“I think that we don’t have much of a choice,” Dhalvad said, speaking for the first time, his glance on Amet. “Not if you want what we came for.”
“Needing crystal, yes!” Gi piped up. “We help.”
Lil-el looked from Gi-Arobi to Dhalvad. “Tell me, what is so special about Davin’s crystal?”
Dhalvad opened his mouth to reply, but Amet silenced him with a touch on the shoulder. “I’ll answer that question, Healer,” he said firmly. He hesitated a moment, calculating his response, then decided that for once the truth would serve him best.
“Do you know of the Tamorlee?”
“Yes,” Lil-el replied. “My father spoke about it several times. It’s known as the Great Historian, isn’t it?”
Amet tilted his head in agreement. “That is one of its many names, yes. Do you understand what it means to gift the Tamorlee?”
“My father told me about Seekers and how they gift the Tamorlee with the knowledge they gather. Is that what you mean?”
“It is. Do you know how that is done?”
“No.”
Amet held his ringed hand out to her. “It’s accomplished through fire stone rings like this one. It’s the nature of these special crystals to absorb knowledge through those who wear them, Ni who are known as Seekers, and to gift that knowledge back to the Tamorlee through a direct link with the parent crystal.”
“And the crystal Davin carries is one of these fire stones,” Lil-el guessed.
“Yes, and we’ve been sent from Jjaan-bi to find it.”
Theon shook his head. “I’m not sure I understand all this gifting business. All I’m interested in knowing at the moment is whether or not you’re going to help us free our friends and how you three got here, and if it means there’s a way out for all of us after we rescue Gringers and the others.”
Amet shook his head before Theon could go any further. “We can’t help you with the last. The power source that carries a Seeker from one place to another isn’t strong enough to allow for passengers—” His glance touched Gi. “—unless they’re very small. I’m sorry, we may be of some help in freeing Little Fish—Davin, I mean—and your other friends, but beyond that, we can’t help you.”
Lil-el’s eyes narrowed as she read the unspoken message in Amet’s refusal of help. “You mean that once you get what you’ve come for, you’ll leave us to find our own way back over the mountains.”
Sensing that he had made a mistake, Amet corrected himself. “As a Seeker, I’ll do all within my power to help you and any who want to come to Jjaan-bi or Tre-ayjeel, though it may take time to find the best way to accomplish this. The desert to the north is unknown territory to us, but with proper planning I’m sure passage through the wasteland can be successfully negotiated. Now that we’ve found this ancient city, I’m sure that the Elders will want to know more about it and its history—” Amet’s glance touched Kelsan and one of the men who sat beyond him, a bird-footed youth whose name was Donner “—including the men and women who live here.”
“We don’t want company,” Theon snapped. “We want out! Before the Wastelanders take over!”
Dhalvad spoke up. “From what you’ve told us, these Wastelanders are men like yourself. Couldn’t you—”
“Healer, I think it would be best if you let me handle this,” Amet said, his glance belying the softness of his tone of voice.
Lil-el looked from Amet to the Healer. Amet had introduced him, but she had been so fearful of their alerting the Wastelanders that she had not paid close enough attention.
Amet turned to Theon. “If we’re to affect any kind of a rescue, we’ll have to know more about what we’re up against. Will you draw us a map of this mansion?”
Theon’s eyes met Lil-el’s as she nodded. “I have nothing to draw on,” he said, “but we can make do.” He searched for a sharp rock, found one quickly, and leaned over to brush a fine layer of cold ash from a day-old fire out onto the ground where all could see. Using his rock, he began to draw, explaining as he went along.
Lil-el looked up from the crude map and caught the Healer watching her. There was something in his look that bothered her. It was almost as if he were trying to tell her something. She frowned, and he nodded slightly.
Disconcerted, she glanced down at Theon’s map again and listened as he described the underground route into the mansion. When she looked up again, the Healer’s attention was also on the map. Had she only imagined that look? That nod? She mentally shook herself and turned her attention to Theon as he went on to describe the inside of the main building and the rooms in which the Wastelanders would most likely hold their hostages.
