Chapter Twenty-Five
This time, when the Bards came to the throne room, they knew the end had finally come. The Nameless One was up, standing at the window, staring up at the dark sky, his hands clasped calmly. He didn't greet them with his usual ironic smile when they entered, just hummed with energy. The Bards formed into their respective Schools, looking around for their First Bards, and when Hem arrived with them, they didn't even flinch from the sight. They came forward, collected their friends, and stood waiting. Maerad, Cadvan and Saliman appeared, but the Nameless One didn't turn about until his Hulls had filed in and arranged themselves around the room.
His eyes darted from face to face. "The time has come. Long have you languished in my dungeons, living in terror of my shadow." He inspected the First Bards one at a time, pleased with their state. He surprised them all by smiling a little sympathetically, like he understood they were at the end of their endurance. He knew they were desperate for a release. "You'll finally be free."
Maerad frowned at him. To her, it sounded as if Sharma was also speaking of himself.
"Form a circle. The First Bards and Cadvan and Nelac, place yourselves every three and make sure you are opposite each other in a circle. I will take the north point." The Nameless One turned away from them, staring up at his throne. "Maerad, Cai, you will not participate in this. Wait there."
Maerad grimaced. Whatever was about to happen, she thought it would be better to be in the circle than a spectator. She took Hem's wrist and walked stiffly toward the throne. When they passed the Nameless One, he eyed them unhappily. He suspected that once the Speech was destroyed, the three of them would be the only ones left with power. He didn't like the idea of anyone challenging him, no matter how feeble the threat.
Well, I'll just have to crush those two completely. His gaze switched from Maerad to Hem. The boy is on his way. Perhaps we'll have to find him another little girl to love and lose.
He followed them to the throne, gesturing wide with his hands. "Kneel, children."
Maerad stared into his bright eyes. "Why?"
"Because I am your master," the Nameless One answered simply, "and I told you to. And if you refuse my command again, I shall have to find another way to make you listen."
Hem's eyes moved to Saliman, who was murmuring something to Nelac. He looked tired. His clothes hung off him a little loosely, and his face was set in a perpetual frown. There was a slump to his shoulders that spoke to an exhaustion deeper than sleeplessness. He sensed Hem's gaze and intercepted it suddenly. He didn't smile, just nodded and looked off.
This has to end, Hem thought. He tugged Maerad's wrist and dropped to his knees. "Don't."
"Your brother is cleverer than he looks, girl." The Nameless One smirked at her. "Don't make me hurt you."
Hem tugged again and this time Maerad sank slowly to her knees. The Nameless One trembled with his power over them. So long they had been a threat to his rule and now they kneeled at his feet, helpless spectators to his final dominion. "Watch, my little Bards."
Maerad jerked but found that the Nameless One had bound them in place. She glanced at Hem who was staring fixedly at Saliman and wished she could reach out to him. The Nameless One returned to the Bards who were forming a circle and approached them with his hands clasped. Directly to his right was an empty space and he smiled widely at Cadvan.
"Come, take your place," he said with relish.
Cadvan's face darkened, but he crossed the circle and stood at arm's length from the Nameless One. Nelac stood across from him, his bright blue eyes fixed on the Nameless One. Cadvan stared in fascination, how long had Nelac been in Dagra, and still the Nameless One had not broken his mind. He wondered what he was waiting for.
"Tonight will be remembered for ages. It is the beginning of the true Silence because never again will the Speech be heard in Edil-Amarandh." His eyes were glowing now with more than just their usual manic light. He was leaking power: fiery, unbearable golden light was streaming from his eyes, small clouds were misting from his mouth with every breath. Beside him, Cadvan felt the heat radiating from his body. "Together, we will do the unthinkable."
Maerad felt her stomach twist like she'd just swallowed a handful of squirming snakes. Whatever was about to happen, it was profoundly and fundamentally wrong. She squeezed Hem's hand tighter, drawing a little strength from his nearness. He was watching Saliman, whose face was drawn in an expression of abject horror. His fear concerned Hem more than anything because Saliman was the bravest man he knew.
"Each of you will open your mind to me," he instructed. "You will give me control of your bodies."
The Bards looked up, disgusted. It was bad enough that he could read their thoughts, but now he wanted to use their bodies. It was such a terrible violation of a person that a few of the Bards contemplated refusing. The Busk Bards, who were newest in their servitude, looked from Nelac to Saliman and Cadvan, for surely these three would challenge him? Nerili particularly was looking sick. She could still remember his tongue in her mouth, and her nightmares…his body on hers…
Inside me, she thought with an aching terror. She licked her bitten lips nervously.
"I will not be denied," he said, as if he heard their thoughts. "I will have you completely engaged in this process. It will take nothing less."
When no one seemed forthcoming, the Nameless One turned his eyes on Vaclal. "Open your mind to me."
Vaclal forced himself to relax and felt the sharp intelligence of the Nameless One pierce him. It burned through his body and he jerked violently. If he had even the slightest notion of refusing the Nameless One, it was brushed aside in an instant. His deepest most private self was completely displayed to the Nameless One, and he took a moment to pick over some more recent memories: kneeling on the floor, back burning, shame…sinking down in all-consuming shame.
