At last a smile came to Trimack’s face. “Done.” He stopped and turned to the wizard. “I am a D’Haran soldier. I serve the Lord Rahl. But the Lord Rahl must also serve us. I am the steel against steel. He must be the magic against magic. Without the steel, he may still survive, but without the magic, we will not. Now tell me what a screeling is doing out of the underworld.”
Zedd sighed and at last nodded. “Your former Lord Rahl was meddling with dangerous magic. Underworld magic. He tore the veil between this world and the underworld.”
“Bloody fool. He’s supposed to serve us, not take us into eternal night. Someone should have killed him.”
“Someone did. Richard.”
Trimack grunted. “Then Lord Rahl is already serving us.”
“A few days ago, some would have viewed that thought as treason.”
“It is a greater treason to deliver the living to the dead.”
“Yesterday you would have killed Richard to keep him from harming Darken Rahl.”
“And yesterday he would have killed me to get at his foe. But now we serve each other. Only a fool walks into the future backward.”
Zedd nodded and offered a small, but warm, smile of respect, but then his eyes narrowed as he leaned closer. “If the veil is not closed, Commander, and the Keeper is loosed on the world, everyone will share the same fate. It won’t be just D’Hara, but the whole of the world that is consumed. From what I have read of the prophecies, Richard may be the only one who can close the veil. You just remember that, if harm tries to get a glance at Richard.”
Trimack’s eyes were ice. “Steel against steel, that he may be the magic against magic.”
“Good. You have it right.”
Chapter 3
Zedd surveyed the dead and dying as he approached. It was impossible to avoid walking through the blood. His heart ached at seeing the hurt. Only one screeling. What if more came?
“Commander, send for some healers. There are more here than I can tend to.”
“Already done, Wizard Zorander.”
Zedd nodded and began checking the living. Soldiers of the First File were spread out among the bodies, pulling the dead, many of whom were their own, out of the way, and comforting the hurt. Zedd put his fingers to the sides of foreheads to feel the injuries, to feel what a healer could care for and what required more.
He touched a young soldier laboring to breathe through a gurgle of blood. Zedd grunted at what he felt. He glanced down and saw rib bones pulled through a fist-sized hole in his breastplate. Zedd’s stomach wanted to erupt. Trimack knelt on the other side of the young man. The wizard’s eyes flicked up at the commander, and the other nodded his understanding. The young man’s remaining breaths of life numbered in the few dozen.
“Go on,” the commander said in a quiet voice, “I’ll stay with the lad.”
Zedd moved on as Trimack gripped the young man’s hand in his own and began telling a reassuring lie. Three women in long brown skirts sewn with rows of pockets came up in a rush. Their mature faces took in the scene without flinching.
With bandages and poultices pulled from their big pockets, the three women descended on the wounded and began stitching and administering potions. Most wounds were within the skill of the women to heal, or else beyond the skill of the wizard. Zedd asked one of the three, the one who looked least likely to pay heed to protests, to go see to Chase.
Zedd could see him sitting on the bench across the hall, his chin against his chest, Rachel sitting on the floor with her arms wrapped around his leg.
Zedd and the other two healers moved among the people on the floor, helping where they could, passing on where they couldn’t. One of the healers called to him. She was hunched over a middle-aged woman who was trying to wave her away.
“Please,” she was saying in a weak voice, “help the others. I am fine. I need only to rest. Please. Help the others.”
Zedd felt the wetness of his blood-soaked robes against his knees as he knelt beside her. She pushed his hands away with one of hers. The other held her guts from spilling out of a ripping wound in her abdomen.
“Please. There are others who should be helped.”
Zedd lifted an eyebrow to her ashen face. A fine gold chain through her hair held a blue stone against her forehead. The blue stone matched her eyes so, that it almost made her look to have three eyes. The wizard thought he recognized the stone, and wondered if it could be true, or only a bauble bought on a whim. He had not seen one wearing the Stone as a calling in a very long time. Surely one this young couldn’t know what it proclaimed.
