Elisha Barber: Book One Of The Dark Apostle (21 page)

Moments later, he heard stealthy treads upon the stair. He gathered the blanket someone had draped over his legs and winced as he wrapped his shoulders. Whatever the ointment had been, the stuff soothed him more than he would have expected, and he determined to find out the recipe. First, though, he must find out who had sent it, for surely it had not been Matthew’s idea.

Shielding a candle, Brigit led the way, picking her steps carefully between the men. She settled beside him, drawing her long robe together over her chemise. Her brows pinched together as she studied his face. “I’ve heard they beat you today, for disobedience.”

“Aye, that’s true. It’s not so bad though.” In fact, the sight of her face lifted his spirits through the gloom of his pain.

“Twenty-seven lashes is no small matter.”

Elisha goggled and covered his mouth with a hand, but his shock was all too plain, as was Ruari’s as he hovered behind her.

Ruari crouched down, aiming a furious look at Elisha. “Ye didn’t say it was as much as that! Most get by with ten, maybe twelve or fifteen for hard cases.”

Tilting his head to an upraised shoulder, Elisha approximated a shrug.

“Ye’re an idiot, Elisha Barber,” Ruari huffed. “And t’think I let ye go back for him.”

Calmly, Brigit set down her candle and sat back on her heels. “When you did not come, I simply thought something here had kept you back. Or that you had changed your mind about consulting me.” Her face softened in the glow. “I’m glad at least you had Ruari here to watch over you.”

Ruari snorted. “Much good I did him, letting him go off—”

“How about the letter, then?” Elisha cut in.

“Aye, the letter, the letter.” Ruari waved a hand toward Brigit and turned away, still simmering.

“It’s to the Lord of Burston Cross—he owns the land adjoining Dunbury—and it has the look of an official message,” Brigit replied promptly. “Where’s this man you took it from? Perhaps there’s an explanation.”

Despite Ruari’s black look, Elisha rose carefully, holding the blanket over his aching shoulders, and the three went to where the fallen foot soldier lay. Swaddled in blankets, he looked even younger, and Ruari knelt to check his pulse and brush the straggling hair from his face.

Brigit gasped, the candle shuddering in her grip.

“What is it?”

Shutting her eyes, she shook her head. “I thought I knew him, that’s all. How is he?”

“Should be fine, just a bit weak with the lost blood.” Trying not to sway, Elisha knelt down as well and laid a hand on the young man’s cheek. He felt warm enough now and stirred beneath the gentle pressure. He did look familiar, now that Elisha considered him more closely.

Then, like a shot, the young man sat bolt upright, sucking in a breath, his hand clamped to his throat. He stared at Brigit, whose eyes opened wide to meet the stunned blue gaze. Recovering himself somewhat, he swept the room, his eyes settling on Elisha, with a grin as sudden as his awakening. “You came back.” Then he stiffened again, touching his arms. Twisting where he sat, he searched the ground around him, his hands ever more frantic.

Again, Elisha touched him, stilling the panic. “Here’s your letter.” He held up a hand to receive it from Brigit’s trembling fingers. “What’s this about?”

“Oh, God,” he sighed, snatching it back. “But the seal’s broken!”

“When ye fell,” Ruari supplied. “None’s read it, just noted the king’s seal, there.”

“Yes—king’s business, and I’m so late already.” He shoved away the blankets and scrambled to his feet.

“You’re not strong enough to travel,” Elisha protested, though his own body refused to rise.

“Listen, I’m a royal messenger—the only one he trusts. I had this from the king’s hand hours ago, and should have had it off by now. I can’t think why he’s not looked for me.” He frowned, taking up his jacket from the place Ruari had set it aside.

“Look around you,” Elisha said dryly.

“Were it not for the barber, ye’d still be on the battlefield,” Ruari said.

