by Cat Bruno
With a nod to show that she understood, Caryss told her, “I have been told that some are like healers or near enough.”
“There are a few here in Hallava, and they are not difficult to find. If you have coin, they will tend to your father. When you are ready, I will take you to them.”
There was hesitancy in her words, as if Keva wanted to say more, but could not.
“What of the Prince of Swords?” Caryss inquired, just as Asha entered, carrying a tray laden with sliced meats and halved citrus.
Neither sister spoke and silence spread over the room like dusk, dark and foggy.
Into the haze, Caryss asked, “Do you know the man called Otieno?”
Asha hurriedly placed the tray onto the table and looked at her sister with sharp and slitted eyes.
Keva gasped, “Do not speak his name, leseda!”
When Caryss recalled that Nahla had spoken the man’s name, she waved her hand at the women, telling them, “I was sent to find him.”
From near the counter, Keva cried, “Light one, the man you name is not diauxie. Moon years ago, he gave up the privilege to call himself such. He is more outlaw than healer. There are many others who could help your father.”
“No,” she told them, keeping anger from her words, “It is he that I need.”
Both Keva and Asha looked upon her oddly, as if in disbelief.
As way of explanation, she told them, “I will not seek your help, nor will I bring him here, if you so wish. But there is none other that I seek. Your Great Mother has willed it so.”
Keva’s mouth opened into a gasp and she cried, “What does a leseda know of the Great Mother? Our gods are not yours.”
With a calmness that she was no longer feeling, Caryss answered, “The Great Mother is mother to us all. It matters naught what we name her. Under her watch, I have healed her children and birthed her babes. Do not tell me that I do not know her. I have served her for half my life!”
Asha put a hand on her sister’s arm, “Let her be. She speaks some truth.”
“I seek no quarrel,” Caryss exclaimed, “I only seek this man.”
“He is not so easily found, nor will he be inclined to help a Cordisian,” Asha told her as she set the tray in the center of the table.
The women, who had earlier been so welcoming, now stood as if Caryss was more foe than friend.
Half-pleading, she told them, “I seek to do no harm. And I thank you for your food and aid. Let us not talk on him anymore then.”
As a show of peace, she invited them to sit, although both declined. In silence, she and Sharron ate. When the sisters had returned to the desk, Aldric reached for a small fork. There was much he wanted to say, she knew.
When they had finished, Caryss rose, while Sharron squeezed what juices she could from the fruit into a small mug, to bring to the King.
Nearing the sisters, Caryss called, “You are nearing your final moon. Did the other two make it as long?”
She was close enough to see that Keva’s eyes were wet as she mumbled, “Neither survived birth.”
“May I feel for the babe?” Caryss asked.
After a moment, Keva nodded, and Caryss reached her pale hands onto the woman’s rounded abdomen, still covered by a flowing dress. Gently moving her fingers in large circles, Caryss worked them from just below Keva’s full breasts to the bottom of her rounded stomach. Then, she reached for her wrist and placed her fingers there, feeling for her life pulse. Her fingers lingered there, tapping then resting.
Stepping back, Caryss told her, “I would like to do a more thorough examination. Will you follow me to my room?”
Keva looked to her sister, who nodded.
Turning back to the others, Caryss asked, “Sharron, will you see to father while I check on Keva and the babe?”
Sharron wiped her hands across her long skirt and asked, “Have you any soup stock or broth?”
While Sharron and Asha hurried off to the kitchen, Caryss followed Keva back down the hallway until they reached the rooms. Caryss looked in on the sleeping king, then found Keva already seated in the other room.
Even though she no longer wore her healer’s robe, Caryss still had her pouches tied at her waist. She did not know if she would have need of them, but unloosened the strings of the largest one as she neared the bed.
“Before I came here, I was in training at a healer’s academy in western Cordisia,” she began. “Half my life I have been there, and, for several moon years I worked in a clinic that offered aid and healing to all. I do not know if you have anything similar here, but I have more training than most because of my time there. I have lost count of how many babes I have helped birth. Can you tell me what occurred with the two that did not survive?”
It was clear what Caryss spoke of, but Keva did not answer at first.
“Lie back, with your feet flat for a moment,” Caryss instructed into the woman’s silence.
When Keva had done so, Caryss told her, “The more I know of the past births, the more I will be able to help you now.”
She kept her words soft, just above a whisper and waited for a response. When there was none, Caryss leaned closer to Keva, and explained, “First, I will listen for both your life pulse and the babe’s. Then I will feel for how the babe is positioned. You will feel my hands prodding and pushing across your stomach, but have no fear, for what I do will not cause injury.”
Keva nodded, although Caryss noticed that her chest heaved, as if her breath grew heavy.
Placing her ear to the woman’s rounded abdomen, Caryss listened, counting to herself in tune with the rise and fall. Several times she moved, listening and counting again.
Once complete, she lifted her head and said, “The babe has a steady pulse, with no interruptions of note. Does it move much?”
The question was simple enough that Keva finally answered.
“In the morning, after I have eaten, I feel turns and kicks. But little else through the day.”