“I am wizard Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander. And who are you, child, to give me orders?”
Her face paled even more. “Forgive me, wizard . . .”
She calmed as Zedd touched his fingers to her forehead. The pain caught his breath so sharply that he jerked his fingers away. He had to struggle to keep the tears of hurt from showing.
He knew without a doubt now: she wore the Stone in calling. The Stone, to match the color of her eyes, and worn over the forehead, as if the mind’s eye, was a talisman to proclaim her inner vision.
A hand snatched at the back of his robes, tugging.
“Wizard!” came a sour voice from behind. “You will tend to me first!” Zedd turned to a face that matched the voice, and maybe outdid it a little. “I am Lady Ordith Condatith de Dackidvich, House of Burgalass. This wench is nothing but my body servant. Had she been as quick as she should have been, I wouldn’t be suffering so! I could have been killed, as slow as she was! You will tend to me first! I could expire at any moment!”
Zedd could tell without touching her that her injuries were minor. “Forgive me, my lady.” He made a show of putting his fingers to her head. As he thought: a hard bruise to her ribs, a few lesser to her legs, and a small gash on her arm, requiring at most a stitch or two.
“Well?” She clutched at the silver ruffles at her neck. “Wizards,” she muttered. “Next to worthless if you want to know the truth of it. And these guards! I think they were asleep at their posts! Lord Rahl shall hear of this! Well? What of my injuries?”
“My lady, I’m not sure there is anything I can do for you.”
“What!” She snatched the neck of his robe and gave it a snug yank. “You had better see that there is, or I will see that Lord Rahl has your head on a pike! See what good your lazy magic does you then!”
“Of course, my lady. I will endeavor to do my best.” He ripped the small gash in the dark maroon satin fabric of the sleeve, making it a huge, hanging flag, then put a hand back on the shoulder of the woman with the blue stone. She moaned as he blocked some of her pain and gave her strength. Her ragged breathing evened. He kept his hand on her, trickling in a little magic of reassurance and comfort. Lady Ordith shrieked. “My dress! You’ve ruined it!”
“Sorry, my lady, but we can’t risk the wound festering. I would rather lose the dress than the arm. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Well, yes, I guess . . .”
“Ten or fifteen stitches should do it,” he said to the sturdily built healer bent over between the two women on the floor. Her hard, blue-gray eyes glanced to the small wound and then back to the wizard.
“I am sure you would know best, Wizard Zorander,” she said in an even voice, betraying only in her gaze to him that she understood his true intent.
“What! You are going to let this ox of a midwife do your work for you?”
“My lady, I’m an old man. I’ve never had any talent for sewing, and my hands shake something awful. I’m afraid I would do more damage than I would repair, but if you insist, I will try my best.
“No,” she sniffed. “Let the ox do it.”
“Very well.” He looked up to the healer. No emotion touched her features, but splotches of red colored her cheeks. “I fear there is only one hope for her other injuries, considering the pain she is in. Do you have any wattle root in those big pockets of yours?”
She gave a little frown of pu
zzlement. “Yes, but . . .”
“Good,” he cut her off. “I think two cubes should be sufficient.”
Her eyebrow lifted. “Two?”
“Don’t you try to be skimpy with me!” Lady Ordith screeched. “If there isn’t enough to go around, then someone of lesser importance will just have to go short! You give me the full dose!”
“Very well.” Zedd glanced up at the healer. “Administer her the full dose. Three cubes. Shredded, not whole.”
The healer’s eyes opened a little wider, and she incredulously mouthed, shredded! Zedd squinted and nodded his insistence. The corners of her mouth curled up in a tightly controlled smile.
Wattle root would take away the pain of the minor injuries, but it needed only be swallowed whole. One small cube was all that was needed. Shredded, and that much of it, would set Lady Ordith’s plumbing afire. The good lady was going to be spending the better part of the next week in her privy.
“What is your name, my dear?” he asked the healer.
