Blood Witch (6 page)

She didn't need
the water. She didn't want it. What she wanted was for Saxa to
live. For the water to come from elsewhere if it must, to return to
the poor woman even as it seeped away.

Surely there must
be some way to stop it.

Gael burst into
view and was pulling Saxa away just as the mist let go its burden
and sent a spray of water in droplets all over the chamber. His
curses were enough to make Alaysha cringe where she lay and she
came back to herself so quickly she could have been assaulted with
cold water.

"What good is a
witch who can't control her own power?" He bellowed, and Alaysha
couldn't disagree.

She felt someone's
hand on her: the shaman's, it seemed, fleeting over her belly,
probing the threadings.

"Not as bad as we
thought," he murmured. "More the insult to a healing psyche brought
on the spell, than the wound. See? It's already clotting. Quite
nicely too." He was mumbling to himself it seemed, because he spoke
back as though he was the second man listening. "We do thread well.
And the balsam has done the trick. Oh yes. But why so much blood
for such a small reopening? Oh. We see a second wound. Superficial
only. Yes. It begs more threading."

His finger poked
into a newly sore area and took Alaysha by surprise. She let go a
shriek that made her wish she had been able to keep her mouth
clamped shut.

The result was a
pinch on the cheek equally as painful and she thought he was doing
it deliberately, but dared not complain.

"We don't see why
the Emir keeps her and not the other," he said. "Far too much
bother, this one."

"I can hear
you."

"She thinks it
matters to us if she can hear. She does. She believes we shame
ourselves, but a shaman such as Theron feels no shame. Why should
we?"

"Because a witch
has power." She managed between gritted teeth. It seemed now she
was warm, she was too warm.

"Such power. Yes.
She needs a shaman twice in ten turns. It's a good thing this
Theron has no such power."

She heard
something strange in his voice, as though he was forcing himself to
speak and didn't like it one bit. His callous manner made Alaysha
want to strike at him, but she knew he was working to make her
whole. That alone was worth allowing him to keep some dignity. When
he began threading something sharp and painful into her side, she
quickly rethought her decision.

He chuckled aloud
and long when she sucked in a breath to brace against the
stitching. She caught his eye as he pulled through the last of the
threads, and she thought she detected concern then decided she'd
not seen enough concern in her lifetime to recognize it.

"Is Saxon all
right?" She asked. She had a sudden moment of panic that the baby
hadn't lived through the episode. He very nearly hadn't made it
through the last one.

The shaman let his
gaze lower to her belly, then covered her over carefully with the
linen tunic Saxa had helped her into just days before. It was a
gift to replace the heavy leather one that had gotten ruined during
Drahl's attack, but now this one too was all bloody.

"I asked –"

"We heard." He
looked directly at her. "Saxon has not yet returned from the
nursery. The witch harmed only the one who cared for her in the
first place."

"Harmed?" Her
voice was so shrill, she barely recognized it.

The shaman pushed
himself to his feet and cast an inquiring look about the
cottage.

"Looks contained,
though, does it not? Yes. Yes. It does, however it's very, very
wet." He scowled down at her. "Would that the witch had the power
to clean her mess. Now. It's off to see the good wife. And the
Emir. He will want to know of it. Know of it? No doubt he knows
already and would come to strike the witch down, and this Theron
with her if we didn't beat a hasty retreat from this nest of
ill-used power."

She wanted to
protest but hadn't the heart. It was truth, all of it. Even the
words he answered to himself. She decided to let him go while she
waited for Yuri. If he wasn't angry enough to see her killed,
finally, he'd at least want to chastise her into full guilt and
shame – and no doubt find a way to use that to his benefit.

She knew the old
wound was again sealed and balsamed – it stunk and stuck to the
wrappings so she could feel it when she moved, and the new wound
had been merely stitched back together and given a few threads.
Superficial, he'd said – that meant she didn't need to worry about
it pulling apart and bleeding her out. She must have gotten it from
one of the archer's blades during their full-on escape.

