The Last Wizard of Eneri Clare (31 page)

As she was dabbing at his face, the eyelids fluttered and came open, “Water, please,” the patient croaked. “Please may I have a sip of water?” Rel put down the cloth, and found a wooden cup and a pitcher on the bedside table. She sat beside him and supported his head as he swallowed a long draught. As she settled his damp head back against the pillows, his eyes seemed finally to focus on her face.

“Jorelial Rey,” he said with some surprise. “How are you?”

“How am I?” she countered, somewhat amused. “I am well, sir. You saved me, remember? The question is, how are you?”

He shifted and winced, “Hard to say. What time is it? How long have I been out?”

“Only a few hours. It is something after midnight now, and everyone else has finally turned in. Stewart is here – won’t leave your side. The doctor will be back in the morning.”

Tvrdik yawned, “I’m so tired…”

“You’ve lost a great deal of blood. They had a terrible time trying to get that wound to stop bleeding. In fact, that reminds me, I am supposed to change your bandage. Since you’re awake, this is as good a time as any. Do you mind?”

“Don’t you have better things to do? Like sleeping, perhaps?”

“Be quiet and let me take care of you.” She folded back the blankets and carefully unpinned the end of his dressing. Gently she unwound and lifted the layers of cloth, revealing the inner pad they held in place. It was not soaked in blood, a good sign. With renewed hope she lifted it from the wound, but what was underneath had turned an angry red, the skin puffy, with little spider webs of red veins spreading out from the puncture. Something beside blood was oozing stickily from that wound, something yellow and viscous.

Her face must have given it away, as Tvrdik raised his head with brows knitted and asked, “What is it? What do you see?”

She recovered quickly, “Oh, the bleeding has stopped – a very encouraging sign. For a while there, it looked like it was never going to stop.” She tried a smile. It fell flat.

“Jorelial Rey, I am a healer. I know something about wounds. How bad does it look?”

Her shoulders and face fell, “Red, hot, oozing, some red lines creeping down your arm.”

Tvrdik nodded and let out a little burst of air, like a sigh of encountering an inevitable annoyance. “It must have gotten infected, deep within the wound where the arrow was lodged. There are things at Xaarus’ place, and certain herbs in his garden which might help. Do you have a pen and paper here, so I can describe them for you and note where to look?”

“Tvrdik, it’s the middle of the night. I won’t be able to send anyone for them until sun-up anyway – why don’t you just rest now and tell me later?”

He fretted and shifted in the bed, shaking his head, “If this goes the way I think it could, I might not be able to think clearly enough to do this later. Best I tell you now while I remember…”

Alarmed at the implications of that sentence, she ran to fetch paper and pen from her writing desk in the adjoining room, and sat beside him, dutifully writing down his description of some tinctures in Xaarus’ pantry at The Cottage, as well as several plants in one corner of the garden whose leaves had medicinal properties. He gave instructions as well for how to apply them once they were in hand.

“As soon as it is light, I will send Stewart with someone to find these,” she promised, “but what can I do to help you now?” He was sweating again and beginning to look uncomfortable.

“Well, do you have any spirits nearby?”

“Spirits?” she was startled.

“No, no, I mean strong drink…” she thought she almost detected the ghost of a laugh.

“Oh. Not something I keep in my bedroom as a rule…” her eyebrows arched ironically and her head cocked to one side.

Tvrdik’s pale mouth twitched a bit on one side, “Sorry,” he whispered, “didn’t mean to imply…”

“However,” Jorelial Rey interrupted him, “there might be something in the cabinet, leftover from entertaining dignitaries…hold on.” She slipped into the drawing room, and he heard sounds of shuffling, scraping, banging, a hushed curse or two accompanying the noise. At last she re-emerged, holding a crystal decanter two thirds filled with some golden elixir. “Brandy,” she announced. “We are in luck.”

“Good.” He sighed, and then coughed.

“What do I do with it?” she asked, concerned.

