Chapter Fourteen
"I'm sure it can be fixed," said Maerad, examining Cadvan's torn tendon; she looked up. Cadvan was seated on a chair before her hearth which was lit even during the late afternoon, and Maerad was seated at his feet, her hands gently handling his foot which was propped on a stool. Cadvan blinked once, confused by the strangely domestic scene. "I'd be happy to."
"Thank you," he said, giving himself a small shake. She squeezed his foot in a reassuring gesture. "I didn't mean for you and Saliman to be hurt, you know. I just need to know what game these Hulls are playing and who's playing them. It will help us in the end."
"I'm sure your intentions are true," Cadvan said in a measured tone. She seemed slightly more resigned, and Cadvan could guess it was because when he and Saliman were brought before her, they were both limping horribly, unable to support themselves, and were delirious from blood loss. Taking advantage of her remorse, Cadvan said, "Have you heard any news from Thorold? I thought I was a number of Bards being brought in just a few days ago."
Maerad perked up a little at his question. "Yes. Tonight we are going to celebrate our victory with a huge dinner and dancing and music."
Carefully now. "And have you any news of our old acquaintance, Nerili?"
Maerad rose and poured Cadvan a steaming mug of tea and piled a plate with some cheese, cold meats, and fruit. When she sat back down, it was to sink gracefully to the floor beside his chair and look up at him. "She was the First Bard, and so she will be questioned by the Lord of the Light."
"What will become of her afterwards?" Cadvan wondered, feigning a great interest in a hunk of cheese. "Will she join the rest of us in the Barracks?"
"I do not think so. She is far too dangerous to be allowed free movement. She will most likely be kept here." Maerad pursed her lips. "She was your friend, wasn't she?"
There didn't seem any point in denying it. "Yes, a long time ago, it seems."
Maerad toyed with his fingers, but he let her because he liked the feelings of her hands on his. "And would you be happy if you saw her again?"
"Very much so," he replied, meeting her eyes.
"It is possible that I might be able to convince the Lord of Light to assign her a post here," Maerad mused. "He doesn't want her with the rest of her people for fear she will start a riot, but locking her up in my tower room might be an ideal solution."
"Do you have a need for more servants?" he asked casually.
"I don't, and I certainly can't condone taking another just because you might want to see her," Maerad continued, puzzled. She glanced up and caught his eyes. "But you miss her?"
"I would hate to think of the place he might keep her when I have the good fortune to be allowed here," he said smoothly.
"Hekibel, fetch my brother and Saliman, will you?" she called over her shoulder, never taking her eyes off Cadvan's face.
Hekibel, who had been busying herself with laying out a gown for Maerad that evening, straightened up and tipped her a bow. "Of course, but you must bathe soon and get ready for this evening."
"After," Maerad said vaguely, and waved her off. When Hekibel had gone, Maerad returned her focus to Cadvan, and smiled slowly at her.
"You're certainly being sneaky, Mistress Unpredictable," Cadvan chuckled.
"I wouldn't have to be if the Lord of Light trusted me with such things," she said bitterly, and rose up to stand before him. "He won't say it, but I know he thinks you're a bad influence on me."
Far shrewder than I gave him credit for, Cadvan thought. He's not too far from the mark. "He thinks only of your best interests, and perhaps your talents are better used somewhere else than in lessons."
Maerad waved her hand at him. "Nonsense. They're used best wherever I deem them. He should have no fear of what I'll do in my free time. But, since I have no choice but to deceive, I shall do just that."
"And how will you fool the most powerful man in the world?" Cadvan wondered, smiling more broadly and holding out his hand. Maerad slithered into the chair seated on his thigh and smiled down at him from her elevated position.
"I have no need of a servant, but perhaps Hem does," she said cunningly.
"I would think Hem would need a manservant," Cadvan mused.
"Ah, but what young man wouldn't like a beautiful woman waiting on him?"
Cadvan flinched away from the idea of Hem wanting Nerili because she was beautiful. It wasn't something proper a Bard would have considered. "And the Lord of Light will believe you?"
"Why not? Is it so impossible to believe that Hem might be attracted to a woman?" She laughed at that. "I suppose I don't want my brother growing up quite so quickly, but then, it serves its purpose."
"Not all boys think of beautiful women," Cadvan warned.
"And did you?" Maerad asked softly, lowering her face to his.
"I was a cobbler, if you remember, and so I was far too concerned with my shoes to worry overmuch about girls. Besides, none of the young girls who lived in my particular neighborhood were very comely."
"And now?" Maerad pressed, holding his face in her hands.
