Intrigues: Book Two of the Collegium Chronicles (a Valdemar Novel)

by Mercedes Lackey

  And without another thought, Dallen sped grimly back up to the Collegium, with Mags clinging dizzily to his neck.

  :S’allright, : he managed, as they were about halfway there. :Been beat this bad afore—wha’s goin’ on?:

  :The others are converging on the inn right now, with the Guard,: Dallen said. :They’ll try and catch the bastards.:

  :Shouldn’ we—:

  :No. We are doing nothing. You have done enough. You are in no shape to assist in any way at all.:

  Dallen rushed through the gates, passing Guards that were nothing more than blue blurs to Mags, and into the Collegia grounds.

  :I’m taking you to Healers’ Collegium,: Dallen said, when they didn’t stop at either the stable or at Heralds’ Collegium.

  Finally Dallen stopped. They were met at the door by a single Healer and by Gennie, and the flash of outrage in Dallen’s mind that there was not a herd of Healers waiting for them was enough to set stars dancing in front of Mags’ vision again.

  :Sorry,: Dallen said, and damped down the connection between them so that less was getting through. But it was very clear that he was still enraged.

  “Calm down,” the Healer ordered, wincing, as Gennie helped Mags down off of Dallen’s back. “He’s one single Trainee who’s been beaten up; he’s neither bleeding to death inside, nor has any broken bones, I can tell you that much. Stop acting as if he was going to die at any moment, you big fool.”

  Dallen snorted and whinnied angrily, as Gennie held Mags up so the Healer could peel back his eyelids and peer into his eyes.

  “He has a mild concussion. His insides are badly bruised, but quite intact. I’m sure he hurts all over. Stop fussing,” the Healer snapped.

  “Tol’ ’im—been beat this bad afore—” Mags managed.

  “And you shut up. Companion, go to your stable. Trainee, you are going straight to a bed. Give him a hand, Trainee Gennie, and both of you follow me.”

  With Gennie keeping him from falling over, Mags followed the Healer into a part of the Collegium he had never been before—a big room with a great many beds in it, most of them empty. Gennie helped him down onto the nearest one, then when the Healer started to strip Mags’ clothing off of him, flushed crimson and beat a hasty retreat.

  The Healer peeled everything off him but his boots, singlet and hose, tossing the clothing aside. “That Companion of yours could stand to have better manners,” he grumbled. “It’s not as if you’re the only sick or injured person here right now.”

  Mags thought about saying something, but his jaw hurt too much to move. In fact, everything hurt more and more the longer he sat here.

  He winced as the Healer’s hands moved over his body, probing the places where the blows had fallen. Then he sighed with relief as the hands rested on those spots, as warmth poured from the hands, and the relief from pain followed the warmth.

  “Your assailant has done this before,” the man said laconically. “He was quite methodical about inflicting the most pain while doing the least damage.”

  “ ’s thet good?” Mags asked, as the room started to spin in circles around him. “Uh, I dunno’f’I’m gonna be sick—”

  The man’s hands rested on his head a moment, and some of the dizziness cleared away, and with it the nausea.

  “Well, it isn’t bad for you,” the Healer said. “It means most of this is soft tissue damage, and I can tend it myself without help. One decent night and a day of rest and you’ll be fit to go right out and Kirball to your heart’s content. Yes, yes, I know you are on one of the Kirball teams, and I am very much aware that your captain wants you ready for the first game. And you will be. But not until you get that day and night. So—”

  A hand to the middle of his chest shoved Mags down onto the bed. He wasn’t expecting it, and fell right over.

  “You need time for that concussion to clear up, and a number of medicines and some more Healing. You can talk to whosoever you want, but you stay there until tomorrow afternoon. Maybe even until the next morning, if I decide I have the time to continue treating you and you need it.”

  Mags blinked up at the man, owlishly. At least there was only one of him now, not two. “Dinner?” he said hopefully, for now that the nausea had begun to ebb, his stomach was growling.

  The Healer lost that irritated look, and chuckled. “You’re a resilient rascal. I think that can be managed.”

