The Deadly Magician (The Memory Stones Series Book 2)
Author: Quyle, Jeffrey
Date: 2017-04-29

“He is taking life from everyone, a little from each person he treats.  He’ll use the power for his magic,” the man sitting at the next table told Theus.

Donal’s eyes turned to look in the direction of the conversation, and the man explaining the situation instantly stopped, then looked down in his lap.

“Hmm,” Donal murmured.  He left his spot and his next victim, to walk towards the location of the voices.

“What an interesting sight,” Donal said when he approached, and came to stand next to Theus and Torella’s table.  “So intriguing.

“The slaves from the palace,” he intoned, loudly enough for all the nearby tables to hear.

“There was something interesting about you in the palace.  And it seems most unusual that slaves would have the funds to afford a bottle of wine in an establishment like this,” he looked down at their table.

“Not to mention the unusual rumors I’ve heard in the past few days.  A master swordsman is defeating our best palace guard officers with swords – but he’s a slave.  A high-ranking noblewoman is bewitched by a charming young man – but he’s a slave.  Miraculous cures are helping the invalids and incurable – but they come from a slave,” Donal ticked through his list, looking down at Theus as he did, his eyes burning with intensity.

“There’s something unusual happening, and I’m always interested in the unusual,” Donal said.  And then he laid his hand upon Torella’s shoulder.

The girl screamed, and her hand and Theus’s gripped one another with intensity.

Donal closed his eyes.  Theus felt suddenly chilled.

Fantasy Series by Jeffrey Quyle

The Memory Stones Series

1. Journey Through the River Cities

2. The Deadly Magician (NEW)

The Inner Seas Kingdoms Series

3. The Healing Spring
4. The Yellow Palace
5. Road of Shadows
6. A Foreign Heart
7. Journey to Uniontown
8. The Guided Journey
9. An Unexpected Deity
10. A Marriage of Friends

The Ingenairii Series

1. Visions of Power

2. At the Seat of Power

3. The Loss of Power

4. The Lifesaving Power

5. Against the Empire

6. Preserving the Ingenairii

7. Rescuing the Captive

8. Ajacii and Demons

9. The Caravan Road

10. The Journey Home

11. The Cloud of Darkness

12. The Past Revisited

Alchemy’s Apprentice Series

1. The Gorgon’s Blood Solution
2. The Echidna’s Scale
3. Scarlet from Gold
4. The Southern Trail

The Southern Continent Series

1. The Elemental Jewels
2. Perilous Travels
3. The Greater Challenge
4. Out of the Wilderness

Also by Jeffrey Quyle

The Green Plague

For more information, visit the Ingenairii Series on Facebook, www.facebook.com/ingenairiiseries

The Deadly Magician

The Memory Stones Series

Book 2

Jeffrey Quyle

Index

Chapter 1 Page 1

Chapter 2 Page 8

Chapter 3 Page 15

Chapter 4 Page 41

Chapter 5 Page 56

Chapter 6 Page 68

Chapter 7 Page 81

Chapter 8 Page 91

Chapter 9 Page 110

Chapter 10 Page 125

Chapter 11 Page 132

Chapter 12 Page 137

Chapter 13 Page 143

Chapter 14 Page 153

Chapter 15 Page 165

Chapter 16 Page 169

Chapter 17 Page 174

Chapter 18 Page 182

Chapter 19 Page 184

Chapter 20 Page 205

Chapter 21 Page 209

Chapter 22 Page 217

Chapter 23 Page 244

Chapter 24 Page 249

List of Characters

Theus (Prometheus)

