The Redemption of Althalus (52 page)

“My head hurts,” Eliar said weakly, opening his eyes.

“He’s awake!” Andine squealed, throwing her arms around the injured young man.

“Stop that, Andine!” Dweia commanded. “Don’t jostle him!”

“I’m sorry,” Andine said. “It’s just that . . .” She made a face. “You know what I mean.”

“What happened?” Eliar asked. “And where are we?”

“Khnom opened a door at the back of the trench, Eliar,” Leitha told him, “and Gelta ran out, hit you on the head with her ax, and then ran back again before we could catch her.”

“That explains why I’ve got this headache,” the young Arum said.

Gher looked in through the tent door. “I heard Eliar talking,” he said. “He’s awake, isn’t he?”

“Keep your voice down, Gher!” Althalus hissed. “We don’t want Salkan to find out that Eliar’s on the mend.”

“Oh, yes,” Gher said, looking around quickly. “I almost forgot about that.” He came on into the tent.

“How long have I been dead to the world?” Eliar asked.

“Almost a full day,” Bheid told him. “Gelta hit you about midnight yesterday, and you missed the whole day. It’s well after sundown now.”

“Oh, that’s why it’s so dark. Is there some reason why we aren’t lighting any lamps? Have we got enemies sneaking around looking for us?”

“What are you talking about, Eliar?” Andine demanded. “It’s not dark in this tent. The whole roof’s glowing.”

“You couldn’t prove that by me, Andine,” Eliar said. “I can’t see a thing.” He held his hand in front of his face and wiggled his fingers. “Nothing,” he said. “I can’t even see my own hand. I think I’m blind.”

I was afraid of that,
Dweia told Althalus silently.

I don’t understand, Em,
he objected.
Gelta hit the back of his head, not his face. How could a blow on the back of his head do anything to his eyes?

His eyes are probably perfectly all right, Althalus, but the part of his brain that makes them work is located in exactly the place where Gelta hit him. Evidently, that part of his brain isn’t working right now.

Will it heal—eventually? Or is there some way we can repair the damage?

I don’t
know,
Althalus. Eliar’s there, and I’m here. If I could just get him back to the House, I might be able to deal with it, but
he’s
the only one who can open the door to the House, and he has to be able to see it to open it.

We’re in a lot of trouble, Em. I suppose we could make a litter of some kind and carry Eliar to the House, but it’d take us a month or more to get him there, and by then Ghend’s going to have Wekti in his pocket—and most of Medyo as well. After that, he’ll march west, and there won’t be any way to stop him—particularly since we’ve got every able-bodied man in Arum locked away in the House.

I’m working on it, Althalus.

Work faster, dear. This isn’t too much fun anymore.

“Isn’t there
some
way that Dweia could—?” Chief Albron began plaintively.

Althalus shook his head. “Not without the doors. The Knife’s the key to the doors, and Eliar’s got the Knife, but he can’t see to use it. I think she had to arrange it that way to keep her brother Daeva out of the House.”

“We aren’t dead yet, Althalus,” Sergeant Khalor said. “I’ve sent a courier to Kreuter to tell him to get here as soon as he can. I’m sure Gebhel can hold out until Kreuter gets here.”

Then Leitha came out of the tent.

“How’s Eliar?” Chief Albron asked.

“Still the same,” she replied. “He can’t see a thing. I just picked up something you gentlemen should know about. Pekhal’s back. He’s been to Regwos, and he brought an army of foot soldiers here with him.”

“How close are they?” Khalor asked her.

“They’re in that cave right now. Pekhal and Gelta are busy making plans for tomorrow.”

“I’ll need to know as much about those plans as you can pick up, Leitha,” Khalor said bleakly, “but I don’t think tomorrow’s going to be a very pleasant day for us.”

Althalus stood in the tent absently watching Andine feed Eliar.
Em.
He sent his silent thought inward.

Yes?
her voice returned immediately.

Isn’t there some way I could use the Book to fix Eliar’s eyes? Maybe if I just told him to see and used the right word, it’d step around the injury and make his eyes work, even if they really don’t.