“Kelley Hallick.”
Zedd let out a tired sigh. “Kelley, are there any others that are beyond your considerable talents?”
“No, sir. Middea and Annalee are finishing with the last of them.”
“Then will you please take Lady Ordith somewhere where she will not . . . where she will be more comfortable while you tend to her.”
Kelley glanced down at the woman Zedd had a comforting hand to, to the rip across her abdomen, and back up to his eyes. “Of course, Wizard Zorander. You look to be very tired. If you would come to me later, I will fix you a stenadine tea.” The small smile touched the corners of her mouth again.
Zedd couldn’t keep a grin from his own face. Besides restoring alertness, stenadine tea was also used to give lovers stamina. By the glint in her eye, he judged her to be a fine brewer of stenadine tea.
He gave Kelley a wink. “Perhaps I will.” Any other time he might have given it serious consideration—Kelley was a handsome woman—but right now that was just about the farthest thing from his mind.
“Lady Ordith, what is your body servant’s name?”
“Jebra Bevinvier. And a worthless girl she is, too. Lazy and impudent.”
“Well, you will not be burdened with her inadequate service any longer. She is going to need a long time to recover, and you are shortly going to be leaving the palace.”
“Leaving? What do you mean leaving?” She put her nose in the air. “I have no intention of leaving.”
“The palace is no longer safe for a lady of your importance. You will have to leave for your own protection. As you said yourself, the guards are asleep half the time. You will have to be on your way.”
“Well, I simply have no intention of . . .”
“Kelley”—he gave her a firm look—“please help Lady Ordith to a place where you can tend to her.”
Kelley was dragging the Lady Ordith off like a load of wash before she had a chance to cause any more trouble. Zedd turned a warm smile to Jebra and brushed some of her short, sandy hair back off her face. She held one arm across her grievous wound. Zedd had managed to halt most of the bleeding, but that wasn’t going to save her; what was outside had to be put back in its place inside.
“Thank you, sir. I’m feeling much better now. If you could help me to my feet, I will be out of your way.”
“Lie still, child,” he said softly. “We must talk.”
With a hard glance, he moved onlookers back. Soldiers of the First File had only to see that one brief look and they were already pushing people away.
Her lip trembled as her breast rose and fell more rapidly. She managed a little nod. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?”
“I won’t lie to you, child. Your wound is at the limit of my talents were I well rested. You don’t have the time for me to rest. If I don’t do something, you will die. If I try, I might hasten the end.”
“How long?”
“If I do nothing, maybe hours. Maybe the night. I could ease the pain enough to at least make the last of it tolerable.”
She closed her eyes as tears seeped from the corners. “I never thought I cared to live.”
“Because of the Seer’s Stone you wear?”
Her eyes snapped open. “You know? You recognize the Stone? You know what I am?”
“I do. The time is long past when people knew a Seer by the Stone, but I am old. I have seen such before. That is why you didn’t want me to help you? You fear what the touch might do to me?”
She nodded weakly. “But I find I suddenly care to live.”
Zedd patted her shoulder. “That is what I wanted to know, child. Worry not about me. I am a wizard of the First Order, not some novice.”
“First Order?” she whispered, wide-eyed. “I did not know one was left. Please, sir, do not risk yourself on the likes of me.”
Zedd smiled. “Not much of a risk, only a little pain. And my name is Zedd.”
She thought a moment; then her free hand clutched his arm. “Zedd . . . if I am to have a choice . . . I choose to try for life.”
Zedd smiled a little and stroked her cold, sweaty forehead. “Then I promise to give you my most earnest effort.” She nodded as she gripped his arm, gripped her only chance. “Is there anything you can do, Jebra, to hold aside the pain of the visions?”
She bit her lower lip and shook her head as tears sprang anew. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely audible. “Perhaps you shouldn’t . . .”
“Hush, child,” he comforted.
Zedd took a deep breath and laid a hand over the arm that held her guts back. He put the palm of his other hand gently over her eyes. This was not something he could fix from the outside. It had to be repaired from within, with her own mind’s aid. It could kill her. And him.