Ah, my poor, Vaclal. This humiliation, this pain of yours, let it go. Give it to me so you will be free. Vaclal hesitated just a moment, but the Nameless One laughed it away easily and suddenly Vaclal felt all the emotions, his fear and embarrassment and pain since his arrival in Dagra, simply vanish. For the first time in months, he felt nothing but overwhelming relief. He was at peace.
So much easier to let me have you, the Nameless One said softly. You don't want me to stop?
No, Vaclal thought automatically. He no longer felt any desire to deny the Nameless One, in fact, he was almost certain that if he tried, this wonderful sensation would go away, and he didn't want that. Please, don't.
Do you like it?
"I like it."
The Nameless One smiled broadly at the other Bards, gesturing to Vaclal whose face was set in a very serene expression. "You see? You will all enjoy it."
Cadvan watched Vaclal sharply, waiting for him to say more, but he merely smiled lazily back. "What have you done to him?"
"Why don't I show you?" the Nameless One responded, and before Cadvan could answer, he launched his own attack.
The Nameless One worked smoothly, moving from Bard to Bard until the entire circle had adopted the same, relaxed look as Vaclal. The Nameless One looked around, pleased with his subjugation.
The most powerful men and women in all the seven kingdoms, enthralled to my will.
"Let us begin."
The Nameless One carefully reached out for that impossibly bright and burning power the Song had given him, and he felt nothing but fury. It was a fierce, living force, and it hated the Speech. The Speech had been an abomination from the start, a thief had woven it from the harmony of the Song of nature. Nelsor had heard the ancient power of the winds blowing over mountains, waves crashing on the shore, wildfire dancing in dry and aging forests, eternal mountain and ephemeral snow. He felt the thrumming of ants buildings tunnels and the desperate machinations of humans building towers. He saw unforgiving sunlight and gentle moonlight glancing off the face of mountains, the steady streams and cities. He ripped it from the throat of the tired world and captured it in the Speech.
Destroy it, he thought. Give it back, free the world from its chains.
He reached out to each of the Bards and felt their compliance, the free release of their power to him. Each one had a different flavor, the fierce glow of Saliman, the constant thrumming of Malgorn, and the soft sigh of Nelac. He breathed it in and wove it into the charm with the power of the Song.
The strength of the charm grew with each new Bard until it was an inexorable, almost intolerable, force. Quite suddenly, Helgar jerked sharply and dropped to the floor. Her eyes were still open, her mouth moving wordlessly, repeating the same words the Nameless One was thinking, but aside from that, she might as well have been a corpse. As if it was a cue, the other Bards dropped: Arnamil and Anhil, Kelia, Kebeka, Silvia and Indik. Soon the only ones left standing were the First Bards, Cadvan and Nelac.
From their place by the throne, Maerad and Hem could feel the power of the spell of the Nameless One was building. The humming reached such a pitch that Maerad cringed. It made her entire body ache and a mounting pressure behind her eyes made Maerad think her brain was pushing against her skull. When Cadvan crumpled to the floor Maerad moved imperceptibly. He fell in such a way that he faced her, and she stared, horrified, into his open, unblinking eyes.
Finally, Nelac fell and the pressure of the spell burst. It was like a bell had been rung and a force spread out from the Nameless One like a wave. It hit Maerad and Hem and they were pushed back, sliding on their knees. Tiles on the floor were torn out of the ground and whipped back. The flames in the torches flickered out. The glass in the windows burst and the rushing sound of air swooped out into the night.
Maerad's grip on Hem's wrist was painful, but he didn't shake her off. He felt horribly ill: his stomach was cramping, spikes of pain were driving up his legs, and his head ached like he'd been struck with a club. He was trembling so hard that had he not been holding onto Maerad, he would have collapsed. Of course, as it was, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and hold himself until the pain left him.
It's not right, it's not right, he kept thinking, watching while Sharma titled his head back and stared up into the dark ceiling. It's not right and it hurts.
Across the room, Saliman was slumped on the floor, his eyes wide open but unseeing. Hem sent out a tendril of consciousness to him. He was alive, but asleep, or unconscious, or in a coma…Hem couldn't tell. He could only say his heart was beating. He glanced over to Maerad and saw that she was staring fixedly at the Nameless One, watching him flex his fingers, breathe out and in, shiver as his newfound power coursed through him. He had never seen her look so sick.
"It's done," the Nameless One said softly. "It's over."
Hem switched his attention back to the Nameless One. One of his hands clamped into a fist and golden light pulsed off it. The Light, Hem thought with horrible clarity. All that is left of the Light is right there.
The Nameless One turned slowly on the spot to face his two captives. He felt a thrill when he realized his power over them was complete. No longer could they threaten him with their Gift, no longer would he have to watch them cautiously for signs of power. They were undone.
And now, they will know it.
