He gave himself a few minutes to recover, then stood in the center of the tiny room, swordless, and did the most basic of his rituals, turning without his usual grace in the small space available. The familiar motions seemed to ease the raw feeling in his mind. He thanked Jashan for his aid.
Som’ur had left no influence in his mind that he could detect—just pain. He wondered how it was for the other ku’an. He knew he dared not ask. After a few minutes, he lay down again across the chairs, put his hand across his forehead, and fell into an exhausted slumber.
Neither the rattle of the locks nor the opening of the door awakened him in the morning. He startled awake to the odor of bad breath and the sight of a looming red face a few inches away from his own. The ku’an priest peered at him.
Callo raised a hand and pushed the man back, grimacing. What a way to wake up, he thought, and after such a terrible night. He could trace the path of each of his muscles by the pain.
“He’s alive,” Wan’tal announced. “Som’ur has accepted him.”
Callo sat up, then stood. His body was one big ache, but his mind was clear. He said, “I can go now?”
“Yes, my lord. I will inform the ku’an’an of the results.” He looked at Callo. “May I say I am pleased, Lord Callo.”
There was a small commotion at the door. Chiss shoved past the two guards. He glared at them, straightening his tunic as if they had tried to restrain him.
“Chiss, I am very glad to see you this morning!”
“Lord Callo, thank the gods you are all right!” There was unaccustomed emotion in the man’s voice. “When they told me where you were, I tried to convince the Lord Ku’an’an this was a mistake. I regret I failed. Are you well?”
Callo stretched carefully. He coughed. His throat and mouth felt like sandpaper. “Very well, Chiss, considering.”
“I assume my lord may go now?” Chiss said to Wan’tal frostily. “Or must he run some other gauntlet?”
Wan’tal said, “He may go. I will send Lord Yun’lar to you if you wish, Lord Callo. He is the King’s physician.”
“No need,” Callo said. If he needed a Healer, there was one he would far rather consult. He shouldered past the curious guardsmen and walked with Chiss to his chamber. Inside, Chiss brought him wine and food. He sipped the wine, closing his eyes briefly as the tart liquid went down his abused throat. He could not remember why his throat was so sore. Had he screamed, during Som’ur’s ordeal?
Chiss moved about ordering hot water for a bath. After a while he said, “Lord Callo, shall I call Hon Kirian? You look—ill. And you have some cuts, I see.”
Callo looked down in surprise. There were indeed shallow cuts on his hands and forearms, cuts he did not remember receiving. The skin on his hands felt stretched and hot, as if singed. When he got ready for the bath, he would see what other wounds he had.
“Not now,” he said. “I need quiet. Let me see, after the bath.”
“I did not think you would survive it,” Chiss said. “I am very glad to see you well, my lord.”
“I didn’t think I’d make it through either.”
“Then—Som’ur actually came to you?”
“Oh, yes. Not gently, either.” He began to take off his tunic and winced in pain. Chiss stood at his side, helping him as if he were a boy again, needing help to undress after a tiring day.
“Are you his man then now?” Chiss stared at him, eyes narrowed.
“I am Jashan’s sworn man. But, I think—maybe Som’ur claims me also, in some way.”
* * * * *
Kirian fumed as she walked down the crowded street toward the market. She would have liked to defuse some of her tension by taking longer strides, but the long robe wrapped too tightly around her to permit such freedom of movement. Even if she could have walked faster, she was forbidden to leave Sara’Si behind.
She had never seen Sara’Si without her veil, even in the privacy of their own chamber. This veil was nothing like the ornamental affair the Queen and some of the other older women wore when there were no men present—it was so thick that Kirian wondered how the chaperone could see. She had no idea what Sara’Si looked like. Kirian also knew nothing about Sara’Si’s personality, since the other woman kept this as veiled as she did her face. She had tried to be friendly with Sara’Si when she had first arrived in Las’ash, but her overtures were met with a blank hostility Kirian did not understand. All she knew was that Ha’lasi custom required her to keep Sara’Si with her always. She had flouted that custom once, when they were newly arrived in Las’ash city. On that occasion, Lady Min’dou, one of the Queen’s ladies, sat her down for a talk about what was expected of women in the King’s court. If she could not acquiesce to this arrangement, Lady Min’dou said, she would be required to stay in the women’s quarters.
