‘I see.’ Brydian sounded less than impressed. ‘Since you’re here, take a look at Esten and tell me what you would recommend.’
There was no point in being offended. In fact, Scia had far more practical experience as a healer than I did; she had exaggerated my capabilities. She spoke to Esten quietly, peered into his eyes, touched his brow and asked him where the pain was worst. She examined the contents of the bowl into which he had vomited. She asked the same question I had, and received the same answer.
‘Ellida can make up an infusion to relieve Esten’s pain and allow him a good sleep,’ Scia said. ‘He’d be best staying here awhile so she can keep an eye on him and make sure he is not disturbed. And when Master Toleg returns he can see him straight away.’
There was a brief silence.
‘Very well, Scia, you can go. You,’ Brydian jerked his head in my direction, ‘do what you have to do, and keep your questions to yourself, understood? You’ll remain in the infirmary until Master Toleg is back.’
‘Yes, Master Brydian. Of course . . .’ I hesitated.
‘What?’
‘There are some questions a healer must ask her patient, those that relate to the symptoms and the duration of his ailment. I understand the need for discretion.’
‘Make sure you do.’ Scia had departed, but Brydian made no move to follow her. I wondered if he planned to stand there watching me all day. Flint had said the councillor had a canny gift; that he could protect Esten from attack. Perhaps he never let the Caller out of his sight. ‘This is not just any patient,’ Brydian went on. ‘Esten must be restored to himself as quickly as possible. We need him. The king needs him.’
‘Yes, Master Brydian.’ I was helping Esten to a pallet, finding an extra pillow. He hardly had the strength to set one foot before the other.
‘One more thing. Any potion you dose him with is to be tasted first.’
I straightened, momentarily unable to guard my features. There was a drug in Toleg’s locked cupboard that would kill Esten quickly, and its effects might possibly be taken as a sudden worsening of his current illness. Oh, so easy. But the risk was too high; I’d likely be dead myself before nightfall if I tried it. Besides, it felt wrong. It felt as wrong as coming here to court had felt right, and still did, despite my failure to speak to the Good Folk.
‘I can’t stay here all day, I have matters to attend to,’ Brydian said crisply. ‘I’ll leave a guard at the door; Osgar will be your taster.’
‘Very well.’
‘I hope you will recover quickly, Esten. Young woman, make sure I’m informed the moment Toleg returns.’
‘Yes, Master Brydian.’
The door closed behind him and I let out my breath. Esten lay prone on the pallet with one arm up over his eyes. I fetched a stool and sat down beside him.
‘I will start making the infusion soon,’ I said quietly. ‘It won’t take long. But first I need to ask you some questions. This headache – is it troubling you all the time? Is your sight affected?’
‘My sight . . . Yes, sometimes. A dizziness; spots dancing before my eyes. Once or twice I have fainted. And I can’t sleep. When I do it’s all nightmares, and I wake in a cold sweat. I’m so tired . . . Sometimes I think I will die of the pain . . .’
‘When did the headaches begin?’
‘I . . . I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that.’
‘If I’m to help you, you’ll need to give me some answers. I promise you, nothing you say will go beyond these four walls.’ A lie, almost certainly; I hated myself for it even as I knew fate had delivered me a gift today – not the opportunity to kill this man, but the chance to hear him talk, away from his minder.
‘They started on the journey north. When I was required to . . . to do certain things. You know, I suppose, that I am a Caller.’
‘I do know, though I’m not exactly sure what that means. I’ve heard you are able to control those strange creatures that are being trained here.’ After a moment I added, ‘I imagine that is difficult. Tiring.’
He made no reply.
‘I’ll go through into the stillroom now and fetch what I need for the infusion. The sooner you take it, the longer you’ll be able to sleep before Toleg comes back.’
‘Sleep . . . I have almost forgotten what a dreamless sleep is like. Will this really work? Can you really make the pain go away?’