He flew at them, grabbed Maerad and threw her back behind his throne. Released from her hold, Hem crumpled forward, holding his stomach tightly. He could hear his sister scream and rolled over, trying to get to his feet, get to her before the Nameless One hurt her. He stumbled upright, still clutching his stomach and saw the Nameless One had pinned her to the ground. She was screaming, her arms hugging herself as tightly as possible while he tore at her arms.
"Come now, mistress Maerad, let us not play games." He tugged her wrist free and with a horrible snap, it broke. She shrieked and Hem lunged forward. "You'll lay back for a cobbler's son but not your king?"
"Stop!" Hem grabbed the Nameless One's shirt and he spun around, throwing out his arm and releasing a pulse of energy. Hem was tossed across the room, landing in the center of the circle of Bards. He threw up his own hands, expecting White Fire, but nothing happened.
"That one," he said to his Hulls who had watched the entire display unmoving, "you can play with."
"No! No, stop, please!" Maerad cried, lurching to her knees.
Before Hem had time to gather himself, he felt cold hands grab his arms and drag him to his knees. One of the Hulls grabbed his chin and forced him to look up at them. "Look at those pretty eyes," it said, pressing its thumb into his zygomatic arch. "Surely he won't need those anymore?"
Hem made a small, animal sound and the Hulls chortled with glee. "Get a knife!" the Hull called to its fellows.
By the throne, Maerad was grasping at the Nameless One's pant hem. "Don't hurt him. You swore-"
"Aye, I swore!" the Nameless One snarled, rounding on her. "To your lover, and the boy's mentor. But, unless I'm much mistaken, those two aren't protesting. Are they?"
Maerad's eyes moved momentarily to Cadvan, lying like a corpse, his eyes staring at her blankly. "You don't have to do this. We'll do what you ask!" Maerad didn't care much for pride at that moment. She saw her brother thrashing in the grasp of Hulls. One of them had a curved blade leveled with his face, and when he twisted, the tip nicked his chin.
"Careful," the Nameless One said, ignoring Maerad's pleas. "I like his face clean."
Hem was desperate to get away. He managed to loosen his fist, and it connected with the nearest Hull's head. A deathly silence fell across the group and Maerad took the opportunity to fling herself at the Nameless One's feet once more, this time, grabbing at his pant leg.
"Please, we won't challenge you again. We understand. We understand! You are our lord-" The Hull Hem had hit was staring at him with an ugly scowl, feeling the tip of the blade. "-our master! We will be obedient!"
"Hold him," instructed the Hull with the knife. "I think I know where to start."
The Nameless One suddenly grabbed Maerad's wrist, tugged her up to her knees, and gripped her firmly by her hair. "For so long now you have walked about my fastness like you owned it. I have had to suffer your existence and your smiling, smug superiority. That changes now."
Maerad licked her lips. "Whatever you want."
"Oh, I don't know if you want to go that far," he said silkily. Maerad felt his fingers twisting in her hair. "There are things I would do to you that would leave you…deranged, disturbed. Things you cannot begin to comprehend." He jerked her up to her feet, but she was too weak to stand and fell against him." His thumb traced the line of her lips, should he kiss her, or bite them off?
"Please, just don't hurt Hem."
Quite suddenly, there was a horrible shrieking. The Nameless One glanced over his shoulder and saw the Hulls huddled around Hem tightly. He waited, feeling Maerad shaking all over him. When the Hulls parted, they smiled blithely up at their master, and one pulled Hem's head up. There was a gout of blood running down either side of Hem's face: the Hull had sliced off part of his ears, giving him distinctly pointed ear tips.
"Now, he looks like a proper little, half-fae, freak," the Hull sniggered, tossing aside the bits of his ear.
Maerad stared in abject horror while her brother made a high-pitched keening. "He screams like a little girl," the Nameless One jeered. "Are we sure Maerad doesn't have a sister instead of a brother?"
The Hulls snickered and the one with the knife pointed it at Hem's belt. "No, my lord, he's got something between his legs." It pressed the tip into the soft skin above his belt and Hem whined. "Barely."
The Nameless One snorted, and Maerad felt his other hand pressing into the small of her back. He held her firmly against him, feeling the contours of her body. Again, he felt desire rear up like a snake. Should he smash her to the floor, tear off her gown and bury himself in her while her brother watched? Or should he bury his claws in the soft skin of her body, tear away strips of her flesh?
"Then again, my lord," the Hull said pensively. "If you'd rather Maerad have a sister, we can arrange that." It gestured with his blade. "Take off your trousers boy."
"No, no, please." Maerad squirmed again and the Nameless One shuddered with pleasure. "Please, show him mercy. I know I don't deserve it, but Hem does. I'm begging you!"
Hem stared at the Hull, confusion and fear mingling in his mind to make him sluggish. One of the Hulls behind him tore his belt and tugged at the waist of his trousers. A terrified squeak escaped him when he finally realized what the Hull intended to do.
"What are you so worried about boy?" The Hull pressed the tip of the knife deeper into his flesh. "Afraid to lose it? Why, it's not like you use it."
"Please," he croaked, eyes on the Nameless One. "I'm sorry. I won't defy you, I'll-" Hem's pleading was cut off when the Hull flicked the blade and a small cut opened right below his belly button. "I'm sorry!" he wailed.