Kirian tried to acquiesce. She was a guest in this land, and bound to try to follow their customs. She could envision few things worse than being kept a virtual prisoner in a place with a lot of other women, under guard, with nothing to do.
For her first sennight in Las’ash city, Kirian held to the prescribed behavior, feeling more desperate every day. Ha’las was more restrictive than even the charity orphanage she had been raised in, which was run along strict lines. Here, she knew there were people with different customs, strange gods, and lives she knew nothing about. Here were ku’an—people in Righar scared their children into obedience with tales of the ku’an, yet the only one she had met for more than a few minutes was Lord Callo, who hardly counted, being Righan by birth after all. Here were new treatments she could learn, to broaden her Healing skills. Although she had not been impressed by the treatments they used for King Ar’ok’s breathing disease, surely there were other things she could learn from them.
She was held back, restrained, almost imprisoned. None of these things were open to her. Even Lord Yun’lar, who seemed to respect her proven healing ability, would not discuss his art with her.
In the Queen’s chambers, she met a number of other women of the court. Most were frivolous creatures, interested in nothing beyond the palace walls, as they had been raised and educated to be. But Kirian knew there were intelligent women there, too. Lady Min’dou introduced her to Lady Yas’hira, wife of one of the city lords, who impressed Kirian with her sharp wit and knowledge of the outside world, which far exceeded Kirian’s own. Another woman, the Queen’s companion, discussed Righan healing with her, and told her about the political factions that fought each other behind a screen of subservience to the ku’an. These were intelligent women, used to influencing the world from their traditional positions in the women’s quarters or in their husbands’ homes, but worthy of respect nonetheless.
Now, walking toward the market, Kirian clutched her cloak tightly about her against the cold. This was not the stained cloak she had worn berry-picking, but a new one, lined with rabbit fur, that she found in her chamber one morning. Lord Callo (or actually Chiss) had provided it when he realized how cold it was here in Las’ash city. She had thanked both of them. Recalled to her situation, Lord Callo gave her Ha’lasi coins and told her to get what she needed. She stifled her embarrassment and sent one of the servants out on a shopping excursion since she was not permitted to go herself. Then she found Lord Callo in the library and tried to return the change to him.
“What’s that?” He looked up at her, his eyes a little unfocused from prolonged reading.
“This is your money. I bought what I needed—my thanks, Lord Callo. There are several coins left.”
“Really? Out of that little I gave you?”
“Here they are. Thank you for your generosity.”
He shrugged, took the money, and put it on the table next to him. “You are welcome, of course, but I hauled you out of Righar with no chance to buy anything. It’s the least I can do.”
“You weren’t the reason I had to leave so suddenly.”
He put the book aside. His mind back to the present, he smiled up at her in suc
h a way that she caught her breath. He had that effect on her; perhaps it was a good thing she did not see him so much anymore. He said, “We have had no chance to talk. How has His Majesty been?”
“He is fine, Callo. No more attacks, for now.”
“And yourself?”
She shrugged, looking away from him. His brows drew together in a slight frown.
“Kirian? Is all well?”
“Nothing is wrong. It’s just—there’s nothing to do. It’s terribly boring.”
“Boring?” He looked surprised. “But there’s a city to explore. People to heal, I am sure.”
“Perhaps you have not noticed how it is for the women here at the palace, my lord.” It would be just like a nobleman, in fact, to be blind to the situations of everyone but himself. She must not forget that Callo was a nobleman, and thus self-centered. Though she had to give him credit: he was most generous with his money. And he had brought her here in the first place, at her urging, against his own wishes.