“There is not much room left, and I am not surprised that is all you feel. Do not concern yourself overmuch.”
Her hands were again on Keva, although this time Caryss had pushed the woman’s dress high. Her long fingers kneaded the woman as she felt for the babe.
After a few moments, Caryss looked to Keva and explained, “The babe is a big one, and, by now, should have its head low. However, it is not the case.” Taking Keva’s hands, she said, “Feel here,” and moved the woman’s fingers to her midsection, just to the right of her navel.
“The babe’s head is high and its feet low.”
With a slight nod, Keva murmured, “It was so with the others as well.”
It was the first that the woman spoke of the two who had died, and Caryss stood silent, hoping to hear more. The hot, island sun filtered through the curtained windows, causing Keva’s skin to nearly glow, light brown except for stripes of pale pink and white that stretched over her belly.
“Who assisted in the births?” Caryss asked.
“Asha was here, as well as a female diauxie.”
“I know it must be difficult to speak of, but can you tell me of the births?”
She trembled when she spoke, and tears dotted her cheeks, but Keva told her, “With the first, it was nearly two full days from when my waters came. When the babe still had not come, the diauxie thought there was not room, and cut to make some. By then, it was too late, and the babe never drew breath. For the next, over a moon year later, I was cut again, early on, yet, she, too did not draw breath. I remember little from that time, leseda, and nearly did not live myself, for I grew too weak with blood loss. I only know what Asha has told me, that the babe was born misshapen.”
It was not unknown for such to happen, Caryss knew, and she reached for Keva’s hand, telling her, “There was nothing to be done, then.”
Nodding, the woman asked, “What of this one?”
“Will you allow me examine you further? To see if you have opened for birth?”
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Keva again nodded, unable to speak, and Caryss pulled a small wooden stool to the end of the cot. Before she began, Caryss removed a small bottle from the largest pouch that hung from her belt. The bottle itself was clear, but the liquid inside was copper, and when Caryss removed the topper, a strong scent, bitter and tart, filled the room. Caryss poured a small amount of the liquid onto her hands and rubbed them together.
“Put your knees up, Asha, and try to relax. I will be as quick as I can.”
As promised, Caryss did not take long to examine the woman. When she was finished, her brow was furrowed. Again, she poured the strong-smelling liquid over her hands, unspeaking as she did so.
With no warning, she suddenly said, “The babe must come soon, even though your body has not readied for its arrival. There are ways that I can change that, though, if you would let me.”
There was confusion written across Keva’s face, and, as way of further explanation, Caryss told her, “If you wait any longer, I fear your babe will not survive the birth, just as the others.”
“My husband is still at sea and will not return for at least a quarter-moon,” Keva cried.
“The babe is, at most, a moon early. But it is not small and will not suffer for the early coming.”
From the doorway came a voice, low and sharp, “Why have none of the diauxie suggested what you do?”
Caryss did not turn, but she knew that Asha had joined them. From her words, it was clear that the older sister doubted what Caryss had opined.
“How can we know that what you say is wise? You wear no dress or chains to mark you as a healer,” Asha called, striding into the room.
Capping the bottle closed, Caryss sighed and stood.
“I wear my skills tied to my waist. I show them with these fingers long trained to stitch and mend. I had not thought to come here to the Cove with my ailing father and find a woman near birth. But I am a healer, and Keva has dire need for my skills. You should decide within the next few days. If a time comes when you can no longer feel the babe move, you must find me as soon as you can. On the morn, I will set out to find the man whose name you will not hear. I do not know how long or how far I will need to go, but your island is not so large that I would not be able to return here if you have need.”
Caryss walked toward the door, but before she could leave, Asha called, “You will find him two villages over, a quarter of a day’s walk at most. I heard talk this morning as I served breakfast. He was not named, but it was him.”
Dropping her head, Caryss nearly wept. He is so close.
After a moment, she told both women, “I will leave at once. On the morrow, I will return. Take the day to think on this, and, if it is your wish, your babe will be in your arms before I next depart.”
Her words were not untrue ones, Caryss knew. If the babe was to live, it must come early. And her time on the island was not long.
I am healer still, Caryss knew, walking from the room to where Sharron sat next to the King.
But, more, I am Rexaria.
*****
“She appeared in good health when you last saw her?”
“I could tell that she was with child, and, as with many women, she was overly bothered by the smells of the piers. But she was hale enough.”
Conri’s eyes held a purple haze. Watching him, Nahla could see his concern for the healer, despite the troubled history that Conall had mentioned. Caryss, in truth, had spoken little of the babe, but Nahla did not say such to the High Lord.
He paused, rubbing his slender fingers against his cheek, and said, “Did she seem weaker or more tired than one would? What of food? Did she require much?”
“My lord, I was not with her long enough to see her eat. She seemed healthy enough, more so than most even. She did not complain, nor did she seem to suffer. You worry overmuch.”
“Children born of the Tribe are not as others. As you might soon see.”