"Your brother is a little coward," the Nameless One whispered.
"I beg you," Maerad moaned. She managed to loosen his grasp enough that she fell away from him. She pulled herself onto her knees and looked up into his glowing, yellow eyes and felt the weight of his hunger. She shivered. "I'll do anything you like. I'll say anything you want."
"Anything?" he asked, thoroughly enjoying the sight of her.
Her trembling hands found the laces on the front of her gown, where he had been tugging moments before, and she pulled at them, tearing them in her haste to get the bodice loose. "I won't fight you."
The Nameless One's eyes narrowed. I won't fight you.
And what is the point of that then? He thought furiously. If there's no fight in the girl, what do I care about it? How will it serve me any?
"Stop it." His eyes darkened and Maerad's hands froze over the torn laces. Behind her, the Hulls had stopped toying with her brother. He marched slowly down from the throne. "I suspect Cadvan will be most disappointed to learn how quickly you threw yourself at me. He's barely unconscious and you're already panting after a new protector."
Maerad pressed her lips into a firm line. Let him say whatever he wants. Just let him release Hem.
"If you want me to compose a ballad about my loose behavior, I will. Just, please," she said empathetically, "spare my brother."
His gaze flickered up to Hem, hanging in the Hull's hands. He was staring at the Nameless One, his eyes bright with fear and humiliation. He mouthed wordlessly, a desperate, silent plea.
"I'll let your brother keep his…manhood. On one condition."
Maerad closed her eyes for a moment. "Whatever you want, my lord."
"Too long you have run about this tower, a free woman. I know Cadvan has commanded you to stay. Now you will obey it." Maerad shivered. "No more asking forgiveness, now you will ask permission. You will remember your place."
"I will," Maerad agreed. It wouldn't matter anyway now. Her friends…who knew what would happen to her friends now that the Speech was destroyed.
"Say it, now." The Nameless One watched her closely.
She could hear Hem's heavy breathing. "I will remember my place."
"Good girl," the Nameless One said with pleasure. "Release the boy. Who knows, maybe he'll need those one day." His laughter bounced around the room, echoed by the Hulls. Hem was shoved to the floor, where he curled up into a ball and clutched his bleeding ears.
The Nameless One looked around the room at the stiff bodies of the Bards with only mild interest. "You two will tidy these Bards up. I want them ready to serve within the week."
Maerad was staring at the base of the throne. "Yes, master."
He continued to watch her, like he thought she would suddenly lunge for a weapon, but after a moment of careful attention he realized her mind was entirely on her brother. He felt a thrill, wondering if he had finally managed to bend her will.
"And I want all the First Bards in attendance on me when I greet my subjects." He smiled widely at her. She finally turned to look at him, grey faced. "We will need to make a display."
"As you like, master."
He considered taking her out, making her be part of it. But…No, no she will never feel the sun on her face again or smell fresh air. She will stay here, always in the dark.
"Did you hear, boy? I want the Bards ready to attend me in a week's time!" the Nameless One called over the low murmur of the Hulls.
Hem didn't respond. He was curled as tight as he could be in a ball, focusing on his breathing. He felt the Nameless One's attention on him, pinning him in place on the floor. It burned like an open flame.
"I asked if you heard me," the Nameless One said softly.
"Yes," Hem said thickly.
He sniffled and the Nameless One scrunched his nose. "You really are a pathetic little cur. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Sir?" the Nameless One asked the Hulls, amused. "What a polite young man we have on our hands. We shall have to find a way to reward him for his delightful manners." The Nameless One chuckled. "Shall he have his own woman? I can find him one…perhaps one that doesn't die if I touch her soul."
Hem felt his heart shrivel. He waited until the soft hiss of silk sliding on the floor passed him before lifting his face. The Hulls were filing in after the Nameless One who was weaving in and out of the unconscious men and women, he lingered over Nerili appreciatively, then paused to push the hair out of Saliman's face, stopped finally before Nelac whose old face was grey.
"Good luck," he said ironically, before leaving the room.
Maerad waited until the doors closed and she threw herself forward with a howl. She clutched her hair tightly. "Light's sake I hate him!" she sobbed. "I hate him, I hate him."
Hem was looking up at Maerad, but he couldn't move. His body was still shaking from the residual force of the Nameless One's spell, his ears were throbbing, he carefully tugged his trouser back up to his waist feeling small and insignificant. Maerad must have heard him. She stumbled up to her feet and hurried over to her brother, gathering him up in her arms. She rubbed his back soothingly.
"Hem, Hem, I'm so sorry," she whispered. Her throat was tight with tears, making it hard to speak. "Hem, please."
He shook, unable to speak. He felt childish, pathetic, sobbing in his sister's arms, grasping sporadically at the belt on his trousers. You're a stupid, stupid boy. He's right, Sharma's right-
"Hem, your ears," Maerad gasped. Up close, they looked horrible. The edges were jagged, clearly cut with an uneven blade. Luckily, they didn't seem to be profusely bleeding, but fat drops of blood were still dribbling sluggishly down the side of the face. She fingered the corner of one ear, once it was healed, it would taper to a point. "We have to clean this."