‘For a while, at least. I’ll do my best.’
I wondered, as I measured out the ingredients for the draught, taking extra care lest an honest error should made me a target for Brydian’s wrath, why it had not occurred to Esten to use his skill to his own advantage. I’d seen him growing sicker and more exhausted night by night as he took his place at the supper table. Brydian was always there, always close, controlling whom his Caller spoke to and who spoke to him. And, of course, protecting him from attack. It surprised me that Brydian had been prepared to leave his charge here with me, even with a guard on the door. The councillor’s manner was not that of guardian to precious charge, or of senior courtier to junior, or of mentor to student. It was more like that of jailer to valuable prisoner. Esten was being manipulated, he was being worked to exhaustion, he was being made ill by their demands on him. And he, meek-mannered and quiet, was simply going along with it. Yet he possessed a bargaining tool second to none.
When I went back into the infirmary with the draught in a cup, he was sitting up on the pallet. The febrile glitter in his eyes was troubling. This man desperately needed sleep; I hoped I had made the infusion strong enough.
‘You could say no,’ I suggested quietly. ‘You might have done that long ago, before this made you so ill.’
He stared at me. I had shocked him.
‘If you go on like this, it will kill you,’ I said. ‘That is my informed opinion as a healer. I think Master Toleg will tell you the same.’
‘You don’t know what you are saying,’ Esten whispered. ‘Refuse an order from the king’s representative? How could I do that?’
I wanted to tell him, with a lot of courage, but I had already said too much. If he chose to report this conversation to Brydian I would have to say he’d been in a feverish dream and imagined it. ‘Here, drink this.’
He was raising the cup to his lips when I remembered the taster and snatched it from his hands. ‘Not yet, sorry.’
The guard, Osgar, was tall and broad, with yellow hair in plaits and a beard to match. He sipped the brew uncomplaining, then wiped his lips with the back of a large hand. ‘Can’t say I care much for the taste, but it hasn’t killed me. How about a proper brew later on? You’re Morven’s wife, aren’t you?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Good fellow, Morven. Quick on his feet. You must be missing him.’
‘I am. Now I must give this to my patient.’ I was turning away when I realised I had been presented with another opportunity. ‘As for a brew, if I manage to get him off to sleep I’ll make something more palatable. Long day for you.’
‘This? It’s an easy duty, lassie. What’s your name?’
‘Ellida. Yes, I suppose by comparison it is.’
While Esten slept, Osgar and I enjoyed a brew and shared the food Toleg had forgotten to eat at breakfast time. Osgar would not sit down, but I persuaded him to move a bench close to the door he was supposed to be guarding, and I sat there while he leaned on the wall beside me. He did not forget his job; I could see how he watched the hallway outside, through the part-open door.
We spoke in lowered voices, mindful both of the sleeping man and – in my case, anyway – of the possible return of Brydian.
‘Good brew. Reminds me of one my mother used to make.’
‘It’s simple enough. Mostly mint and honey.’
Osgar glanced over toward the pallet where Esten lay still under his blanket. ‘What you gave him seems to have work
ed. Sleeping like a babe.’
‘Mm.’ Here was another Enforcer like Rohan, outwardly the kind of man anyone would want as a friend. I must not for a moment forget what he was and where his allegiance must lie. ‘I suppose they all work hard. Morven too.’
‘Our leaders keep us up to the mark, yes.’
‘You’re from Wolf Troop, aren’t you? I’ve seen you and some of your comrades in the hall at meals. But not Stag Troop – isn’t that the one Rohan Death-Blade belongs to? He accepted Morven for training and rode here with us.’
‘We’re stationed here mostly for guard duty. But there’s an extra job on now; big need for training. Both troops are busy. Of course, when the court moves here it will all change again. The king likes to stir things up.’
That was an admission I had not expected. I must tread very cautiously. ‘It’s hard for me with Morven having to live separately,’ I said. ‘I mean, I did expect that might happen while he was being trained, but not that I wouldn’t see him at all. Do they ever let people go out to watch the men being put through their paces?’
