Shard & Shield

by Laura VanArendonk Baugh

  Shianan turned his eyes to Luca’s pale, silent form. “That’s easy enough to guess. You’d thrown him away once already. Why would he risk that again?”

  No sound came from Roald. Shianan was tempted to look at him, to see if his words had cut through disbelief, but it was more important to stare at the still form drifting slightly in the motion of the bath.

  Luca….

  Torg entered, carrying a gilded pitcher. He paused and looked worriedly at Shianan. “King’s oats, sir, are you well enough to be—”

  “I am not the one in greatest danger here, captain.”

  “Right, sir.” Torg started forward again. “I have some hot water, which is better than nothing. He’ll bring some tea in a bit, when he finds it, and he’s bringing more wood for the brazier as well. We’ll need this room baking hot.”

  “Water? Tea?” Roald sounded strained. “I’ll buy the brandy myself, if it’s a question of—”

  “Do you want to kill him?” demanded Torg. “Strong drink will suck the life right out of him. He needs something hot and slow, nothing that will flush his skin.” He took up a gleaming cup and poured steaming water into it. “Let’s get some of this into him, if he’ll swallow. Can you get his head, sir?”

  Shianan took Luca’s lolling head and Torg eased water over his lips and into his mouth. There was no effort to swallow, no response of any variety. Shianan looked worriedly at Torg, who swore under his breath before raising his eyes to meet his commander’s. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what to do. You at least took the tea I gave you. He’s not even shivering.”

  A black rift opened within Shianan. “But….”

  “There’s not much pulse in him, if it’s even there. I’m not sure, myself.” He looked unhappy. “Much as I hate to say it, sir, I don’t see how he can make it. I know you’re fond of him, but you might be needing another slave.”

  Shianan pushed the thought away before it could hurt him. “Go for Mage Hazelrig. Abdil Row. Bring him here.”

  “Sir! I—the White Mage?”

  “He’ll help. He owes me a favor.”

  Torg hesitated. “Sir—it’s a slave….”

  Shianan make a sharp, frustrated gesture. “It’s more complicated than that, Torg. Please, hurry. Tell Mage Hazelrig to bring what he needs for mage healing and I’ll explain when he arrives.”

  Torg looked both doubtful and curious, but he turned obediently toward the door. Shianan stumbled backward to the couch and sank upon it, still staring at Luca. Roald remained standing, stiff and unmoving.

  Luca…. Shianan swallowed against the lump in his throat. He couldn’t lose this friend, whom he owed so much, who shared his secrets, who had fallen while trying to save Shianan yet again….

  The attendant came with an armload of charcoal. He spent a moment building up the fire, glancing first at the still figure bobbing in the bath’s current and then at the two men waiting silently, and then he retreated.

  After a moment Shianan tried offering the water again. Luca did not respond as the water ran into his mouth, did not even cough when Shianan sloshed too much and it seemed it should choke him. It was as if he were dead. Perhaps he was.

  Panic seized Shianan and he took Luca about the torso, half-lifting him so that his head lolled limply as Shianan pressed his ear to his chest, cold under the warm film of water. Roald started to ask a question and Shianan snapped at him impatiently, straining to listen. There! A slow, quiet slosh, what he hoped desperately might be a heartbeat.

  Sweet Holy One, please—I don’t ask much. Just let him live. Please, let him live. I know my wants aren’t important, but I’ll do anything, just please, please, let him live….

  The door opened and Ewan Hazelrig entered with Torg. Shianan leapt to his feet and stumbled unsteadily. “My lord mage! Please, if you can help him—”

  Hazelrig held up a hand to interrupt him. “The captain says it’s a very near thing. Let me see him.” He went directly to the bath, kneeling and setting down a bag. “Captain, I’ll need you opposite me to support him. I want to be able to handle him while keeping what we can in the hot water.”

  Torg drew off his boots before stepping into the deep bath. He moved around Luca and faced Hazelrig, bringing his arms underneath so that Luca lay silently at the surface of the water. “Like this?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Hazelrig pulled a jar from his bag and removed the traveling seal. He scooped out a handful of a pale blue ointment and spread it thinly across Luca’s chest. “First let’s see if there’s any heartbeat left.”