  He tucked blankets in around Mags, and left him with a pitcher of water and a cup on a little table beside him. “Drink as much of that as you can—what I do tends to release a lot of nasty things that need to be purged out of you. The privy is right on the other side of this wall. Someone will come around with food for you in a bit. Someone else will be checking on you all night. Several someones, probably. Don’t get up except to visit the privy; you’ll find you are still dizzy if you do, and I don’t want you undoing what I did by falling.”

  With that, the Healer left—

  :I was listening. Are you sure you are going to be all right?: Dallen asked anxiously. :If that Healer is neglecting you—if you are really hurt—:

  :I’m fine, : Mags reassured him, lying back and closing his eyes, because the room still had an unsettling tendency to move a little. :’E’s right, Dallen, I didn’ get hurt that bad, thanks to you. Wha’s goin’ on down i’ city? They ketch ’em?:

  Mags’ unspoken prayer that the Heralds and Guards had caught the phony envoys was answered in the negative.

  :No,: Dallen replied, sounding deflated. :No, they ran. They left behind their insane fellow, but there’s no sense to be gotten out of him.:

  Mags sighed, and cursed a little. So, they were back to where they had begun with nothing to show for it.

  :Maybe Bear can get something out of him,: Dallen suggested, :Or a really good Mindspeaker. And look on the bright side! They are foreign! Maybe this is what the Foreseers were on about!:

  :Mebbe. Hope so.: Mags sighed. :Hate t’ go through this jest t’ end up wi’ ev’one still angry at me fer something I ain’t done yet.:

  “Is it safe to come in?” asked Gennie from a little distance away.

  “Reckon,” Mags said shortly, because his jaw still hurt. :Kin we talk like this?:

  :Surely. That Healer is the most terrifying man I have ever met in my life.: He heard Gennie come in and felt her sit down on the side of the bed. :Are you really going to be all right? What happened?:

  :Was runnin’ errands down in city. Saw one’a them phony envoy-bodyguards. Follered ’im, had Dallen tell Nikolas a’course, and Nikolas said t’ keep follerin’.:

  “Oho, so that’s why people went boiling down to the city!” Gennie said. “I guess you got caught?”

  :Aye. Ran fer it, got lost an’ got trapped. Reckon I was driven now—if I’d’a been in their shoes, I’d’a learnt th’ alleys ’round where they was like I could run ’em blind. Cornered me in a place Dallen couldn’t fit.:

  “You were lucky!”

  :Don’t I know it!: He sighed. :Least I kin say I was follerin’ orders proper.:

  His stomach growled and Gennie patted his hand. “I’ll go get you some food. Something you can eat with a sore jaw.”

  :Thanks.:

  She came back shortly with soup, mashed roots, and a custard. He managed to get his swollen and bruised eyes open enough to see to eat, and about the time he finished the Healer turned up again.

  “Ah good, this isn’t the thing to take on an empty stomach, unless you want it even emptier.” He handed Mags a mug. Mags knew very well it was medicine, it was probably going to taste nasty, and that he might as well get it down in a hurry.

  It wasn’t as nasty as he thought. In fact, the Healer had, very considerately, sweetened it with honey.

  “Thenkee sor,” he managed.

  The Healer just grunted and sat down on the bed. “Hold still. I’m going to do something about those eyes and that jaw before I leave.”

  Once again, warmth spread out from the Healer’s touch, an
d drove the pain away. Mags sighed with relief, and relaxed, and the next thing he knew, it was morning.

  10

  MORNING was absolutely lovely. His room in the stables didn’t have glass panes, only parchment and shutters, and as cold as this winter had been he hadn’t opened the shutters once. Every window in this big room had glass in it, and he was right under an eastward-facing one. He woke with warmth soothing his battered face, and just lay there enjoying it for a while.

  Slowly he managed to get his eyes open. They weren’t as swollen as he thought they would be, but he still couldn’t get them open more than a slit. Still, it was nice. With sunlight pouring in the open window and now warming his bed as well as his face, Mags was feeling remarkably comfortable, considering that his chest and belly were so black and blue it looked like he’d had ink poured all over him. And he didn’t want to think about what his face looked like.

  He’d gotten off easy, and he knew it. Only the fact that the foreigner had wanted to know who had sent him and what Mags knew had kept the man from just taking out a sword or a knife and killing him on the spot. He could have gotten away with it too, before Dallen got there.

