Artesans of Albia

by Cas Peace

  Rienne spent her time sorting the contents of her medicine bag, which never left her side. She had been light on a few remedies before leaving home and the herb sellers in Shenton hadn’t been able to supply everything she needed. She made a list of the most important items and resolved to ask Bull if he knew where she might purchase them.

  Once Taran was happy with the progress he and Cal had made, he spent a frustrating hour identifying half-a-dozen weak spots in the pattern of his psyche. He had never noticed them before and fervently hoped he had seen them all. The last thing he wanted was the embarrassment of having Robin point them out to him. He was preparing to go over the whole thing once again when Bull and Robin returned, both looking like they had had an energetic morning.

  “Just general training, weapons practice and drill,” said Bull when Cal inquired. “Even old soldiers need to train.”

  “You’re not that old, you great ox,” said Robin. “Give us leave to change, gentlemen. I hope you’ve been working hard, Journeyman. I have some more tests for you.” He left for his own rooms.

  When Bull emerged from his sleeping quarters in clean clothes, Rienne approached him, shyly holding out a fresh cup of fellan. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said.

  He smiled. “Of course not, dear heart. Listen, if your young man ever strays or you get tired of him, you’re welcome to come back here and look after me.”

  “Oh, thanks. Listen Bull, can I ask you something?”

  “Certainly,” he said, sitting down and sipping his fellan. “Mmm, this is almost as good as mine.”

  Once she had put her request to him, he told her that not only did the Manor have a dedicated infirmary, but it also boasted a well stocked pharmacy that was regularly supplied from the capital, Port Loxton. She was welcome, he said, to ask for whatever she wanted and he wouldn’t hear of her offer to pay. Instead, he gave her a requisition note to show the Chief Healer, with careful instructions on how to reach the pharmacy, which was on the ground floor of the Manor, in one of the wings.

  Robin re-appeared in time to hear the end of this conversation.

  “We’ll be out in the arena when you’re done, or you can return here and wait for us. I’m going to have your young man put through his paces today, so if you don’t want to see a man in pain, stay away.”

  The men left, all chuckling except for Cal.

  + + + + +

  Left alone, Rienne gathered her bag and Bull’s requisition note. She stepped into the echoing hallway. It felt odd to be wandering around on her own, especially when the place seemed deserted. She passed a couple of rooms where briefing sessions were obviously being held, and crossed the junction of two corridors, where she could vaguely hear a heated argument between two or more men. Before continuing on, she thought she recognized Captain Parren’s voice. She shivered.

  Eventually she found the pharmacy and there met the only other woman besides Major Sullyan she’d seen. Having a common interest, the two soon fell to talking as the Chief Healer, an auburn-haired older woman named Hanan, helped Rienne restock her supplies. Hanan, as she told Rienne, had spent her whole adult life at the Manor, having gone there as a young girl before the civil war to train with Lord Blaine’s physician. When the older healer died, Hanan took over.

  Proudly, she showed Rienne her domain. Rienne was fascin-ated by the infirmary, envious of the Manor’s facilities. Initially, she was surprised at how sophisticated they were, but it made sense when she thought about it—a garrison would need the very best care for its soldiers.

  She and Hanan chatted about medicines and the latest techniques in surgery far longer than Rienne had intended. Reluctantly, she excused herself to her newfound friend, thanking her for her help and promising to return before she left, if she could. She came out of the infirmary deep in thought and not paying attention to where she was going.

  By the time she noticed she was lost, it was too late.

  Click here to listen to “The Wheel Will Turn” written and performed by the author

  Chapter Fifteen

  Irritated with herself for wool-gathering, Rienne tried to get her bearings. The trouble with the Manor, she thought, was that all the corridors looked the same. She tried retracing her steps but as she had no idea when she had first gone wrong, it was hopeless. She was forced to admit she was lost.