No, Althalus. There might be a remote possibility that you could make him able to see what
you’re
looking at, but that wouldn’t solve our problem, be cause you can’t see those doors. There’s a link between Eliar and the Knife that permits him to see—and use—the doors. The only way it could possibly solve our immediate problem would be if you could reach into . . .”
She broke off, and there was a long silence.

Have you come up with something, Em?
he asked hopefully.

Maybe,
she replied.
I don’t really like the idea, because I’m almost positive that it’ll disrupt something that’s very important, but we might not have any choice.

You’re being cryptic, Em.

Don’t bother me right now, Althalus. I’m working on something that might get us out of trouble.

Sergeant Khalor and Chief Albron were standing just behind Leitha when Althalus came out of the tent, and they were both watching the pale girl intently.

“Has she managed to pick anything up yet?” Althalus asked the two Arums quietly.

“Nothing specific,” Khalor replied. “They’re still arguing, I think.”

“Do you mind?” Leitha said tartly. “If you’re going to talk, go do it someplace else.”

“Sorry,” Khalor apologized.

They waited, almost holding their breath.

“Ah,” Leitha said. “They finally thrashed it out. Ghend had to step on them a little.”

“Is Ghend there?” Althalus asked her.

She shook her head. “His voice was for a few moments, but Ghend himself is quite a long ways away.”

“What were they arguing about?” Chief Albron asked.

“They’re planning a little surprise for Sergeant Gebhel tomorrow morning, and both Pekhal and Gelta wanted to do the surprising. Ghend handed it to Pekhal, and Gelta’s not very happy about it.”

“What kind of surprise?” Khalor demanded.

“They’re going to hit Gebhel’s trenches from both sides at first light tomorrow.”

“Right and left?” Albron asked.

“No. Front and back.”

“That’s impossible!” Khalor said.

“Not when Khnom’s around, it isn’t,” Leitha disagreed. “He’s going to open a door
behind
Gebhel’s trenches, and Pekhal’s going to lead his infantry out to attack from there—but only
after
Gelta’s cavalry has repeated a few of those futile charges up the slope.”

“They cleared most of the slope yesterday,” Chief Albron said. “Gelta’s charges might not be all that futile.”

“No, my Chief,” Khalor disagreed. “Gebhel’s men have been resetting the stakes, restringing the trip lines, and rebuilding those brush barricades since the sun went down. When the sun comes up tomorrow morning, Gelta’s going to be looking at exactly the same problems she had yesterday. She’s just been reduced to a diversion, I think. She’s supposed to get Gebhel’s undivided attention so that Pekhal’s infantry attack from the rear will be a complete surprise. Now that we know about it, we can warn Gebhel, and he can take steps.” He frowned. “It’ll stretch him a bit thin, though. He’ll have to pull forces out of the rest of the trenches to deal with Pekhal. Tomorrow might be very interesting.” He looked around. “Salkan,” he called.

“Yes, General Khalor?” the redhead replied in a sleepy voice.

“Roll out of your blankets, boy. I’ve got a message I want you to carry down to the trenches.”

“Yes, General,” Salkan said, yawning.

We need Leitha, pet,
Dweia murmured.
I think she may be the key to our current problem—but only if she’s willing to cooperate. I can’t be sure just how
far her “gift” really goes, but it seems to go quite a bit farther than simple eaves dropping. She took the first step when I forced her to separate the concept of thought from Eliar’s physical brain to locate his injuries. The next step’s likely to be very difficult for her, and she might refuse—or Eliar might. I think you’ll have to talk to them, and you might have to talk very fast.

Just exactly what am I supposed to persuade her to do, Em?

Leitha’s passive, Althalus. All she does is listen to other people’s thoughts. We’ll have to push her a bit to make her reach deeper into Eliar’s mind—quite a bit deeper than she goes when she’s just skimming over the top of someone’s thoughts to pick up secrets—and when she does that, Eliar’s going to enter her mind as well.
That’s
the point at which she might refuse. Leitha’s comfortable with the notion of listening to the thoughts of others. She’s been doing that all her life. The idea of having somebody hear
her
thoughts could frighten her.

Why? She should be used to the idea by now.

The idea of it, yes; the reality, no. Their minds will merge, and it’ll establish a permanent link between them.

Something on the order of the link between you and me?

