The Caller

by Juliet Marillier

  When everyone was gone, I sat for a little while staring across the empty chamber. I had seldom felt so exhausted. The place was eerily quiet. But this did not feel like peace; it felt like the calm before the storm.

  I made myself get up. Work to be done; a man’s life to be saved. In the back of my mind, as I fetched what I needed from Toleg’s locked cupboard, was my dream of Flint behind the bars, his hand close to mine, his voice drained of hope. Would that be today? And if he had indeed become that shadow of himself, half-blind, how could he be called upon to practise his demanding craft?

  Much hangs in the balance here, the king had said. If Flint proved incapable of curing Ruarc, might my impulsive request spell death not only for the sick man but for the rebellion as well? What if Keldec had me culled, not for my canny skill, but simply for poor judgement? Tali would think this was a mistake. Whether Ruarc lived or died had nothing to do with the cause.

  But this felt right. Just as the White Lady had shown me the one-in-all, Ruarc’s plight was showing me the all-in-one. I had seen how patiently the Bull Troop men tended to their damaged comrade. Yes, they were the same Enforcers who rode from Summerfort every autumn to carry out the Cull; they were the same men who hammered down doors and torched buildings and put folk to the sword. Ruarc, too, must have done that. Perhaps some of them enjoyed the power, the excitement, the status their work for the king provided. Some doubtless performed those duties without question, simply because that was their job. But they were not evil men. I had seen their courage, their forbearance, their generosity of spirit. Whatever lay in their past, at heart each was the man the old song spoke of: I am the warrior, sword in hand. Yes, even poor damaged Ruarc. Saving him was the same as saving Alban.

  I set out the components for Oblivion on the work table. The formula was not complex, but it was important to make no errors in the measurement. Before he left, Toleg had made me promise to check everything twice, no matter how busy I might be. I was fortunate; nobody disturbed me until I had the mixture ready in a corked jar and the bench clean and tidy. When the knock on the door did come, it was Rohan Death-Blade. He entered and slid the bolt shut.

  ‘The draught is ready,’ I said. I was tense again, not knowing if this was a time for the revelation of perilous secrets. ‘Will you take it down to him?’

  Rohan did not answer. He came to sit by me on a bench, elbows on knees, hands clasped, looking at the flagstoned floor.

  ‘Rohan,’ I said, ‘was there something you wanted to ask me?’

  He looked up. Like Flint, he was good at masking his expression. Rohan’s face had a naturally guileless air, and it was not hard to imagine him in a different kind of life, as a craftsman, a trader, a farmer, with a loving family and honest work for his hands. He was not a man who fitted the trappings of an Enforcer.

  ‘A simple request.’ His voice was held quiet, though there was a locked door between us and the nearest guard. ‘Owen has had a look at Ruarc and spoken to Toleg about him. He’s fairly sure the healing can’t be completed in one night’s work. So he’ll be needing you to make up the draught three days in a row. Possibly longer.’

  I waited, sensing there was more to come.

  ‘Can you make a double dose each time? Without anyone else knowing, I mean?’

  I stared at him. ‘You do know how dangerous Oblivion can be if not administered correctly.’

  ‘I’ve assisted Owen more than once in an enthralment. Yes, I know.’

  What in the name of the gods was this? A trap, designed to see me lose my position as Toleg’s assistant and perhaps my place at court? Or something quite different? ‘Can you explain why?’

  ‘Best if you don’t know that.’

  ‘Then how can I do it, when I know a double dose could kill a man?’

  ‘Does it help if I say nobody’s getting a double dose?’

  So he planned to drug not only Ruarc, but someone else as well. Why would that need to be secret?

  ‘When you say nobody else should know, does that include Toleg? Scia?’

  ‘It does.’ My doubt must have been plain on my face, for he added, ‘I’m acting on Owen Swift-Sword’s instructions.’

  Black Crow save us. This was perilous indeed. Could their target be Esten? But no. With Ruarc needing one dose a day, Rohan’s request would not provide them with sufficient Oblivion to do more than put one more man to sleep for a night. The draught did not keep for long enough to be used in any other way. Besides, he’d said nobody would get a double dose.

