daughter go and retain her love. Deny her
and keep her and you might lose her.”

  Where did that come from?

  You’re welcome, said the anotechs smugly.

  Terosh almost laughed but knew it would be inappropriate.

  “You’d make a fine ambassador, Prince Terosh, and you are wise.” The governor’s frown turned into a grin. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I will let her take supplies to Ritand.”

  “Thank you, Governor, and if you can get enough people to take extra supplies, I will get some from Fort Riden,” Terosh offered.

  “Let it be as you say,” Governor Zelene said.

  When he reached the door, Terosh paused.

  “In answer to your other question, Governor, I think I’m starting to understand.”

  RETSI (MAY) 26, 1538

  Same Day

  Throne Room, Royal Palace, City of Rammon

  “Keldor is in the Court’s hands now. Justice will be done,” King Teorn Minstel shifted on the throne. One would think the chair held nothing but tacks instead of the plush cushion that paired well with the dais’s carpeting.

  Anger coursed through Prince Taytron with each pounding heartbeat. A petty part of him relished his father’s discomfort. Tate’s flushed face made him look ready to spontaneously combust. The anger almost covered the sting of his father’s indifference. He had waited days for something to happen, but the king had done nothing with the prisoner acquired in Azhel.

  “You never loved her.”

  The king jerked as if Tate had struck him, but he didn’t deny it right away. Instead, he clenched his jaw and searched for words.

  “You fail to understand many things.” The king’s declaration rumbled, but his next statements came out softer. “I loved her. Not at first, for I hardly knew her when we married. But I learned to love her.”

  “Then do something!”

  “What would you have me do?”

  “Kill him.” Tate stood his ground before the throne, feet planted shoulder width apart. “It is your right and duty to avenge her!”

  “Right. Duty.” The king spat the words like poison. “They stay my hand.”

  Confusion slapped Tate.

  “What are you talking about?”

  King Teorn looked at him with an expression of profound sadness.

  “Her father has claimed her killer.”

  Most of the fight drained from Tate. A small measure of peace and a strange uneasiness battled within him. His grandfather was not a man to cross, and Gardanian executions were famously brutal. King Padric Creston probably had his entire Central Council working overtime to determine a proper execution for his daughter’s murderer. A steady procession of sobering thoughts marched through Tate’s head. Bowing to his father, he turned and exited the throne room.

  RETSI (MAY) 26, 1538

  Same Day

  Governor Lord’s Estate, City of Resh

  As Lady Akia Zelene watched, Reia Antellio spread the contents of her caydronan sack across the floor. She laid out twigs, stems, leaves of various sizes and shapes, pieces of bark, flowers, dried insects, and several tiny vials containing tree sap. She chuckled as Akia’s expression shifted from excitement to trepidation.

  “You’ll learn quickly. Master Ekris says there are six-thousand and seventy-two ingredients to healing teas, broths, and patches, but I never deal with that many. The first thing you need to know about healing is that you can. Most people are already healers.”

  “They are?”

  “Do you not comfort your father when you see him frustrated or hurt?” Reia asked. “That is a form of healing. Master Ekris says the best forms of healing are preventative.”

  “Your master must mean a lot to you,” Akia commented. Curiosity crossed her countenance. “What’s it like to be raised as a Ranger?”

  “I’ve never known any other life,” Reia replied, shrugging.

  “Forgive me. That was an awful question.” Akia’s cheeks reddened.

  “No offense taken,” Reia assured her. “As Master Ekris says, ‘All life is learning, and all learning starts with questions.’”

  “All right. What can you teach me?”

  The question launched a long tutoring session in the healing arts. Lady Akia Zelene readily absorbed the herb names and their functions. The lessons proceeded for almost three hours before she finally held up her hand for a respite.

  “I think that’s enough for now. My brain hurts.”

  Reia smiled and agreed it was time for a break.

  “Need some corlia?”

  “That’s a painkiller, right?” Akia asked. “I thought you treated wounds with that.”

  “You can. Corlia’s a powerful painkiller. It’s great for headaches or open wounds, but it doesn’t work well on poisons or diseases. Its main use is healing physical wounds. For emotional wounds you’ll need mintas tea or cormea and radon combined.”

  “What will that do?”

  “Paralyze you,” Reia answered, trying to keep a straight face. She failed and burst into laughter as Akia’s expression switched from amused to horrified and back again.

  “I suppose that works on all pains then.”

