The Caller (33 page)

‘It’s simple enough. Mostly mint and honey.’

Osgar glanced over toward the pallet where Esten lay still under his blanket. ‘What you gave him seems to have worked. Sleeping like a babe.’

‘Mm.’ Here was another Enforcer like Rohan, outwardly the kind of man anyone would want as a friend. I must not for a moment forget what he was and where his allegiance must lie. ‘I suppose they all work hard. Morven too.’

‘Our leaders keep us up to the mark, yes.’

‘You’re from Wolf Troop, aren’t you? I’ve seen you and some of your comrades in the hall at meals. But not Stag Troop – isn’t that the one Rohan Death-Blade belongs to? He accepted Morven for training and rode here with us.’

‘We’re stationed here mostly for guard duty. But there’s an extra job on now; big need for training. Both troops are busy. Of course, when the court moves here it will all change again. The king likes to stir things up.’

That was an admission I had not expected. I must tread very cautiously. ‘It’s hard for me with Morven having to live separately,’ I said. ‘I mean, I did expect that might happen while he was being trained, but not that I wouldn’t see him at all. Do they ever let people go out to watch the men being put through their paces?’

Osgar grimaced. ‘Different situation right now, as I imagine you know.’ He glanced over at Esten. ‘Under more normal circumstances, the fellows might put on a display for the household from time to time, mock battle, shooting at targets – a fighter needs to learn to block out distractions such as a lady he admires sitting on the sidelines cheering him on, or a crowd of children making noise. But there’s a bigger job on here than training men for the Enforcers.’ He stuck his head out the door, looked up and down the hallway, turned back to me. ‘You’ll have had one or two of those odd folk in here with injuries to be tended to, I imagine.’

‘Not since I got here. But Toleg goes out to patch them up sometimes.’

‘The fact is, Morven and the other recruits are doing more teaching than learning now. Especially your husband. Big strong fellow, lot of skill – and he’s good with those strange folk. Not everyone has that knack.’

‘Knack?’ I could not stop myself from glancing toward Esten.

‘Not like that fellow. Just the knack of getting them to listen. Like Owen, the Stag Troop leader. Has a way of dealing with them that seems to get the best out of them. But I’m talking too much. You’ll have things to do. Don’t let me keep you from your work.’

‘There’s more of the brew, if you’d like another cup. And a few dried plums here – I don’t think Master Toleg ate any breakfast at all.’

‘Thank you, Ellida, don’t mind if I do.’

I refilled his cup, then went to the work bench to resume preparing the salve Toleg had told me to make. Osgar was right; I needed to get my duties done before Esten woke.

For some time neither of us spoke. Osgar stayed at the door, watching while I made a strong infusion of the herbs Toleg had specified, combined it with a pure oil and heated it until the mixture was a rich gold in colour and no longer steaming. I lifted the little pot off the brazier and set it on the bench to cool while I melted the beeswax to thicken the salve. Esten had not stirred. Indeed, at one point I went over to make sure he was still breathing.

‘You know,’ Osgar said, his voice held quiet, ‘there is a spot where you can get a good view of the practice yard. Most folk wouldn’t be aware of it. We know it, of course, since our job is to be familiar with every corner of the place, in case of attack. If you wanted a look at your man in action, I could show you.’

‘Really?’ I tried not to sound too excited. ‘That would be wonderful – but only if it doesn’t get me in trouble. Or you.’ I gave him a smile.

‘Not breaking any rules, as I see it. Does the old man keep you hard at work all day?’

‘He does let me out for meals. Master Toleg is the only one so wedded to his craft that he would rather eat in here. I might be free for a little in the middle of the day. Not today, of course.’

‘Tomorrow, if you like. I can come by and take you up there. Then, when you do catch up with Morven, you can surprise him with a compliment on his fine work.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘That is very kind. If you’re quite sure about not breaking rules.’

‘I wouldn’t go announcing it to all and sundry,’ Osgar said. ‘We don’t want half the household up there. I hope you’re not scared of heights.’

A powerful memory came to me, of Brollachan Brig, and Hollow holding me by one ankle as I dangled above the abyss. ‘I’ll be fine,’ I said.