Thera, Theus’s sister

Cern, father of Theus

Allise, mother of Theus

Torella, kitchen slave at Southsand palace

Letta, chief kitchen slave at Southsand palace

Ruune, injured slave in the palace kitchen

Amory, Amelia, prince and princess of Steep Rise

Redford, Steep Rise bodyguard

Montuse, officer of the palace guard in Southsand

Coriae, daughter of Great Forks nobleman

Monsant, evil member of royalty

Forgon, son of nobleman from Great Forks

Warrell, father of Coriae and Forgon

Janiae, murdered friend of Coriae

Caral, Lanaie, noble friends of Coriae

Blanche, kitchen servant for Warrell

Lorinse, steward for Warrell’s mansion

Glory, Great Falls apprentice bottle painter

The Gods of the Land

God of healing, Baccoso

River goddess, Currense

Mountain god, Limber

Flat land/soil god, Plever

Persepho, goddess of crops

Darkness goddess, Scurtisse

Stone god, Trinte

God of thieves, Maurienne

Light god, Incand

Air goddess, Bellance

Gelate, goddess of love

Flat land/soil god, Plever

The evil god, Ind’Petro risen again to power

Prologue

The city of Limber, on the eastern slopes of the Wallchick Mountains, was lost in the terrible cataclysm that raised the Jewel Hills far out on the eastern frontier.  The destruction of Limber unsettled the balance of power among the four great cities that dominated the lands from the Wallchick Mountains to the ocean that washed the western edge of the civilized world. Over the following generations, the city of Stoke came to control nearly all the lands.

Limber’s sacred ruling family was nearly extinct, as only a few surviving members of the blood line sank into obscurity and decline over time.  One such minor branch of the family settled in the poverty of the Jewel Hills, where farmers and residents of small villages eked a poor living from the distressed land.

But when evil began to arise and ascend towards a conquest of the south, as a prelude to a conquest of all the land, the dormant god of Limber struggled to resurrect the partnership between the royal blood and himself, as the likely best protector of the lands that faced the hidden threat.

Theus, the son of a woman who was a distant progeny of the Limber royal line, did not know or understand any of the divine maneuverings taking place.  When his poverty-stricken family is forced to sell his services to a traveling merchant, Theus is placed on a path that will require worldliness far beyond what he has experienced in his sheltered corner of the world.

His travels take him down the Landwide River, a might stream of water and commerce, through two of the greatest cities of the nation, Greenfalls and Great Forks, both subject to Stoke’s rule.

He settles in Great Forks, and learns not only the art of treating memory stones, but he learns that he is subject to visitations from a mysterious, all-knowing voice that advises and reasons with him.  And he falls under the enchantment of the Lady Coriae, offspring of an ancient, noble family of the city.

But in a brief fit of poor judgement, he angers the guards from the royal palace of Stoke, who are in Great Falls to investigate a murder, and he is forced to flee the city – leaving it, his job with memory stones, and Coriae behind.

Chapter 1

His seat on the bench was damp, and hard, as Theus put his weight into pulling the oar on the right side of the ship.   He was on the third day of the trip from Sea Head, and it was the first day he felt completely at ease physically, past the effects of a case of seasickness.

He’d known a cure for seasickness.  Through his memorization of the information stored on an ancient memory stone that revealed medical remedies, he was aware of two possible formulae he could mix to use.   Unfortunately, on a low-budget cargo ship sailing to Thuro, there wasn’t the supply of pharmaceutical items he would need, so he had not been able to produce anything to ease conditions for himself or the two other landlubber crew members who had come on board.

Instead, he suffered agonizing discomfort, until finally his body made the adjustment, and he rapidly grew better.  And now he was earning his keep, satisfying the officers on the ship, and his crew mates, by carrying a fair share of the load.

They only faced an eight-day journey to Thuro, the island kingdom to the northwest of Great Forks.   Theus wasn’t sure that he wanted to take up residence in Thuro, but he had found the ship as the first one that was ready to depart and still looking for a crew member, so he had accepted the offer that had been tendered, and came on board with the twenty-two other members of the crew.

His experience on the Surprise, a river barge, hadn’t prepared him for the trip on the Swaigg, the ship he inhabited for the trip to Thuro.  He’d rowed and handled freight and helped shift the sails on the Surprise, during his weeks of sailing the ship down the Landwide River from Greenfalls to Great Forks.  The scale of everything aboard the Swaigg was larger than on the Surprise however.  He had to work in unison with other members of the crew more constantly, and to a greater degree than he had ever needed on the Surprise.

And psychologically, he’d always been able to see the shore line of the river banks, just yards away when he’d been on the Surprise.  Now, aboard the Swaigg, there was no land in sight.  There were lots of waves, some of them large.  But there was no security in knowing he could swim to solid safety in an emergency.

On this day, the sun was hidden behind clouds, and a steady wind blew from the north, forcing the ship to rely on oars to advance towards Thuro.  Theus had fleeting thoughts about his future as he rowed, thoughts that perhaps he would remain on Thuro longer than he expected, just to lengthen his reprieve from sailing on the open waters of the ocean again.  But of course, that would mean spending more time away from Great Forks, and Coriae, and Falstaff’s shop, and all his friends among the apprentices.