  Having no other choice, Rienne continued on, hoping that sooner or later she would either recognize where she was or find someone to put her right. Eventually, she saw someone coming toward her and smiled in relief. Then her heart jumped into her throat and she stopped. It was Parren’s loutish sergeant.

  He was the last person she had expected to see, having heard Sullyan order him and the corporal confined to the cells. It was definitely him and she didn’t know what to do. If she turned and walked away, she might provoke him into following her. Having seen the leers and obscene gestures he’d cast her way before the duel, the last thing she wanted was to meet him alone.

  There was nowhere she could go. As he drew nearer she felt sick, for he was smiling slyly. A cold hand of fear gripped her belly but she forced herself to walk on and ignore him.

  He wasn’t having it though, and stepped in front of her before she could pass. Gathering her nerve, she stared him out.

  “Let me by, please.”

  He grinned, showing two broken teeth. “Well now, my pretty one, what are you doing down here alone? Lost your friends?”

  He stood with his hands on his hips. His weasely face with its weathered skin never lost that cruel smile. Rienne looked past him, desperately hoping someone else would come along, but the hallway was deserted.

  “I’m on my way back from the infirmary. They’re expecting me.” She tried to sound convincing but her voice betrayed a tremor.

  “Oh, I don’t think they are.” He was grinning lewdly. “They’ve all been seen out in the arena, so they’re not missing you. Anyway, you’re in the wrong place to be on your way back, my pretty. Perhaps you were looking for someone?”

  He stretched out his hand to touch her cheek but she flinched and tried to dodge him. It was a mistake. He was too quick for her and grabbed her arm painfully.

  She gasped in shock, really alarmed now. “Let go of me, please. If you were any sort of soldier you’d direct me back to the proper corridor.”

  “Would I? It’s a pity I’m not a soldier anymore then, isn’t it?” He glanced around, still holding her arm. “Let’s see. Ah, yes. We won’t be disturbed in here.”

  Brutally, before she could utter a sound, he twisted her around so her back was to his chest. He clamped his other hand over her mouth and pushed her into a vacant room. Kicking the door shut, he held her, breathing heavily. She could feel the thump of his heart and smell his none-too-savory breath. She frantically tried to think of an escape plan.

  He forced her away from the door toward the opposite wall. She tried to struggle but he was far too strong. To her horror, she could feel that he was aroused. He spun her around and shoved her against the wall, pinning her with his body. Pressing tightly against her, he managed to secure both her wrists with one hand. The other still covered her mouth. She stared into his lustful eyes, trying not to panic.

  He was starting to sweat as he brought his face close to hers. She felt the rasp of stubble on her cheek. His licked his lips and removed his hand from her mouth. Rienne attempted to scream, but he clamped his lips over hers and forced his tongue between her teeth.

  She almost gagged at his rancid taste and her heart hammered. She whimpered, but that only seemed to inflame him further. The hand that had covered her mouth now began exploring her body, and she tried her best to squirm away from his insistent groping. He grunted, ceased his mauling and brought his hand up to her face. In it he held a large, sharp knife. She stared in terror as he pressed it to her neck, beneath her ear.

  His voice was husky. “Now, my pretty, we’re not going to make trouble, are we? We’re not going to scream or do anything stupid
? I won’t cut you if you do as you’re told.”

  He slid the knife down her throat, following the line of her jugular. He ran it around to the hollow, where her pulse was jumping erratically. Then he slid it farther down, below the neck of her shirt and past the division of her breasts. He rested it there and pressed gently. She gasped in pain as a tiny bead of blood was drawn.

  “You see?” he rasped. “My weapons are very sharp indeed, and one of them is fully cocked.”

  Releasing her wrists, he fumbled at her skirts, pulling them up. Really panicking now and not allowing herself to think what might happen if she failed, Rienne took advantage of her free hands. Lacing her fingers together, she jerked them up under his knife hand, at the same time jabbing her knee sharply into his bulging groin. She only had one chance, so she put all her adrenaline-fueled strength into the move.