Time slipped by as Amet asked questions. Several times he drew Paa-tol into the conversation, asking his advice on a possible counterattack. Paa-tol was an excellent tactician. He had studied the histories of the early border wars between men and Ni and had worked on many a plan for repulsing and destroying an opposing force should anyone ever again try to invade Ni territory. Part of those plans included tactics in subterfuge when dealing with small numbers outwitting larger numbers.
“In this case I believe it’s all a matter of distracting the enemy and moving in where they least expect it,” Paa-tol said. He glanced at Amet. “Give me the rest of the night to think things over, and I’ll have a plan that should work.”
Amet nodded and stood up to stretch. “You have tonight and tomorrow, There’s no sense in trying anything in broad daylight.”
Lil-el also rose. “Are any of you hungry? We haven’t much food, but we’d be glad to share what we have.”
“We have food of our own,” Amet replied, inclining his head. “But I thank you for your kindness in asking.”
Lil-el glanced at Dhalvad as he stood up, the olvaar riding his shoulder. She turned back to Amet, somehow sensing that it was to him all petitions must be made. “There are several among us who were wounded during the attack or after. May we ask your Healer to look at them?”
Amet hesitated, then nodded. “Certainly. Paa-tol, go with them in case they need any help.”
Dhalvad knew why Amet wanted Paa-tol along, but other than denouncing them both outright, he could do nothing. “How many are hurt?” he asked Lil-el.
“Kelsan’s son is the worst. Come. I’ll show you the way.” Lil-el picked up a burning branch from the fire and moved off into the shadows. Dhalvad and Paa-tol followed. Kelsan and Theon also came along, Kelsan muttering to himself about strange physicians.
A few minutes later they reached an inner section of the caves where twenty-five of the remaining citizens of Barl-gan lay sleeping. Some woke as the newcomers moved in among them; others never stirred.
Lil-el led Dhalvad and the others to the right where all the wounded were being tended. A small fire lighted that section of the cavern; it was tended by a splay-footed youth of fourteen years. Dark, feral eyes watched them as they approached. The boy moved back away from the fire as the strangers entered the circle of light.
“It’s all right, Lemul,” Lil-el said softly. “These people are friends. They’ve come to help us.”
As Dhalvad moved around to one side, he glanced at Lil-el. He would try to warn her about Amet and Paa-tol when he dared. Meanwhile, he knelt beside the wounded man nearest him, then one by one checked them all. Four needed little more than a few minutes of his time and would probably heal fine without his aid; two others had more serious wounds, though neither was what he would call life-threatening.
Lemul moved in closer as Dhalvad knelt by his father, Jothan, and placed a hand on his forehead. Dhalvad looked up as he caught the movement and read the apprehension in the boy’s eyes.
“I won’t hurt him,” he told the boy. “I promise.”
“What are you going to do?” Kelsan demanded, eyes narrowed in distrust.
“He’s a Healer, Kelsan,” Lil-el explained carefully. “His touch is the most wondrous of all Ni gifts. Watch and see.” Lil-el glanced at Dhalvad and nodded to him to b
egin.
Assured that no one would do anything foolish to interfere with the healing, Dhalvad placed his left hand on Jothan’s forehead while his right hand hovered within a fingerspan of Jothan’s chest. He closed his eyes and quickly dropped into a Healer’s trance, his awareness slipping into the body beneath his hands as easily as a diving bird plummeted into water after a fish.
Dhalvad clearly saw that Jothan’s bodily structure was not as it should be, but the changes one would have to make were more than any Healer had the right to make; he knew that intuitively. Perhaps in the womb one could change such cell structure, but not in adulthood. The man would have to live as he had been born, his malformed joints forever making it difficult for him to move freely. No, the body and its misshaping had come about through a natural process of inbreeding caused, most probably, by a low gene pool. Adjusting for any other differences he might find, Dhalvad went deeper into the body, seeking the pain that revealed itself to him by a glowing haze of red color. Because he shared the pain of the body beneath his hands, he first dulled the pain center in Jothan’s brain, then set to work rebuilding the layers of muscle and skin that had been damaged by a Wastelander’s draak-toothed lance. The wound was near the right lung. Had it been any closer to the center of the body, Jothan would not have survived the initial wound.