He pulled again on the oar, in concert with the other crewman on the bench who he was working with.

“What’s that on the horizon?” asked Elof, sitting next to him, at that moment.

“Thuros?” Theus responded hopefully.

“You’re dreaming,” Elof replied with a grunt as they started to pull on their oar once again.

An officer was standing at the front of the deck, calling out the cadence.

“There’s something out there,” Elof insisted.

Theus looked to his right and saw that there was something, an irregularity, on the ocean horizon.  “I see it,” he agreed, then pulled on the oar again.

Seconds later there was a shout from the lookout atop the main mast of the ship, and a small flurry of activity among the officers of the ship.  A minute later there was ongoing activity that increased, as the captain of the ship climbed the mast to inspect the horizon himself.

And a minute after that, the ship altered course to move away from the irregularity on the horizon.  Within seconds, whispered and grunted messages among the oarsmen revealed that the sighting was another ship, and the Swaigg was adjusting course to avoid an encounter with the unknown vessel.

The other ship was sailing with the wind behind it, and it approached with ease, growing larger on the horizon as it drew nearer, and it adjusted its course to remain headed towards an uninvited rendezvous with the Swaigg.

“Who ever heard of pirates this far north?” Theus heard one rower on the bench in front of him ask.

“What is a pirate?” he asked Elof next to him.

“You don’t know?” the other man said.  They pulled their oar again, and he continued.  “They’re robbers – ships that rob other ships.”

“Why would they rob us?“ Theus asked, after the next stroke.

“Well, there’s all our cargo, there’s the ship itself, and then of course there’s all of us they can sell as slaves,” Elof spoke sarcastically.  “Do you need any other reasons?”

The ship changed course again, heading nearly due south as it began to run away from its pursuit, but also headed away from Thuro, its goal.  The sails were raised and added to the speed of the vessel, easing the strain on the rowers, who continued to stroke their oars in the hopes of running to freedom.

But the pursuing ship continued to follow, and with its greater spread of sails and sleeker sailing design, it continued to reduce the gap between the two ships.  Theus could no longer see much of the chase, as the turn in the ocean’s waters put the pirate ship on the opposite side of the hull, but he heard the muttering and chattering observations that resided on the other side.

The chase caused tension to mount dramatically onboard the Swaigg.  Even though the rowers were hours into their shift, and entitled to take a break, no break was offered or asked for, as everyone tried to keep the ship moving as quickly as possible.  The ship continued to move, the sun starting to descend over the western sky and fall directly down upon Theus’s side of the ship.

When arrows started to fall into the ship, Theus knew trouble was drawing very near.  He was shocked, as the thought of the attack turned to reality.  Two men cried out as they were pierced by weakly falling shafts that had traveled across the gulf of sea water separating the two ships.

“Hard right!  Hard right!” the mate who was calling the cadence screamed at the rowers.  “All oars on the right hold in the water!”

Theus and Elof, and the others on their side of the ship held their oars steady in the water, dragging and turning the ship sharply to the right, away from the oncoming attacker.

“Now pull!  Pull!  Pull hard!” their officer screamed.  Despite the exhausted muscles all the men at the oars felt, they managed to wrench their oars powerfully, and then stroke again, and again.

“That did it!” the mate whooped exuberantly.

“Lower the sails!” another officer called, and crew members went scrambling up the masts to take down the sheets of canvas that were a hindrance as the ship tried to travel north again, into the wind.

The ship began to make headway, and Theus listened to the running commentary among the rest of the crew as he stared forward.  The pirate ship had immediately changed course and was heading west, trying to tack its way back into position to attack the Swaigg once again.  His arms ached with more pain than he could remember ever feeling – worse than anything he’d ever experienced on the farm when he’d had to repair stone walls around fields or dig drainage ditches or harvest potatoes from the fields.

He knew a number of pain remedies he could create.  His medical knowledge would allow him to produce liniments and ointments and lotions that could be rubbed on the aching muscles to quickly relieve the pain.  But he would have to be in a market place or an apothecary shop or an alchemist’s laboratory to have access to the materials he would need to create the relief.

He wondered what would happen when they were caught.  The demoralized murmurs that caught his ear seemed to indicate that the majority of the crew considered capture to be inevitable.  Perhaps the pirates would simply seize the cargo and then let the ship go on its way.  He could hope for such a happy outcome, but it seemed unrealistic he knew.

