A/N I took a day for myself.

Chapter 25

Hugo's iron shoes were still clattering on the cobblestones as Cydris swung her leg over his neck and slid down to the ground. She was already digging around in a pocket for one of the many little thongs she carried to tie her hair back while working.

"Go," Kyminn urged, "If there's anything urgent, you're the best suited to handle it. I'll be along just as soon as I make sure Hugo's not likely to flatten anyone."

Cydris didn't reply, her distracted air telling Kyminn she was already thinning her shields, looking for bodies in crisis. She set off at a determined walk, diverted only by a firm but deferential retainer who, if his gestures were any indication, would show her the quickest path to her patients.

Kyminn's own dismounting was slower, but no less practiced, stiff knee notwithstanding. One hand kept a firm grip on the fractious stallion's reins while the other, resting on Hugo's neck, exerted another form of control.

A groom, moving with haste but at the same time in a way that said clearly that this person knew how best to hurry around horses, drew himself up before the just-dismounted guest. Whether it was Kyminn's headshake of warning or the horse's backwards ear-flicks and sudden drawing up of haunches, the man stopped, well out of striking range, and offered a cautious nod.

Kyminn shook his head, but kept his words polite. "I'd like to speak to your master of horse please. This fellow," an affectionate pat to the sweating neck, "hasn't a mean bone in his body, but he still a very particular fellow and needs some rather particular handling."

Somewhat to Kyminn's surprise, the groom didn't argue. He simply nodded and departed, his smooth haste moving him through the crowd of horses in the courtyard without so much as a twitched ear.

It didn't take long for the master of horse to appear. He was whippet-thin but had an air of granite stability that suggested he'd wrestled more than one recalcitrant charge over the years. Unsurprisingly, he walked with the rolling gait that bespoke a lifetime in the saddle.

As his eyes set on Hugo, his expression changed to something almost like avarice and he shook his head in wonder. "Cor! I'd forgotten how fine a beast he is!" The man paced slowly around Hugo, well back and slow enough that the stallion could curve his neck to follow the movement. As he cataloged the scars along flank, legs, belly and elsewhere, he shook his head sadly.

"Oh Hugo, my fine boy. You've had a time of it, haven't you my lad?" He spoke half to himself, half to the horse, with no regard for what any onlookers might think. Kyminn realized that the look in the man's face hadn't been avarice, but genuine pleasure at the stallion's return.

The circuit completed, the man fetched up before horse and Healer, and he acknowledged Kyminn for the first time. "He's been sore wounded." It was a statement of fact, not an accusation.

A slow nod. "He was. He's a fine, fine spirit is this one, one of the best I've ever known. His scars," a soft stroke of the neck, "Are not all on the outside I'm afraid."

"Aye, I can see that. He was allus spirited, Hugo was, but there's an edge to him now that wasn't there before. Not anger, I think, but close."

Kyminn felt his eyebrows climb in surprise but tried to school his expression to neutrality. What the man had described could have been the observation of a man with a lifetime of experience in reading horses and a knowledge of each that predated their foaling. It was also precisely what his own Animal Empathy told him about Hugo's personality.

"Aye," Kyminn found himself slipping into the casual speech of the horseman. "That's true enough. It's like a man burned and scarred by fire. Ever after, he's wary of its heat even as it warms his home. Hugo was a splendid warrior, but he's more cautious now about letting folks get close by him."

A nod. "I can see that. And with his bad eye, he's even more chancy."

"Indeed. He has some sight in it though – you just need to take care and give him time. As well, he needs to know this isn't a battle."

"Aye. M'Lord didn't want to let him go a'tall at first. We've plenty of beasts we could have given the King and still done honor to the Keep in so doing. Hugo was to be one of the anchors to our line of blacks. But M'Lady asked and the Lord was loath to send his only sister to war on less than the best he could provide, so off they went." The man's voice grew gruff, "It was a happy day when we learnt they'd both be returning home."

