Betrayal by Fiona McIntosh

perfume.
    Recalling his sad performance, Tor cursed loud and colourfully. Then he remembered Cloot.
    Still fully dressed from the previous night he hurriedly swung long legs to the ground and moved swiftly from the bed. He found his boots placed neatly by the entrance and pulled them on without noticing the tiny note stuck inside.
    As he sped off down the hill towards the city, Tor threw his mind to Cloot, anxious of what he might find.
    You’re awake!
    I am now, thank you.
    I’ve disturbed you? My apologies.
    Not really, there’s a physic here. I gather his name is Freyberg.
    Tor stopped. Is he wondering over the miracle of your recovery? he asked sheepishly.
    No, not at all. We were actually discussing where the fish might be running today.
    Tor heard Cloot chuckle deeply in his head and bristled with embarrassment. How was he going to explain this away to Freyberg?
    I’ll be there shortly.
    And I’ll be waiting , Cloot said.
    In the smallest room at The Empty Goblet, Doctor Freyberg was furious. He banged his monocle into his left eye.
    ‘And what are you smiling about, Mr Cloot?’ Freyberg demanded, knowing it was a pointless exercise. He probed, with no small wonder, at the healed limbs and once pulpy bruises which had paled almost to nothing.
    The patient shook his ugly head and wiped the grin swiftly.
    ‘Ah, so you can hear?’
    Cloot nodded.
    ‘Well, you have no need of my services any longer. It seems angels paid a visit here last night and did my work for me.’
    They could hear someone taking the steps two at a time and moments later Tor clattered into the room, breathing deeply from his efforts. Freyberg snapped his case shut and swung around theatrically.
    ‘Welcome, Gynt. I have the most extraordinary tale to relate.’
    He pushed his hands into his pockets so the boy wouldn’t see them shaking. Freyberg was not sure whether he felt unsteady from the miracle work he had witnessed or from the terror it evoked.
    He had been a physic for thirty-three years and, like his father before him, had served Hatten for all of his professional years. Freyberg knew he was good. No, he knew that he was an exceptional doctor and yet, with all his experience and skills, he also knew that nothing was going to save Cloot’s life last night. Now, very much alive and healed, the mute sat before him, and damn him if a dopey grin was not spreading across his ugly face again.
    Tor acknowledged the physic with a stiff bow. He looked over at Cloot, saw him sitting up on the bed and could not help but return the huge grin.
    ‘Doctor Freyberg, I’ll explain everything, I just need to talk to Cloot,’ he muttered as he closed the door. He was at Cloot’s side in two strides and gripped the man’s huge hand tightly.
    ‘Talk! How do you talk to a mute?’ Freyberg plonked himself into the only chair in the room. He stared angrily out the small window at the marketplace below, listening to the boy’s excited one-sided conversation.
    ‘I thought you were dead at one point, Cloot. I was so scared.’ Tor felt his eyes filling with hot tears. He’d done it. He had saved the man’s life.
    Hush, boy. Don’t dig a deeper hole for yourself ,Cloot murmured in Tor’s head and nodded slightly towards the doctor. He raised his other hand and tapped Tor’s head lightly. There is much for me to share with you, but right now I must rest, and you must think of something very impressive to tell the doctor. He sagged back onto the bed.
    Tor let go of the man’s hand first and then his mind. He faced Freyberg, who was snatching nervously at his beard. This was a good man sitting in front of him. He did not want to lie but admitting he was sentient was as good as signing his own death warrant. Merkhud had gone to some pains to point this out before he left.
    Do not use your powers on this journey at all. Don’t be tempted to show off. Don’t interfere with anyone or anything. Just mind your own business and get yourself quickly to