Piracy had never crossed his mind as a problem when he’d stepped aboard the Swaigg.  He hadn’t known it was a threat.  He’d only wanted to leave the jurisdiction of the palace guard from Stoke for a few weeks, to avoid arrest – or death.  He hadn’t thought about, or known about, dangers that accompanied sailing on the high seas.

But now he was experiencing piracy.

He pulled on the oar again, and felt the resistance of the oar grow dramatically, as Elof gave a sudden groan and released his grip on the handle, leaving the entire effort to Theus.

“My back,” Elof moaned as he writhed in pain, then slide onto the filthy wet floor.  “I can’t do any more.”

“Help!” Theus called, as he struggled to maintain the oar by himself, despite his own painful weariness.

“We’ll take him below deck,” an officer shouted, and two of the sailors came to haul Elof away, while Theus slid into Elof’s position, where he could feel better leverage on the oar handle.

Other men were ceasing to stroke their oars as well, Theus realized.  He could see that there were gaps in the seating of the benches in front of him, as the long, draining effort to move the boat continued on and on and on, and fewer men were available and able to help move the ship through the water.

The Swaigg was fortunate that it has the mobility and agility in the water that its rowers provided, while its pursuer had only sails.  That agility offered the ship its only hope for evading capture.

The rowers were losing their last reserves of energy though; none of them had any stamina left.

When the sailing ship came about to make its next attack upon the Swaigg, Theus saw more of the rowers fall victim to arrows from the other ship, and the sharp turning maneuver used to slip away happened more slowly and sloppily than before.  Even the inexperienced Theus could see that there was little hope of further escape.

"Pull, pull, pull those oars!" an officer beseeched the crew; his voice was shifting from angry to pleading. Theus wearily tried to wield his oar alone in compliance with the order, but he saw the black ship ahead of them preparing to pass the Swaigg again, and he knew it would be the last time.

He ceased his efforts for several seconds, trying to rest his agonized arms in preparation for the next set of frantic orders that he knew were going to be delivered when the Swaigg faced the next assault.

"Left side halt! Right side pull us away! " the orders were shouted out moments later, then Theus saw an arrow strike the officer trying to direct the activity of the men on the rowing benches, and the man went down.

The rowers tried to act on the last set of orders that had been issued, but shadows suddenly loomed over them as the black ship pulled close aside the Swaigg.

Theus heard a number of thumps and an outcry of inarticulate screams.   He looked up and saw men leaping from the attacker onto the deck of the Swaigg, swords and pikes held aloft as the seizure of the ship moved to its conclusion.

Theus released his oar, as the other remaining rowers did likewise, and he joined the scramble towards the ship's prow, in hopes of finding protection from the assault.

The remaining ship's officers were raising their own weapons to fight the raiders, and the crew was streaming through and past them.  Some members of the attacking crew grabbed cables being thrown from the attacking ship; the two vessels were being bound together during the engagement.  Theus looked to the side to observe the activity, and in the process tripped over debris strewn across the deck. He felt his ribs strike some unknown projecting object among the clutter, and he winced at the painful injury.

As he rolled over he saw attackers charging towards him.  As quickly as he was able, he rose to his feet, and grabbed a wooden pole to try to protect himself.   It was shorter than the staves he had practiced with in the armory at Lord Warrell's home, but it would serve as protection in his moment of desperate need.

Theus backpedaled between two rowers’ benches, as the front of the wave of attackers went forward towards the defending officers, while a pair of sword-wielding men turned towards Theus.

"Have a stick do you, boy?" one of them gave a coarse laugh, then swung his sword negligently at Theus, overconfident of his success.

Theus watched, waited for a frightening second, then reacted as Forgon had taught him, with an angled block that forced the sword's blade down to the deck.

Theus jerked his pole's opposite end forward with a hard thrust that struck his attacker in the temple and knocked him unconscious.

The man's blade clattered to the deck as Theus's victim collapsed, and the aching young defender felt a moment of pride, with a fleeting wish that Forgon and Coriae might have seen his successful use of the lessons he had successfully absorbed through their long hours of tutelage.

Without a further pause, Theus swung his pole at the knee of the second opponent facing him, and when the surprised man stabbed his sword down towards the deck protectively, Theus was able to deliver a second knockout blow to an opponent's head, and the man went down.

Other fighters turned aside to battle Theus as he surprisingly emerged victorious from his first bout in the center of the ship. He snuck a quick look up at the front of the ship where the officers were putting up a spirited defense. Perhaps, he dreamed, perhaps the officers could withstand the attack while he could keep himself alive, and they might yet survive the violent encounter at sea.  It would be a story to remember and retell for all the rest of his days, he knew.

