King's Man and Thief (30 page)

"Fox," Vervain breathed at last. "Sweet Health. Come in, the both of you."
"Miss Lally doesn't want to go in," sulked Allika.
"Miss Lally has no choice in the matter if Miss Lally doesn't want her little rag head ripped off."

Allika stared at him, latching on to the undercurrent of annoyance beneath the teasing words, and began to bawl.

Deveren picked her up hastily and hurried inside. The scents alone would have marked this a place of health. It was .. . clean. Wholesome. Deveren recognized several smells—fresh and drying herbs and flowers, mostly. But there was something else, something fresh and calming that he couldn't quite name. Rushes crunched beneath his feet, giving off their own gentle fragrance as he walked. The stone cottage was bare, almost severe in its lack of ornamentation. But the table upon which Vervain indicated Allika should be placed was covered with soft blankets, and the bench at which Deveren seated himself was comfortable and well made. Something was heating over the hearth fire. Deveren sniffed. That was what was emitted the general smell of cleanliness.

Vervain immediately spied the injury and gently touched the girl's arm. Allika winced and drew back. "Allika, you must let me examine you, or else I won't know how to make the pain go away," reprimanded Vervain in a gentle but stern voice.

Allika looked at her, then ducked her head. "Sorry." Instantly she clutched her abdomen and curled up on the table like a shrimp, wailing in agony. Deveren was by her side at once, trying to get the girl to uncurl.

"What happened?" Vervain moved to the heating cauldron and took a pair of tongs from the mantel. While Deveren replied, she fished out a hot, dripping cloth from the herbed water.

"Eight days ago she got bitten by a rat." To tell, or not to tell? Vervain might think him mad .. . but she needed to know. Something told Deveren that not all of Allika's sickness was due to the simple pain of an infected rodent bite. "I have reason to believe that the rat wasn't an ordinary creature. Something ..." gods, it sounded so foolish, "... something evil."

Vervain shot him a look, but he couldn't decipher it. "Go on."

"My brother and I cleaned the wound and put salve on it. It should have been fine." He glanced down at the little girl. Sweat shone on her pale face, all scrunched up with agony now. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. Unable to help himself, he smoothed her black hair. Allika ...

"Clearly, it wasn't. Allika, give me your arm." The girl refused, and Deveren had to hold her down while Vervain wrapped the steaming cloth about the ugly wound. "Why do you think it was evil?"

"According to Allika, it was in a box with symbols of warding on it before it was let loose in the sewer. It was twice as large as a normal rat and had the Sword of Vengeance painted on its back. It..."

Vervain's eyes were enormous. Her full lips trembled. "What... what is her name?" she asked. "I told you, Allika."

"No. You are Fox. What is her name?" Vervain's voice was tense, as if it was having trouble escaping from a throat that was squeezed tight with apprehension.

"I don't—"

Across the whimpering girl's body, Vervain grasped Deveren's wrist in a grip that hurt. "Do not lie to me, Deveren. This is more important than you know. What is her name— Crow? Raven? Squirrel? Blackbird?"

Deveren stared open-mouthed. "She ... I call her Little Squirrel. But how did you know?" Her hands crept up to her mouth and her eyes squeezed shut against tears. "Vervain ..." said Deveren helplessly. First Allika acting strangely, now Vervain.

"I had a dream. A vision," she said at last, attempting to compose herself. "It featured a fox, a little chattering squirrel, and other animals—including a rat. The dream went on to depict the statue of Health weeping tears of blood. The head toppled to the floor, still weeping. It was ... horrible. I knew that something dreadful was going to happen, but I didn't know what. Still, I began to prepare— lay aside special herbs, spend more hours resting and in meditation. Now you have come, Fox, with the Little Squirrel. And your enemy is a rat sent by Vengeance."

Deveren's legs felt weak. He groped for the bench and sat heavily. "She's different," he said, more to himself than to Vervain. "She used to be such a sweet little girl. Full of mischief, yes, but not of spite. Now she's angry, and hostile, and ... oh, Vervain, I barely recognize her." He looked up at Vervain's tear-streaked face. "Can you help her?" he asked, his voice soft and pleading. "Her life is difficult enough as it is."

"And why is that, Deveren?" asked Vervain with equal softness, as though she already knew. "She's a thief," he replied, his gaze locked with hers. "And so am I." The words came effortlessly, simply. And Vervain merely nodded her understanding.