Before either Brydian or Toleg came back, Esten began to wake from his sound sleep. At first it was gentle, a rolling to his side, a murmur or two, a sigh. Then, as the effects of the draught faded, a restless tossing and turning and a sequence of muttered dream-troubles. ‘No . . . I can’t . . . not again, please no . . . die, die now, quickly . . . take your hands off me! . . . ’

His ramblings were disturbing; I could have spun a tale from them, but in truth there was no guessing just what the pattern of his dreams might be. The only thing clear was that he had not slept anywhere near long enough. Could I risk dosing him again? I completed the salve, sealing it in jars. I prepared the second infusion Toleg had asked for and cleaned up after myself. Esten’s nightmares continued; I sponged his brow with cool water. There was still a cupful of the sleeping potion in the jug.

When he woke fully, the first thing he said was, ‘More. Please.’

‘The mixture is potent.’ The look in my patient’s eyes made me wish Toleg was back. ‘This is not the answer to your problem, or at least it is only a short-term answer; relief for your symptoms. What you need is . . .’ I hesitated. My position at Summerfort was crucial to the rebellion. Helping the king’s Caller get well enough to lead an army against us was not part of the plan. ‘Rest,’ I said. ‘Not drugged rest; natural rest. A man cannot go on working the way you do, day after day, without paying a price. Master Toleg will agree with me, I am certain.’

‘Please,’ he said again. His voice was ragged; his skin was clammy again. ‘Just a little.’ He gave a furtive glance toward the doorway, but Osgar had gone out into the hall. ‘They need not know. Just enough.’

‘The more you take, the less effective it will be.’

‘Please, Ellida. There’s nobody to help me.’

‘A very small dose,’ I said, weighing his distress against the risk that I might give him too much and make him worse. ‘Not enough to send you back to sleep, but sufficient to ease the pain for a while longer. I am not the chief healer here, only Toleg’s assistant, and a very new one at that.’ I fetched the jug; poured him a small measure; put the cup into his shaking hands. ‘Drink it slowly. A draught such as this must not be misused. I will not give you more than Master Toleg would recommend.’

‘Thank you,’ he whispered, passing back the empty cup. ‘If I . . . could I . . .’

‘Even once a day would be too often. You would become accustomed to it; reliant on it. The longer you used it, the harder it would be for you to stop taking it. You would find it impossible to fall asleep without its help. Master Toleg will tell you the same thing, Esten. But perhaps he can recommend something a little milder that will give you easier sleep by night without inducing a . . . need.’

Voices in the hall outside: an Enforcer named Ardon had come to relieve Osgar on the door. Ardon had brought food for us, but he was not inclined to talk. He stayed outside the half-open door and kept himself to himself. Esten did not want to eat. I made him swallow a few mouthfuls of the baked fish and some root vegetables which I mashed up as if for a baby. It was hard to believe what Flint had said:
he’s more powerful than he looks.

After we had finished the meal and I had made an ordinary brew for myself and Ardon, I sat on the stool beside Esten’s pallet. He would not sleep again, and that was perhaps a good thing, since slumbering all day would give him another wakeful night.

‘Why is this so exhausting?’ I asked. ‘What you do, I mean. I don’t really understand.’

A flush came to his wan cheeks. ‘Master Brydian has said that I should not speak about it,’ he said.

What now? Step back or press further? Our voices were held low, but I could not be sure Ardon was out of earshot. ‘I understand. Only . . . you seem very troubled by this. Talking about what’s wrong may help. Anything a patient says to me remains within these four walls, Esten. I promise you that.’

He sat quiet for a little, then he said, ‘How can it help?’

‘Troubles bring headaches; headaches bring sleepless nights. Talking may help you find your own solutions to your troubles.’ It was glib, and I hated myself for it.

Esten gave me a very direct look. ‘You can’t understand, or you would not ask this,’ he murmured. ‘The penalties for speaking out are . . . they’re unthinkable.’

I understood all too well. ‘This is not speaking out,’ I said. ‘It’s between you and me. Or you and Master Toleg, if you would prefer to wait for him.’

There was a long silence, during which I moved to the doorway and said to Ardon, ‘There’s a draught coming in – do you mind?’ Before he could answer, I shut the door. I went back to the bedside, sat down again, put my hands in my lap.