Osgar grimaced. ‘Different situation right now, as I imagine you know.’ He glanced over at Esten. ‘Under more normal circumstances, the fellows might put on a display for the household from time to time, mock battle, shooting at targets – a fighter needs to learn to block out distractions such as a lady he admires sitting on the sidelines cheering him on, or a crowd of children making noise. But there’s a bigger job on here than training men for the Enforcers.’ He stuck his head out the door, looked up and down the hallway, turned back to me. ‘You’ll have had one or two of those odd folk in here with injuries to be tended to, I imagine.’
‘Not since I got here. But Toleg goes out to patch them up sometimes.’
‘The fact is, Morven and the other recruits are doing more teaching than learning now. Especially your husband. Big strong fellow, lot of skill – and he’s good with those strange folk. Not everyone has that knack.’
‘Knack?’ I could not stop myself from glancing toward Esten.
‘Not like that fellow. Just the knack of getting them to listen. Like Owen, the Stag Troop leader. Has a way of dealing with them that seems to get the best out of them. But I’m talking too much. You’ll have things to do. Don’t let me keep you from your work.’
‘There’s more of the brew, if you’d like another cup. And a few dried plums here – I don’t think Master Toleg ate any breakfast at all.’
‘Thank you, Ellida, don’t mind if I do.’
I refilled his cup, then went to the work bench to resume preparing the salve Toleg had told me to make. Osgar was right; I needed to get my duties done before Esten woke.
For some time neither of us spoke. Osgar stayed at the door, watching while I made a strong infusion of the herbs Toleg had specified, combined it with a pure oil and heated it until the mixture was a rich gold in colour and no longer steaming. I lifted the little pot off the brazier and set it on the bench to cool while I melted the beeswax to thicken the salve. Esten had not stirred. Indeed, at one point I went over to make sure he was still breathing.
‘You know,’ Osgar said, his voice held quiet, ‘there is a spot where you can get a good view of the practice yard. Most folk wouldn’t be aware of it. We know it, of course, since our job is to be familiar with every corner of the place, in case of attack. If you wanted a look at your man in action, I could show you.’
‘Really?’ I tried not to sound too excited. ‘That would be wonderful – but only if it doesn’t get me in trouble. Or you.’ I gave him a smile.
‘Not breaking any rules, as I see it. Does the old man keep you hard at work all day?’
‘He does let me out for meals. Master Toleg is the only one so wedded to his craft that he would rather eat in here. I might be free for a little in the middle of the day. Not today, of course.’
‘Tomorrow, if you like. I can come by and take you up there. Then, when you do catch up with Morven, you can surprise him with a compliment on his fine work.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘That is very kind. If you’re quite sure about not breaking rules.’
‘I wouldn’t go announcing it to all and sundry,’ Osgar said. ‘We don’t want half the household up there. I hope you’re not scared of heights.’
A powerful memory came to me, of Brollachan Brig, and Hollow holding me by one ankle as I dangled above the abyss. ‘I’ll be fine,’ I said.
Before either Brydian or Toleg came back, Esten began to wake from his sound sleep. At first it was gentle, a rolling to his side, a murmur or two, a sigh. Then, as the effects of the draught faded, a restless tossing and turning and a sequence of muttered dream-troubles. ‘No . . . I can’t . . . not again, please no . . . die, die now, quickly . . . take your hands off me! . . . ’
His ramblings were disturbing; I could have spun a tale from them, but in truth there was no guessing just what the pattern of his dreams might be. The only thing clear was that he had not slept anywhere near long enough. Could I risk dosing him again? I completed the salve, sealing it in jars. I prepared the second infusion Toleg had asked for and cleaned up after myself. Esten’s nightmares continued; I sponged his brow with cool water. There was still a cupful of the sleeping potion in the jug.