She looked around for something to staunch the bleeding. The room was starkly empty, though, and Maerad ended up using the hem of her dress to clean them.
"Put pressure," Hem rasped. Maerad squeezed and he moaned. "More, it shouldn't bleed much." After a few seconds, the blood flow stemmed and Maerad sat back. She pushed Hem's hair out of his face, searching his eyes. "Oh, Hem, it's okay. It'll be okay."
"How can you say that?" Hem demanded. "Look around us! Look what he did."
Maerad's jaw was set, but Hem shifted away from her. It was a small space, but it felt like miles between them. Maerad felt Hem's annoyance, but whether it was directed at her or himself she couldn't tell. Hem cast around, looking over at Saliman, who was staring up at the ceiling. A bit of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth. "Saliman," he muttered. "He'll choke." He crawled over to attend him.
"We need to get them all…" she gestured vaguely, but she saw the intensity with which Hem was checking Saliman and withdrew. She figured once Saliman was cared for, Hem could be impressed upon to help her with the others.
Maerad's eyes moved magnetically to Silvia and she gave in and crawled over. Silvia's eyes were closed, her face deathly pale. Maerad checked her pulse, it was weak but there. Maerad didn't have Hem's skills as a healer, and now, with the Speech dead, she didn't even know how to cast a healing charm. She brushed Silvia's tangled red hair aside and kissed her forehead.
I'll take care of you, she thought. Just like you did for me.
Silvia didn't wake up, but Maerad felt sure her face seemed a little less grey. She glanced to the side and saw Malgorn facedown. She rolled him over and pressed her ear to his chest, a heartbeat. To his side was Indik, and a cursory look told Maerad he lived too. She continued on her way until she reached Cadvan.
Cadvan, she reached out for him. He didn't respond, not even the barest flutter. It was like talking to a dead man. She cringed away from the idea and threw herself with renewed energy into summoning him. Cadvan! It was like she had lost her voice.
Maerad licked her lips. It would hurt him, but…perhaps pain was the only thing he could feel now. Inareskai.
Something in Cadvan stirred. She felt him cringe away from her. She felt sick with herself when she said, Inaerskai!
Maerad heard something. Or, perhaps heard wasn't the right word. A low whine emanated from him, but it extended all the way into her bones. She pulled away from him at once, afraid that any more contact with her would hurt him. When she opened her eyes, Cadvan still wasn't awake, but he was breathing regularly.
"Hem, they're Names, it hurts them but-"
"I know." Maerad jumped, Hem was a few bodies away, lingering over Kebeka. "But I do not know all their Names. The best we can do now is treat the symptoms of the summoning. I think the First Bards are worse than the others."
Maerad's grip on Cadvan tightened. "How?"
Hem shook his head, feeling useless. "I'm not sure. It seems like they were a-a point of concentration in the links?" Hem frowned. "Like a river. The Nameless One needed to channel power to himself, and the First Bards were like dams along the way, metering the flow. So, when it came to him, it was a steady stream he could use."
"How do we help?"
"Warmth," Hem muttered. "Sleep and food."
"Okay, so we move them back to my room. We get the heat going, we send for food…" She was rambling. "Can you help me move them?"
Hem was ashen-faced from his struggle, but there seemed no other solution. "We'll have to move one at a time. I'm not strong enough to carry them."
Maerad cast around, looking at them all. "Start with the heaviest then."
They made a quick circuit and decided to take Saliman first. Maerad's good arm strained under his dead weight, but they made their slow tottering way up to their rooms. They heaved him onto the bed, trembling with effort, but once he was there, they didn't know what to do with him. Maerad glanced at her brother.
"Cover him, keep him warm," Hem panted.
They heard the door opening and both froze, wondering if the Nameless One had come to torment them again, but it was just Hekibel. When she saw Saliman, insensate on the bed, she gasped.
"What happened?" she asked, rushing over. She took his cold face in her hands and rubbed him. "He's not-he didn't-?"
"He's alive," Hem said heavily, "but he's injured. They all are."
"We need help, Hekibel," Maerad said urgently. "We need to get them back to my room and heal them." Hekibel's hands wouldn't leave Saliman's face. "You need to help us."
"How?" she asked softly, brushing hair away from his face. "I can't-"
"To move them. Hem and I are weak, and the sooner we get them here, the sooner Hem can try to heal them."
Hekibel bit her lip but straightened. She wasn't a fool or given to fits of hysteria. "Right. Maerad, I'll go with you. Hem, you know what they'll need from the kitchen, yes? Then you can start brewing the medicines, the poultices, the…" She wandered off. She didn't know what Hem had in mind.
"Bring the First Bards here," Hem said, nodding to the room. "The others can go to Saliman's rooms. We need to treat them first and most aggressively."
Maerad and Hekibel hesitated only a moment. "You can heal them?" Hekibel pressed.
Hem glanced quickly at Maerad. "I can try, but my Gift." Hem stared down at his shaking hands. "I don't know."
