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Authors: Juliet Marillier

The Caller (32 page)

BOOK: The Caller
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The king’s return to Summerfort drew ever closer. Every day I showed Toleg how reliable I was, how hard I could work, how little supervision I required. Sometimes he was called down to the practice yard to tend to an injured man who, for one reason or another, could not be brought to the infirmary. I waited for a chance to go with him, so I might get a glimpse, at least, of the captives. But Toleg did not ask me to come.

He did leave me in charge, on my own, when he was absent during the day. Where once he would have called in Scia to supervise me, now he gave me a list of tasks to get on with, and trusted me to tend to anyone who might come seeking help while he was gone. This was a big step, and made me glad I had not rushed things. But time was passing swiftly. I’d had no chance to see if Whisper was with the captives, or to speak with Flint, whom I had not seen since that first day.

The temptation to use my gift was always there, though I kept it in check. I could try to call Whisper to me; I could learn if this was possible while Esten was close at hand and exerting his own influence over the captives. I could call one of our fey allies, Sage or Daw perhaps, and seek their advice. By now, the news that Good Folk were being held at Summerfort and trained to fight must have made its way up the valley to Shadowfell; Sage’s folk would be able to see what was happening from the wooded hill. Unless the iron kept them away. Unless fear of being drawn in by Esten’s call had driven them far from their home forest. That was all too believable.

There came a day when Toleg had headed out early with his herb basket and knives, leaving me with two infusions and a salve to prepare before he returned. Should I be faced with anything beyond my abilities, he said, I was to send for Scia. I suggested, in modest fashion, that next time he might allow me to do the herb gathering in his place, since I had younger legs.

‘We’ll see, Ellida,’ he said. ‘That husband of yours might not be well pleased if I let you wander about in the forest on your own, not to speak of the need to cross the encampment out there twice over.’

‘I did it regularly at Glenfalloch, Master Toleg, and Morven raised no objection.’

‘Then the man’s a fool. If I had a pretty young wife I wouldn’t be letting her tramp around hither and thither all alone, not with Alban the way it is these days. Now you’d best get started on that salve, it takes a while. And I’ll be off.’

I worked for some time uninterrupted. I completed the first infusion and was fetching beeswax for the salve when there was a knock on the infirmary door. I opened it, and there was the Caller, with Brydian like a dark shadow behind him.

‘You,’ Brydian said, plainly far from pleased. ‘Where is Master Toleg?’

‘He’s gone out to gather herbs, Master Brydian. Please enter. I will help you if I can.’

‘When is Toleg due back? This is most unfortunate.’ He made no move to come in. One look at Esten told me he was in severe pain, most likely from a headache.

‘You should sit down,’ I said directly to Esten. I put my hand under his arm and led him to a bench. ‘Sit here. I can help you.’ I looked toward Brydian, who was still in the doorway. ‘Master Toleg will be away until late afternoon.’

‘We’ll return later,’ Brydian said. ‘Esten, come.’

The healer in me wanted to tell him that was both foolish and cruel. The strategist in me might have pointed out that keeping his Caller fit and well would surely be the king’s priority. But I remembered Scia’s warning and said nothing. It was Esten who spoke, raising his head to look up at the councillor. His face was a death mask, the eyes bright with pain.

‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘My head . . .’ He bent and put his hands to his temples.

I crouched down beside him, ignoring Brydian. ‘How long have you had this pain?’

‘A long time,’ Esten murmured. ‘Since . . . since before I came here. But . . . much worse now. I . . .’

I recognised the look on his face and dived for a bowl before he could be sick all over the infirmary floor. He retched helplessly while I held it in place. As soon as the spasm was over, Brydian came forward.

‘Thank you for your assistance. Send word as soon as Toleg returns. Come, Esten.’

The healer won out over the spy. ‘Master Brydian,’ I said, ‘your friend is not well enough to be moved. By all means wait for Master Toleg, who is much more experienced than I am. But let Esten wait here on a bed, in comfort. He’s in severe pain. I’m able to make an infusion to relieve that, and I can also give him something to help him sleep. Master Toleg left me in charge.’