At this, the young man hesitated, then crouched down. “Were it not for him, I’d be dead. Again.” He flashed that grin, and the voice suddenly called up the memory, this young man, huddled in the darkness, avoiding a witch hunt.

Elisha reached up and brushed aside the blond hair. Faintly, the mark of his own fist could still be seen, with the traces of the other blows that had come before. “I thought I told you to take more care.”

“Wasted advice on such as me,” the messenger replied. “I’ll tell you all, but another time. Thanks. I am in your debt.” Briefly, he gripped Elisha’s shoulder, turning away before he could see the spasm of pain that crossed the barber’s face.

Pulling her robe close about her throat, Brigit announced, “I’ve got a horse, messenger. I’ll happily loan it to you, if you’ve got none.”

Blinking back at her, he nodded once. “Very well, but be quick about it.”

Brigit hurried down the aisle with the young man at her heels, and the two vanished through the yard into the night.

Sitting where they’d left him, Elisha waited for the renewed throbbing to subside.

Ruari scooted over beside him. “So what’s that about, then?”

“I’ve no idea.” But as he considered, a chill crept inside Elisha’s heart. She had no horse—she’d come on Malcolm’s wagon. He had not yet asked Brigit about the night of the fire, when her own little blaze distracted the men who held an accused witch long enough for the witch to get away. Could it be coincidence, the accused and the lady having both been there that night? “On second thought, I believe we’ve met Brigit’s intended.”

“What, him? Is he not beneath her station, then? I’m given to think she’s local royalty, if ye get my meaning.”

Elisha nodded. “I get it. And her—why not acknowledge him? It’s not as if you and me are likely to tell her father.”

At this, Ruari gave him an appraising once-over. “Unless she’s come to reconsider. Just like a lady to change her mind at the sight of something better.”

“God, Ruari, don’t even think it,” he protested, even as he wished it could be true.

“But ye’re a fine sight of a man, as I ’spect ye know. And in a good line of work.”

“Barbering is not quite a respected trade, or hadn’t you noticed?” Elisha looked down at his hands, flipping the blanket off his shoulders. A few fibers stuck, and he winced.

Watching him, Ruari puffed out a breath. “Twenty-seven lashes, Elisha. Ye’re not of this earth, are ye?”

“Sometimes I’m not sure.”

“Ye picked the right man to save, and that’s a fact. We should’ve kept him a wee bit longer—imagine the look on that doctor’s face to see he’s lashed ye for saving the king’s own messenger.”

Bowing his head, Elisha rubbed his aching temples. “So that’s what my blood bought,” he mumbled to himself, “a royal messenger, Brigit’s betrothed.” He should be proud, he should be the first to hold it up to Lucius and crow, but in his exhausted state, it was hard to muster any feeling one way or the other.

“Lie down,” Ruari urged him. “Get some rest.”

Sighing, Elisha pulled himself to his feet. “Now don’t look that way. I’m just going to lie in the courtyard. The cool grass’ll do me good.”

Gruffly, Ruari said, “Ye’re the barber.” Then he, too, rose, shaking a finger at
Elisha. “Mind, I’ll be watching. If I see ye step foot beyond the gate, I’m right after ye like a dog on a hare.”

This did win him a smile, slender though it was. Elisha made his careful way up and into the moonlit yard. He let himself down beside the stream, cupping his hands in the water for a long drink, letting the water run down his chest. He lay on his side, his fingers trailing in the water. At first, all was silent, then he heard a lone voice offer the requisite greeting, “
Who’s there?”

“
Bittersweet,
” Elisha answered, his lips murmuring the word, never more true than at this moment.

“
Sage
,” the other replied.

The stream babbled to itself for a long time.

“
Why’ve you come?
” Sage asked at last.

“
I don’t know.”

After another pause, “
You are not long a magus, are you?”

Elisha sighed. “
I am not one at all, to tell the truth
.”

“
I should go to the air, with that remark
.”

“
No
,” Elisha said, the thought frightening him somehow. “
No
,” he said more carefully, “
I mean no harm
.”