“Find another of those pads, and soak it with the liquor – that’s it – now squeeze it into the wound – as much as you can – more – oh gods!” She pulled back as he cried out in pain, the golden liquid touching torn flesh. “It’s alright,” he assured her, “hurts like the devil, but that means you’re doing it right. Now soak it again and dab it on the wound, and around the whole area. There. That’s right, yes.” His voice was hoarse and tense, but his instructions were patient and clear. Finally, he had her place the brandy-soaked cloth right on the wound, and apply clean dressing cloths and bandages. She rearranged the blankets, trying to warm him. He smiled his lop-sided smile, “I’m so sorry it was you having to do all that, but thanks. I think it’s the best we can do for the moment, and it should help.”

“Well, I’m not sorry to be here…I think I owe you at least that much. Tvrdik?”

“Hmmm?”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate being alive, you know, but you really can’t go around putting your life in danger for me or anyone else. You are far too valuable to be playing the hero. Think about it. You may be the only true wizard left in the kingdom, in the world even. And if something were to happen to you, any hope we have of carrying out Xaarus’ wishes vanishes with you. Without your skills, we are reduced to fighting with the old ways, and you say those are doomed to fail.”

“There wasn’t exactly time to think it through on this occasion. I was acting on instinct. I didn’t intend to be the victim myself, believe me. I was just a hair too slow. I’m glad I at least managed to get you out of the way in time. Wouldn’t have helped our cause very much for
you
to be out of commission, either, you know.” She glared at him, and he surrendered. “Alright, alright, point taken. I promise to be more careful in the future. There. Are you satisfied? And if you ever hear me holler, ‘down in front!,’ move first and ask questions later, yes?”

“Tvrdik,” she leaned in close and spoke very softly, “the Ministers all saw you change form. They want an explanation. I could delay telling them your reason for showing up at Theriole, I suppose, but I think I am going to fill them in on everything tomorrow. We know now that nothing is beyond Lord Drogue, and we should all be united in purpose. It will be so much easier for all of us, once everyone knows about you.”

The patient shifted in his bed and sighed, “Well, as long as we are discovered anyway, I think it is a wise idea. I’ll be there to back you up. Wake me when it is time to go.”

She scowled, “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t go anywhere.’

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow. You were never meant to reveal the whole story to the skeptics by yourself. I would never do that to you. I might have to sit down, but come and get me when it’s time. Maybe a little sooner, so I can wash up…I must look a sight.”

It was clear that he was in total denial about what he would and would not be able to accomplish the next day, so she smiled and patted his good shoulder. “Alright. We’ll see.” He closed his eyes, and minutes ticked by. She wasn’t sure if he had fallen back to sleep. “Tvrdik?”

“Hmmm?”

“Couldn’t you just…well…wave your hand, and magic yourself all better?”

A soft sound came from the prone figure that might have been a chuckle, “I wish it worked like that, but no. I have to take my lumps like everybody else.”

“Oh.”

Another long silence, and then he moved restlessly and winced again. Rel remembered the potion. “I’m so sorry. You must be in a great deal of pain. The physician left some more of that sleeping draught he gave you earlier. I’ll get you some to help you relax.”

“Ugh! That foul stuff? Please, no. It tastes awful and I don’t like being so groggy. I think I’ll be alright without it; I’m so tired.” He paused, then, “Is there any of the brandy left? Perhaps a little of that, instead?”

“Sounds like an excellent idea. In fact, I think I’ll join you; it’s been a very long day.” She went back to the cabinet in the other room and found some glasses, pouring generous helpings of the liquor for each of them. She sat in the big easy chair beside him and helped him swallow a mouthful at a time, between sipping at her own. It seemed to relax him in moments. When they had finished what was in their glasses, she put them aside, rearranged his pillows, and he sighed deeply, letting his head sink gratefully into their welcome embrace.

“Tvrdik?”

“Hmmm?”

“Did I remember to say thank you?”

He did not answer.

“Tvrdik?”

The only answer was the regular breathing of one who has been overcome by deep, dreamless sleep. Exhausted beyond reason, and feeling a little of the brandy’s warmth, Jorelial Rey curled her legs beneath her in the big armchair, laid her head down on the arm, and dozed off herself.