Dhalvad dove deeply within himself and drew upon the energy that was as natural a part of him as his breath. Picturing the body whole beneath his hands, he directed that energy to seal the layers of flesh by causing cell regeneration to accelerate.
Once satisfied with the work done, he drew back inside himself and pushed at the black curtain surrounding him. He had learned from other Healers in Jjaan-bi that it was possible to banish fatigue caused by wielding nature’s energy—but only for a while. Once, twice, three times one might push aside the need for rest, but eventually it would catch up with the body and no amount of denying would cancel the inevitable.
Lil-el watched patient and Healer with avid curiosity. She had heard about Healers but had never met one. The last two Healers living in the swamplands of Amla-Bagor with the rafters had vanished when she was still a child, escaping into the northlands where they would be safe from the Sarissa War. How different her life might have been, she thought, if her parents had been able to escape also. But then she never would have met Bhaldavin, or known the friendship of such men as Gringers, and even Theon. Her thoughts on that subject slipped away as the Healer stirred and lifted his head. His crystal-gray eyes focused on her, and he drew a deep breath.
Lil-el looked down at Jothan and saw that his eyes were closed and that he was breathing easier. She watched as Kelsan quickly inspected the wound—to find nothing but a bruise and a small crusted spot of dried blood. There was awe on Kelsan’s face as he sat back and looked at Dhalvad. “How did you do it?”
Dhalvad smiled. “It’s a gift I was born with. I can’t explain. The man will sleep soundly for some time. Let him. He’ll be fine when he wakes.”
Lemul was staring at Dhalvad, his eyes misting with tears. Lil-el took his hand and squeezed it. “Your father will be fine. Stay with him.”
Theon stepped back as Dhalvad got up and moved over beside Gils Watcher. He muttered something about miracle workers and followed Kelsan as the old man went to kneel beside his son. As Dhalvad made himself comfortable, Kelsan drew a crude dressing from Gils’s left side.
“Be careful not to tire yourself, Healer,” Paa-tol cautioned as Dhalvad reached out to touch Gils’s forehead. “There’s no telling whether or not we’ll need your gift tomorrow.”
“I know my limits, Paa-tol,” Dhalvad said, carefully guarding his tone of voice. “Why don’t you go back to Amet and leave me to do what I can here?”
“I’m all right where I am,” Paa-tol replied.
Lil-el frowned at the undercurrent of dislike she heard in both voices and wondered at its cause.
Gils opened his eyes and started to sit up, then winced and grabbed his side, dropping back to the cavern floor. Dhalvad read the blaze of fear in the man’s eyes at the sight of strangers and glanced at Kelsan, silently asking for his aid.
Kelsan leaned over his son and spoke calmly, explaining the situation in as few words as possible. When finished, he took Gils’s hand and held it gently. “There’s no need to be afraid, son. I’ll be right here to see that nothing happens to you.”
Gils glanced up at Dhalvad. His tongue darted out to brush dry lips, and he swallowed noisily, but he did not pull away as Dhalvad reached out toward his forehead.
There followed a few seconds of uneasiness as a strange feeling stole over him, a warmth that spread from the top of his head down his spine and into the rest of his body; then fear and anxiety slipped away as easily as water through cupped hands, to be replaced by a languid, floating sensation that eased the ache in his side and left him breathing easier. He thought he closed his eyes and slept. He dreamed of a green-haired man who smiled at his childlike innocence and who offered him a kind of deep kindredlike friendship that he had never known before. He dreamed that he said yes to that offer, the words clear in his ears instead of the garbled sounds he usually made.
Suddenly the green-haired man’s voice changed with warning. “Don’t trust Amet or Paa-tol! They force me to be here against my will. They hold my family hostage. Don’t trust them!”
Lil-el saw the Healer’s sudden frown of concentration and leaned closer. The look on his face at that moment reminded her of someone else. She shook her head slightly, then suddenly it dawned on her. The Healer looked a little bit like Finnar, her oldest son, who closely resembled his father in many ways. The flickering firelight and the tilt of the Healer’s head made comparison difficult; still there was a definite resemblance.