"Now," said Cadvan slowly, "now I have a fair bit more free time, and far lovelier companions."
"You do," agreed Maerad, and pressed her lips gently against his.
At first, Cadvan just tipped his head back and kissed her, but Maerad shifted and fell into him, and he clasped her about the waist and pulled her in tighter. She twined both her arms around his neck in a passionate embrace, and Cadvan deepened the kiss. Her head slowly fell back, exposing the long, white stretch of her neck, and Cadvan pressed his lips to the pulse at her throat.
A sharp shriek broke the kiss and Maerad cursed as Irc swirled over their heads. The white crow dove down and landed on the arm of chair in which Cadvan was seated. What are you doing? the crow demanded on Cadvan.
Leave it alone, Irc, he replied none too graciously.
You should be saving Hem, not biting Maerad!
Cadvan shooed the bird while Maerad cursed. It wasn't a bite, he hissed. It was-just go!
You promised, you promised to help! the crow called as it landed on the mantle above the fire.
"I'm going to have that crow's feather plucked and fashioned into a cape for me," Maerad said, eyeing the bird unkindly.
"He serves his purpose all the same. I take it your brother is coming?"
Maerad was still watching Irc. "His own personal herald."
Is if on cue, Hekibel pushed the doors open and Hem and Saliman entered. Maerad slithered off Cadvan's lap and stood with her usual sly smile. Hem raised his eyebrows in question.
"You called?"
"I did," said Maerad. "I have a favor I need from you."
Hem looked flattered and poured himself a goblet of wine. "Me?"
"You recall the night we went our separate ways in Norloch?" Maerad asked.
"I do," said Hem darkly, "but not fondly."
"You left with Saliman for Turbansk and Cadvan and I fled by sea to Thorold," said Maerad. "While we were there, we stayed in Busk and were guests of the First Bard, Nerili. She was quite kind to me."
"A friend of yours is a friend of mine," Hem said without thought. "What of it?"
"I suspect the Lord of Light is going to have her interrogated and tortured, but after he's through with her, it leaves the question of where she will go. He certainly won't let her out into the Barracks where she will cause no end of trouble."
"Keep her in the dungeons, I suppose," said Hem, and he took the seat opposite Maerad. Saliman and Cadvan exchanged quick looks and Hekibel looked politely interested in the conversation.
"Yes, well, like I said, she's a good friend of mine."
Hem smiled. "And you would feel bad if you left a friend to rot in the dark?"
"Very much so," Maerad said with a small smile of her own. "I need you to ask the Lord of Light if she might work as a servant in your rooms when he is done with her."
"Me? Why not you?"
She rolled her eyes in return. "I already have a gathering of old friends, and I don't think he likes when so many of them can be so close together. No, you must ask to have her assigned to work for you."
"He'll want to know why I want her," Hem pointed out.
"Because she is beautiful?" Maerad shrugged. "She is. Just tell him you would like to keep a pretty woman in your rooms."
Hem blushed. "I-I don't think I want her for that."
"Yes, but he won't know that," Maerad said tiredly. "It's what you'll tell him when he asks."
Hem glanced at Saliman, who nodded rather vigorously. "It's quite reasonable. You're a young man and she's rather beautiful as I recall. I'm sure no one will think any less of it."
Hem was thinking of Zelika, though. "But…well, can't you just have her work for you?"
"I already have Hekibel," Maerad sighed. "Come, Hem, it's a simple favor. I'm not asking you to fall in love with her, just request she work for you. If you want, once she's here we can just lock her in my garden all day."
Cadvan frowned a little at such a dismissal; after all, Nerili was a person, not a dog you could tie up at night. But he noticed Hem looked a little more relieved after that, and he smiled sheepishly. "I've never asked for something like this."
"Then it's about time." Maerad smiled dazzlingly. "Tonight, I'm sure he'll have her interrogated or brought before him or some other show of power, and then when he's done with her, you can ask to have her."
Cadvan's heart skipped a beat. In what condition, precisely, would Nerili be brought before them? Saliman must have thinking much the same thing, because he said, "Perhaps it would even give you a chance to practice your healing we've been working on, Hem. Surely, she won't be looking too well once the Nameless One is done with her?"
Maerad hummed a little when Saliman used Sharma's Bard name instead of his preferred title, but Hem was looking quite pleased with the idea. "It's been some time since anyone asked me to heal them."
"Perhaps you could start now?" Cadvan suggested, gesturing to him and Saliman. "Practice."
"I forgot!" said Maerad, slapping a hand to her head. "I said I would have healed you."