"As it should. I had the pleasure of knowing Captain…" Kyminn began.

"Major," the man interjected, drawing up with pride.

A wide smile and nod of acknowledgement at the correction, then, "Major Ashkevron and working with her for some time. If she and Hugo are examples of what comes out of Forst Reach, I'd say you've plenty of reason to be proud!"

A grunt and the man nodded. "Nah then. I'll take this fellow and let you be on your way sir." The man put his hand over Kyminn's on the reins and gave the faintest of tugs. Hugo paused, flicked his ears in consideration, then with a snort and relaxed droop of his head, acquiesced.

"My word," Kyminn muttered as he watched the stallion follow the groom, alert and calm, "How amazing to see a true master of his craft at work."

Kyminn turned himself and caught the eye of the servant waiting just out of earshot. At Kyminn's look of inquiry, the man nodded. "I'm to take you straight to the infirmary, Healer. The gear you brought has gone with the lady Healer."

The 'infirmary' was actually a series of rooms in the guest wing. Like most places outside of a formal Healing Temple or Hall, having multiple beds or rooms set aside for major catastrophe or illness would be considered an outrageous waste of space and resources. Either the Healer came to the patient or the patient came for treatment and then returned home to recover. When crises happened, people rearranged things and made do, which was why a rather nice suite of rooms now held seven badly injured people on various makeshift beds and pallets. Even as Kyminn entered, a team of servants were gently moving someone from the floor to a hastily constructed bed, the wood still raw from saw cuts.

Cydris was near one of the windows, deep in discussion with a wan looking man in rumpled Greens. Judging by the lines of exhaustion on his brow, they had done right to hurry.

"Kym? I need you over here please." Cydris's Gift was already reaching out to his, drawing from his strength.

"Please, Healer Gaige, sit down. Join the link and observe if you think you must, but you haven't an erg of energy to spare!"

"I'll watch, but I won't do more. I promise." The Healer's voice was thick with fatigue. "I just want to show you what I've done so far…" He slid gratefully into a chair but his eyes never left the too-still man before them.

Kyminn settled in beside his wife, blinking a bit in surprise at the stool that appeared behind him as he prepared to kneel beside the bed. He opened himself, offering her what she needed.

It was always a wonder to him when he did this and a part of him was ever curious to know if those that watched him felt the same way. He could feel his strength trickling away, could 'see' it transmuted into…something…within the patient. It was, he thought, like watching a play through thick and bubbled ice – cloudy and indistinct. He couldn't sense the life before him, only his own energy, changed in a way he couldn't perceive.

"Kym, wash up," Cydris's voice was distant. "Gaige has managed to keep the swelling of the brain under control, but you need to shift the fractured skull plate so I can start it binding. It's still putting pressure on his brain."

The other Healer must have signaled a servant, for a basin of hot water, redolent with cleansing herbs, appeared at his elbow. Kyminn took the proffered soap, nodding in absent approval at its clean scent as he scrubbed his hands vigourously. Twice he washed his hands, letting the breeze dry them as he shifted around to the end of the bed.

The wound was an ugly one – a deep depression above and behind one ear. Someone had already shorn the man's hair to expose the gash and – no doubt to accommodate the necessary bandages – had shaved the rest of the man's head as well. Assuming the fellow survived, it would be some time before he needed the services of a barber.

"I managed to keep the swelling more or less under control," Gaige's voice had the distant tone of someone immersed in his Gifts. "But with so many injuries, I couldn't resolve all the bleeding so I had to set up a shunt…"

"I see. Well done." There was real respect in Cydris's voice. "We didn't happen on that trick until the second year of the war."

"That's what gave me the idea. We had several Healers come through on reassignment and it came up while we were talking shop…"

It took just under a candlemark, time flickering by as the candle marked the moments, before they withdrew from their meld, the patient breathing the slow, deep measures of a Healing sleep.