It was only the two of them seated on a bench made of stone in a large courtyard. Nahla had found the tree-lined spot hours before and had not left, enjoying the Northern sun. The Tribesman had come upon her as she dozed, but when he had neared, a chill had come, wakening her.
Keeping her eyes from him, she said, “Conall has told you then.”
“There is nothing he keeps from me.”
She would have laughed, but Conri was not like his brother, and there was little ease about him. Instead, she asked, “Did he seek your permission?”
As if bored by the conversation, Conri rose and stepped away from her. Conall had warned her not to anger the High Lord, advising her to avoid him as much as she could. Yet, Nahla had not been able to do so. Covering a smile with the back of her hand, she thought of her mother who had often scolded her for stubbornness.
When he still had not answered, nor departed, Nahla told him, “Fear not. The Great Mother will see that I am well.”
With a laugh that rustled the leaves of the large oak hanging overhead, Conri asked, “Is there anything the Great Mother cannot do?”
“What is gone is gone. She is unable to give breath to the breathless or life to the lifeless,” Nahla sighed, rubbing at her closely shorn hair.
“Your god is a wise god then,” the High Lord remarked evenly, so much so that Nahla knew not if he spoke in jest or not.
Nahla was intrigued by Conri, yet she still could not decide what to think of him. Most feared him, she knew, just as she understood why it would be so. Yet, it was Conall who had killed, not the High Lord, not that she had witnessed. Over the last day, she had observed him do little but pace across his vast home. Few approached him, even though many Tribesmen lived near. It was not unusual for a dozen or more to be in the High Lord’s home, yet he paid them little heed. He was, Nahla thought, quite isolated.
He left her with her thoughts, then, striding away as if in a rush. He was sleek, thin and lithe, his hair the only indulgence as it hung to his shoulders, shining and ebony. Conall, while kin, seemed softer, gentler even.
Until she recalled what he had done at the palace. Her thoughts turned then to the son Caryss had mentioned.
What will come of a child born of wolf and sun?
The stones beneath her grew cold, and Nahla dropped to her knees, dirt and grass under and around her. Eirrannian dirt.
The Great Mother reaches far, she thought, letting her forehead fall.
*****
The sun was high and bright, and a strong gale swirled around the two men as they stood looking out across the rolling sea, orange and red streaks rippling through the water where the sun struck it. The thinner man was pale, and had his head dropped low, while the thick-shouldered man stared straight, as if the sea had answers.
“Where do you think she has gone?”
“If she has not gone to the Tribelands, there seems only one place that would offer her safety,” the taller man answered.
Willem, his hands clenched at his sides, turned on his heel. For several moments, he had forgotten that Kennet stood near. His question was one that he had thought long on since the High Lord had visited, yet no answers had come.
Except for one.
“Would she be so predictable? Your uncle would advise against it, no doubt.”
When he nodded, Kennet’s glasses slid down his large nose. “You think she has left Cordisia altogether?”
“She was not spotted at the gates,” he told the boy.
Waving ink-stained fingers, Kennet told him, “She arrived unnoticed as well. Little can be placed in that. But, by all accounts, the King can no longer walk or ride. One need not be able to do either aboard a ship.”
“Is it possible that she headed east or south?” Willem asked.
He watched the librarian remove his wire-rimmed frames and rub at his face. Kennet, he knew, was used to finding answers, yet neither could find one now.
“If only my uncle would send word,” Kennet mumbled, putting his glasses back into place.
“She has little ti
me,” Willem warned.
“Give me until tomorrow. I must think on this.”
“If only Conri would have told me where to find her!” Willem roared, causing Kennet to step back from him.
Willem had found Kennet in his studies, but they had quickly left, walking to the shore. Alone, they had been able to speak on Bronwen without fear of being overheard.
“I should have never let him leave without telling me where she had gone,” Willem added, still simmering with anger.
With a snort, Kennet muttered, “The Tribe is not known to be the trusting sort.”
“He made mention that she might return to the Academy,” Willem told him.
With another grunt, Kennet snorted, “That would be unwise. My uncle would not allow that, for he could not wait to be gone from here himself.”
Willem nodded, having come to know the dark mage well. It seemed to be the only thing he knew of late with any certainty.
“Meet me here on the morrow at the midday bells. If you have learned nothing by then, I will travel to Eirrannia. And hope that I find her before my cousin does.”
If he did not, both men feared what would happen, although neither spoke on it.
*****
The walk was an easy one, and the trail was clear, sandy and soft under her feet. Even with the extra weight that she now carried, Caryss preferred not to ride. Aldric kept pace next to her, allowing her silence as they walked. He had set aside his questions, Caryss realized, and she was grateful for the quiet, which allowed her to mull over her thoughts, which were many.
Within the hour, they would be upon the village where Otieno was last seen. She needed the man more than any of the others who she traveled with, even more than the dark mage. The boy needed him too, Crispin’s son. She had seen it.
If he refuses to come, much will be lost.
“Aldric, how true is mage-sight?” she asked quickly, tearing apart the silence.
He slowed, but continued walking as he told her, “It is always true, yet never so.”
“How can that be?” she asked him, laughing, although she knew he had not jested.