"But you don't have time," said Hekibel, coming forward. "You should bathe and get ready for the dinner tonight. Hem can sort these two out." In truth, Hekibel just wanted Maerad gone so she might be alone with Saliman without the girl's knowing eyes following her.
Maerad glanced uncertainly at Cadvan, but he waved her away with a wink. "I trust your brother to put me in one piece."
"So be it," sighed Maerad, and she slouched off for a bath with Hekibel following her.
Hem turned first to Saliman and gestured to the couch. "Why don't you sit and I'll see what I can do with these legs."
Saliman took the seat gratefully and lifted his leg for Hem's inspection. Hem pulled back the pant leg and saw the dried bloody mess at once. He clucked his tongue with the state of his friend and gentle ran his fingers along its length. After a time, he spoke.
"I'll have to sew it shut and then see if I can heal the muscle." Hem looked up at Saliman and then at Cadvan. "It'll still be sore, and you should not strain it overmuch."
"We'll do our best," Cadvan said ironically.
Hem left and returned shortly with medical supplies, and then sterilized a needle. Saliman watched him, wondering how on earth he was going to convince Hem to return to the Light when the boy didn't seem to mind one of his closest friends suffering so horribly. Hem drew a candle near to Saliman leg and placed it do the light illuminated the delicate tissue.
"It will probably hurt as I sew, so you might want to bite something," he warned. When Saliman came up empty handed, Hem found his a spoon and Saliman clamped it between his teeth.
Hem set to work, cleaned the wound delicately, and then drew the torn flesh together and stringing the needle in and out. Saliman's face was pale as the boy went, but he kept himself from screaming. It had hurt far worse to receive the wound than to heal it. Cadvan watched Hem's hands, wondering how much it would hurt to have his own torn tendon sealed and healed, and wished he might have some wine to ease the pain. Just then, Hekibel left the bathroom in a cloud of steam.
"Hekibel, fetch Saliman some wine. He looks like he'll need it." Hekibel blinked in Cadvan's direction and then filled a goblet with the darkest red liquid she could find.
"It'll be over soon," she murmured softly, coming to Saliman and running her hands through his hair. "It'll be over and you'll be right as rain. It will be just like before, when you had the White Sickness, and Hem healed you." She glanced down at Hem. "Do you remember?"
Hem's hand faltered as if he'd been shocked, and for a moment, he said nothing. When he picked the needle back up, he said in an even tone, "I remember. It was a terrible thing, and I strove night and day with it."
"You saved my life, Hem," Saliman croaked, sensing that something of the old Hem was fighting to free itself.
"And you mine," Hem said in that same, dead tone. He was almost in a trance, it seemed. "You will always be my closest friend, Saliman. I won't even forget what you did for me."
Saliman met the boy's eyes, and for a single second, something in him flinched, and Saliman thought he saw a flash of light, bright and painful, fighting to get through, but then it was gone. "You're a good person, Hem. Don't forget that."
Hem blinked again and gave himself a little shake. "I have you to remind me," he said rather playfully, and then finished off sewing Saliman's wound shut. He ran his palm over it slowly, and Saliman felt a buzz of warm energy as Hem used his Gift to try and seal the tendon.
"It feels better already," Saliman said and Hem released the pressure from his leg.
"I'll look it over again tomorrow and see if I can't heal the tendon all the way through," Hem said decidedly. "It should serve you a great deal better today, though."
"You're an excellent healer, Hem, the best I've met in many years," said Saliman, and tested the weight of his body on his leg. It held, though his leg shook, and Saliman practicing flexing and pointing his foot to help strengthen the muscle.
Hem merely smiled. "You too, Cadvan. I take it you're in the same way?"
Cadvan offered his leg to Hem, who inspected it and hummed with sympathy. "It must be painful, sporting that, but I'll see what I can do."
"Anything would be good at this point," Cadvan admitted.
"Anything it is," Hem said smartly, and set to work sewing Cadvan's skin shut.
It was a long process, with much cleaning and gasping, and Hem always having to steady his hand and keep the needle from leaving its course. Cadvan wanted to ask him if there was any way to dull the pain, but he doubted the boy would know. Hekibel got Cadvan a glass of wine as well, and he drank it rather liberally.
"You'll need to be careful, too," Hem warned, "and I'd like to look at it again if Maerad doesn't."
"I don' see why not," Cadvan said, looking at his newly mended leg. It still stung painfully, but Cadvan could feel the tendon buzzing with the healing heat Hem had supplied.