When he woke fully, the first thing he said was, ‘More. Please.’
‘The mixture is potent.’ The look in my patient’s eyes made me wish Toleg was back. ‘This is not the answer to your problem, or at least it is only a short-term answer; relief for your symptoms. What you need is . . .’ I hesitated. My position at Summerfort was crucial to the rebellion. Helping the king’s Caller get well enough to lead an army against us was not part of the plan. ‘Rest,’ I said. ‘Not drugged rest; natural rest. A man cannot go on working the way you do, day after day, without paying a price. Master Toleg will agree with me, I am certain.’
‘Please,’ he said again. His voice was ragged; his skin was clammy again. ‘Just a little.’ He gave a furtive glance toward the doorway, but Osgar had gone out into the hall. ‘They need not know. Just enough.’
‘The more you take, the less effective it will be.’
‘Please, Ellida. There’s nobody to help me.’
‘A very small dose,’ I said, weighing his distress against the risk that I might give him too much and make him worse. ‘Not enough to send you back to sleep, but sufficient to ease the pain for a while longer. I am not the chief healer here, only Toleg’s assistant, and a very new one at that.’ I fetched the jug; poured him a small measure; put the cup into his shaking hands. ‘Drink it slowly. A draught such as this must not be misused. I will not give you more than Master Toleg would recommend.’
‘Thank you,’ he whispered, passing back the empty cup. ‘If I . . . could I . . .’
‘Even once a day would be too often. You would become accustomed to it; reliant on it. The longer you used it, the harder it would be for you to stop taking it. You would find it impossible to fall asleep without its help. Master Toleg will tell you the same thing, Esten. But perhaps he can recommend something a little milder that will give you easier sleep by night without inducing a . . . need.’
Voices in the hall outside: an Enforcer named Ardon had come to relieve Osgar on the door. Ardon had brought food for us, but he was not inclined to talk. He stayed outside the half-open door and kept himself to himself. Esten did not want to eat. I made him swallow a few mouthfuls of the baked fish and some root vegetables which I mashed up as if for a baby. It was hard to believe what Flint had said: he’s more powerful than he looks.
After we had finished the meal and I had made an ordinary brew for myself and Ardon, I sat on the stool beside Esten’s pallet. He would not sleep again, and that was perhaps a good thing, since slumbering all day would give him another wakeful night.
‘Why is this so exhausting?’ I asked. ‘What you do, I mean. I don’t r
eally understand.’
A flush came to his wan cheeks. ‘Master Brydian has said that I should not speak about it,’ he said.
What now? Step back or press further? Our voices were held low, but I could not be sure Ardon was out of earshot. ‘I understand. Only . . . you seem very troubled by this. Talking about what’s wrong may help. Anything a patient says to me remains within these four walls, Esten. I promise you that.’
He sat quiet for a little, then he said, ‘How can it help?’
‘Troubles bring headaches; headaches bring sleepless nights. Talking may help you find your own solutions to your troubles.’ It was glib, and I hated myself for it.
Esten gave me a very direct look. ‘You can’t understand, or you would not ask this,’ he murmured. ‘The penalties for speaking out are . . . they’re unthinkable.’
I understood all too well. ‘This is not speaking out,’ I said. ‘It’s between you and me. Or you and Master Toleg, if you would prefer to wait for him.’
There was a long silence, during which I moved to the doorway and said to Ardon, ‘There’s a draught coming in – do you mind?’ Before he could answer, I shut the door. I went back to the bedside, sat down again, put my hands in my lap.
‘Why should I trust you?’ Esten’s eyes were full of trouble. Even after the sleep, he looked worn out.
‘Nobody in all Alban can give you an answer to that question,’ I said. ‘The best I can do is remind you that I am a healer and bound by a healer’s codes. It’s my job to find ways to help you. I think talking is one of those ways. I will understand if you don’t wish to tell me whatever it is.’
The Caller Page 24