Just standing,
even supporting herself by holding onto the table, made her feel
more able to withstand what she knew was coming.

Yuri was moments
behind Theron, and Alaysha was grateful she'd thought enough to
work herself to her feet. Gael was behind him and for some reason,
his face was far redder than Yuri's. His eyes far angrier. But he
said nothing, merely stood behind Yuri as though to protect his
back from anyone thoughtlessly, or intentionally entering.

She wasn't
prepared for Yuri's reaction at all.

It's good Gael
thought to bring you here," he said, and Gael shuffled his feet,
doing his best to avoid Alaysha's eye. And while she was unprepared
for Yuri's reaction, she was flat-out shocked at her own.

"You care that
little for the woman who bore your heir?" She felt the quake taking
her legs and had to shift in place to make them believe she was
moving of her own accord, consciously making the choice. "You are
relieved I put her in danger?" She looked him squarely in the eyes
and asked the question that threatened to buckle her knees
altogether.

"Is she dead?"

When he didn't
answer Alaysha sought Gael's face. He'd not be able to keep that
from his eyes, no matter how stoic his expression.

"Is she dead?" she
asked him. The reward of a nearly imperceptible shake of his head
nearly stole her strength anyway.

It seemed that
despite answering, Gael would wait for Yuri to speak. No one said
anything for a time and Alaysha wanted nothing more than to
collapse again onto the bed. So much for being a trained warrior –
nearly felled twice by mere bit of steel.

Yuri finally bid
her sit and took a chair himself. He faced off against her across
the table.

"Saxa is fine. But
she has lost much fluid, so I have a woman feeding her water and
honey until the shaman reaches her."

"You had the
shaman come to me first?" It was almost too much to stand.

"Theron was nearly
here anyway when your Yenic –"

"He's not my
Yenic."

Yuri took a moment
to give her a lazy smile of satisfaction, then pressed on.

"When Yenic came
to me with news of the attack, I knew Gael would keep you
safe."

"And Saxa in
danger."

"She's not in
danger. She is a casualty like many others. She has courage, that
one." His voice was filled with pride.

Alaysha was
ashamed. She couldn't stand remembering the paths her power had
taken trying to steal into Saxa's pores. She did her best to block
them from coming to mind. "I know."

"You think I could
have kept her away from you?"

Alaysha couldn't
answer that, but tried. "Still. The shaman should have gone to your
wife first. She bore your child. You love her." She nearly choked
on the clump in her throat.

Yuri held his hand
up. "She is worthy of being so only because she knows her worth.
And yours. And the value of keeping the city intact."

Gael's cough made
Alaysha want to hurl something at him. She worked hard to keep her
warrior's calm.

"The truth is,"
Yuri said, "Saxa is even now telling the shaman what she needs and
doubtless Theron is trying to ignore her."

"You can't know
that."

His white brows
lifted delicately. "I can't? I know her better than you do." He
turned to Gael for confirmation.

"She'll be giving
him orders," Gael said.

"Then why send for
the shaman at all?" It was off point, and very useless question in
the argument of who should be sent Theron first, but Alaysha didn't
care. She was beginning to feel contrary.

Yuri grinned. "The
truth. Again it must rear its head, eh, Gael?"

Gael chuckled and
shifted his booted feet against the floor. "Saxa is a terrible
seamstress."

It wasn't an
expected answer, and it was so far afield of what she believed of
Saxa, that Alaysha couldn't help smiling. That explained the young
wife's constant worry over breaking the threads despite the
increasingly healing wound. She was afraid she'd have to stitch
them again.

"Is she truly
alive?" she asked and only let go a breath when Yuri nodded.

"Gael brought her
straight to me. We might have to find a wet nurse for Saxon for a
few days, but she will live."

Alaysha relaxed,
but Yuri wasn't done.

"How did you do
it?" he asked.

Confused, she
looked up at him. "Do what?"

"Harness the
power?"

Even Gael looked
interested in the answer.

Ah, the reason he
was here, finally. "I don't know."