Exactly, and that link might alter certain boy-girl arrangements that she wants to stay exactly as they are. We can hope it doesn’t come to that, but getting Eliar’s sight back outweighs everything else right now.

C H A P T E R     T W E N T Y - S E V E N

W
e’ve got work to do,” Althalus told the others in a no-nonsense tone as he entered the tent. “Emmy’s got some instructions for you, so pay attention.”

Then Dweia shouldered him aside. “Are you getting any glimmers of light at all, Eliar?” she asked.

“Nothing, Emmy,” he replied in a hopeless voice. “It’s still as black as the bottom of a well. I don’t know how a bang on the back of the head shut down my eyes, but I can’t see a thing.”

“The most primitive part of the brain’s back there, Eliar. The senses are there—sight, hearing, smell, and so on. A bug can’t think, but he
can
see. The front of your brain thinks; the back of it does the simpler things.”

“What can we do?” Andine demanded tearfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a blind man recovering his sight.”

“When there’s been an injury to the eyes, there isn’t much chance, dear,” Dweia explained. “Eliar’s eyes are perfectly all right, though. His brain was bruised when Gelta hit him with that ax, and it was bleeding. We took care of the dangerous bleeding by drilling holes in the back of his head. It’s possible that the bruising that almost killed him is what’s interfering with his sight. If it’s only bruising, it’ll heal itself in time. Once it’s healed, he’ll be able to see again, and once he can see, he’ll be able to use the doors again. Right now, though, he can’t, and I have to get him
here
so that I can have a closer look to determine how serious the injury is.”

You aren’t telling them everything, are you, Em?
Althalus asked silently.

Not quite,
her voice admitted.
If the damage to that part of his brain’s
too
extensive, he’ll probably be permanently blind. Keep that to yourself, Althalus.
Then she pushed him aside and took his voice again. “We
must
get Eliar here to the House,” she told the others, “but he’s the only one who can use the doors. That’s where Leitha comes in.”

“How am I supposed to help him see the door to the House?” Leitha asked in a puzzled tone.

“You’ll lend him your eyes, Leitha.”

“They don’t come out, Divinity.”

“I know—and he wouldn’t be able to use them anyway—any more than he can use his own.”

“I don’t quite understand, Emmy,” Eliar said, raising his head slightly from the pillow.

“Don’t jiggle,” Andine commanded, gently pushing his head back down onto the pillow. “You’ll start the bleeding again.”

“What exactly is Eliar thinking right now, Leitha?” Dweia asked.

“Didn’t you tell me not to do that?” Leitha asked.

“It’s an emergency, dear, so it’s all right this time.”

“Well,” Leitha said, her eyes going distant, “he’s very unhappy. He’s sure that he’ll be blind for the rest of his life, and he wishes that the blow had killed him.”

“Well,” Eliar objected, “I suppose I am, I guess. I’m not going to be much good to anybody if I’m blind, am I?”

“You stop that right now!” Andine flared, throwing her arms about him and breaking into tears.

“Calm down, Andine,” Dweia told the tiny Arya. “You’re just confusing matters. Did you feel anything at all when Leitha went wandering through your mind, Eliar?”

“Well, sort of, maybe. It seemed kind of warm is about all. Does that mean anything?”

“This may not take as long as I’d thought, then. Tell me, Leitha, how exactly do you feel about Eliar?”

Leitha shrugged. “I love him,” she replied simply.

“Leitha!”
Andine exclaimed.

“Not
that
way, Andine,” Leitha said fondly. “I love him in the same way that I love you—or Gher. I feel a bit differently about Bheid, but we can discuss that some other time. We’re very much like a family, you know, and it’s normal for people to love members of their own families. I encounter that all the time when I go browsing.”

“Go just a little deeper, Leitha,” Dweia suggested, “and make some noise so that Eliar knows you’re there.”

A sudden look of revulsion crossed Leitha’s face. “You don’t know what you’re asking, Dweia!” she exclaimed. “I can’t do
that
!”

“What’s the problem, Leitha?” Bheid asked.

“You don’t know what’s involved, Bheid,” she told him in a horrified tone.

“You’re afraid of something, aren’t you, Leitha?” Andine asked. “It can’t be
that
awful, can it?”

“There
must
be some other way to do this, Dweia,” the pale girl said.