  ‘Very well, I’ll do as you ask. You’ll need to fetch it yourself. You realise how much trouble this could cause for me if it became known.’

  ‘High stakes,’ Rohan said. ‘For all of us.’

  ‘You’ll be wanting to take the fresh draught for Ruarc; it’s here.’

  ‘Ah. Owen’s asked that you bring it down yourself; he thinks both you and Toleg need to be present. We’ll leave two men on duty here; one of them can come and fetch you if there’s a patient needing urgent attention. It’s nearly supper time. Shouldn’t be too much call for your services now.’

  Flint had asked for me. For a moment that was all I could think of. Somewhere inside me, I felt the flickering of a tiny flame, hope in the darkness; my heart grew warmer.

  ‘One more thing.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘A simple poultice for the eyes; Toleg said you’d know how to make it. Something that’ll soothe inflammation quickly. Wants you to prepare it and bring it with you now. I’ll organise the guards while you’re doing that, then I’ll escort you down there.’

  ‘For –’ I stopped myself just in time.

  ‘For Owen. Sustained some damage when they put him in there. Seems to think he can still do the job, but Toleg says he needs this first. Maybe each night. You’ll be busy, Ellida.’

  ‘I’m always busy.’ I managed a smile, though my voice was shaking. ‘If I prepare a poultice now, it’ll have cooled too much by the time I can apply it. Is there a brazier down there?’

  A grim smile. ‘There is.’

  ‘Then I’ll get the components ready and make the poultice when we get there.’

  Lacking a ready supply of fresh leaves, I powdered dry ones and mixed them to a paste with a little hot water. I found clean bandages and rolled them; packed everything in a basket. Curse the need to do this in such haste! If there’d been time to go up into the woods, I’d have been able to gather several herbs whose juices were effective in eye drops. I could have made a tincture of rue, with honey to keep it fresh. I could have . . . Never mind. The best I could do right now was make this basic cure with as much love as I had in me, and hope Flint’s eyes were not as badly hurt as my dream had suggested.

  By the time Rohan came back I was ready: a picture of calm efficiency with a fresh apron over my gown, my hair tidily covered by a clean kerchief and my basket on my arm. Underneath, a whirl of emotions, a stomach tight with anxiety, a heart yearning to see my man again, yet dreading what I would find.

  We went into a part of the keep I had not visited before, along past the men’s quarters, through an unobtrusive doorway and down a set of stone steps to a level that must be underground. Then along a narrow passageway illuminated by oil lamps hung high on the stone walls. It was a place to conjure nightmares even in a man whose mind was healthy and whole. The air was heavy with fumes from the lamps, and shadows clung to the corners.

  The passageway came to an end before a formidable door with enough iron reinforcements to keep a giant in. There was a small square window set into the door at a man’s eye level, and Rohan stepped up to it. ‘Brocc! Rohan Death-Blade. I’ve brought Toleg’s assistant.’

  A big Enforcer came to let us in. My heart was hammering now. I failed to summon any of the techniques I had been taught for staying calm. Inside the door was a guard post with a heavy wooden table, a couple of benches, a
shelf bed with folded blankets. A tray with the remnants of a meal; a jug and several cups. A brazier in the corner, well shielded – in a place set so deep, a fire out of control would be truly disastrous. A tiny barred window up near the roof. Outside, the light was fading.

  Rohan introduced us. ‘Brocc of Wolf Troop, who’s the head guard here. Ellida, the other healer. Ellida needs to make up a poultice for Owen’s eyes. The brazier, some water – anything else you need?’

  ‘A kettle, if you have one. But I should look at his eyes first. Where is Toleg?’

  ‘Down the end with the others,’ Brocc said. ‘Follow me.’

  There were four cells on either side of the central walkway, each with its own barred door. The place was cold. Nobody in the first pair of cells, the second, the third. My heart beat faster, wondering when the dream would come true, and I would see Flint on the other side of the bars, looking like death.