Another man came at Theus with a sword, and the two of them launched into a spirited contest, as the man tried to maintain a safe posture to defend himself from the longer reach that Theus's pole afforded him. At that distance of engagement Theus felt safe, until a second man joined the first, and the pair began to test Theus simultaneously, inflicting a series of small cuts on his arms before he finally disabled one, then quickly rounded on the other before that attacker was ready to face him in single combat.  He knocked the man unconscious, then paused for a moment’s respite, before the next attacker came at him.

Theus was tired.  The long strain of rowing the heavy boat had temporarily been offset by the rush of adrenaline that had carried him through the beginning of the battle on the ship’s deck.  He saw that the officers on the foredeck were falling to the onslaught they faced, and he raised his pole again in a defensive stance with a heavy heart, sensing that the end of the combat was near.

He had only wanted to avoid the royal patrol in Great Forks for a few weeks when he had decided to sail away from the city.  He hadn’t cared about where he went, what ship he was on, what work he did.  He had only imagined that he needed a simple, straightforward voyage away from Great Forks, a few weeks elsewhere, and then a simple passage back to the city, and to Coriae.

Instead, he found himself engaged in a life or death struggle for survival, and he knew the odds were now bleakly stacked against him.

His mother would never know how his story had ended.  He hoped that she would imagine he was alive and living well.  But he hoped that Coriae would mourn his disappearance; he yearned to see her one more time.

And then he started to fight the next attacker, defending himself as the space around him emptied of other attackers, who had by then all passed on their way to join in finishing the main resistance.  In fact, Theus sensed with his peripheral vision, men were starting to come back down from the top deck, their bloody work there complete.

Theus saw a swift movement, and a knife flew by him, struck the ship’s railing, and clattered to the deck.  He momentarily glanced in surprise at the knife on the deck, and suffered a severe stab to his arm as a penalty for his distraction.

Another knife flew at him.  It followed a true path and struck his leg, deeply embedded in his thigh.

“Voice!  Help me!” Theus cried in despair as he fell to his knees.  A wave of darkness washed over him, and he passed out.

Chapter 2

Theus knew he was moaning.  It was all he knew at first, as he slowly climbed back to consciousness.

“I’m surprised they let you live, with as many of their men as you defeated,” a voice spoke in the darkness around him.

“They respected him for fighting so hard,” another voice said.

“And they know that if he even lives, he won’t be likely to fight any further,” a fourth voice said, “not with those injuries.”

Theus felt movement.  He was on a ship still, he could tell for the movement.  The darkness around him resolved into a dimness, and there were shapes he could discern.  They were the shapes of men hovering near him.

“Take it easy, fellow,” one of the voices said, and a hand laid upon his shoulder.

Theus felt pain in many parts of his body, but particularly in his left arm and left leg.

“What’s happening?  Where is this?” he murmured the question.

“We’re in the orlop of the Swaigg,” someone explained.

“Where is that?” Theus didn’t know the term.

“It’s the bottom deck; we’re locked down here during the day, and we have to row at night.  You haven’t since they expect you to die,” the dim figure explained.

“You were the rower on the fifth bench, with Elof, weren’t you?” another voice asked.

“I did row with Elof,” Theus confirmed, foggily remembering the man he had sat beside and stroked an oar with.  “Is he here?”

“He isn’t,” the answer provided abundant information.

“How do we get out of here?” Theus asked.  The ship dipped forward as it crested a large wave out on the open sea it was sailing across.  The movement tossed him forward, and he felt striking pain in his injured arm and injured leg as his body shifted.

The others were briefly silent as they held on to their surroundings during the movement.

“We get out when they let us out.  That’s it,” one of the other captives answered.

“They don’t take many prisoners.  The ones they do take – who live – are sold as slaves in Southsand in the south,” another person added.

The reference to the southern kingdom triggered some vague negative recollection in Theus’s muddled memory, though he couldn’t place the trouble.

“Voice?” he called softly, heedless of the others around him.  “How do we get out of this?”

There was no answer from the protective, knowledgeable, helpful voice that had accompanied Theus along the course of his adventures.

“We just told you,” one of the other captives answered.  “We have to sit here and wait.  We don’t get out; we just try to survive.”

