The Immortal Realm (10 page)

“I didn't
decide
at all,” said Edric. “My family have always been bondsmen to the lords of Weir. I hoped that Lord Aldritch would release me from my duty to his House—but he's ordered me to return to Weir with him.”

“I'm sorry—
ordered
you? What gives him the right to order you to do anything? And even if he does think he can give you orders, you don't have to go along with them. Tell him to get lost. You don't owe him anything.”

“I owe him my allegiance, Tania,” Edric said. “I have to do as he commands.” A kind of forlorn hope came into his voice. “But I may be gone only a short while, possibly only a few months. I'll do everything I can to get him to release me—and then I'll come back to you.”

“And what if I'm not here? What if I decide I want to spend my life in the Mortal World?”

Edric didn't reply.

“Don't do this, Edric.”

“I must.”

“Even if it means us never seeing each other again?”

His voice was barely above a whisper. “I'm sorry. It's my duty. I have no choice.”

The streets of Rhyehaven were deserted. A few fearful faces watched from shuttered windows or peered out from between the slats of bolted doors, but most of the inhabitants had heeded the warnings of the King's wardens and had shut themselves away when the delegation from the palace had walked through the town to the harbor.

They stood now on the quayside. Silent. Waiting.

Tania and Rathina were standing side-by-side at the water's edge, slightly apart from the other lords and ladies of Faerie.

Lord Aldritch was at the head of the gathering, clad in a black cloak lined with sable fur. Edric stood attentively just behind him, also now dressed in black. He glanced toward Tania for a split second, then looked away again, his face emotionless—unreadable.

I've lost him,
Tania thought.
Lost him forever.

As though sensing her pain, Rathina slipped her arm into Tania's. Tania gave her a bleak smile, glad
to have her sister close.

All the Earldoms were represented in the welcoming party, all save Mynwy Clun: Valentyne could not come to greet the Healer and Eden would not leave his side a second time. Earl Marshal Cornelius represented Oberon. The King had also remained at the palace; the need to maintain the power of the Gildensleep consumed all his energy. Titania and Hopie and Sancha had stayed there as well, watching over the sick and the healthy, still searching for a remedy to the plague, unwilling to cease their labors until the Healer made landfall.

Tania gazed out over the sea, trying not to think of a future without Edric.

“He comes!” Aldritch's voice cracked the pensive silence.

Tania saw a masthead beyond the breakwaters coming in from the west. A bright yellow pennant snapped in the wind. Yellow sails glided into view. A subdued murmur ran through the crowd as the Healer's ship rounded the stone breakwater and sailed into the harbor.

It was a schooner, skimming the sea under full sail, its wind-stretched canvas as yellow as the sun, its hull slender and graceful as it clove the foaming water.

A strange joy came into Tania's heart as she watched the bright sails being reefed. She hadn't known what to expect of the Healer from Weir—something dark and maybe a little sinister, perhaps? Black robes and stern faces hidden under deep cowls.

Ropes spun out from the ship and wardens ran to
catch them and secure them to stone bollards. A gangplank was run out onto the quayside.

Lord Aldritch stepped forward as a man appeared.

Tania almost smiled as she looked at him: He was tall and wide-shouldered, dressed in a simple yellow robe tied at the waist. He had an ageless face with a high forehead and deep-set emerald eyes. His hair was tawny and hung about his shoulders. A thin white band circled his forehead and in its center was a bright blue stone that flickered like sapphire flame in the sunlight.

“Well met, Master Hollin,” called Aldritch. “You come in good time to our aid.”

“'Tis hoped so, my lord,” replied the Healer. He paused at the head of the gangplank, his head turning slowly as he looked from face to face. Tania thought she saw a slight frown pucker between his eyes when his gaze fell on her, but it happened so quickly that she may have imagined it.

Rathina's voice whispered to Tania. “I had expected someone…I cannot say…darker, mayhap, coming from Weir. This man seems filled with sunlight. 'Tis a good omen, I am sure.”

“Let's hope so,” said Tania.

Hollin walked down the gangplank to the quay. He came briefly to one knee before Lord Aldritch. “My lord.”

“Rise, friend,” said Aldritch. “There is much to be done.”

More men now appeared on the ship, the Healer's acolytes, their tunics and leggings a fresh leaf green. They began to walk down the gangplank. Tania noticed that they carried staves of white wood and that one had a fur bundle in his arms.