“No,” Dweia replied, “I’m afraid there isn’t. It won’t really be all
that
dreadful, Leitha. Eliar’s a simple, uncomplicated young fellow, so you won’t encounter anything you can’t handle.”

“But he’s a
man,
Dweia.”

“I noticed that, yes.”

“Will somebody tell me what’s going on here?” Eliar asked. “What is it that you want her to do, Emmy? And why’s she so upset about it?”

“It’s nothing really serious, Eliar,” Dweia replied.

“I’ll
explain it to him, Dweia,” Leitha declared. “Sometimes you’re just a little evasive about certain things.” Her voice was flat—even unfriendly.

“Are we keeping secrets here, Em?” Althalus asked.

“She’s making a big fuss about nothing,” Dweia said irritably.

“Nothing?”
Leitha said. “You’ve got a very strange definition of the word ‘nothing,’ Dweia.”

“I think we’d better get this out in the open, Em,” Althalus said. “You’re trying to do something sneaky, aren’t you, little kitten?”

“That’s a hateful thing to say, Althalus!” she hissed.

“You just gave yourself away, Em. Exactly what’s the problem here, Leitha?”

“If I go as far below the surface of Eliar’s mind as she wants me to, I’ll never be able to get out again,” Leitha replied with a shudder. “Our minds will cling to each other like frightened children, and Eliar and I’ll never be truly separate again.”

“So? We’re all very close to each other anyway, aren’t we?”

“Not
that
close, we aren’t. Eliar’s a man, and I’m a woman. You
did
know that there are differences between men and women, didn’t you Althalus?”

“Be nice,” he murmured. “Are you certain that there’s no way you’ll be able to untangle your mind from Eliar’s?”

“Do you think you could untangle yours from Dweia’s?”

“It goes
that
far?” Althalus was startled by that.

“Of course it does, Althalus. It’s the same thing.”

Isn’t there some other way we could do this, Em?
he asked silently.

No, Althalus. The link between Leitha and Eliar
has
to be there, or this won’t work. The senses are at the deepest level of awareness, so Leitha and Eliar have to be completely merged—in the same way that you and I are.

I see where the problem is now,
Althalus said.
Then again, maybe it isn’t such a problem, after all. It
might
even be very useful.

What are you up to now, Althalus?

Watch, Em. Watch and learn.

I’m getting just a little tired of that, Althalus.

I’m sure you’ll get over it.
Althalus squinted at the others. “All right, children,” he said to them, “mother’s come up with an interesting sort of idea that we should consider before we go too much further.”

“Mother?” Bheid asked, his face puzzled.

“Isn’t she?” Althalus suggested. “You’ve all seen the way she behaves. She’s like a swallow with a nest full of chicks.”

“There’s a certain truth to that, I suppose,” Leitha conceded.

“I rather thought you might see it that way, Leitha,” he said. “I’m sort of following up on something you said earlier. We
are
a family of sorts, and that means that Eliar’s your brother, and you’re his sister, doesn’t it?”

“Well . . .” Leitha frowned slightly.

“As you go deeper into Eliar’s mind, it
will
establish that link you mentioned, but isn’t that link there already? Neither one of you talks about it, but it’s there all the same, isn’t it? And isn’t Andine also your sister? And there’s a link there as well, isn’t there?”

“I suppose there is,” she admitted.

“Then why are you making such a fuss about something that’s already in place? You’re already locked to Eliar, and you have been ever since we all left Kweron. All you’ll be doing now is bringing it out into the open. We
might
even want to expand that later and bring
everybody
into this family get-together. It might just be very useful. Love’s a nice sort of thing, Leitha, so don’t be afraid of it.”

“I get the feeling that I’m being manipulated,” Leitha said with a helpless little laugh. “What do
you
think about this, Eliar?”

“I always wondered what it’d be like to have brothers and sisters,” he said, smiling a bit shyly. “I have a feeling we have to do this anyway, Leitha. You know how Emmy is, and I’d
really
like to be able to see again.”

She gently touched his cheek with one lingering hand. “Why don’t we see what we can do about that, brother?” she said fondly.