There was a grating sound, and Theus saw a wash of dim light appear at the other end of the confined space he and the others occupied.  There were several thumping sounds, and then the light vanished.

“There’s the dinner bread,” one voice announced, as Theus heard others go scuttling through the dark to retrieve the food that had been dropped to the captives.  There were more men in the hold than Theus had realized; he heard several people shuffling and moving in response to the arrival of the food.

Minutes later he had handed a chunk of stale bread.  He ate the food slowly, without appetite, then fell asleep again, uneasily, as the pain from his injuries troubled him.

The next time he awoke he learned more from the men around him.

“We’ll reach the port tomorrow,” one of the other prisoners told him.

“And we’ll be sold as slaves?” Theus asked.

“All but you,” the man answered.  “The pirates said they don’t expect you to live very long, but they respect you for fighting so hard, so they haven’t thrown you overboard.  They’ll try to sell you, fail because you’re injured, then just give you to the palace as a gift and let the palace have you.”

“They think I’m going to die from these injuries?” Theus asked with concern.

“Your leg doesn’t smell very good,” the man said in a factual tone.  “It may be infected; I can’t tell without any light down here.”

“Voice?  Where are you?” Theus asked softly.  “Why don’t you help me?”

There was no answer, and Theus drifted off to sleep again.

The final time he awoke as a prisoner onboard the Swaigg, there was noise and light and movement all around him.

“Help carry him to the deck,” he heard a heavily accented voice command, and then two or more men lifted him and painfully manhandled him up through the hatches to reach the open air and the top deck of the captive ship.

Theus blinked painfully, using his uninjured arm and hand to try to shield his eyes from the bright sun.

He felt a breeze waft across the deck, and he realized how good the air movement felt.  He hadn’t comprehended how stifling hot the interior of the ship had been until the fresh breeze swept the odors and unpleasantness away.

“Can you walk on your own?” one of his handlers asked.

The men lowered his feet to the deck, and he tried to stand.   The leg that had been stabbed by the thrown knife buckled, until Theus grabbed a nearby cable to steady himself.  He looked down at the injured leg, and his breath whistled through his teeth as he realized what he saw.  The leg was frightfully swollen and red; it was badly infected.  The injury was covered with scabbing that left no doubt that there would be an ugly scar – assuming he survived long enough to have a scar.

He looked at his painful arm.  It didn’t look as bad, but was clearly infected as well.

He knew what to do.  Through the fog of pain and confusion and depression in his mind, he knew what he needed to do to treat the wounds.  The memories from Falstaff’s ancient memory stone filled his mind with possible remedies to use to halt the infections and heal the flesh.  But he was a long way from any place that would give him easy access to the ingredients he needed to mix a cure for his infections.

“Get the crippled one off the ship!” he heard a guttural voice shout from the dock.

“Get going, Theus,” one of the other men from the orlop said. The man placed Theus’s good arm around his own shoulder, and assisted the injured prisoner down the steep gang plank, giving Theus a momentary fear that he was going to fall into the murky harbor water beneath the plank.  They made it safely to the stone jetty, and Theus was taken from his companion, and placed in a wagon with several other men.  A chain with shackles connected them all to one another and to the wagon, and then the wagon began to roll away.

Theus watched from the back of the wagon as the battered hull of the Swaigg grew smaller, then disappeared from sight as the wagon entered the waterfront district of the city they were landed in, Southsand.

His view was restricted to seeing what they passed, as he sat on the back gate of the wagon, and what he saw failed to inspire him.  The buildings were constructed of dark blocks of stone, of grimy bricks, and splintered wooden posts.  It was depressing to see, and the faces of the people he saw were grim and unfriendly.

“New slaves!” he heard a voice shout, as the wagon entered an area crowded with pedestrians, and then the wagon came to a stop.  A soldier unlocked the shackles from the dozen men in the wagon, and they were ordered to move around to the front.

“There wasn’t an auction scheduled for today,” another voice in the crowd said.  “No one knows there’re any goods here to be bought.”

“That just makes better bargains for those who happen to be here then,” someone answered.

“That one is a waste of money,” he heard one nearby observer say as Theus haltingly limped along the side of the wagon, holding onto the wooden planks for support.  He could see that there were people all around them, almost exclusively men, and the line of captives he was in was heading into a wooden pen, as if they were animals.  The people around them were observing them carefully.