"I'm…cautiously optimistic," Cydris stated. "Head injuries are tricky and he may never be fully the same, but I'm hopeful he'll have a full and able life ahead of him yet."

"Thank you both," their host Healer spoke with weary satisfaction. "There's one more urgent case and then, if you don't mind, I'll rest."

"We can take it from here, if you'd like," Kyminn offered.

A slow headshake. "I'd like to present this next one if it's alright. I'm hoping you can…well, I'm just hoping I guess." The healer hauled himself out of the chair and indicated another patient.

This man was awake, his face lax with the effect of poppy. He was covered in dark bruises, but the real injury was to his right arm. Even under the bandages and splint, it was clear from the shape that the arm had been severely damaged.

Cydris dropped into her Gift, probing and observing. A gentle touch to the forehead and the man slipped into slumber. Kyminn raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't want him to hear this next part. I'm afraid that its not good news." She turned to the resident Healer. "Healer Ledsell," it was formal, Healer to Healer, "what is your treatment plan for this patient?"

Gaige Ledsell looked even more weary than before. "The arm bones are…well, as you see, smashed is the best word I can think of to describe them. I aligned them as best I could, but I couldn't Heal them much more than to bind them. The slightest movement and they shift again."

He looked at Kyminn and Cydris. "It was my intention to take the arm, but when I heard you were only a day or two away, I waited. I was hoping you'd see an alternative." He gestured to the bed, "This man is a stonemason and if he loses the arm, he loses his livelihood. Worse yet, the man who was killed was his brother. This fellow is now the sole provider for two families. My Lord Caridoc is generous and the widow will get the full death benefit and a good bit more, but its not enough to make up for the loss. I hate to see a family lose so much if there's any chance they don't have to."

Kyminn looked over at his wife. "Can we pin the bones?"

Cydris shook her head. "No, they're too badly smashed. Some are no more the chips." She paused, "If he keeps the arm, we'll have to remove quite a few of those smallest pieces."

"Which means surgery. What are you thinking?" Not for the first time, Kyminn wished he could see the damage the way his wife could.

"I'm thinking of your knee, actually." Cydris indicated his weak and twisted leg. "We had to remove several pieces of bone and reshape things quite a bit. I'm thinking we may be able to do the same thing here. It will mean he will always be weaker in that arm – we'll have to move quite a bit of muscle. But he should be able to hold a trowel, or a chisel. He'll have to wield the hammer with his off hand, but he should manage." A headshake, "That's if it works. There's a frightful amount of damage."

Gaige nodded, "I know. And if you hadn't come, I'd have taken the arm – there isn't enough bone healing strength in the district to undertake that kind of repair."

It might have surprised an outsider, but the treatment they undertook used far more of Kyminn's talents than those of the other two. It took the remainder of the afternoon and Gaige gave into exhaustion before they were finished. As Kyminn tightened the last pin and braced the now-straight limb, he looked over at his wife. "Well?"

"It went better than I thought it would," she admitted. "I think though that we'll have to spend a few days here to see to some bone healing if this is to have any kind of success." A wry shrug. "It may be colder than we thought before we get to Oakden."

"So be it." Kyminn looked at where Gaige had been settled on a pallet by a pair of servants. Judging by the smoothness of the transition, this was a service they'd performed for the Healer a few times over the past days. Kyminn rolled his shoulders to unkink cramped muscles and surveyed the remaining beds. "I guess we still have a lot of work ahead of us."

Fortunately, the rest of the injuries relatively straightforward. All had either multiple fractures of a limb or more than one limb was injured. None was in any danger, but all faced long and difficult recoveries and a winter of immobility.

Cydris turned to one of the servants who had been assisting and gestured to the resting patients. "Now what?"

A polite cough and the servant gave a nod. "Milady, we've been told to remain here and fetch yourself or the other Healer at need. Healer Gaige has taught us what to watch for and when to alert him. If it's alright, may we call on you first? Healer Gaige…"

"Needs about a sennight's worth of sleep," Cydris interjected. "Yes, of course call us first. Umm…I suppose our things are around here somewhere…"

"Not to mention our children," Kyminn added drily.