  It did not happen. We reached the last pair of cells, and the doors of both were wide open. In the cell on the left, Ruarc was lying on a pallet, covered by a blanket. He had his eyes open, but was mercifully quiet. One of his comrades was on a stool beside him and the other stood nearby. And in the cell on the right, a group of men stood in consultation: Toleg, Galany of Bull Troop, and a Stag Troop man I knew as Tallis. And, seated on the edge of another pallet, Flint. Flint not in Enforcer black, but in an assortment of ill-fitting garments that might have belonged to a scullion or groom. Flint with bruising to the face and neck, and great dark shadows around his reddened eyes.

  Calm, Neryn. A moment, that was all I had before they saw me; a moment to remind myself that to Toleg and Galany, to Brocc, perhaps even to Rohan, I was no more than a healer’s assistant who happened to have seized a chance for Ruarc. That Owen Swift-Sword and I were almost strangers to each other.

  ‘Here,’ said Brocc, and headed back to the guard post.

  Flint looked up. I clamped a tight control on the part of me that wanted to rush forward and embrace him; to erase the lost look from his face in any way I could.

  I summoned a polite smile. ‘I’ve brought the draught you asked for, Master Toleg. And the makings of the poultice. I’ll put it together at the guard post. Perhaps I could have a look at Owen’s eyes before I go ahead with that. An opportunity to learn.’ Toleg would have checked thoroughly before he requested the poultice, and compared with him I was a beginner.

  ‘Bring the lamp closer, Galany,’ Toleg said. ‘Put it on the bench there, yes, that’s right. And you fellows can move out to give Ellida and me room. Owen, lie down again.’

  I sat on the stool beside the pallet, hoping I was doing a little better at shielding my expression than Flint was – he looked at me as if I were an impossible dream, something longed for that could never be obtained. As a man dying of thirst imagines fresh water; as a lost child imagines home and family. I laid my hand on his arm, felt how tightly wound he was, and wondered how he could possibly help Ruarc when he so badly needed help himself.

  ‘I can’t see you very well,’ he said in a whisper. ‘Didn’t I meet you once? The day Rohan came here . . .’

  ‘I’m Ellida, wife of Morven, one of your trainee Enforcers,’ I said, keeping my voice steady. ‘Tell me what you can see. Is everything blurred? Dark? Is one eye worse than the other?’ Toleg would already have asked all these questions and more. I was wasting time. But to be so close, to be able to touch him, to hear his voice . . . I would hold on to this gift while I could. This might be the last time we saw each other.

  I touched my fingers to his wrist, feeling for the beating of the blood. I bent closer, looking into his eyes. The steadfast, clear grey was surrounded by angry red. He wore a strange mask of bruises.

  ‘Hazy,’ Flint said. ‘At even a short distance I cannot tell one man from another.’

  ‘How long ago did this injury occur?’

  He managed a smile, and I wanted to weep. ‘In this place, a man loses the sense of time passing. Not so very long.’

  I looked up at Toleg. The other men had gone down to the guard post; I could hear them talking. ‘The poultice will relieve the swelling,’ I said. ‘But . . . this man needs time to heal. He needs rest and ongoing care. How can he be expected to tend to Ruarc tonight?’

  ‘I gave my word that I would do it.’ Flint wrapped his hand around mine, holding fast. ‘I don’t need my eyes for mind-mending. Apply the poultice by all means. But no delays. Today we have the king’s permission to try this. Tomorrow that could change.’

  If Toleg noticed we were holding hands, he chose not to comment on it. ‘You’ll need to eat and drink, too, Owen. Not prison fare, something nourishing. We’ll send one of the guards up to fetch rations for all of us. This may be a long night.’ After a little, he added, ‘You’d best go back up, Ellida. I can finish off the poultice. This is no place for a young woman.’

  Flint’s hand tightened on mine. He did not say a word. In my mind was the night I had watched from a hiding place as an Enthraller worked his magic on my grandmother; the night the charm was botched, and instead of becoming loyal to the king, she lost her mind. I remembered the fake enthralment Flint had carried out on Tali at the last Gathering, and how, for a while, I had believed her ruined in the same way. I loathed the art of enthralment; its practice was a blight on the land of Alban. It had taken me a long time to accept Flint’s gift, and to believe that once, in the time before Keldec, that same art had been used to heal, not to bend and break. I never wanted to see an enthralment again. And mind-mending, though it was different in its purpose, would probably look exactly the same.