“
Rather the reverse
.”

“
What?
”

“
It’s you who has been harmed. There is such pain in you even the river feels it
.”

“
And you feel it
.”

“Hard to miss
.”

“
I’m sorry, I should
—”

“
No
,” Sage answered swiftly, “
no, you should not. You sought comfort in the river, only your misfortune to find me here, not some other one.
”

“
No matter
,” Elisha whispered. “
Strangers all.
”

“
If Marigold held sway here, we would be meeting in the church, and wearing badges, so as not to be missed
.” Another pause. “
You’re the one she sought, aren’t you?”

“
I suppose I am, not that I know what it means
.”

“
You should know she’s not the only one. Most of us sat by fires that day, to listen. Fire-speech is difficult, but we hoped Rowena might manage it. They say
—”

Elisha waited, but Sage remained silent. “
My ignorance is complete,”
Elisha told him. “
I can’t even read
.”

“
No shame in that
,” Sage replied. “
They say a magus has the most power at the moment of his, or
her, death. In that moment, great things might be done, such as the transformation Rowena wrought upon herself. Transformation is hard to work on a creature of will, even oneself. What she gave us, in that moment, were those words, like a prophecy, and the sense of the touch.
”

Elisha knew immediately what touch he meant. Strange that a moment he had held so private these twenty years turned out to have been shared with how many others, he might never know.

“
To send something so delicate as that touch, I cannot imagine it
,” Sage said.

This time, the hesitation was on Elisha’s part. He steeled himself to speak, reminding himself that this was a stranger, a man he might well never know face to face. “
Could any magus feel my pain through the water?”

“
Not any, no. Each has his talents, and his sensitivities. You’ll learn, in time, both your own, and other people’s
.”

“I’m scared,
” Elisha admitted.

“
You’d be a fool if you weren’t.
” He let the water ripple between them for a time.
“Myself, I was awakened at the age of twelve, crossing a desert with my family. We bent to drink at a well, and I suddenly felt that my mother was with child. I said as much to her, but she only claimed it was the heat.
”

In the encampment, a flute played a lively tune and as suddenly was silenced by frustrated sleepers.

“
Were you right?
”

“
Six months later, she died in childbirth
.”

“
My God, I’m sorry.
”

“
You claim ignorance, Bittersweet. You’ll also learn that knowledge is rarely enough. A man can think he knows all, and yet not know what he most needs
.”

“
Aye
,” said Elisha, “
you are Sage indeed
.”

“
Not enough,
” the stream replied, “
and not often. Each of us can only soldier on in his own battle, until he falls beneath the enemy and does not rise again
.”

Elisha thought of the angel’s touch, and how it had enflamed something within him, burning through to this day and to all that he had done. It was the beacon that led Brigit to find him, as well as the inspiration that made him a healer. He smiled to the darkness and added, “
Or rises in a way that even he cannot foresee
.”

E
lisha awoke with the dawn,
stiff and sore, the welts stinging with dew. Dragging himself up, he walked back to his own room, not surprised that Ruari wasn’t there. No doubt the man had spent the night in the hospital, the better to keep an eye on him. He sorted his lightest shirt from the chest, then hesitated. Beneath the layers of instruments and packets of herbs, he could make out the lid of the pot he had carried with him, the relic of that terrible day, patiently waiting his attention. If only he could consult the physician’s books or even the surgeon’s, he might find the truth about the Bone of Luz without endangering any life but his own. As it stood, though, the magi were his best hope.

He slipped Helena’s letter from his pouch and studied it, her bitter words echoing in his head. The worst was, she was right: He was a coward, at least where she was concerned. His apologies had come to naught, along with his efforts to save her. Oh, he had prevented her death, true enough, but now the specters of her husband and child haunted her, the ruin of her family and dreams weighed in every word she had written. Some things could not be forgotten. Or forgiven.