She glanced up at Paa-tol, who was watching everything closely. What name had they given the Healer? She tried to remember but could not. She looked back at the Healer just as his head lifted. His eyes were clouded with fatigue, but somehow he found the strength to smile at Kelsan.
“Your son will be fine,” he said, then abruptly keeled over.
Lil-el could not move fast enough, but Paa-tol made up for her slowness and caught Dhalvad by the shoulders and gently laid him down.
“Is he all right?” Lil-el asked, worried by the Healer’s sudden collapse.
“He’s exhausted, that’s all,” Paa-tol said as he reached under Dhalvad’s back and legs to lift him into his arms. “I’ll take him with me and see that he’s made comfortable. A night’s rest and he’ll be fine.”
Lil-el stood up as Paa-tol readjusted Dhalvad in his arms. “Pardon me,” she said, “but I don’t remember the Healer’s name. What is it?”
“Dhalvad,” Paa-tol replied, stepping around the fire with his burden.
“Lemul,” Kelsan ordered. “Light his way.”
“I’d heard about Ni Healers,” Theon murmured as Paa-tol carried Dhalvad out of sight, “but I never thought to see one in action. It’s amazing. Just think of the kind of money you could make with such power!”
Lil-el heard but ignored Theon’s comments, her thoughts elsewhere. Several times Bhaldavin had spoken to her about a younger brother named Dhalvad, about someday returning to the Deep to try to find him. The name Dhalvad was common enough, but what about the resemblance? It can’t be him, she thought. It just can’t.
Chapter 16
BHALDAVIN SCRAMBLED TO his feet as the door to the room swung open. He stood with his hand held slightly behind him. The windowless room that served as his prison was small and unfurnished, one of those belowground that had upon occasion served as a storage room for food harvested at the beginning of the cold season. Dirt, old sacks, and the dried outer husks of last year’s crop of mailin lay scattered over the floor. To his left lay an old broken barrel, its wooden slats crushed and strewn about.
His heartbeat raced when he saw Sola standing in the doorway. He was not sure how long he had been imprisoned in the room, but judging from hung
er and bodily functions, he knew it was not much longer than a day.
“You’re wanted, Green Hair,” Sola said, motioning him toward the doorway.
“I want to know where my daughter is,” Bhaldavin demanded loudly. “And the others you’ve taken!”
“The others are working under Zojac already,” Sola answered. “As for your daughter, she’s in a room where no one will disturb her, no one but me, that is—when I’ve the time.”
Anger churned in Bhaldavin’s stomach when he saw the look on Sola’s face. He knew the man was baiting him, but his fear for Thura’s safety had begun to eat into what common sense he had left.
“If you harm her…”
“You’ll what?” Sola snapped. “Kill me?” He shook his head. “No, I think not. You’d be a fool to even try to…” His words trailed off as he caught sight of the wood slat Bhaldavin clutched in his hand. A cruel smile touched his lips when he read the look of desperation in Bhaldavin’s eyes.
“Another lesson, is it? I would’ve thought you’d have had enough of me.” Sola spread his feet slightly and clenched his fists, his smile disappearing. “Put the wood down, Green Hair, and come along quietly, or I’ll gladly give you what you’re begging for.”
Bhaldavin actually looked past Sola to the open doorway, gauging his chances.
“Do as I tell you!” Sola bellowed. “Now!”
Bhaldavin flinched at the loud command, then slowly lowered the slat, sanity returning. He could not help Thura if he was dead, and dead he would be if Sola ever used his hands on him again.
Sola straightened from his fighting stance as the board clunked to the floor. Shaking his head in disgust, he stepped forward and grabbed Bhaldavin’s arm. “Cowards, all of you,” he muttered. “Had we known, we could’ve taken this place years ago!”
Bhaldavin just managed to fend himself off from the edge of the door as Sola propelled him violently forward. The door banged against the wall and swung back, catching Sola in the leg. Bhaldavin heard the man’s grunt of pain, glanced back, saw his chance, and darted into the hall.
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