“The women here?” He glanced at Sara’Si, a shadow near the door. “Of course I have. They can’t do anything on their own. It’s a terrible waste. But what has that to do with you?”
She stared at him. “What do you mean, what has that to do with me?”
He stood up, gestured her to the chair he had been sitting in, the only chair in the room. “Why do you need to keep the Ha’lasi custom?”
She remained standing. “I would much rather not keep the custom! My lord, I have been told it is a religious matter, and I may not flout it without severe consequences.”
“Oh, the chaperone, yes.” He bowed towards Sara’Si. “Of course. But why can’t you take her with you? Go learn from their Healers, explore the city, whatever. You’d best take a couple of guards along, though. Maybe Chiss will go as well. Parts of this city are dangerous.”
“My lord, I have no status to request such a thing. Lady Min’dou would never relay such a request from me. I have tried. I am pretty much stuck here.”
He was getting upset. He began pacing, the frown deepening between his brows. “I did not realize you were sitting here bored out of your mind. I can’t imagine you cooped up—well, enough. What have you been doing for the past sennight?”
She sighed. “Nothing, Lord Callo.”
“What do you mean, nothing?”
“Exactly that. I have been forbidden to leave the palace in case His Majesty needs me. I cannot explore the palace itself, because I am informed there are soldiers here and other rough men, and a respectable woman cannot be seen near them. I cannot—oh, gods, I won’t go through it all. It is enough to say I am cooped up like a chicken. And guarded, too, my lord.”
She could see the tension in his shoulders. “Chiss has said nothing to me of this.”
“I have not mentioned it to Chiss.”
“Or to me. Why did you not come to me for help? Perhaps a request from me will meet with more cooperation.”
“You have been occupied.” She had seen Callo at meals and around the palace occasionally. He had asked after her welfare, and sent Chiss to ask what she needed. But the easy familiarity they had enjoyed on the Fortune had faded a little, due to her forced seclusion. Also, he had been closeted with the ku’an’an, or training in the practice ring, or studying in the extensive palace library, and who knew where else. He was taken up with the questions that had brought him here. She had not wanted to disturb him with such a trivial thing. She said so now.
“It’s not trivial!” He glared at her. “You are a virtual prisoner here. This is not what I agreed with the ku’an’an. I will see him.”
“I think he will tell you the affairs of the palace’s women are not his concern. It is Lady Min’dou, or perhaps the Queen, who rules us. I doubt she is susceptible to demands from foreign supplicants like ourselves.” She was pleased, though, by his willingness to act on her behalf.
“I don’t care whose concern they are! You are not a hostage. You are to be given your freedom, as long as you agree to a chaperone. I will see the Lord Ku’an’an now. You, Sara’Si! If Hon Kirian wants to visit the city tomorrow, you will accompany her, is that clear?”
Kirian had noted before Sara’Si’s reluctance to gainsay Lord Callo when he was annoyed. The woman simply bowed, but later in Kirian’s chamber she made her opinions heard about how a male, even if he were a ku’an, had no say in the life of a woman he was not married to.
Nevertheless, it had worked. Faced with an irate Lord Callo, the ku’an’an did what he needed to do to make sure Kirian was allowed freedoms not typically permitted women in Las’ash city. The very next day, she was allowed to go to the city’s market with several other women of the palace and three chaperones. She walked along the wide aisles, her cloak wrapped about her, and enjoyed the sights and sounds of the city. The day after that, she discovered the hospital.