"Right," Hekibel said. She noticed how distraught he was and didn't press the matter further.
Maerad and Hekibel headed back for the throne room while Hem hurried to the kitchens. In was dark now and only the two torches that flanked the throne flickered in the shadows. Hekibel paused on the threshold, staring at the bodies. They looked dead and Hekibel had a horrible premonition of the future with no Bards, no Light. She took Maerad's hand and held it tightly, she could feel how cold the other girl was.
"Let's start here," Maerad said, pointing to Nelac.
It was a slow process. Maerad was reaching the end of her endurance, but moment by moment, she pushed on. Each time she returned to the throne room, she glanced at Cadvan and recalled his inhuman stamina, and told herself that if he could ride three days with a broken mind, she could move the Bards to the safety of their rooms. They did as Hem asked, and organized the Bards so Hem could treat the most urgent first. He was kneeling before the fire, stoking up coals, lidded pots scattered around him.
"We've run out of beds. I've made places on the floor," Hem murmured. He had piled blankets and pillows on the space around the fire and Maerad and Hekibel deposited Malgorn gently next to Cadvan.
"What are you doing?" Maerad asked curiously.
"There is no poultice or potion for this. Just warmth." Hem carefully scooped coals out of the fire, dumped them in a pot and placed it under the blanket near Malgorn's feet. "When they wake, they'll need water and food, but it could be a while."
Maerad and Hekibel continued, getting Malgorn settled. Nerili and Norowen were sequestered on a couch in the bedroom. Hem tucked a pot of coals under their blanket. When they brought Finlan in, Hem checked him over and frowned.
"He's dead," Hem said evenly.
Maerad and Hekibel stared openly. "Are you sure?" Maerad asked.
"Yes." Hem looked over the old Bard with an unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach. This man had supported the rumors that plagued his sister's claim to the prophecy. Had Finlan believed her, would the war perhaps have gone different? Would the united support of the Schools have helped defend against Sharma? But despite his pettiness, he was not a servant of the Dark. He hadn't deserved to die.
Hekibel covered her face. "Let's just keep going." She realized now that if she stopped moving, she would never start again.
They continued in the throne room, and with a horrible jolt, Maerad realized that Gahal had also died. She gasped sharply, thinking of his gentle laughter, his beautiful birds. She stared up at Hekibel, horrified.
"He has a daughter," she said blankly. "Lyla."
Hekibel bit her lip. "She still has family, yes?"
"Just brothers," Maerad said, turning away from the corpse of Gahal.
There's time for grief later, keep moving, Maerad thought, shifting her attention to Anhil.
It took hours for them to finish moving the Bards, and then, though Maerad wanted to collapse on the floor, Hem directed her to Saliman's room, to keep checking on the injured. Eventually, she ran a hot bath and placed steaming clothes on the foreheads of the Bards. Hem sent Hekibel to the kitchen and told her to get chicken broth. She hoped when she returned Saliman would have woken, but he remained asleep under the blankets.
"Are they too hot?" she asked nervously, after seeing the sheen of sweat on Saliman's face.
"No." Hem pressed his hands over his eyes. His shoulders were shaking now and he dropped one of the coals on his leg. He hissed, lurched back and Hekibel grabbed him up.
"Stop this," she ordered harshly. "You and Maerad need to sleep. You've barely got your eyes open." She looked around the room, but all the spaces were taken. After a moment of thought she dragged a number of cloaks from the closet and piled them on the floor. "I'll wake you if anything happens."
Hem only protested weakly, so desperate was he for sleep. When Maerad came back and saw her brother passed out on the floor, she felt her legs almost give out. Hekibel caught her up and pushed her firmly to the place beside her brother. Maerad didn't even wait, just dropped down and wrapped her brother up in her arms. In a minute, her eyes had closed and she was sleeping soundly, face tucked in Hem's messy hair.
It seemed like moments later Hem and Maerad were both shaken roughly awake by Hekibel. "Hurry, Silivia is waking up."
Maerad jerked, rubbing her face. "Silvia?" she asked vaguely, then sat upright. "Silvia!" She extracted herself with a little difficulty from the tangle of cloaks and stumbled toward the door. Silvia was lying on the couch rubbing her eyes. When Maerad came in she groaned weakly and tried to sit up.
"Don't," Maerad said at once, hurrying over and pressing her back. "You're too weak. Just relax." Maerad looked around, found a pitcher of water and served her.
Silvia spluttered. "The Speech?" she asked.
Maerad shook her head, her face pale and her eyes dark. "It's gone. He destroyed it."
"By the Light." Her lips formed a tight, straight line and her eyes looked particularly bright. She took a little more water. "The others? Malgorn?" Her voice finally broke and Maerad knew she was terrified for her husband.
"He's alive," she said gently, pushing Silvia's hair back and rubbing her cheeks. "He's in the next room, still asleep. Don't worry."
Silvia blinked profusely. "The Nameless One?"
"He is greatly empowered," she said uncomfortably. "And he has demanded that Hem and I get you all ready for some sort of ritual or display in a week's time."