His narrow-gazed
scrutiny indicated he didn't believe her, but he nodded anyway.

"You will continue
to walk daily with Gael," he said. "Until you are strong enough to
begin the work of healing."

"When will I see
the fire witch?" She couldn't help hoping she would finally meet
the woman who could make Saxa nervous and who could hold Yenic in
her power and who could, if the rumors were true, control the very
flame itself. He ignored the question and set a path for the door
and she knew she had to contend herself to wait for the answer,
knowing it would come in its time whether she wanted it now or not.
She wasn't content, however, to wait for the next answer, and she
threw the question at him before he could yank the door open.

"Where's Yenic?"
she demanded.

Without turning to
face her, he answered, and she could hear the smile in his tone.
The satisfaction.

"I'm having him
flogged."

Chapter 5

Gael was left standing where Yuri had left, and
Alaysha worked her way over to him. She knew her face was a mask of
outrage, and at the same time she tried hard to tell herself she
should be feeling nothing for the man who had let her believe he
was her Arm, that they were the only two left from her tribe, that
there were others like her. So many secrets he'd kept, he had no
right to her concern.

"Does he speak
truth?" She knew by the feeling in the pit of her stomach even as
she asked the question that her father wasn't lying.

"Have you known
him to speak otherwise?"

Alaysha thought
for a moment, remembering her discussion with Yuri just after his
lead scout had tried to kill her and she'd ended up here. Yuri had
told her he'd never lied to her, and despite some very harsh
things, he had always said them. She tried to imagine Yenic's
smooth skin stretched before the lash, laid open, and knew she
couldn't keep a warrior's calm in the knowledge of that.

"Take me to
him."

"You don't command
me."

She moved even
closer toward Gael, and while she expected him to back away, he
stood stoic. She caught an odd but fleeting expression on his face,
as though he feared her, then it was gone.

"I won't hurt
you," she said.

A slow smile
spread across his lips, but he didn't respond. She marvelled at how
much that smile could change his face, even when it was fleeting.
His eyes changed from that smokey grey they appeared to be to that
stunning green and blue she knew they were.

She tried again,
this time meekly. "It's a request, Gael. Not a command."

He watched her
thoughtfully. She wasn't sure what flitted through his mind, but it
was plenty; she could at least see that.

"Please. Every
breath of delay means one less to stop this atrocity."

"Come, then," he
told her and without elaborating, was out the door. He didn't
bother to check that she followed or if she struggled to do so. She
made the decision to push down the discomfort she felt in her side
and press on, no matter how winded or weak she grew. She was Yuri's
daughter even with all that come to it, and at least the one thing
she could claim was a stoic ability to do her duty.

He led her through
the courtyard past the well. The good people of Sarum had already
begun filtering back to complete their daily chores, as if the
attack was nothing more than a faded memory. The bodies had already
been removed but for those of a couple of chickens and dogs.
Several feral cats were picking at the carcasses and squabbling
loudly.

Alaysha had
expected Yenic to be strapped to the pillory in the midst of the
square as most criminals were so that any passers-by could watch
and be warned. She'd seen a man flogged before when she was in her
fifteenth season and the man had survived it. What had survived
though were the charges the caller had shouted to the crowd each
time his lash split the air: that insolence to the Great Yuri would
not be tolerated. She'd found out later that man was Saxa's father
and the insolence was to lay cruel hands on a woman Yuri had
recently noticed and come to want. Doubtless the man had no
knowledge of Yuri's desire when he'd beaten his daughter in public,
and more likely even than that, it was probably that latest beating
the drew Yuri's attention in the first place.

Strange. She
hadn't thought of that in a long time. She'd long ago learned to
bury unpleasant memories; the power came within such an incredible
memory that it was often as much a curse as the power. They came
hand-in-hand, it seemed, the better to remember the paths of each
drop of fluid. But it meant she stored a vast archive of
unpleasantness, and to survive--to harden herself, as Yuri had
taught her--was to place a good bit of soil over each thing that
could cause her pain.