‘Why should I trust you?’ Esten’s eyes were full of trouble. Even after the sleep, he looked worn out.

‘Nobody in all Alban can give you an answer to that question,’ I said. ‘The best I can do is remind you that I am a healer and bound by a healer’s codes. It’s my job to find ways to help you. I think talking is one of those ways. I will understand if you don’t wish to tell me whatever it is.’

‘I hardly know what it is,’ he said. ‘Only that I was promised power, wealth, and recognition, and that I find myself trapped in a nightmare of my own making. Sometimes I think I would rather die than do what is required of me. But . . . I have been nothing in the past, insignificant, overlooked. And when I use this gift I feel powerful, I feel fully alive, I feel . . . I feel like a leader.’ He dropped his gaze. ‘I know what I do is wrong. I know it is cruel. But I cannot stop doing it, Ellida. It’s like what you said about the draught; the more of it you have, the more you want it. Even if it makes you do terrible things. Even if it sets a burden on you that you can hardly bear.’

Black Crow save me. I struggled to find words.

‘You wish now that you had not asked me to speak,’ he said.

‘No, though what you say is . . . disconcerting. Esten, when did you start using this gift? Folk with canny talents are born with them, I know. How old were you when you realised what you could do?’

‘I don’t remember. A child. But I didn’t know what it was, only that I heard strange voices calling me, out in the woods, and sometimes saw odd things I thought might be only tricks of the light. I never spoke of it to anyone. There were . . . reasons. Everyone knows that.’

I judged he was four or five years my senior. Esten’s early childhood would have been before Keldec came to the throne and outlawed the use of canny gifts outside his own court. ‘And later?’ I ventured. ‘It sounds as if your gift is very powerful. How did it develop?’

‘I hardly used it. Nobody knew about it. Once or twice, when I was out of doors on my own, one of them – the Good Folk – would appear and try to talk to me, and I would do my best to pretend I could not see it. They are trouble. The king’s law is wise, forbidding us to meet and mingle. What is happening to these folk now – they brought it on themselves. They should have left me alone.’

I could not tell him he was wrong; I must judge each question with utmost care. ‘I have heard the story – that you travelled to the south with the king’s expedition and brought them back. Many of them. So they followed you against your will?’

He shook his head. ‘I called them. I made them come. That was what the queen wanted. That’s what a Caller is: one who can compel and command these folk. Make them follow. Make them fight. Make them do whatever I want.’

Or whatever your masters want
, I thought. ‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘Didn’t you say they should have left you alone? But if you were the one who called them forth . . . ?’

‘It was one of them that started all this,’ Esten said in a whisper. ‘If not for that, nobody would ever have known what I could do. Even I would not have known. I was doing exactly as the law requires, not using my gift, not acknowledging it in any way. Then, one day when I was out in the woods, I met an old man with a dog.’

I went cold with horror. He’d been trained. He’d met the Master of Shadows. It meant . . . it meant – but the Master was a trickster. Perhaps this was not what it seemed. ‘Go on,’ I said, struggling to sound calm and encouraging.

‘I thought he was an ordinary man, of humankind. He was carrying firewood, too much for an old fellow to manage, and I offered to help him get it to his hut. And when we reached the place . . . he proved to be something other than human.’

‘You mean – he was one of
them
? How could you tell?’

‘He . . . changed. The dog, too. Now one thing, now another. And he told me about my . . . my gift, my ability . . . I didn’t want to speak of it, because of the law, but the old man seemed to know all about me, how I could see and hear those folk, how I had held back, tried to pretend it was nothing. And . . . and he told me what power I could wield. The magnificent things I could do. Stand at the king’s right hand. Command great armies. Make folk perform wonderful magic. Become . . . become someone.’ A wretched silence. ‘I told him I would not listen; that it was dangerous nonsense. I walked back home, ate my supper, went to bed. Spent the whole night thinking about it, about how it could change my life, how it could transform me into someone different, someone people looked up to, someone they feared. The next day I went back to the old man’s hut, and the next, and many times after that. He . . . he showed me things. Not as much as I wanted, but . . . enough for me to start. One day, when I went to find him, he was gone. The man, the dog, even the hut had vanished as if it had never been. But I knew what I could be and what I could do. I was . . . I was practising when Master Brydian came by and saw me.’