“You are thrice welcome, Master Healer,” said Cornelius, coming forward as Hollin got to his feet. “Our need is very great. Will you come with us to the palace?”

“In a moment, with your leave, my lord,” said Hollin. He turned and gestured to the man carrying the fur bundle. “First I would lay a blessing on the voyage.”

The man crouched and carefully spread the bundle. Tania moved in closer. The bundle was an animal skin and gathered in the center was a collection of colored gemstones.

Hollin knelt and picked a browny green stone, touching it to his forehead then placing it on the ground. “Agate for the earth,” he said. He picked another stone: creamy white this time. “Quartz for the air.” He laid it next to the first. Two more stones joined them, one red and one blue. “For fire and water,” Hollin intoned. He passed his hands over the four stones. “Earth, water, fire, and air. I place the four paradigms of the unanswerable riddle upon the white bull's spotted hide. Bless this time and bless this place and bless all my actions.”

Tania held her breath, half expecting something magical to happen, but Hollin simply got to his feet
and gestured to the man to put the stones back into the skin.

“Have you seen anything like this before?” Tania whispered to Rathina.

“Nay, never,” her sister said. “'Tis most curious. What can it portend?”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

“Take me to the sick,” said Hollin. “I would begin my work.”

Cornelius and Lord Aldritch led the delegation as it made its way solemnly through the rising streets of Rhyehaven. Hollin walked between them, his head bowed as they explained to him their troubles. His acolytes trooped along behind, their staves clicking on the cobbles as they went.

Tania walked alongside one of the men. “Did you have an easy journey?” she asked.

He smiled and inclined his head politely.

“We're all hoping you can work miracles,” Tania added. “Is…um…Hollin good with miracles at all?”

The smile widened for a moment then the man looked away without replying.

Not too chatty, then.
But so long as the Healer could cure the plague, she didn't mind if none of them ever said a word.

 

The Healer stood at the entrance of Cerulean Hall. The doors had been thrown open and the blue chamber glowed with the golden light of many floating
cocoons. There were fifty or more patients now, all of them cradled in Oberon's Gildensleep, their symptoms suspended just so long as the King's mind held fast to the reins of his Mystic Arts.

Titania pushed a stray lock of hair from her face as she approached, her expression resolute but weary as she greeted the Healer. “I am told you come from the land of Alba,” she said. “I would learn more of your life and of your travels when time permits.”

“I will welcome such discourse, your grace,” Hollin replied.

“My daughters have sought long for a cure without success,” Titania continued. “Neither book nor herb can offer us salvation. I fear the answer lies beyond our ken.”

“Be at peace, your grace,” said Hollin. “I will do what I can.” He frowned. “There is much suffering here. The auras of these folk are cracked and bleeding.” A spasm of disgust twisted his face, and he backed out of the doorway.

Almost immediately his acolytes surrounded him, facing outward, their staves held up, their faces oddly blank.

“What is the matter, Master Hollin?” asked Aldritch.

But by now the Healer's face had cleared. “The sickness is too furious when many are brought together,” he said. “I would meet with but a single victim if I am to know this disease.”

“Cordelia is alone,” said Rathina. “She is close by;
we can take you there.”

“So be it,” said Hollin. The protective ring of his followers opened and Rathina led them across the hallway and toward Cordelia's chambers.

He used the word “disease,”
Tania thought. He seemed quite familiar with it, even though few here had known the word before the illness had appeared. But then, he wasn't a native of Faerie. And if the people of Alba understood disease and sickness, then there was a good chance he would be able to do something to cure them.

They came into Cordelia's chambers. Bryn was sitting on the floor with his back to the door. He looked exhausted.

He got to his feet as Hollin approached. “You are the Healer?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “You come from Alba, so they say. But save for our Queen, none have sailed to the shores of Faerie from that distant place for many thousands of years. Why came you to Weir?”

“Stand back, Master Bryn,” said Aldritch. “It is not for you to question this man.”

Bryn looked guardedly at the lord, as if debating whether to get into a dispute with him.

Edric stepped forward, placing a hand on Bryn's arm. “Trust that Master Hollin means no harm, Bryn,” he said gently. “He may have a cure—for Princess Cordelia, for everyone.”

Bryn nodded briefly and stepped aside. “Beware,” he said. “Cordelia is not alone.”