  He opened his hands above the anointed skin and closed his eyes, concentrating. They watched silently, and then Hazelrig opened his eyes and stared down at Luca. For an agonizing moment Shianan thought he was going to pronounce a final hopeless end, but then he pointed. “There. Do you see?”

  Shianan did not. He leaned closer, along with Roald and Torg, and after a few eternal seconds a faint flicker of pink showed beneath Hazelrig’s pointing finger, over Luca’s heart. It disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving Shianan doubting whether he’d seen it at all, but Hazelrig seemed satisfied. He turned and searched for something else in his bag, and Shianan saw another brief flicker of pink marking Luca’s slow, weak heartbeat. “He’s alive, then? And he can be recovered?”

  “He’s alive, technically,” confirmed Hazelrig, drawing out an amulet and examining it. “But I cannot promise we can bring him back. You can see his heart is barely beating. It’s as if he’s fallen dormant, like a squirrel or tortoise in winter.” He set aside the amulet and withdrew another. “But we will try. I cannot work miracles, you understand, and mage healing is best for magical injury. With this—if there is anything left in him that would fight the cold and revive, I can provide the energy for it to try again. But if not… Well, we will have tried.”

  “I’ll pay it.” Roald’s voice shook. “I’ll pay whatever price. I know mage healing is expensive, but if it will save him, I’ll pay it.”

  “Quiet,” said Hazelrig firmly. “Let me work.”

  He touched the second amulet and murmured under his breath. Shianan saw nothing change, but Hazelrig withdrew his fingers suddenly, letting the amulet dangle by a thin chain, and extended it over Luca’s chest. He held it low, nearly brushing the wet skin, and moved it slowly along the length of his torso.

  Roald was quivering with impatient anxiety, gnawing at a knuckle. Shianan felt a sharp pain and realized he was biting fiercely at his thumbnail. Come on, Luca. Feel it. Fight it. Fight it, Luca, come back to us….

  And then there was a quick flickering of pink, as the feeble heartbeat fluttered worriedly, and the torso twitched once, the first movement they’d seen since pulling him from the river’s icy grip. Shianan’s breath caught. “Luca?”

  “Not yet,” cautioned Hazelrig, still moving the amulet steadily. “But he’s recognized the help here. Now he needs to use it.”

  There was another tiny twitch, a subtle movement of the skin, and then a third. Hazelrig’s face was taut as he swept the amulet over the pale body. Luca’s mouth moved, making Shianan lean forward, and then his blue lips tightened into a forceful cough.

  “Yes, good!” Hazelrig’s words were half cheer, half encouragement.

  And then Luca convulsed in the bath, coughing violently as he folded in Torg’s unprepared arms. Shianan and Roald reached for him as he hacked river water and spittle, gagging with the force of his effort, his chest rattling and wheezing between ragged, painful coughs. Shianan and Roald held tightly to his shoulders, wincing with the ferocity of it.

  At last the fit slowed and the muscles relaxed, as Luca coughed more sporadically. Shianan released him, thinking to let him lie in the warming water once more. Roald leaned alongside Hazelrig and then recoiled as if burned, staring in horror at the striped skin across Luca’s back.

  Shianan felt a quick stab of sympathetic horror and then a swell of indignant anger. When Roald turned baleful eyes on him, he shot back an accusing g
lare of his own. “Oh, no. Blame yourself for what’s happened, not me.”

  “Give him something to drink,” said Torg. Roald held Luca upright while Shianan sloshed hot water into his mouth and Hazelrig worked the amulet over him. This time Luca’s lips moved and his throat worked as he swallowed.

  “Give him more,” urged Roald in a tight, odd voice, and Shianan spared a glance to note the merchant had tears running down his face. He poured more water into Luca, who drank unconsciously.

  “Look.” Hazelrig withdrew the amulet for a moment and they watched a tiny ripple of motion move through Luca’s body. A moment later it happened again, and then his teeth chattered weakly once or twice. “He’s trying to shiver.”

  Torg nodded enthusiastically. “That’s good! He’s trying to warm himself.”