‘Where is Scia?’

‘She’s helping Brand prepare for King Keldec’s arrival. Master Toleg is not expecting her in the infirmary today.’

Brydian replied by stalking back to the door and rapping out an order to someone outside. Had they brought guards with them? ‘Fetch Scia here!’

We waited in awkward silence. Esten was on the verge of fainting from the pain. I struggled to hold back a protest.

When Scia arrived, looking flustered, Brydian said, ‘When Toleg’s away, you should be available when needed. I have a sick man here. What were you doing?’

‘Now that Master Toleg has Ellida to assist him, I don’t work here every day, Master Brydian.’ Scia managed to sound calm and capable; I was impressed. ‘Brand has me in charge of ensuring the king’s and queen’s apartments are perfectly prepared for them.’ She glanced at me; took in the wilting Esten. ‘Ellida is a skilled herbalist and capable of dealing with all but the most difficult situations. Everything I can do, she can do. If she needed help in Master Toleg’s absence, she would call me.’

‘I see.’ Brydian sounded less than impressed. ‘Since you’re here, take a look at Esten and tell me what you would recommend.’

There was no point in being offended. In fact, Scia had far more practical experience as a healer than I did; she had exaggerated my capabilities. She spoke to Esten quietly, peered into his eyes, touched his brow and asked him where the pain was worst. She examined the contents of the bowl into which he had vomited. She asked the same question I had, and received the same answer.

‘Ellida can make up an infusion to relieve Esten’s pain and allow him a good sleep,’ Scia said. ‘He’d be best staying here awhile so she can keep an eye on him and make sure he is not disturbed. And when Master Toleg returns he can see him straight away.’

There was a brief silence.

‘Very well, Scia, you can go. You,’ Brydian jerked his head in my direction, ‘do what you have to do, and keep your questions to yourself, understood? You’ll remain in the infirmary until Master Toleg is back.’

‘Yes, Master Brydian. Of course . . .’ I hesitated.

‘What?’

‘There are some questions a healer must ask her patient, those that relate to the symptoms and the duration of his ailment. I understand the need for discretion.’

‘Make sure you do.’ Scia had departed, but Brydian made no move to follow her. I wondered if he planned to stand there watching me all day. Flint had said the councillor had a canny gift; that he could protect Esten from attack. Perhaps he never let the Caller out of his sight. ‘This is not just any patient,’ Brydian went on. ‘Esten must be restored to himself as quickly as possible. We need him. The king needs him.’

‘Yes, Master Brydian.’ I was helping Esten to a pallet, finding an extra pillow. He hardly had the strength to set one foot before the other.

‘One more thing. Any potion you dose him with is to be tasted first.’

I straightened, momentarily unable to guard my features. There was a drug in Toleg’s locked cupboard that would kill Esten quickly, and its effects might possibly be taken as a sudden worsening of his current illness. Oh, so easy. But the risk was too high; I’d likely be dead myself before nightfall if I tried it. Besides, it felt wrong. It felt as wrong as coming here to court had felt right, and still did, despite my failure to speak to the Good Folk.

‘I can’t stay here all day, I have matters to attend to,’ Brydian said crisply. ‘I’ll leave a guard at the door; Osgar will be your taster.’

‘Very well.’

‘I hope you will recover quickly, Esten. Young woman, make sure I’m informed the moment Toleg returns.’

‘Yes, Master Brydian.’

The door closed behind him and I let out my breath. Esten lay prone on the pallet with one arm up over his eyes. I fetched a stool and sat down beside him.

‘I will start making the infusion soon,’ I said quietly. ‘It won’t take long. But first I need to ask you some questions. This headache – is it troubling you all the time? Is your sight affected?’

‘My sight . . . Yes, sometimes. A dizziness; spots dancing before my eyes. Once or twice I have fainted. And I can’t sleep. When I do it’s all nightmares, and I wake in a cold sweat. I’m so tired . . . Sometimes I think I will die of the pain . . .’