“You are first up,” a man pointed at one of the captives five minutes later, after they had settled into their cramped pen, one of several that were side by side by side, though theirs was the only one that Theus could see that had anything to contain.

The notified captive was led up a set of stairs as Theus and the others watched, to where the man could stand on a stage, with a pair of other men who appeared from the far side of the platform.

“This is our first lot,” one of the men spoke loudly to whatever audience stood out of sight on the far side of the stage.  “These are captives from a sea battle, and the ship’s captain is Graint,” the announcer read from a piece of paper he held.  “There’s not much known about the products today, other than the ship they were on was out of Great Forks and bound for Thuro.

“What am I bid for this first transaction?” he asked.

“Two silvers,” Theus heard a price shouted out from the bidders on the far side of the stage.

“That’s not a realistic price, and you know it,” the auctioneer responded.  “This man is apparently healthy and of a young age.  He’ll be suitable for many years of work in the fields or the mines.  He’s worth at least three times that, and may be a steal if you find he has any talents.”

“Seven silvers,” the first bidder sullenly revised his price offer.

“Eight silvers,” another voice said.

“And three coppers,” a third voice jumped into the contest.

“Eight silvers and three coppers bid,” the auctioneer repeated.  “Do I hear nine silvers?”

Without any further bids, the dazed man on the stage was sold.  Theus and the others in the pen watched the man be led off to the side and out of sight.

“What’ll happen to Rich?” someone asked.

“Chances are, we’ll never know, unless someone gets sold to the same buyer,” said another of the prisoners in the pen.

“You, get up here,” the auctioneer stood above the pen and pointed to another prisoner.

The man went up on the stage, and was treated to a similar type of introduction, then bidding by the buyers that the men in the pen couldn’t see.

“I’ll bet Lars fetches a higher price,” one of Theus’s companions predicted objectively as he placed his hand on the shoulder of the largest man in the pen.

When Lars was called up on the stage minutes later, the bidding reached five silvers and a copper before it ended and Theus watched Lars being led off stage.

Theus was the last captive left in the pen.  As he leaned against the slats in the pen’s walls, he thought about the strange fate that had now left him assigned to slavery for the second time within a year.  His first term, as an indentured servant to Grant, had been the farthest thing possible from a hardship.  Grant had been kind and generous – if anything, Grant had spoiled Theus, rather than misused him.

The likelihood of such a positive outcome in his present circumstance was next to nothing, he judged.

“Get up here ugly, and hurry,” the auctioneer shouted at him.

“Our next specimen is the last of the day, so if you haven’t bought anything yet, this is your last chance,” the auctioneer bawled out to the crowd a moment later, as he turned and walked back out on the stage to address his attendees.

“This one got roughed up in the ship, but he’s a good, young slave who will give you many years of work when he’s forced back into shape,” the auctioneer pitched his sale as Theus limped up onto the stage.

“Good build, young, fairly tall,” the auctioneer tried to point out all of Theus’s appealing traits.

“What am I bid for this jewel in the rough?” the auctioneer asked as Theus arrived on the stage, finally, fully visible to the crowd of bidders.

It was the first opportunity for Theus to see the men who were bidding to purchase the unfortunate sailors from the Swaigg.  Their appearances varied widely – some appeared to be the direct overseers of slaves on farms, smears of dirt evident on their work boots, while others appeared to be aristocrats, if Theus could judge the quality of the robes and jewelry.  But none of them showed any interest in Theus.

“If there are no bidders, he will become property of the king,” the auctioneer said for the first time that afternoon.  “So what am I bid?”

“Say ‘hello’ to the palace for us!” someone responded, provoking a round of laughter.

Theus looked over at the auctioneer, who looked down at someone off the stage, then gave a curt nod of his head.

“The auction is concluded for today.  Come back to see more fine specimens at our next auction,” the man announced to the crowd.  He looked over at Theus.  “Follow Pastin,” he pointed down the steps on the side of the stage.  “And enjoy the king’s hospitality.”

Then he was gone, and Theus gamely limped over to the steps, and cautiously and painfully let himself down.

“Let’s show some hustle.  We want to be done with this before nightfall,” a burly employee of the auctioneer told Theus, grabbing the collar of Theus’s shirt and pulling him forward.

Theus promptly fell down, and cried out in pain as his injured leg struck the paving stones that covered the area.

“Alright, I’ll bring the wagon to you.  Stay put,” Pastin directed Theus, then left him alone.

“Voice, where are you?” Theus asked.  “Can you help me now?  I need you.”