  The knife flew out of his hand, nicking her skin deeply, before flying across the room, where it landed with a clank on the floor. His face went beetroot-red and he collapsed with a strangled gasp. Moaning, he clutched at his groin.

  Rienne fled, not knowing whether he was capable of following her. She was sobbing in terror, bag bumping her thigh, breath heaving through burning lungs. Blind panic lent her speed and she bolted up the nearest stairway, taking no note of where she ran.

  She pelted down the corridors, taking random turns. Eventually, her body ran out of energy and she was forced to stop. Sinking to the floor, she huddled against the wall, desperately trying to listen over the sound of her own breathing, terrified of hearing following footsteps. As she gradually calmed and quieted, she realized there was nothing to hear.

  Slowly, still trembling, she regained her feet. Looking around, she realized she thought she knew where she was. Although she had approached it from the other direction, she was sure that the door up ahead was the one to Sullyan’s office. And while not exactly familiar, it was a sanctuary of sorts.

  Without a second thought, she opened the door and slipped inside. The office was deserted. She closed the door with infinite relief and leaned back against it, trying to calm her thudding heart. He would never look for her here.

  The trembling grew worse and her legs refused to hold her up. She slid to the floor, her mind replaying the frightening ordeal. She began to shake uncontrollably. Bringing her hands to her face, she let the tears come. Once she had opened the floodgates, there was no going back. Her body was wracked by huge sobs and she had to gulp in air. She bowed her head to her knees and cried out her heart.

  After a few minutes, just when she was beginning to regain control, she heard a sound. Irrationally thinking that the sergeant had managed to find her after all, she looked up in alarm. Much to her embarrassment, she saw that the door to the Major’s private rooms had opened and Sullyan was standing in the doorway.

  She had obviously been bathing as her only garment was a voluminous green shirt, probably a man’s, and she was toweling her wet mane of tawny hair. When she saw who was on her office floor, she dropped the towel and crossed swiftly to Rienne’s side.

  Kneeling down beside her she asked, “Rienne, whatever is the matter?” Her golden eyes narrowed as they fastened on the front of Rienne’s shirt. “You are hurt.”

  Struggling to control her breathing, Rienne shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  “Then why is there blood?”

  The Major reached out and moved aside the collar of Rienne’s shirt. She stared at Rienne. “This is a knife wound.”

  Rienne had completely forgotten the nick in her skin but now that she noticed, it began to sting. She managed to say, “It’s not too bad, it’s just a scratch. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just got lost and this was the only place I recognized. I’ll go now.”

  Sullyan frowned slightly. “You have not disturbed me and you can go nowhere in that state. Come inside. I have some fellan brewing and you need to sit down.” She rose, waiting for Rienne to come into her rooms.

  “I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” protested Rienne. “It’s your day off. I’m alright now, really. I’d better get back before Cal misses me.”

  The Major sighed. “You need not fret about your young man. He and Bulldog are sharing a bottle of firewater after a hard session in the arena. And I think it might be better if you washed and changed your shirt. He might panic if he sees that blood.”

  “Oh.” Rienne looked down, surprised at how much the cut had bled. The younger woman was right, she could do with a hot drink and a rest before facing Cal and telling him what had happened. “Alright then. If you’re sure … ?”

  The Major simply turned and led the way back into her rooms. Once inside, Rienne looked about as the room was quite different with the late afternoon sun slanting through the windows. Not quite as cozy as the previous night, but still pleasant.

  Sullyan went into the cooking room and shortly returned with two cups of steaming fellan. She waved Rienne to a seat and passed her a cup. Then she sat down opposite on the couch, curling up with her slim legs beneath her. Looking tiny in the oversized shirt, with her damp hair curling around her face, Rienne thought she looked about ten years old. Quite unlike a major in the High King’s forces.