  I drew a deep breath. ‘If you permit, I would like to stay. To be present when Owen does his work. I could learn from that.’ I need not learn to forgive Flint; I had done that long ago. But if I stayed, he would know I still believed in him.

  ‘You surprise me.’ Toleg did not sound at all surprised. ‘Very well. If I understand anything, it’s that time is short. I’ll go and make up the poultice. I have some drops for the pain as well, in my basket. Ellida, you stay here for now. Owen, you know the rules. The cell doors have been opened only for the purpose of helping Ruarc. Try anything else and this is over.’

  Then, for a short and blessed time, Flint and I were alone together – still in view of Ruarc and his comrades in the cell opposite, but they were absorbed in their own conversation and not interested in us. We did not embrace; we did not say much at all. Flint raised our clasped hands to his face and touched his lips to my fingers. I brushed away a tear.

  ‘Toleg’s right,’ Flint whispered. ‘This is no place for you.’

  ‘You asked for me,’ I whispered back.

  ‘Wanted to see you. Couldn’t help myself. Are you all right?’

  ‘Mm. What will happen to you? What will they do?’

  ‘Shh. Just sit there. Just hold my hand.’

  My heart ached. The tears built behind my eyes. I moved my thumb gently against his palm.

  ‘You don’t need to be here,’ Flint said. ‘When I do it. I would spare you that.’

  ‘I want to be here.’

  He closed his eyes. I thought he would not say more, but after a little he spoke again. ‘They said you went to the king. Got his permission for me to do this.’ A pause. ‘How did he seem?’

  ‘Sad. He offered me a reward for tending to his son; that was how I obtained the permission. But . . . he spoke of Ochi, his boy, quite fondly. Of the lack of choices for the future. For a short while he seemed like a different man.’ I would not mention the threat; best if Flint went into this not knowing that my safety, and that of all involved in arranging this for Ruarc, might be jeopardised if the treatment failed.

  Flint said nothing for a while, then he opened his eyes once more and whispered, ‘Neryn? Put your face close.’

  I leaned over, wishing I could press my cheek to his, holding back.

 
‘I love you. I have faith in you. Stay safe, dear one. When the day comes, you’ll stand strong and win this, I know it.’

  My heart full to bursting, I had time only to whisper, ‘I love you,’ before Rohan came striding along the walkway and appeared at the cell door. Flint let go my hand; I straightened up, swallowing my tears.

  ‘How soon for the draught?’ Rohan asked. ‘He’s quiet now, could be a good opportunity to get it down him without a struggle.’

  ‘Let Toleg apply the poultice first,’ I said, though he was not talking to me. ‘You’ll give Ruarc his best chance if Owen has his eyes tended to before he starts work.’ I could not quite believe, really, that Flint intended to do this; he was surely in no fit state to do anything but rest.

  ‘You can dose him now,’ Flint said, putting his arm up over his eyes. ‘The poultice doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ I said firmly, knowing I must not shed more tears tonight. ‘You should have the poultice applied and you should try to eat and drink before you start this. But perhaps Ruarc could be dosed now anyway; Oblivion will keep a man asleep all night, provided you choose to let him wake naturally.’

  A trace of a smile passed over Flint’s lips. ‘I won’t argue with that,’ he said.

  From the moment Galany had asked him if he would attempt it, he had wondered if he still had the strength; if he still had the will. He had wondered if the dark acts he’d performed in the king’s name, over the years since he’d left the Isles and the wise guidance of his mentor, would render him unfit to heal, incapable of plying the ancient craft Ossan had taught him. No mind-mender, but a mind-breaker. No healer, but a killer.

  The knowledge of a comrade in trouble had compelled him to say yes. And that itself was laughable, when he remembered the warriors of Boar Troop, whom he’d led into Regan’s ambush in the valley below Shadowfell. That day he had been no comrade. He had been a betrayer. He had acted for the cause; the cause must come before anything. And it had been a victory for the rebels, no doubt of that. A whole troop gone; the king’s forces significantly weakened. But it had not felt like a triumph. It had felt like another ugly stain on his spirit, another diminishing of the good man Ossan had sent out into the world with his blessing.