"I'm so tired," she said, and her eyes fluttered closed.
"I know, Silvia." Maerad tipped the rest of the water into her mouth. "There's chicken broth that Hem says you need to drink to take back a little of your strength."
Silvia nodded but said nothing. In the fire, Hekibel had set a great pot of broth to stay hot. Maerad poured out a small bowl and took it back to Silvia. Her green eyes were cloudy when she looked up at Maerad.
"I'm not sure I can."
"It's what our expert healer orders," Maerad said with a faint ironic smile, and pressed the bowl against her lips. After a moment, Silvia opened her lips and slurped the broth. "Count yourself lucky. Hem clucks after Saliman like a mother hen."
Silvia smiled faintly and took her soup. Despite her bone deep exhaustion, the broth brought a much-needed warmth to her belly that spread out to her fingers and toes. Maerad sat with Silvia for a while longer, feeding her and petting her face and hair. She checked the others, refilled pots with coals, and then used a warm, wet rag to wash Silvia's face.
"Now it's you who gives me a bath?"
"Not for entirely selfless reasons." Maerad smiled tightly. "I think Hem and I will need help to nurse the Bards back to health, the sooner you are on your feet, the better."
"Yes, my dear," Silvia sighed. "Just give me a little time. A few hours…" Her eyes closed and she rested back.
Maerad sat with Silvia until she heard another low grunt and found that Arnamil had come around. Maerad went through the same ritual with him, water, food, washing his face. She was not as familiar with him as Silvia, but he offered her a weak smile and rubbed at the shadow of a beard that had blossomed on his cheeks.
"How long?" he asked while Maerad fed him.
"Only a day, I think."
He nodded and said no more, accepting Maerad's care with a sort of passive dependence. When Selmana woke, Maerad went and fetched Hekibel and the two began the process of reviving the Bards while Hem kept watch over the First Bards. It took hours more and Maerad, still weak from the magic, moved sluggishly about until Hekibel commanded her to rest and she sat on the couch with Silvia, holding her hand.
"They're waking?" Hem had arrived. He moved between the Bards, checking them over. He came to Maerad who noticed that he had washed his hair and kept it down in his face so his ears were hidden. "The First Bards are still sleeping, but I've checked, we've no more casualties."
Silvia glanced sharply at Maerad. "Someone died?"
Maerad grimaced. "Finlan and Gahal."
"Finlan was cruel but he didn't deserve that," Silvia said weakly. "And Gahal." She fell silent, beyond words to describe her grief.
"I know," Maerad said. "His children don't know yet."
Silvia's eyes moved to Nik and Beljan, who were sitting up, huddled in blankets, talking softly to a prostrate Anhil. "Perhaps give them a few more days."
Maerad nodded. "I suppose Anhil will take over as First Bard. And someone from Ettinor."
Silvia's eyes dropped to her hands. She was thinking of Malgorn as she had last seen him, pale and wide-eyed, clearly injured from his last foray with the Nameless One. The fact he was not awake yet worried her more than she cared to admit.
If he dies, I will have to take his place. If he dies, I'll be alone. She bit her lip to stay tears. This was not the time or place for shallow emotional displays.
Maerad perceived Silvia's fear. "Don't worry, Silvia. Hem is sure Malgorn will wake. It's just a matter of time. The First Bards were more exposed to the strength of the spell than you." When Silvia still seemed nervous, Maerad gestured to the door. "Why don't I take you there? You can keep watch over him and some of the others. Light knows, Hem and Hekibel and I are running ourselves ragged trying to keep track of all the Bards."
Silvia breathed a sigh of relief and, with a little help from Maerad to stand, made her way to the other room. It was silent there, not even the faint whisper of breathing, and Silvia thought she'd entered a crypt. Maerad supported her to the spot on the floor where Cadvan and Malgorn were tucked under thick blankets. They were both sweating profusely, and Silvia guessed Hem was trying to drive out the chills from their magery. She sank down beside Malgorn and placed a trembling kiss on his forehead.
"Sweetheart, you must wake up for me," she whispered. She pushed the hair back, stroked his cheeks. "Please, open your eyes for me."
Maerad wasn't sure what to expect. She had purposely kept herself apart from Cadvan because she knew that once she went to his side, she would not leave it, even at the expense of the other Bards.
Love can make you selfish, she thought a little sadly.
Silvia was still kneeling beside Malgorn, whispering to him, and Maerad, feeling she had no right to intrude on such an intimate moment, left. She moved about the First Bards curiously, examining them each in turn. Norowen barely breathed, but beside her, Nerili was twitching, like she was caught in a bad dream. Maerad went down beside her, and took her head. The last time she had seen her, Nerili had struck Maerad as the most imposing woman she'd ever met. Her beauty had not belied her fierceness, and no one would say that Nerili was a fool.
This wasn't the end you deserved, she thought, stroking her face. Nerili tilted her head, pressing her cheek in Maerad's hand. Maerad wondered how it come to pass that she, a young girl with almost no formal education, had come out of this alright, but Nerili and all the other First Bards, had been destroyed. I suppose none of this was very fair, was it?