  The pale flicker of pink came more steadily, now. Shianan stared at it, his thoughts a prayer. Sweet Holy One….

  Hazelrig reapplied the amulet and gradually the shivering became more pronounced. The mage nodded. “Thank you, captain, you may let him down now. Do we have something hot and sweet to drink? He’ll need quick energy.”

  “I’ve ordered tea,” answered Torg, easing Luca back into the water. “And a place like this will have plenty of honey for it, I’ll bet.”

  “Then pour it into him,” Hazelrig said. “And keep this amulet over him for another hour yet. Beyond that he’ll have little need of it, I hope, but it won’t hurt to have it near.” He looked over his shoulder. “My lord commander, may I speak with you privately?”

  Shianan nodded automatically, his eyes on Luca. “Of course, my lord mage.” He pushed himself to his feet, recalling suddenly how weary and weak he was.

  Hazelrig closed the door behind them and faced Shianan in the empty corridor. “How are you, your lordship?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You’ve had a rough few days.”

  Shianan shook his head. “I’m recovering. Bruises and cuts and soreness, no more.”

  Hazelrig threw his arms around him, stunning Shianan. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice suddenly gruff. “You saved my daughter. Thank you.” He released Shianan and looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. But I do not know how to express my thanks.” He withdrew the unused amulet and held it out by the chain. “This is for your own hurts. I’m so sorry I could not do more to alleviate them while you were under arrest.” He held up a finger, activating the magic. “It may be uncomfortable for a time, but bear with it for the best result.”

  Shianan accepted the amulet, his skin tingling. “Thank you, my lord mage. But I’ve already said—there is no need to thank me.”

  Hazelrig made a dismissive gesture. “The healing amulet is not for my daughter, it is for your bravery and sacrifice. I would have sent more help with Luca, had I known he would follow you.”

  Shianan felt a pang. “He was not supposed to follow. I thought he’d be safe with you.”

  “That was clever, giving him a bill of sale to remove him from reach. He should have been safe, had he stayed.” He looked at Shianan narrowly. “His well-being is important to you.”

  Shianan, caught, swallowed and nodded. “He is—more than a slave. A friend.” He exhaled and stared at the amulet warming his hand. “If the king had fathered a second bastard, it might have been Luca.”

  Hazelrig nodded, as if he understood. “Let me know if I can help again. And thank you again for what you’ve done. Come when you can.”

  Shianan nodded. He did not know if he would visit the mage’s house. If Ariana did not ask after him, he would not use his actions to indebt her to him. But he could think about that later. Right now, he wasn’t sure he could think clearly on anything.

  Hazelrig seemed to recognize this. He put a hand on Shianan’s shoulder. “Get some rest and use that amulet. You’ll be no good to him or yourself or anyone in this condition.”

  Shianan nodded dully and Hazelrig left. Shianan went back into the room, heat wrapping him as he entered. Even so, Torg was building up the fire in the brazier. Shianan nodded; the room should be as warm as they could make it.

  But then he saw why the captain had busied himself with a task. Jarrick Roald sat on the wood and stone edging of the bath, sobbing softly. Shianan clenched his jaw. It was fine to weep now for his brother, years after his surrender. He should have fought for him then.

  Shianan limped to the couch and sat heavily. He pressed the amulet the mage had given him to his bruised abdomen. Warmth spread through him as if someone had poured heated oil over his skin, only unlike oil this penetrated and ran through his insides. After a moment it became uncomfortably warm, but he recalled Hazelrig’s words and kept it in place. He closed his eyes and folded his arms across the amulet, shielding it from view of the others. The rising heat seemed it would scorch him, as every bruise and cut and contusion and welt seemed to burn. He bit off a small sound of discomfort.

  “Sir?”

  He ignored Torg. He would like to ignore everything. He was tired, so tired, and hungry, and tired, and he only wanted to see that Luca would be well and then he wanted to sleep….

  “Sir! Are you all right?”

  He sat up abruptly, wondering how the couch had come so near his face. “I’m fine. Where’s that tea?”