He braced himself and released the barrier in his mind. The impact of pain took the wind from his lungs. He didn’t dare to spare the energy to draw a breath. He gritted his teeth and fought it with muscles hardened to stone with the strain. And he hadn’t even touched the pain of the wound yet. He had to deal with the pain of her visions, get past them, before he could cope with that problem.
Agony sucked his mind into a river of blackness. Specters of her visions swirled past. He could only guess at their meaning, but the pain of their reality was all too vivid. Tears flooded from his tightly closed eyes; his whole body shook as he struggled to fight through the torrent of anguish. He knew he couldn’t allow himself to be pulled along with it, or he would be lost, consumed.
The emotions of her visions buffeted him as he was swept deeper into her mind. Dark thoughts just beyond the surface of perception clawed at his will, trying to drag him into the depths of hopeless abandon. His own painful memories washed to the surface of his consciousness to join with Jebra’s lifetime of sorrow in a convergence of terrible agony and madness. Only his experience and resolve kept his sanity, his free will, from being pulled into the bottomless waters of bitterness and grief.
At last, he broke through to the calm, white light at the center of her being. Zedd reveled in the comparatively mild pain of her life-threatening wound. Reality could seldom match the imagination, and in the imagination, the pain was real.
All around the calm center, the cold darkness of eternal night encroached on the waning warmth and light of her life. Impatient to shroud forever Jebra’s spirit, Zedd pulled back that shroud, to let the light of his gift warm her spirit with life and vitality. The shadows receded before the power of his Additive Magic.
The strength of that magic, its exigency for the well-being of life, drew the exposed organs back to where the Creator intended them. Zedd didn’t yet dare to spare anything to block her suffering. Jebra’s back arched. She wailed in pain. He, too, felt her pain. His own abdomen flamed with the same agony she felt. He shook with the searing sharpness of it.
When the hardest, that which was beyond his comprehension, was finished, he at last spared a portion of the magic to block her pain. Jebra sagged against t
he floor with a moan of relief. He felt the relief in his own body.
Directing the flow of magic, Zedd finished the healing. He used his power to pull her wound together, letting tissue knit to tissue, flesh to flesh, layer upon layer, up to the surface of skin, joining as if it had never been parted.
Finished at last, Zedd had only to escape her mind. That was as dangerous as entering, and his strength was nearly gone; he had given it over to her. Rather than wasting any more time worrying about it, he released himself into the flow of agony.
Nearly an hour after he had begun, he found himself on his knees, hunched over, weeping uncontrollably. Jebra was sitting up, with her arms around him, holding his head to her shoulder. As soon as he was aware that he was back, he managed to bring himself under control and straighten. He glanced around the hall. Everyone had been pushed back a goodly distance, beyond earshot. None had any interest in being near a wizard when he was wielding magic that left people screaming as Jebra had done.
“There,” he said, at last, with a modicum of restored dignity, “that wasn’t so bad. I believe all is well now.”
Jebra laughed a quiet, shaky laugh and hugged him tight. “I was taught a wizard couldn’t heal a Seer.”
Zedd managed to get a bony finger in the air. “No ordinary wizard can, my dear. But I am Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander, wizard of the First Order.”
Jebra wiped a tear from her cheek. “I have nothing of value to repay you with, except this.” She unhooked the gold chain that ran through her hair and brought it down, putting it in his hand. “Please, accept this humble offering.”
Zedd looked down at the chain with the blue stone. “That is very kind of you, Jebra Bevinvier. I’m touched.” Zedd felt a pang of guilt for having planted the impulse in her mind. “It’s a fine chain, and I will accept it in humble gratitude.” He used a thread-thin stream of power to separate the stone from its mounting. He handed the Stone back; he only needed the chain. “But the chain is payment enough. Keep your Stone; it’s yours by right.”
Stone of Tears tsot-2 Page 3