She heard a faint cry from the room and started. "Someone!"
Maerad rushed to the room and found Saliman thrashing weakly with the blankets. "Please."
"A moment!" Maerad said, shakily pouring out a glass of water and bringing it to him. "You need to drink."
Saliman's face was a sickly pale color, and his eyes were glassy. He tried to shift himself upright to take the water, but Maerad shook her head. "Don't sit up. Just rest." She tipped the glass against his lips. "You've been asleep for a few days."
"Last thing I remember," he said slowly, taking more water and swallowing carefully. "Was the Nameless One, his hands-"
"Don't say anymore," Maerad advised, wondering what he had seen during the spell. "Just take some water."
"The others?" Saliman asked after finishing the glass.
"Asleep. The First Bards had a harder time it seems." She nodded to Nelac who was asleep in the bed beside him. "But the others are waking. Hem and Hekibel are with them now."
Saliman laid back. "Get Hem. Please."
Maerad touched his face once more before going to find her brother. Hem was across the hall, making Arnamil flex and relax his fingers. "Hem, Saliman is awake."
Hem jumped to his feet and almost ran from the room, but stopped short, smiling guiltily. "I'm sorry, Arnamil, but can I-"
"Go, boy," Arnamil said wryly. "But when you come back, I want news of Nerili."
Hem practically ran to Saliman's room, skidding to halt by the bed. Saliman's eyes were closed, but when he heard Hem's frantic breathing, he cracked an eye to inspect the boy.
"Is there a fire?"
Hem felt something in deep in him break and he had to balance against the bed least his legs give out. "Don't you ever do something as stupid as that again."
Saliman smiled weakly. "I seem to recall saying something similar to you."
Hem grasped his hand tightly. "I thought you might not recover. I'd never seen anyone looking as you did."
Saliman frowned, not inclined to ask how he looked. "Am I to assume our master was successful?"
Hem nodded. "It certainly seems so."
Saliman was quiet quite a long time while he considered the ramifications of the spell. "Has he given any indication of-of anything?"
"He will speak to the Bards, and all of your will be attendance." Hem ran his hands through his hair, distracted. "What comes after, I cannot say. Who knows what we will become without the Speech."
"We wait then." Saliman tried to smile up at Hem but noticed his ears and gasped. "Light's sake, what happened?"
Hem quickly brushed his hair forward but Saliman caught his wrist and drew him near. He brushed his hair back, fingering the jagged edges.
"After the spell, the Nameless One and his Hulls wanted to scare Maerad and me." Saliman's gentle hands were like a balm on Hem, and he leaned forward. "It's okay, it's just the tips. I can hear fine."
"Hem," Saliman said, his voice rough with emotion. "It is not fine."
Hem felt more words bubbling up. His dreams had been plagued with memories of the Hulls holding him down, the knife balanced over his belly. Hem wanted desperately to tell Saliman of the Hulls attempt to emasculate him just so he could hear words of comfort, but at the same time, he was horribly embarrassed and burned with shame.
"I'll be alright," Hem said at last. "We can worry about it later. You and the rest are still weak."
Saliman couldn't deny what Hem said was true, but he sensed Hem's discomfort and was sure there was more to the story. "Yes, when I'm better we'll talk more."
Hem checked Saliman over, joints, bones, running his hands down his spine, temperature. "Well, you're not dying, so there's that," Hem tried to joke and won a faint grin from Saliman.
"For now, you'll eat and drink and sleep." Hem was already pouring water and called for Hekibel. "I imagine she won't leave your side now."
"I don't need anyone hovering over me," he protested weakly, but Hem fixed him with a severe look and when Hekibel came rushing in a few minutes later, Saliman relented.
Hem wanted to stay longer, but he saw the intensity of emotion in Hekibel and Saliman's eyes and felt that they deserved privacy. He meandered slowly into the sitting room and saw with pleasant surprise that Malgorn had woken, and Silvia was placing a line of kisses down his hands and wrists. He paused to see how Malgorn did but moved on quickly to the other First Bards.
"It seems the others are awake." Maerad had joined Hem silently and was surveying the room. Her eyes darted to Silvia and Malgorn, then moved to the bedroom where she could just see Hekibel with Saliman. Finally, she glanced at Cadvan and had to press down a terrible aching in her chest. Why did the others wake when he didn't?
"It will be slow, I think," Hem said softly. "But now that the rest of the Circles are awake, they can help us."
"In time," Maerad said sardonically. "Give them at least a day to recover."
"We'll have to speak to Nik and Beljan."
"I think, perhaps, we should leave it to Anhil," Maerad mused. "I've told him what happened. It'll be better coming from him."
Hem nodded. As far as he was concerned, it saved him from their pain. "Then we have a lull in the madness. Perhaps a little rest."
"Yes, I could stand a nap-"
"Maerad!" Silvia had sat up and was gesturing wildly for her to come. "It's Cadvan!"
Hem snorted as Maerad threw aside whatever was left of her decorum and rushed across the room. "Well, I'll take a nap at least."