‘When did the headaches begin?’

‘I . . . I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that.’

‘If I’m to help you, you’ll need to give me some answers. I promise you, nothing you say will go beyond these four walls.’ A lie, almost certainly; I hated myself for it even as I knew fate had delivered me a gift today – not the opportunity to kill this man, but the chance to hear him talk, away from his minder.

‘They started on the journey north. When I was required to . . . to do certain things. You know, I suppose, that I am a Caller.’

‘I do know, though I’m not exactly sure what that means. I’ve heard you are able to control those strange creatures that are being trained here.’ After a moment I added, ‘I imagine that is difficult. Tiring.’

He made no reply.

‘I’ll go through into the stillroom now and fetch what I need for the infusion. The sooner you take it, the longer you’ll be able to sleep before Toleg comes back.’

‘Sleep . . . I have almost forgotten what a dreamless sleep is like. Will this really work? Can you really make the pain go away?’

‘For a while, at least. I’ll do my best.’

I wondered, as I measured out the ingredients for the draught, taking extra care lest an honest error should made me a target for Brydian’s wrath, why it had not occurred to Esten to use his skill to his own advantage. I’d seen him growing sicker and more exhausted night by night as he took his place at the supper table. Brydian was always there, always close, controlling whom his Caller spoke to and who spoke to him. And, of course, protecting him from attack. It surprised me that Brydian had been prepared to leave his charge here with me, even with a guard on the door. The councillor’s manner was not that of guardian to precious charge, or of senior courtier to junior, or of mentor to student. It was more like that of jailer to valuable prisoner. Esten was being manipulated, he was being worked to exhaustion, he was being made ill by their demands on him. And he, meek-mannered and quiet, was simply going along with it. Yet he possessed a bargaining tool second to none.

When I went back into the infirmary with the draught in a cup, he was sitting up on the pallet. The febrile glitter in his eyes was troubling. This man desperately needed sleep; I hoped I had made the infusion strong enough.

‘You could say no,’ I suggested quietly. ‘You might have done that long ago, before this made you so ill.’

He stared at me. I had shocked him.

‘If you go on like this, it will kill you,’ I said. ‘That is my informed opinion as a healer. I think Master Toleg will tell you the same.’

‘You don’t know what you are saying,’ Esten whispered. ‘Refuse an order from the king’s representative? How could I do that?’

I wanted to tell him,
with a lot of courage
, but I had already said too much. If he chose to report this conversation to Brydian I would have to say he’d been in a feverish dream and imagined it. ‘Here, drink this.’

He was raising the cup to his lips when I remembered the taster and snatched it from his hands. ‘Not yet, sorry.’

The guard, Osgar, was tall and broad, with yellow hair in plaits and a beard to match. He sipped the brew uncomplaining, then wiped his lips with the back of a large hand. ‘Can’t say I care much for the taste, but it hasn’t killed me. How about a proper brew later on? You’re Morven’s wife, aren’t you?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Good fellow, Morven. Quick on his feet. You must be missing him.’

‘I am. Now I must give this to my patient.’ I was turning away when I realised I had been presented with another opportunity. ‘As for a brew, if I manage to get him off to sleep I’ll make something more palatable. Long day for you.’

‘This? It’s an easy duty, lassie. What’s your name?’

‘Ellida. Yes, I suppose by comparison it is.’

While Esten slept, Osgar and I enjoyed a brew and shared the food Toleg had forgotten to eat at breakfast time. Osgar would not sit down, but I persuaded him to move a bench close to the door he was supposed to be guarding, and I sat there while he leaned on the wall beside me. He did not forget his job; I could see how he watched the hallway outside, through the part-open door.

We spoke in lowered voices, mindful both of the sleeping man and – in my case, anyway – of the possible return of Brydian.

‘Good brew. Reminds me of one my mother used to make.’

BOOK: The Caller
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