"I will do what I can. But I am afraid your chattering Little Squirrel may be a harbinger of something terrible— something beyond even a Healer's ability to heal. Remove the cauldron and stoke the fire."

Deveren did as he was told. Using a cloth, he lifted the heavy cauldron off the direct flames, smiling despite the desperateness of the situation as the wonderful fragrance teased his nostrils. He placed two more logs on the low-burning fire and poked it till it sparked and began to crackle. Meanwhile, Vervain undressed the child. Deveren turned to see if he could help.

Allika was like a mad thing, fighting the Healer every inch of the way. "I hate you!" she screamed, and catching sight of Deveren, snarled, "I hate you too, Fox!"

The words were like a blow. Deveren gasped softly. Vervain saw his distress and said, "She is not rational, Deveren. Pay no heed. It is the sickness in her speaking. Come help me get these things off her." As the two of them wrestled with Allika's filthy clothes, reduced finally to literally tearing them off the struggling child, Deveren saw that she was covered with tiny bites. Small insects scurried for the darkness as the warm, concealing clothes were lifted away.

"Poor little thing, she's absolutely crawling with ..." the Healer's voice broke off. "Dear gods. Deveren, burn these. Every scrap of clothing that's touched her. We'll have to bum the blankets, too, and perhaps our own clothes."

Deveren didn't understand, but he recognized the Healer's absolute authority in this matter and did not question. He immediately tossed the filthy rags onto the fire. They began to smoke and an oily, unpleasant scent crept into the room.

"Don't burn me!"
Allika's shriek of terror ripped Deveren's heart.

"No, child, just your clothes," assured Vervain. "Now we're going to clean you up—make you fresh again, hmmm?"

Allika began to cry. Not the vexed, petulant wails that Deveren had heard before earlier tonight, but deep, heart-wrenching sobs. Deveren held her down, gazing at her white, naked body covered with sores where she'd scratched herself raw. Vervain took another cloth from the pot and began to wash Allika. "Thank Health that my Tenders are home with their families." She spared Deveren a glance. "I was expecting something to happen tonight, you see. And I didn't want my little Tenders caught up in it."

The filth had been washed off Allika's body now, but the little red bites remained. Vervain excused herself and hastened out into the garden. Deveren continued to hold Allika, wiping away the tears that seemed endless. Vervain returned, carrying a basket laden with a small, weedlike plant. She began busily to crush the plant, rubbing Allika's body with it.

"What's that?" Deveren asked.

"Vervain. It should calm her." She spared a glance for Deveren, and smiled a little. "I come from a long, unbroken line of Healers. My mother named us after healing herbs. I was lucky. My sisters are Agrimony and Chamomile."

Deveren laughed, and the Healer's smile grew. Their eyes met, and suddenly Deveren realized that for the first time he was seeing the Healer without her severe red wimple. Her hair was a rich, warm brown, and tumbled down her shoulders and back. There was a little gray winding its way through the thick curls, but there was no hint of aging on the open, warm face and kind eyes. She was, he realized, beautiful.

Allika's hitching breath brought his attention back to the matter at hand. She did seem to be calming down somewhat. Vervain's ... vervain .. . would appear to have the desired effect. He stroked her wet cheek.

"Now I must try to Heal her. Deveren, many times I deal with things I do not understand. This is one of those times." Her voice and mien were calm, almost tranquil. Deveren marveled at it. "If she has picked up a disease from Vengeance, the attempt to Heal her may kill us both. You need to know that before I begin. If something happens, you must somehow get Lord Vandaris and the council to agree to a quarantine. If it is so powerful that I cannot contain or cure it, then we must protect the rest of the country from contamination. Do you understand?"

Her words were almost like a physical blow. He'd simply assumed that Vervain would be able to take care of Allika. With a sinking realization, Deveren felt like someone who had set out to cross the ocean in a small dinghy, and only now, with land out of sight, fully realized the danger.

"Yes. I understand." His own voice betrayed him. Spontaneously, he reached out his hand to her. She took it, squeezed it tightly. Then, taking a deep breath, she sat down on a stool next to the bed, closed her eyes, and placed her hands on Allika's chest.

Healing.