———

Leitha moved quite slowly, almost timidly, and several times both she and Eliar blushed furiously. “It’s not really that significant, children,” Dweia told them. “Those are just physical differences. They have very little to do with who you really are. All of us are aware of our physical bodies all the time, and that awareness shouldn’t bother you.” She paused, and Althalus could feel her rummaging around. “Let’s start with taste and smell,” she suggested. “They’re a bit simpler. Go find a flower of some sort, Gher.”

“Any old flower?” the boy asked.

“One with a fairly strong smell, if you can find one.”

“I’ll be right back,” Gher promised, dashing from the tent.

Get one of those greenberries, Althalus,
Dweia murmured.
Don’t say anything about it. Just get it and put it into Leitha’s mouth.

I thought they were poisonous.

Not unless you eat a plateful of them.

Althalus flickered one hand at Leitha to get her attention, and then he touched one finger to his lips.

She nodded.

Althalus went to the rough table and picked up one of the small greenberries. Then he went back to the bed, handed it to Leitha, and pointed at her mouth.

She nodded again and put the berry in her mouth. As her teeth crushed the berry, she winced and puckered her lips.

“That’s
awful
!” Eliar exclaimed, contorting his face and trying to spit something out.

“Actually, it’s the loveliest thing you’ve ever tasted, Eliar,” Dweia told him. “This is coming along
very
well.”

The small yellow flower Gher brought for Leitha to sniff made Eliar break into laughter. “Are you bleeding very much, Gher?” he asked the boy.

“Bleeding?” Gher asked, puzzled.

“That’s the flower of the ‘shrub from Hell,’ isn’t it? It’s got a smell that’s almost as sharp as the thorns.”

It’s working, isn’t it, Em?
Althalus said in silent exultation.

It has so far. Now take Leitha aside and whisper something to her. Their noses and mouths seem to be linked. Let’s try their ears now.

After Eliar had repeated what Althalus had whispered to Leitha word for word, Dweia told Althalus to tickle Leitha’s foot, and that made Eliar jerk
his
foot.

“Four out of four,” Dweia said aloud. “Now we come to the really important one. I want you to lay your cheek against Eliar’s cheek, Leitha. I want your eyes to be as close to his as possible. Don’t think about anything in particular, and just look up at the roof of the tent instead of anyone’s face. Let’s find out if he can see light before we go on to more details.”

Leitha nodded, went to the side of Eliar’s bed, and knelt beside it. Then she gently put her face against his.

“I can see!” Eliar exclaimed. “It’s not dark anymore!”

“Move your eyes slowly, Leitha,” Dweia instructed. “He’ll have to adjust to a few things here. Bring your eyes slowly down and look at Andine.”

“All right,” Leitha said.

“She looks different, for some reason,” Eliar complained.

“Leitha doesn’t see her exactly the way you do, Eliar,” Dweia explained. “Women look at other women in a slightly different way than men do. I don’t think we need to talk about that right now, though. Can you see her clearly?”

“She seems to be sort of off-center,” Eliar said.

“What do you mean by that?” Andine demanded indignantly.

“He wasn’t trying to be insulting, dear,” Dweia said. “He’s seeing you through Leitha’s eyes, and her eyes aren’t exactly where his are. It’ll take a little while for him to get used to that, but we’re past the difficult part now.”

Dweia was speaking aloud through Althalus in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, but Althalus winced as her exultation began bouncing off the inside of his head.

“There’s nothing there, Eliar,” Leitha objected, turning back to the young man sitting on the edge of the cot.

“Please don’t look at me, Leitha,” he said, shuddering. “It makes my head swim to see myself from where you are.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, quickly looking away. “I still can’t see anything that looks like a door, though.”

Eliar reached out and patted the empty air between them. “But it’s right here. Listen.” He patted a little harder, and they could all hear the sound of his hand slapping against wood. Leitha reached out, feeling around the emptiness with her hand.

“You just stuck your arm right through the door!” Eliar exclaimed. “What’s happening here, Emmy? That door’s as solid as a brick wall, but Leitha just put her hand completely through it.”

“The doors only exist for you, Eliar,” she explained with Althalus’ usurped voice. “They aren’t there for anybody else—unless you lead them through. People are walking back and forth through those doors all the time, and they don’t even realize it. The Knife’s involved, and the Knife complicates things. Can you stand up?”

“I feel fine now, Emmy—except for this headache.”