Corus, Tortall

Summer, 458 H.E.

Roald opened his eyes. At least he thought he had until he realized he still couldn't see anything. On top of that, he was in the most tremendous pain, though he would never again think pain couldn't get worse. He tried his eyes again and this time was greeted by a very dim, very blurry, and unrecognizable scene. The pain intensified and he tried to moan, but his voice didn't work. He felt like he was being burned from the inside out.

"His fever's climbing again," said a woman's voice, but Roald didn't recognize the words. The coolness of a healer's magic flowed through him, clearing his mind and, for a moment, he stared up into gentle, gray eyes. Then the pain took over, and Roald black out again.

Later Roald would remember only a few things from the weeks he spent in and out of consciousness, burning with fever. One was Ahrei's gray eyes, which were almost always staring into his when the pain was at its least. Another was the delusion of racing a younger boy, both of them laughing and happy. This illusion—a memory from his youth—always started the same and ended in one of two ways: he would dart ahead, good naturally leaving the younger boy behind, or the boy would turn into the Gennature Commander. In the latter instance, Roald was never able to run fast enough, and whoever was in the basement would be jarred out of his or her quiet activities by his screams. The third thing could have been a dream brought on by the fever, reality, or both. It was his mother holding his hand and anxiously watching his face. The last thing that he brought away with him was different. It was a single occurrence in Roald's mind and was amazingly clear given his state at the time. In this vision Mithros was standing in the foreground with Roald. God ordered prince to keep fighting and get well, and then he laid a gold crown on Roald's head. In the background stood the Mother Goddess, and in her wake stood five people whose faces Roald could not see. Then the gods and the others left, Roald's mind fogged, and the delirious plight of fever once again took hold.

"His body's seen some awfully hard times," an elderly man was saying when Roald woke up. He was tired, stiff, sore, aching, thirsty, hungry, and queasy, but for the first time in weeks he didn't feel the pain of burning. What was more, he could think and see with a certain level of clarity, "and the fever's breaking." The elderly man went on. Roald decided the man was talking about him.

"So he might make it?" Another man said, his tone dry but hopeful. "I don't think I'd be able to face Thayet if, after everything, he died now."

"More than anyone else, that's up to him now." The first man answered. "Dom, how's that bandage looking?"

Roald didn't hear a response, because out of nowhere someone started talking to him. "Good afternoon, highness," a young boy said. Roald turned his head and saw him. He was small and skinny with a mop of brown hair that fell into his eyes. "For a while there they were afraid you weren't going to make it. You had Neal mighty upset, but you look better to me."

The boy's chatter had drawn the others over. The elderly man spoke and Roald felt magic ease his aches. "Highness, I'm Almen Tarma. I've been one of your healers for the past several weeks, and I must admit that you had us very scared for some time. How do you feel?"

Roald tried to talk but couldn't. Almen motioned to someone Roald couldn't see and a glass was pressed against his lips. The cool water going down his dry throat was the most wonderful sensation he'd felt in a long time. When the glass was taken away he tried again to speak. "Better." He said. His voice was still weak and dry, but at least it worked.

"Good." Almen said. Since he had come over, he hadn't stopped checking Roald with hands and magic. "Can you tell me what happened to you?"

"I fell."

"And can you tell me your name?"

"Roald Wilima."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen." Almen looked to someone for confirmation. "Why?"

"I'm trying to asses how much damage the fever did." Almen explained. "Are you hungry?"

Roald was pretty certain that if he tried to eat he'd throw up, so he shook his head despite how hungry he felt.

"Don't worry," Almen said, "you'll get your appetite back soon." Roald nodded. He could feel himself drifting back into sleep. Almen saw it too. "Rest is the best thing for you right now." Almen told him. Roald closed his eyes, and as he did he heard someone say, "Gary, go tell Thayet."

For the next week Roald mostly slept. When he was awake he met everyone. Dom was the easygoing, young man who ran most of the day-to-day operations in the basement infirmary. Gary the Elder and Buri Roald remembered from before. Almen was a steady healer, but Roald could tell he didn't have as much invested in the basement room as the others did; when his patients were better he'd go home. Neal was Dom's cousin, though in many ways his opposite, and an amazing healer. The younger Gary was, despite his youth, an unending source of information or stories. And then there was Ahrei, who had fire burning beneath her gentle, reserved beside manner.

Roald drank a lot of water during this time, and after his first four meals, which he threw up, he ate a lot, too. He was weak, from prison, flight, and the fever, so his recovery progressed slowly. Thayet came often and sat by his bed, though they didn't talk much. Maron also didn't talk a lot, though he recovered first and was treated with respect. Once Roald was strong enough to stand, he was in a hurry to leave. Neither Gary the Elder nor the healers would allow him to go further than the kitchen, however. Being in Corus made him nervous, so he took to pacing.