"Well sir, milady, as to that…you're wanted in the courtyard please." The servant looked distinctly uneasy.

"What…?" something about the servant's expression filled Kyminn with parental foreboding.

The quick headshake did little to reassure. "Nothing, milord. I'm sure an explanation will set everything right."

The pair of Healers glanced at each other and then at the fading light outside. "I thought they'd be alright with Zheff and the others – they're hardly strangers after all." Cydris was gnawing her cheek, a sure sign of uncertainty. Kyminn wondered if she was aware of the habit.

He offered a huff of agreement as they followed the servant back through the keep. "I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't think of them. We were so focused…".

A pensive nod. "I can't believe we just abandoned them to their own devices for so long," she whispered guiltily, for his ears only.

"We didn't. We left them in Zheff's care," Kyminn reminded her, although his tone betrayed his own unease.

The courtyard was surprisingly well lit, a fact explained by the fact that a travel wagon – their travel wagon, to be precise – was parked squarely in the middle of it. The horses had been unhitched and, presumably, appropriately stabled, but the wagon itself squatted in the courtyard, an odd accoutrement to the stone keep.

"DA!" Ansen's shout was explosive, but the boy didn't budge from his perch on the wagon seat. At the yell, two small heads popped out of the canvas and two small forms scrambled out to join him on the bench. All three were practically aquiver, but no buttocks left the bench.

As soon as they got close enough, Kyminn and Cydris found themselves flooded in a gabble of Tedrel-pidgin, Karsite and Valdemaran from three separate sources. It took some time before they managed to make sense of it all, but the fundamental matter was simple enough – in the absence of the adults, the children had unanimously decided that the rule "Stay with the wagon" applied. Their use of the Tedrel pidgin, a dialect the children had been working hard to eliminate as they embraced their new lives, spoke of the depth of the children's worry.

Once again, Kyminn was reminded that these were not normal children. They had been raised in barbarism and only the strange children's cult had saved them from being essentially feral. For them, to abandon their possessions in the presence of strange adults was unthinkable. So, they had stayed. Kyminn had no doubt the children would have still been on the wagon in the morning, had it taken so long.

As they hugged and reassured each child in turn, the adults looked at each other, matching guilt and dismay writ on their faces.

"We must never," Cydris said fiercely, "take them for granted." She meant more than that, but Kyminn understood.

With Niyeh in one arm (and since when had she got so heavy?) and Ansen with a death-grip on his other hand, Kyminn finally had enough presence of mind to wonder what they were supposed to do next.

Leithen Ashkevron answered that question for him as the young lord stepped out from the waiting group of servants and made himself known. "I came out to help manage this situation. We thought it would probably sort itself out as soon as you were able to see to it." A grimace. "There certainly didn't seem to be a need to forcibly remove them."

"Milord, I…" Kyminn started to apologize but stopped at Leithen's headshake.

"Never mind. It did no harm and you Healers went out of your way to assist us. I imagine there's probably a very interesting reason for their behaviour and my father may well want to hear about it, but that can wait.

"In the meantime, my lord father sends his respects. He is, I would guess, where he usually is this time of day and in the infirmary with the injured. As you've also missed the usual dinner hour, he's instructed you're to be served in your quarters." Leithen paused, then added, "I hope you don't take it amiss. Father thought you'd be too tired for 'formal folderol' as he likes to put it and arranged things so that your official greetings can wait until morning. He says he wants to see you after breakfast – and after you've had a chance to check on his people."

"Your father," Cydris said gratefully, "Is a thoughtful and generous man. Please thank him for us."

Late that night, Kyminn was unsurprised when the girls crawled into bed with them, something they hadn't done for some time. It was a measure of their need for reassurance and a reminder of just how fragile his remarkable children were.