"Then you'll be fine," Hem said thoughtlessly, standing up and stretching. He looked out the window at the setting sun in Maerad's garden and then down at himself. "I should probably be dressing for tonight."
"I suppose you want to look your best for the company," Saliman said in a tight voice. He had seen a flash of the boy he loved, but now he was gone.
"And for the newest member of our little brigade," Hekibel joked. "The lovely Nerili."
Hem turned pink. "It's not like that, Hekibel."
"She is not lovely?" Hekibel asked Cadvan, purposefully confusing the subject. "Why, I thought she was a striking young woman?"
"She is," said Cadvan in an even tone.
"Not too striking, I hope," said a sly voice, "or Hem will be hard put to have her."
Maerad was standing by the doors to her bath, draped in a soft robe, her hair, dripping down her back. Her skin was flushed from the heat of the bath, and the scent of sweet, summer grass hung around her from the oils in the water. She came forward slowly, aware of the eyes of everyone her. She only seemed to care for Cadvan's.
"Surely, she's not the loveliest?" she teased gently.
Cadvan's eyes rested on her face, radiating a soft glow. At that moment, there was no other person in the world who could have drawn his attention. Standing before him, dribbling a steady stream of water, she looked so very like her old self. Cadvan felt himself move toward her and then fall back, looking hopeless.
"That's hardly a fair question," Hem laughed. "You can't ask your beloved if he thinks you're the fairest of them all."
"He's not my beloved," Maerad pouted, but it was for no one's benefit, as they all knew she craved Cadvan's attention and Cadvan was deeply, painfully, in love with her. "I merely ask if Nerili is the loveliest woman here. Hekibel is standing right beside you, Hem."
"Perhaps I think Hekibel is the fairest," Hem sniffed and winked at Hekibel.
"Don't be silly, Hem," said Hekibel demurely. "Your sister is a perfect flower, by far, and she's not even dressed! Come, Maerad, let's get you into that gown and brush your hair out. Perhaps Cadvan will be so fortunate as to see you before he leaves for the evening."
Cadvan didn't quite know if his heart, or head, could bear seeing Maerad looking more beautiful than she did then, but he smiled sheepishly at Maerad all the same, and she looked pleased. "Well, I suppose I should prepare," she hedged, and Hekibel took her by the wrist and tugged her off.
With the girl's gone, Hem stood and rolled his shoulders. "I'll go and get dressed myself. I can trust you two to your own devices?"
"On my honor," said Saliman valiantly, bowing low, and Hem snorted before leaving quietly.
"Nerili's in a mess," Cadvan said absently, staring at the doors where Maerad had vanished.
"We'll make the best of it for her," Saliman replied, feeling his leg again. "Once the Nameless One is done with her, maybe Hem can heal whatever he's done."
"When he's done with her…" Cadvan tore his eyes away from the door and back to his friend. "By the Light, Saliman, imagine the state she'll be in then. She was the First Bard of the only land that ever successfully opposed him. Do you think he'll kill her?"
"Death would be far too merciful from him, I think," said Saliman. "No, she will be spared, but in what form, I have no idea."
Cadvan cringed away from any thought of one of his only friends being tortured by the Nameless One. "Maerad will heal her."
"You think so?" he wondered softly. "After how she abandoned us?"
"I have no choice but to think it," Cadvan persisted. "What is the alternative? To accept that she will let a friend suffer pointlessly and horribly? No, something in her will change."
Saliman smiled sadly for his friend. It could not be easy to love a person who was so far gone, and to force yourself to believe that the person could be saved. "Perhaps it will, my friend. She loves you, this much I know, and you convinced her to bring Nerili here. Maybe you can truly heal her."
Before Cadvan could swear on his life that he would, Maerad's door opened and she came out in a flurry of long, elaborate flowing robes. Her hair was piled on her head, dangling tendrils like vines down her back, and she wore a gilt diadem that flashed like a dagger in the light of setting sun. Her robes were of deepest blue, detailed with black and gold, and they hugged her frame elegantly. She looked like a queen, imperious in her glory, too far away to touch.
She saw Cadvan's eyes and smiled slyly at first, but the longer he looked, the more her expression softened. The cloth of her gown whispered as she moved across the room and stood before him. She brushed her hand over his cheek.
"Do you remember the Welcome Feast so long ago?" she wondered, and Cadvan shivered at her touch. His response seemed to embolden her. "You escorted me then. Would you do so now?"
"It would have been my greatest pleasure," he said, and Saliman and Hekibel drew away toward the garden to give them privacy. "But I do not think I have that right."