Things did not remain peaceful for long. Only a few hours later, she was roused by a loud cry, “Ailianne! Ailianne!” Disoriented for a moment, and wondering who was shouting and who Ailianne was, she returned from the land of dreams to see her patient covered in perspiration, thrashing about in her bed, and calling out for some mysterious stranger. Rel called his name and shook him, but whatever nightmare Tvrdik was caught in at the moment, she could not waken him. The fever had taken hold and he was delirious. She felt his forehead and drew back in alarm at its extreme heat. Glancing about the room, she saw Stewart, standing poised for action, a look of consternation on his fur-covered face. Jorelial Rey had little experience in caretaking, but she had nursed Delphine through several of the normal childhood illnesses, some of them rather serious. She chewed her nails, trying to remember anything useful she might have picked up from those days.

“Stewart,” she called, “Grab that extra blanket over there. We still have to keep him warm.” Stewart sprang into action, dragging the blanket over with his teeth. Between the two of them, they managed to spread it over their tossing patient. Rel faced the eager dog, who was waiting for more instructions. “Stewart, do you think you could find the kitchens in this palace?”

“M’lady, never underestimate a wolfhound’s finely tuned nose. Of course I can.”

“I hate to ask this of you, but it is very possible that at this hour, someone might already be there, lighting fires, and preparing for the morning meal. If you can find someone awake, would you…could you…be willing to relay a message?”

“I am that concerned, Lady, that I would. I would do near anything for him. What is the message?”

“First, tell them to send someone to wake up Warlowe, my doorman. Say they should tell him the Lady Rey has need of his services, alright? Then, ask them if there is any ice left over from last night’s feast. Tashroth flew some in from the mountains, and I am hoping it is not yet all melted. Tell them to break up as much as they can in small pieces and send whatever they can here as soon as possible. Can you do that for me?”

“Lady, I am on the way.” And the good hound bounded out the door she held open for him and disappeared down the dark corridor. Back in the bedchamber, Tvrdik was beginning to shiver, though his skin was fiery to the touch. She used the cloth with clean water to try and cool his brow, and talked to him in soft, reassuring tones, in the hopes of calming his distress. But he kept squirming, moaning in pain, and calling out bits of incomprehensible information. Frequently he called out for the mysterious ‘Ailianne’. Then, several times, it was, “Master, where are you? Master, don’t go…” and similar heartbreaking cries. Then something about, “…the stars, so many stars – the people from the stars…” which made absolutely no sense. Frightened as she was at his deteriorated state, she could not suppress a wry little grin when the next thing out of his mouth was, “No more, please. Dragon’s eyes – too much. Turn off the Dragon’s eyes!” She suspected that might be a reference to his original interview with Tash.

Her lone ministrations were doing very little to restore him to peaceful rest, however, and it seemed an eternity before Stewart returned to the rooms, accompanied by a servant holding a basin of chipped ice. “Warlowe is on his way, ma’am,” Stewart offered, causing the servant to nearly drop her bowl. They tore cloths and wrapped ice in them, placing some on the wounded area and some on his brow. Now and then she tried to lay a chip or two on his tongue to help prevent dehydration, as he was sweating profusely. Warlowe arrived at last, and sizing up the situation, suggested that they attempt to shift the patient so that they could change the soaking wet bedclothes. This proved a complicated maneuver, but in the end they accomplished it after a fashion, and Tvrdik did seem a little more comfortable.

That being done, Warlowe, realizing that Stewart was indeed a talking dog, introduced himself without making an issue of any earlier deception, a gesture for which Jorelial Rey was deeply grateful. They changed the bandage again, using up the rest of the brandy, and noticing that the wound looked dreadful. All the while, Tvrdik continued to mumble things, and to cry out, and seemed to be in a great deal of pain. From time to time he opened up his eyes, but did not appear to recognize who any of them were. Terrified, and at wit’s end, Rel asked, “What hour is it?”