  Rienne sipped her fellan. Its hot sweetness began to revive her but she still felt shaky. Delayed shock, said the healer in her.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” asked Sullyan gently. “I trust it was not an argument with Cal?” She smiled, knowing it was no such thing.

  “Oh no,” said Rienne. “He’d never do anything so … ”

  She broke off and took another sip. The memory of her narrow escape brought the shakes back and tears of shock welled once more. She couldn’t speak of it yet, it was too fresh.

  The Major watched her. Laying aside her own cup, she uncoiled from the couch and crossed to the low table by one wall. She picked up the bottle there and brought it over to Rienne.

  “Here,” she said, pouring a good measure into Rienne’s cup, “Bull left this behind last night. He is always telling me it is for medicinal purposes, so perhaps it will help. I can see it is too soon for you to talk about what happened, so we will not. There, is that better?”

  The healer sampled the laced fellan and managed a shaky smile. “I can’t comment on its medicinal properties, but it certainly tastes good.”

  Sullyan set down the bottle, picked up her cup and folded herself back onto the couch. In doing so, the oversized shirt rode up, revealing her left leg to the hip. Rienne gasped: there was a long, ugly scar running down the leg from the point of the hip to just inside Sullyan’s knee.

  “That was a nasty injury,” she said, her professional interest piqued. “I’d say you were lucky it wasn’t fatal.”

  “Very lucky,” murmured Sullyan.

  “How did it happen—that is, if I’m permitted to ask?” Suddenly, Rienne was overcome by shyness.

  The Major smiled. “Of course you are permitted, it is hardly a secret.” She put down her cup. “My company and I were in the field, tracking one of the raiding parties. We pinned them down and I managed to block their escape through the Veils. Lower-ranking Andaryans are not usually so tenacious and often surrender once trapped. This band, however, was very determined. They succeeded in killing a number of my men before a small group of them broke away.”

  Rienne’s imagination, quite without her volition, showed her vivid images of what the Major was describing.

  Sullyan’s soft voice continued. “We pursued them and brought them to bay, but their commander refused to surrender. He came at me with almost desperate ferocity and a lucky thrust got past my guard. But the stroke unbalanced him and I repaid him for the wound.”

  Rienne frowned. “How long ago was this?”

  “A week.”

  “What? That can’t be right. You must be mistaken. That scar’s much older than a week.”

  “I am not mistaken, Rienne. It was exactly seven days ago.”

  Rienne re-examined the scar.
“How is that possible? It’s healed so well. After such a serious wound most people would still be bed-ridden.”

  Sullyan smiled slightly. “Ah, but most people are not Artesans, Rienne. You are a healer, so I understand your confusion. But I assure you, it was last week.” Seeing Rienne’s lack of comprehension she added, “Those of us who can control our metaforce can use the power to influence healing. You live with two men learning the craft, surely you know this?”

  Rienne thought for a moment, choosing her words so as not to sound disloyal. “Taran and Cal haven’t had the benefit of much training, as you’ve heard. I don’t think they’re fully aware of what’s possible. But I do remember Taran saying that his father used to do some healing.”

  “Much is possible when one has the right guidance,” said Sullyan, “but even with trained power such as mine, these things have their price.”

  She watched Rienne’s face as her meaning became clear.

  “Oh. Is that why you looked so ill when we first met you?”

  “That was the first day I was able to stay on my feet. I had expended so much strength in healing that I had precious little left.” The Major smiled, as if at a private memory. “The infirmary was very happy to see the back of me, despite the Chief Healer advising against it. Even Bulldog thought I had left too soon, hence his concern for me that day.”

  “You didn’t seem too pleased by his concern.” The words slipped out before Rienne could stop them and she bit her lip in embarrassment.

  Fortunately, Sullyan only grinned. “Bulldog and I have been together thirteen years. He has seen me take such injuries before and ought to trust me to know my own strength. A gentle reminder like that is good for him now and then.”