"You have any rights I give you," Maerad said, and her dropped her eyes. "I won't have the Lord of Light treat me as a child. I want you there tonight to witness our victory."
"It is not in my power," he began, shaking his head.
"Well, it is in mine," Maerad hissed. "You can come, though we'll have to be careful about how you look. I don't think a Bard of the Light will be welcome within a mile of the dinner."
Cadvan felt a petal of nervousness unfurl in his chest and wished Saliman or Hem might return so as to speak sense to Maerad. "You can't hide me from the Nameless One-"
"The Lord of Light," she said through clenched teeth, "is aware of all that come here, but it is the plebeians we have to worry about is all. I can't have the Hulls knowing I brought a Bard, and certainly not the guests. They will see it as a slap in the face if I have a Bard as my guest. Your kind are our enemies."
Your kind, too, Cadvan wanted to say. "Maerad, there is no way. I'm not like you, I can't change my form." He laughed, hoping to calm her down enough to see sense.
"You cannot change your form," agreed Maerad, "but I can."
"No, Maerad," Cadvan said firmly. "You will not use your Gift to make me change my form."
Rebuked by his sternness, Maerad bared his teeth. "I'll do as I please. I have extended you the courtesy of my rooms and companionship, but do not think for one moment you are free to do as you please."
"You will not," he said again, feeling an old anger flaming up in him. "I am your teacher-"
"And I am your queen," she crowed triumphantly, and caught his wrist in a steely grasp. "The world will be as I wish it, and now, I wish this."
"Maerad!" Cadvan snarled, but something like heat suddenly shot from his wrist where Maerad was holding him and pierced him to his marrow.
For a moment, Cadvan felt himself falling into nothing, and the nothing was bliss. He knew no pain or fear, and he couldn't recall for the life of him why he had been so angry just a moment before. In fact, he could recall nothing; he realized that he didn't remember anything: where he was, where he was going, his own name. It was right about then, as Cadvan pondered his own name, that the warmth that had consumed him suddenly flared, and it was as if his skin was on fire.
Cadvan wanted to scream but he couldn't. He wanted to beg for someone to make this stop, but he had no mouth, no eyes, no sense of being. He was a creature of loneliness and agony.
Cadvan, a voice said, and he twisted toward it. Be wolf.
I'm not a wolf. His name had given him back his senses, and he knew he wasn't a wolf. I'm a man, a Bard-
Be wolf! commanded the voice, and an irresistible tug pulled him toward something. Wolf!
Saliman and Hekibel returned almost thirty minutes after Maerad had come before them, dressed for the celebration. In truth, Saliman was sick of this Dark Maerad, and he couldn't bear to see Cadvan in such misery. He longed for Hekibel's company more of the time, and had enjoyed the full thirty minutes of it as best he could. Upon their returned, Saliman saw only Maerad, seated on a couch, reading a book; she graced them with a smile as they entered.
"And did you enjoy yourselves?"
"Very much so. Your garden is a paradise," Saliman said graciously, glancing around. "Where is Cadvan?"
"He went back to the Barracks already. I was going to call for you, but he said you seemed so happy," Maerad said smoothly. "Hekibel, I hate to ask, but can you fetch a guard to escort Saliman back?"
Hekibel moved away from Saliman regretfully and bowed herself out. Maerad turned her gaze on Saliman and he fancied he saw something there that wasn't quite right. "Are you prepared for your evening?" he asked.
"Oh yes," she said, flashing a toothy grin that set him on edge. "I think it will prove more entertaining."
There were the sounds of muffled voices and the faint strings of music being played by a skilled hand. Nerili tugged uselessly on the chains that that wrapped around her wrists, and her captor turned to face her and glower. Her heart fluttered at the sound of people and she cast her gaze around for some sort of answer, some escape. All she saw was her own reflection in the bronze doors. She looked like a mess: her hair had been tied back into a bun, but little hairs were springing free, her face was still bruised and swollen around one eye, she had been forced into a worn dress that was tattered at her feet and ill fitted, and her arms and legs that were visible were covered in burns and lashes. She tested her feet, taking a step toward the door but her world spun and she stumbled.
"Get up, you worthless rat," spat the man holding her. "You've got a long night ahead of you, and fainting won't save you now."
Nerili lifted her chin, but the man only laughed; she knew she didn't look anything like the First Bard who had been captured by Enkir weeks ago. You might not look like her, but you are her, so be brave, and be strong, and face the Nameless One without fear.
It was bold sentiment, she thought as the door opened and the full onslaught of voices hit her, and she hoped it might serve her well.