  Strangely, that realization didn’t make Mags feel frightened, just grateful.

  There were birds outside the window, just ordinary creatures chirping cheerfully, but caught up in the lassitude of this morning, Mags found it very pleasant to listen to. Whatever had been in that medicine that the Healer had given him last night had left him still feeling pleasantly numbed and just sleepy enough to enjoy lying abed. Aside from the bruises, of course. He made a conscious effort not to move, because moving still hurt quite a lot. Not moving was nice. He even closed his eyes and dozed a little, and woke up a second time only when a voice roused him.

  “Usually when I see someone with two black eyes, they tell me the other fellow looks even worse,” said Bear, making him open those blackened eyes and squint at him.

  The young Healer-Trainee was standing at the foot of his bed and peering at him somewhat anxiously through those thick lenses. He looked as if he had been awake for several candlemarks already.

  “Nope. I barely nicked ’im,” Mags admitted. He wiggled his jaw a little. It hurt, but not nearly as much as last night. “Least I kin talk this mornin’. Bastard ’bout broke m’jaw and tried t’ knock out teeth.”

  Bear came close and peered at his face, moving his head from side to side. “Most of the swelling is gone from around your eyes, or I doubt you’d be able to open them,” he observed, “Or at least, so I surmise. You’ll look like a ferret for a while, but that’s just looks, and I am pretty sure we can do something about the bruising so you don’t look like Gennie beat you at the Kirball game.”

  Mags grunted. “ ’M not ’xactly anybody’s sweetheart. Reckon that bruisin’ won’ keep the girls away anymore’n they already are.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that.” Bear grinned. “You’re something of a minor hero. You spotted the bad fellow, you had the courage to follow him, and you moved in close to try and learn what you could. Plenty of people would have figured telling the other Heralds was doing your duty enough. Following him to the right inn was going above that. And going right inside isn’t something I would have tried. Mind you, Dallen is a bigger hero.”

  “ ’E should be.”

  :Why, thank you!:

  “Yer right there. ’E saved m’life. ’E came at that bugger e’en though the bastard was hackin’ at ’im right smart.” Mags put up a hand to touch his puffy face, and winced. “Me, all I did was get m’face in th’ way of ’is fist.”

  The Healer from last night came in behind Bear, and theatrically clutched at his chest. “Dear gods. No boasting. I have a Herald Trainee in my care who isn’t boasting about how bad his assailant looks.”

  Mags got a better look at him, now that there weren’t two of him. Medium height, a sort of pleasantly-plain face, brown hair, brown eyes. Nothing very distinguishing about him, other than an expression of sour weariness that looked as if it was habitual.

  :I’m sure his mother loves him,: said Dallen sarcastically.

  :Hush, you.:

  “I believe my heart will stop from the shock of such behavior, modesty, and good sense. I don’t believe I have ever had a patient like you before,” the Healer concluded. “Hello, Trainee Bear, you are just the person I was hoping to see. Have you any suggestions for me to help my patient look less like he landed face first in a vat of blackberries?”

  Bear pursed his lips, and looked just a little surprised. “Aye, a few. Leeches won’t hurt. Draw off some of that blood that’s in the bruises.”

  The Healer nodded. “Leeches it is. If you want to run the treatment, you have my permission. I highly approve of things that don’t require the Gift.”

  “Me too,” Mags said fervently. “Like what ’f sommun was brought in so bad hurt ’e was tore up inside, an’ ye’d wasted a mort’ a Healin’ on me?”

  The Healer looked surprised and gratified. “Tell that to your Companion, would you?” the Healer replied. “If he doesn’t stop ambushing me whenever I step outside the Collegium I am going to put in a strong recommendation that he be volunteered to haul firewood until you’re on your feet and out of here.”

  :I heard that!:

  :Ye been pretty rude.:

  :He wasn’t taking your condition seriously!:

  :That’s on account of it ain’t serious.:

  “Yessir,” Mags said politely, though the only reason he didn’t laugh was because he knew it would hurt too much.

  “I’ll do the leeching, sir,” Bear said. “I’ve done it a lot.”