Tania was puzzled by this remark—until Edric opened the door and she was able to see into the room beyond.

Cordelia's bedchamber was full of birds.

They covered every surface, the sill of the open window, the furniture, the floor; they perched in rows on the high rails of the four-poster bed and on the headboard, and gathered darkly on the counterpane and even upon the pillows either side of Cordelia's head.

A multitude of different species was there: from sparrows and wrens and finches to gulls and crows and ravens and jays and jackdaws and magpies to falcons and eagles and round-eyed owls. A hundred watchful, beady eyes peered down from the picture rails and from the lintel of the door and window, and all their uncanny, inhuman attention was focused on the golden lozenge that contained the sleeping princess.

“What sorcery is this?” asked Hollin.

“It isn't sorcery,” Tania said. “It's my sister's gift; she has a strong bond with animals. She loves them and they love her. But it's nothing to be afraid of; they won't hurt you.”

Hollin turned to her. “Even so, I can do nothing while she is bound within yon crucible of golden light. I cannot perceive her aura. I cannot lay the divine stones upon her.”

“Oberon must release her,” said Lady Kernow. “Send to the King.”

“Is that safe?” asked Tania. “The Gildensleep is the
only thing stopping her from getting worse.”

The Healer's eyes flashed. “Would you prevent me from healing this woman?” he asked.

“No, of course not,” Tania said, disturbed by the furious look that had passed across his face. “I'll go and speak to the King. I won't be long.”

She ran from the chamber. She knew where Oberon would be—in the peace and seclusion of the Throne Room. So far as Tania knew, he had been alone there ever since the Conclave had ended.

A warden stood at the high door to the Throne Room.

“I have to see the King,” Tania said.

The warden thrust the doors open and Tania entered. She walked the long white carpet to the simple, white stone chair.

Oberon sat perfectly still, his hands gripping the arms of the throne, his back straight, his eyes open but unfocused. He seemed unaware as she approached him.

“Father?” she asked, reaching out a tentative hand to touch his knee.

His steady gaze did not stir. Even when she moved so that she was immediately in front of his face, his piercing blue eyes seemed to look through her.

“Yes, my daughter,” came the low voice, lips hardly moving.

“The Healer has arrived, Father,” Tania told him. “He wants you to take Cordelia out of the Gildensleep. Can you do that?”

“I can.” The eyelids flickered for a moment. “It is done. Daughter?”

“Yes, Father?”

“What make you of Lord Aldritch's Healer?”

“I'm not sure.”

“He is not of Faerie, Tania. Let no harm come to our people.”

“No. Of course not.” She stepped back.

“Would you leave me, Tania?”

“I want to see what happens with Cordelia.”

“Nay, daughter. That was not my meaning.” A strange intensity came into the soft voice. “Would you leave me, Tania?
Would
you?”

A shiver ran down Tania's spine. He was asking her whether she had decided to abandon Faerie and return to her home in the Mortal World. But he sounded so
wounded
—as if the very thought of it was more than he could bear.

“Father…” Her voice faded. She didn't know what to say. She looked into the noble, weary face. “Can you do this for much longer, Father?” she asked.

“For a while…” came the whispered reply. “For my people…for a while…”

“I'd like to go back. Is there anything you need?”

“No. See how your sister fares.”

Her heart aching, Tania turned and ran from the Throne Room.

When Tania came back into Cordelia and Bryn's chambers, she found most of the people gathered in the outer room, either sitting or standing in murmuring
groups. The door to the bedchamber was open.

Cordelia was no longer in the protective shell of the Gildensleep. She lay on the bed, small and helpless in the rumpled wedding gown. Most of the birds had gone, but a few still remained, determined to keep watch over their beloved friend.

Rathina and Bryn stood just inside the doorway. Sancha was also close by. She looked drained and defeated, as if she was on the verge of collapse. Tania moved to her side.

Sancha looked at her with weary, red-rimmed eyes. “All my learning, all my lore, all my books,” she murmured. “So far they have availed me nothing. I come to see if this man from across the seas can do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.”

“I hope he can,” Tania whispered.

“Indeed,” said Sancha. “For if not, what then of Faerie?”

Hollin's followers were gathered around the bed, holding their wood staves high in both hands, bringing the ends together so that they formed a kind of canopy over Cordelia's prone form.