  Chapter 67

  Today, Ariana wanted to see Shianan. She slid out of bed and began to dress. She would go to him today. He would be free for a time, surely—no one released from the Court of the High Star would resume his duties at next dawn—and maybe he would be glad to see her, as well.

  No fresh wash water by the door, so Tam was not yet awake. She would have to rouse him as she had done for years. The thought was uncomfortable, now that she knew his true form and true nature. It seemed wrong to wake the Pairvyn ni’Ai.

  What had become of the other servant? The night she’d arrived, when the house was bursting with excited mages and grateful friends and hopeful questioners, she’d seen a second servant, serving drinks and tiny pieces of Mother Harriet’s pies. She’d thought it was the black-haired slave the Gehrn priest had brought. Or perhaps he wasn’t the same at all, and only someone borrowed to help in the rush. She hadn’t seen him since that night.

  She left her room and went out to fetch her own water, not ready to face Tam. There was something there which was not yet defined, and it frightened her in a vague sort of way.

  Her father was already in the kitchen, nibbling an oat cake rolled to contain the sweet berry syrup he’d added. “Good morning, darling. I’d guessed you might sleep late.”

  “I thought I’d pay a visit to the commander, to congratulate him on his release.”

  Her father shook his head. “Not this morning, I’m afraid. I was called out in the middle of the night at his lordship’s request, to attend a half-dead man. He’ll have his hands full this morning, and he’s not well himself.”

  Ariana caught at the phrase. “What do you mean, not well himself?”

  He sighed. “You might have guessed the guards would not be pleased with the man they thought stole the Shard. There was a raid, and—Pairvyn ni’Ai was there….”

  Ariana’s stomach made an unsteady little jump. “Oh. Oh, I see.” Sick horror, belated but real, clawed through her. They must have been furious. They must have half-killed him. It was amazing anew they had released him at all. “Does he—I can help him….”

  He smiled gently. “I’ve already given him a healing amulet, my girl, and there’s not much more you could do. And he’ll have his hands full, as I said. You should wait.”

  “Wait for what?” She made a frustrated gesture. “I should try to help him.”

  “Why?” Her father’s question was odd, but his expression was odder, strangely curious for her answer.

  “Because he’s my friend.”

  “Your friend,” her father repeated. He took another bite of oat cake.

  “Why are you questioning this?”

  “I’m only curious about my daughter’s friend
s.”

  “Is this because he’s the bastard? Because I’m more than half-sick of that! He’s a fine man and he’s doing what he can under the circumstances, and I like him. I’m in no danger associating with him, especially since he’s been released from the Court of the High Star. Won’t that do more to help his reputation than any number of battles?”

  “It might, at that,” Hazelrig mused. “Don’t be angry, darling, I was only asking. I like him, too, more than you guess.” He took another bite to fill his mouth.

  “Then I’m going to see Shianan now.”

  “Shianan?”

  She turned in indignant embarrassment. “He asked me to call him so!”

  Her father nodded, apparently serious, but she was not quite convinced he wasn’t inwardly laughing. “I’m sorry, I had not heard that. Go on, then.”

  But when Ariana knocked repeatedly at the commander’s office door, there was no answer.

  Chapter 68

  Shianan woke, feeling twinges in his back, and then he thought of Luca and rolled over on the couch. Roald, seated against the far wall, glanced at him. “You’re awake?”

  Shianan sat up and looked toward the bath. “How is he?”

  “Hasn’t woken yet, but he’s been shivering off and on. You’ve been asleep only a short while.”

  Shianan was not reassured by this. “Do we have any tea left?”

  “Finished. I gave him the last of it a few minutes ago. Your captain left, something about morning duties.”

  The room was stifling and hot, and drops of sweat rolled down Shianan’s face. The amulet Mage Hazelrig had given him was clenched in his hand, leaving marks where he’d squeezed it as he slept. He turned and looked at Luca, still in the steaming water, his head reclining on a rolled towel at the edge and his heels resting on the stone edge of one side. Thus anchored, he floated and drifted in the bath. His skin looked a normal color.

  Roald cleared his throat. “Your lordship, I—I wonder…. Luca is your slave, isn’t he?”

  Shianan nodded silently.