  “Then I’ll put in an order for the leeches, thank you, Bear. Your breakfast is on the way, Trainee. Oh, something you should know. I think besides Mindspeech you either have, or are developing, a bit of Empathy. As strong as your Mindspeech is, it probably won’t be much, but it might be useful to you to know you have it. If your shields aren’t already handling it, come see one of us about it.”

  “Uhm . . . yessir,” said Mags. What else was he to say, after all?

  “And Bear, whatever you care to give him, I endorse.” The Healer’s faintly sour expression had faded, replaced by faint good humor.

  “Yessir, Healer Juran, sir,” Bear said, and the Healer bustled off, stopping to check someone in a bed at the far end of the room, before leaving through the door on that end, off on some other urgent task.

  Mags gazed after him, thoughtfully. This was the first time he’d actually been treated by a Healer, but he’d watched a few, and to tell the truth, the man’s straight-forward sarcasm appealed to him. “I like ’im,” Mags said. “ ’E don’t mess about. I don’ like people what won’t tell ye the truth. I don’ mind him bein’ a bit sharp; reckon Heralds don’ make th’ best patients.”

  “I like him too, but there’s plenty that don’t,” Bear replied.

  :Like me,: came the sulky comment. :Haul wood indeed!:

  “He’s good enough that I have the feeling he talks like that in order to keep troublesome patients away. You know, the ones that make out as if a bit of gout is going to kill them.” Bear pulled back the covers to look at the bruises on Mags’ belly.

  “How bad are you hurting?” Bear continued. “Cause between you and me, I think you should sleep some more. Specially when I get the leeches, they really make some people feel sick to look at.”

  “I could sleep,” Mags admitted. “I’druther eat first, though. An’ I ain’t worrit ’bout leeches. Had worse’n leeches where we all bedded down at th’ mine, I reckon. All manner of bugs and creepies. Rats runnin’ over ye in the middle of the night.”

  Bear shuddered. “Aye, that’s worse. All right, I’ll go make you a dose; you can have it after you eat.”

  One of the Healer’s Collegium servants came in at that moment with a tray loaded down with soft foods—oatmeal, soft eggs, mashed apples and tea. Mags tucked into it while Bear went off somewhere and came back with one of t
hose mugs that always seemed to hold medicine, and a pair of jars.

  “Drink this, and if you really want to watch, I’ll start now,” Bear said.

  Bear had not sweetened the stuff. Mags managed not to choke. “Sure, I wanta watch,” he said, with some interest. “Mebbe I kin use this sorta thing if I gotta out in the field. So tell me why’s ye do this?”

  Bear fished a leech out of the jar and applied it carefully to a badly bruised and swollen part of Mags’ belly. “The muscle gets all crushed, blood goes in but can’t get out. That keeps things from healing as fast as they could. The leech pulls it out, watch.”

  Mags watched as the ugly little bit of black slime swelled up to a fat little pod of black slime. Sated, it detached itself. Bear caught it before it could fall into the blankets and dropped it in another jar. “It works really well where people have had fingers or toes crushed instead of broken—or well, lots of things, any time blood doesn’t seem to be actually flowing.”

  “So—what’s it do, now it’s full?”

  “We’ll go put them where they can go make babies now they’re fed,” Bear said. “We try and breed our own, so we know they come from clean water and don’t have anything nasty about them. Look at where he was.”

  Sure enough, the area was less swollen and not as blue. Bear applied a few more. Mags watched them, fascinated. “This is why some people call a Healer, especially one that doesn’t have a Gift, a ‘leech,’ ” Bear went on. “Animal Healers use leeches too.”

  “Huh.” There was actually something rather . . . appealing about the idea. That this ugly little thing could help a person heal, without a Gift. “You gonna put those on m’face too?”

  “Aye, if you don’t mind.”

  He yawned. “I don’ mind, but I’m feelin’ like I oughta get flat.”

  “That’ll help the leeches too,” Bear said, catching one that was full and dropping it in the jar, giving it an oddly fond look.

  “Huzzah, leeches, good fer ye,” Mags said muzzily, waiting until Bear had taken the last one off his belly and chest, and scooting down in the bed. “Go make lotsa liddle leeches . . .”