said she’d be working in the study. I’m late getting up to Tris—would you mind taking the tea to Carina if you’re going that direction? I wouldn’t want it to get cold.”
“Glad to help,” Vahanian deadpanned, taking the teapot and cup from her tray.
Kiara’s eyes grew serious. “I’m afraid for them, Jonmarc. Both of them looked like they’d been to battle. I’m not sure how much more either of them can take.”
Vahanian nodded. “I wondered that myself. I’m the wrong one to ask about magic. But remind Spook that if he gets his royal ass fried, the rest of us hang.
And personally, I’m counting on doing some damage to Arontala. So… he needs to stick around for the party.”
Kiara smiled at his irreverence. “I’ll remind him— in so many words,” she chuckled. “Go on now, or the tea will be cold. Let Carina know it will be tomorrow before the court healer can see her— there was an outbreak in the village and Staden sent the healers to help.” “I’ll tell her,” Vahanian replied, heading for the study.
AT THE STUDY, Vahanian knocked lightly at the door. When no answer came, he frowned and knocked again, more insistently. “Carina?” he called quietly. “Kiara asked me to bring up some tea. It’s Jonmarc.”
When there was still no answer, he tried the door. It was unlocked, and swung open at his touch. Carina lay sprawled on the floor, her book fallen beside her.
Vahanian rushed inside, and the door swung closed behind him. The tea was forgotten on the table as he knelt beside Carina, turning her over gently.
Carina was pale and feverish. A fresh gash bled on her upper arm, and Vahanian guessed that she had fallen against the edge of the table. From the lump on her forehead, it was obvious that she had hit the floor hard.
Gently, Vahanian lifted Carina into his arms and carried her to a small couch.
Although he possessed none of Carina’s healing magic, Vahanian had seen enough battle—and enough battle healers—to make a fair assessment of her injuries. Carina’s breathing was steady and her pulse was strong. Vahanian spotted Carina’s healer’s bag near the fireplace, and rifled through it with a practiced eye. He selected a few herbs and a stretch of cloth, and brought the small iron pot of water that simmered on the fire. Within a few minutes, he had fashioned a rough bandage from part of the strip and made a poultice from the herbs to bind up the gash on her arm. He mixed some powders with the tea to bring down Carina’s fever, and made a compress with a rag and the water on the washstand.
Carina began to stir as he patted the cool water against her face.
“Take it easy,” Vahanian instructed. “You had a nasty fall.”
“How—”
“Kiara asked me to stop off with some tea on my way by,” Vahanian said, helping her sit to sip the tea. “She said to tell you that none of the palace healers could come by until tomorrow—some kind of plague in the village has them all busy.”
“Then where did the poultice—”
He chuckled. “As you love to point out, I’ve been in more than my share of fights. Just a little battle-field healing, to return the favor.”
Carina gingerly touched the fresh bandage on her arm, and sniffed the air.
“Acycla leaves and cass root, with featherwort. Not a beginner’s mixture.”
“I spent a few years helping a hedge witch gather herbs,” Vahanian said off-handedly. “You learn things.”
Carina looked at Vahanian, meeting his eyes as if she were trying to read his thoughts. “Who are you… really?”
Vahanian recognized the question. It was the same loaded query he had tossed her way alter the slavers’ rout in the Ruune Videya. Something in her eyes made him take the question seriously. He ran a hand back through his long, dark hair.
“Why do you care?” he asked quietly, refusing to look away.
“Because the answer matters.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I don’t think I’m going anywhere.” She
“Glad to help,” Vahanian deadpanned, taking the teapot and cup from her tray.
Kiara’s eyes grew serious. “I’m afraid for them, Jonmarc. Both of them looked like they’d been to battle. I’m not sure how much more either of them can take.”
Vahanian nodded. “I wondered that myself. I’m the wrong one to ask about magic. But remind Spook that if he gets his royal ass fried, the rest of us hang.
And personally, I’m counting on doing some damage to Arontala. So… he needs to stick around for the party.”
Kiara smiled at his irreverence. “I’ll remind him— in so many words,” she chuckled. “Go on now, or the tea will be cold. Let Carina know it will be tomorrow before the court healer can see her— there was an outbreak in the village and Staden sent the healers to help.” “I’ll tell her,” Vahanian replied, heading for the study.
AT THE STUDY, Vahanian knocked lightly at the door. When no answer came, he frowned and knocked again, more insistently. “Carina?” he called quietly. “Kiara asked me to bring up some tea. It’s Jonmarc.”
When there was still no answer, he tried the door. It was unlocked, and swung open at his touch. Carina lay sprawled on the floor, her book fallen beside her.
Vahanian rushed inside, and the door swung closed behind him. The tea was forgotten on the table as he knelt beside Carina, turning her over gently.
Carina was pale and feverish. A fresh gash bled on her upper arm, and Vahanian guessed that she had fallen against the edge of the table. From the lump on her forehead, it was obvious that she had hit the floor hard.
Gently, Vahanian lifted Carina into his arms and carried her to a small couch.
Although he possessed none of Carina’s healing magic, Vahanian had seen enough battle—and enough battle healers—to make a fair assessment of her injuries. Carina’s breathing was steady and her pulse was strong. Vahanian spotted Carina’s healer’s bag near the fireplace, and rifled through it with a practiced eye. He selected a few herbs and a stretch of cloth, and brought the small iron pot of water that simmered on the fire. Within a few minutes, he had fashioned a rough bandage from part of the strip and made a poultice from the herbs to bind up the gash on her arm. He mixed some powders with the tea to bring down Carina’s fever, and made a compress with a rag and the water on the washstand.
Carina began to stir as he patted the cool water against her face.
“Take it easy,” Vahanian instructed. “You had a nasty fall.”
“How—”
“Kiara asked me to stop off with some tea on my way by,” Vahanian said, helping her sit to sip the tea. “She said to tell you that none of the palace healers could come by until tomorrow—some kind of plague in the village has them all busy.”
“Then where did the poultice—”
He chuckled. “As you love to point out, I’ve been in more than my share of fights. Just a little battle-field healing, to return the favor.”
Carina gingerly touched the fresh bandage on her arm, and sniffed the air.
“Acycla leaves and cass root, with featherwort. Not a beginner’s mixture.”
“I spent a few years helping a hedge witch gather herbs,” Vahanian said off-handedly. “You learn things.”
Carina looked at Vahanian, meeting his eyes as if she were trying to read his thoughts. “Who are you… really?”
Vahanian recognized the question. It was the same loaded query he had tossed her way alter the slavers’ rout in the Ruune Videya. Something in her eyes made him take the question seriously. He ran a hand back through his long, dark hair.
“Why do you care?” he asked quietly, refusing to look away.
“Because the answer matters.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I don’t think I’m going anywhere.” She
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