It was a simple word, really. A simple concept. And often, it was her bone-deep comprehension of the utter simplicity of the act that enabled Vervain to accomplish what some called "miracles." She did not dare hope for a miracle tonight.

Her hands felt the chilliness of Allika's damp flesh. She spread her fingers; reached deeper, for the warmth of the small organ that pumped life. She murmured a brief prayer:
Lady Health, guide me to accomplish your healing.

Her hands suddenly felt hot. The healing energy had responded to her call—a good sign. Heartened, Vervain directed the heat inward, into the chilled child's soul.

And gasped.

Her healing energy slammed up against an icy blockage. She recognized some of it —the natural fear of the sick or injured. That, she knew how to penetrate. But there was something else, something cold and dark and deadly. Its chill began to seep into her own hands, trying to turn the tables on her Healing.

She frowned, eyes still closed. No. She could not let it. Again the healing energy welled, came to her call, and again she sent it forward. She felt the child beneath her hands jump at the attack of heat, writhe, trying to break contact. Then Allika ceased flailing. Vervain suspected Deveren had stepped in, helped quiet the girl. Thank Health for him. He was steadier than most she had known.

This time Vervain burst through the blockage, and it was as if she found herself adrift in a raging river. Her breath caught, froze, and she forced herself to breathe as she was mentally buffeted by
something
that had its talons in the child. Briefly, Vervain had an image of twisting; of something being turned inside out. And again the darkness brushed her healing warmth. This time, Vervain knew what it was, and the thought alarmed her.

Not disease. Curse.

It was the perfect opposite of all she had been taught. Dimly, she recalled learning how to summon such things in order to know how to dispel them. Tears formed beneath her closed lids. She recalled Jemma teaching . . . what? Gods, it was so long ago, she had been barely ten years old! Hard to recall, now that everything depended on her memory...

Yes. A third time Vervain called for the great power of Healing. This time, she remembered what to do.

She surrendered.

Surrendered herself and Allika utterly to the power of evil that raged within the girl's spirit. Felt the cold seize her own heart, felt the mammoth hate that seemed far too large to be housed in the tiny body of a seven-year-old child turn eagerly upon this new, sweet prey. Vervain saw her own thoughts and memories being twisted, tainted, as the curse tried to corrupt her as it had Allika. But it failed. She was a Blesser of Health, and the goddess's claim upon her loyalty and spirit stood firm against the buffeting of the curse. Angrily it receded, renewing its attack upon the more vulnerable little girl. Vervain felt herself drowning in the dark, black cold ...

. .. and a fourth time called forth the red warmth of Healing. She remembered how to direct it. It scattered the bearer
(bearers, thousands of them)
of the dark curse with the force of a rechanneled river. Vervain began to pant with exhaustion, dimly felt sweat gather at her hairline, trickle down the back of her neck. Her body began to quiver. No... no, she had to stay strong, had to keep fighting!

The power was ebbing, cooling. She reached for it a fifth time, something she had never done before, and found no trace of the gift left. Her own strength of will had to do. Vervain gritted her teeth and continued fighting, and at last the black darkness ebbed, went away, like a shadow before a growing light.

She opened her eyes. Allika lay quietly, as exhausted by the struggle as she was. Vervain realized she was trembling. Deveren went to her, steadied her with strong arms on her shoulders. "What... is it all right?"

She couldn't speak, only nodded. Gods, she was tired. Vervain licked her lips and pointed feebly to a pitcher on the sideboard. "Some water... please ..."

Deveren leaped up and poured her a goblet, sloshing the water on her red dress as he handed it to her. His hazel eyes were concerned. Vervain gulped greedily. Never had water tasted so sweet. She sighed, waited for her racing heart to still, then spoke.

"Allika was cursed," she said. Deveren gasped, then glanced back up at the girl who was sleeping soundly. "I was able to cure her, do not worry. It was spread by the rat... or, rather, by the rat's own vermin."

"The fleas," breathed Deveren. "I had the rat killed, but.. ."
"Exactly. The fleas have no doubt spread." She took a deep breath, drank some more water, and continued. "I had to surrender to the curse in order to defeat it. Deveren, this is ... I can hardly even articulate it. It... it likes darkness. It likes to make people do evil things. They will thrive on cruelty. Goodness, kind deeds—that weakens the victims, makes them hurt. Did you notice every time Allika cooperated, seemed sorry for what she had done, she was stricken with pain?"