Kirian approached the market, Sara’Si lagging behind her. In spite of the general poverty of the city residents, the market was full of noise and life. The place was enclosed in canvas and heated with small braziers in the vendors’ stalls. The market sold flowers, vegetables, and fresh meat in the summer. Now, in winter, it held baked goods stalls, sellers of pins and needles and used, mended pots and pans; as well as a weaver, candlemaker and other craftspeople. There was a furniture maker with chairs and cradles stacked along the sides of his space, sawdust coating the ground. It was a crowded, loud place. Exploring on that first visit, with Sara’Si’s gloomy shadow behind her, Kirian had ducked out of the market proper and, following a group of women and children, had found the hospital. It had now been three sennights since she had discovered the hospital. She walked in to talk with the midwife who ran it and made arrangements with her to start working there, thus allowing herself to fulfill her Healer’s oath as well as to fill the hours.
The hospital was in an abandoned shop; the midwife had divided it into rooms by using cloth and canvas. The place admitted only women and children. Two heavyset men guarded the place; Kirian later learned they were eunuchs. The midwife ran the hospital with strict propriety. Kirian had tried to get Sara’Si to leave her at the hospital for a candlemark or two, but the chaperone refused. Instead, she stayed in the hallway, seated on a bench with the people waiting to see a healer, a silent and watchful presence.
Kirian went into the hospital and greeted the midwife. Jhan’ko was a round, middle-aged women with early wrinkles in her parchment-fair skin. She looked like a shopkeeper’s wife in her white sash and veil, and that is indeed what she had been until her husband’s death had left her childless, financially well-off, and bored with the shop and her occasional midwifery. Jhan’ko took advantage of the relative freedom afforded a widow to start this hospital for women and children. Still, she was accompanied to the place each day by a chaperone and her eunuch guardsmen.
Kirian went into one of the makeshift rooms and waited. Jhan’ko’s chaperone started sending people in. Kirian left her veil on. In Healer’s College she had been taught always to make eye contact with her patients, but here in Ha’las an unveiled woman made people nervous. So she tried to use her voice to put them at ease.
In her time here, she had seen babies with ear pain and colic, the babies crying, and the young mothers exhausted and needful of reassurance. Sometimes a patient complained of menstrual pain, or an inflammation of the throat that lasted for weeks, or of a cold—the same maladies that plagued women in Righar. One grinning girl of about seven came in with a broken arm, and watched the setting and splinting procedure with great interest. Kirian wished the child would not have to don the veil in a few years when she reached puberty.
She also treated a woman who had been battered around the face, and another who had blood in her urine, the result of a severe beating by her male protector. These cases made her furious at how helpless women were in this land. After she treated them, Jhan’ko calmed her down and warned her against reporting the cases. “It will only cause them worse trouble,” the midwife said.
Kirian bowed to the other woman’s knowledge of her own culture. “I wish I could help them, though.”
Jhan’ko placed her plump hand over Kirian’s. “You are. We have been treating many more women here, since you began to help me. They know we have a real Healer here now—an even better one than they have up at the palace.”
“Oh, I’m sure the nobility have excellent physicians,” Kirian said, though she remembered Lord Yun’lar burning rose leaves in the King’s room and wondered.
Jhan’ko shook her head. Her white veil rustled as it moved against her rough-textured robe. “No. I have heard stories about the Healers in Righar. You are trained in a college, for years, and you serve an apprenticeship, is that not so? And you can call upon a god to heal through your hands.”
“There is no god that heals through us. We are human, and have no godly help. As for the rest, though—the Healer’s College is the best in the world.”
Jhan’ko sighed. “I wish I were only young enough and rich enough to attend there. Is your family very rich, to pay for you to learn at such a place?”
Kirian smiled. “No, Hon Jhan’ko. I was a charity student. The Healer’s College is required to take one in, every two years, according to the rules set by the noble who funded the College many years ago. I lived in a house for orphans before that. The Unknown God was looking out for me the day they chose me.”
“I can see why they chose you. You have something I have not seen in our physicians here. It is not just your knowledge, Hon Kirian—though it is good to know of the herbs and the way the body is put together. You have something more. It is why the line in front of this place stretches back to the marketplace even now.”
Color Mage (Book 1) Page 18