  “It’s only a temporary cure,” Reia reminded. She shook off the somber mood threatening to take over. “Most of these plants—corlia, astera, ristal, ira, and so on—can be bought in any city and most villages, but if you don’t know how to use them properly, they’re useless or even dangerous.”

  On that sobering note, they took a break for lunch.

  Afterward, Reia had Akia order hot water in four separate bowls, and the practical lessons began. Reia taught her pupil how to properly make mintas tea, comosal, and finally mendaid. She started with the one she would teach last by throwing several herbs into the smallest bowl of hot water and letting the ingredients soak. As she slowly added the ingredients she studied the small porcelain bowl, admiring the flower pattern on the side. Picking up one of the two medium-sized bowls, she added mintas to the tea and held it up for Akia to see.

  “Most people drink mintas or wuzle root tea, but the trick is to first make a strong mintas tea and add a wuzle root for about a minute.”

  “What does the wuzle root do? Why not add more than that?”

  “Both mintas and the roots have a relaxing effect, but they’re not as effective if combined improperly.”

  Reia made both the ineffective and the effective forms of tea and let Akia try them. The lady nearly choked on the ineffective one.

  “The taste’s a bit stronger if you mix it improperly. Some people do that on purpose. Just be grateful I’m not going to make you try comosal.”

  “What’s that? What’s it for? What’s it taste like?”

  Akia’s tone reminded Reia of Kiata discussing a new weapon.

  “Comosal’s the cure for cornada. It’s probably a good one for you to know. People caught in storms are susceptible to it. The cure’s made by combining ira petals, mesta shoots, and ristal leaves.” Reia checked the temperature of the water in the largest bowl by sticking a finger in it.

  “Um, isn’t that a bad way to check water temperature?”

  “Not when it’s been sitting out this long and there’s no steam hissing off of it,” Reia replied. “Here, I want you to feel this though. It’s a good temperature.”

  Akia obediently dipped her finger into the water.

  “Briefly soak the ira petals and ristal leaves in the water then wrap a mesta shoot around it.” Reia demonstrated by tying a quick knot in the shoot and holding the package out to Akia. “You’d then stick this under a person’s tongue until it dissolves in about six hours.”

  Akia made a face.

  “I agree, and after the first hour, it tastes like rancid cannafitch.”

  “That’s disgusting.”

  Reia shrugged.

  “Don’t get sick,” she advised. “But if you do, comosal can probably cure you of it, if not by healing properties, then by fear of its taste.”

  Akia grimaced and nodded. Her ey
es fell upon the smallest bowl.

  “What’s in this one?”

  “That will be mendaid, a combination of cormea, sannin, corlia, water, and deklov. Do you remember what those do?”

  “Corlia’s the painkiller and deklov has something to do with healing speed,” Akia ventured. “I don’t remember the others.”

  “Cormea also dulls pain but too much can cause paralysis. Sannin acts on aches,” Reia said. “You’re doing fine. It took Master Ekris over two years to teach me the healing plants.” Reia had more to say, but she stopped upon seeing her student’s attention had wandered.

  Akia sighed and stared into nothing.

  “Am I doing the right thing? Maybe my father’s right, maybe it is too dangerous.”

  “I won’t tell you what to do, but I will say danger is everywhere,” said Reia.

  Both young women slipped into their own thoughts.

  RETSI (MAY) 26, 1538

  Same Day

  King’s Private Chambers, Royal Palace, City of Rammon

  “What do you want?” King Teorn Minstel asked, not bothering to hide his irritation.

  “Can’t a sister make a social call on her baby brother?” Lady Mavis Altran inquired. Her rich voice held the usual hint of mocking.

  “You could, but you don’t.” Teorn didn’t particularly like his sister. She had a knack for discovering harmful secrets. Though he had been spared most of her machinations, he had witnessed enough of her cruelty over the years to make him wary.

  Mavis placed a hand over her heart.

  “You wound me.” She appeared hurt until she grinned. Letting her hand fall to her side, she drew herself upright, and asked, “You received my son’s gift, did you not?” She purred the words.

  Teorn swallowed and tried to loosen his tongue.

  “Taytron delivered him, but it’s not much of a gift if you can’t keep it. I’m not pleased that the incident almost made a murderer of my son either.”

  “You are right, of course—on both accounts. I am sorry it has to be this way,” Mavis said, sounding regretful. “But that incident aside, I have come on further family business.”