There was no answer once again.   The invisible advisor had abandoned Theus.

Theus had never known why the voice had chosen to speak to him.  He had never detected any pattern to the visits of the voice.  The invisible guide had clearly been a follower of the god of the mountains, Limber; Theus had assumed that after the extraordinary visits to the crumbling temple on Jewelers Lane in Great Forks.  Whatever the reason for the relationship had been, Theus knew he had benefitted from it.

But Theus knew of nothing he had done to deserve to be so completely cut off from attention and help.  And he was in circumstances that demanded any assistance possible.  Theus wasn’t worried about how quickly he would be able to return to Great Forks to see Coriae, or even how quickly he could gain his freedom.  Theus was fundamentally worried about whether he was going to stay alive much longer.

“Alright, climb up here,” Pastin’s voice broke through Theus’s reflections.   The man had a cart, drawn by a pair of mules.  Theus smiled at the sight of the animals, a reminder of the life he had known while working for the traveling merchant Grant in the caravan.  What had ever happened to Grant, Theus wondered.  The caravan had seemed to have disappeared after Theus had been pushed off the bridge over the Landwide River in the wilderness and parted ways with the travelers.

“Move it along,” Pastin urged Theus.  As soon as the boy managed to lift himself in the back of the carriage, Pastin attached another set of shackles to his ankle, then climbed onto the bench in the front and set the vehicle in motion, traveling away from the auction block by the docks, and presumably towards the palace of the king of Southsand.

Chapter 3

Theus felt feverish and tired and hungry and frightened as the carriage rolled out from the warehouses near the docks, and entered the city of Southsand proper.  He closed his eyes and let his head droop forward, his chin resting on his chest as the carriage bumped along the road.  After several minutes of rest he wearily opened his eyes and looked at the passing tableau.

The city of Southsand looked much like the city of Great Forks, he thought.  The streets held people and horses and carts, going about everyday business.  The buildings were shabbier than he thought Great Forks’s were, and the air felt warmer than it did in that early autumn season in Great Forks.  He closed his eyes again, and wondered if he would be able to find the ingredients needed to create the cure his infected injuries called for.

The carriage came to a stop, and Theus realized he had dozed during the journey to the king’s palace.  From his view of the road the carriage had already passed over, Theus could see that they had entered a large plaza, whose circumference was bordered by elegant buildings.  He slowly craned his neck around to look forward, and saw that they were stopped at a gate in a very tall and imposing wall, waiting in a line behind other vehicles.

He turned back around and closed his eyes to wait, as the carriage inched forward with periodic movements, then he listened to the carriage driver speak to the guards at the gate.

“What business at the palace?” a voice asked in a bored rasp.

“I’m delivering a new slave to the palace,” Pastin replied from the driver’s seat.

“Which part of the palace?  Who bought him – the stables, the kitchen, the household?” the first voice asked.

“He wasn’t bought,” Pastin’s voice was lower and hesitant.  “He didn’t sell in an auction, so he defaults to the palace.”

“What kind of a screwy rule is that?  Why give us the scrapings of the barrel?  Better to just turn around and dump him in the harbor,” the guard at the gate said dismissively.

“It’s the king’s own rule,” Pastin replied defensively.

“Fine,” the guard harrumphed.  “Take him to the kitchen and let them deal with him.”

Theus felt his spirits rise for the first time in days.  The kitchen held the items he needed to produce a remedy to treat his infections, or at least most of the items.  He might have a chance to heal his wounds. He might have a chance to get healthy.  What would come after that was unknown, but it didn’t matter at the moment.

The wagon jerked forward, and Theus watched as the wagon rolled past the guards and into the roads that were paved inside the thick masonry walls.  The open space inside the walls of the palace was wide, wide enough that Theus’s father would have been able to plant a field of potatoes big enough to feed the family for the year, he thought.  He hadn’t thought of his family in some time, he realized.  The memories of his life on the family farm were still vivid, he was sure, though he suddenly realized he wasn’t sure what color his smallest brother’s eyes were.

He could remember the clear green eyes that Coriae had, eyes that stood out against her brown skin.  Somehow, he had to find a way to get back to her.

“Theus, you’re alive!” he barely heard the faintest sense of his guiding voice, speaking to him for the first time in days.  He hadn’t heard from the voice since he’d boarded the Swaigg.  He could barely hear it at all; but he had.

“Voice!” he spoke aloud, joyfully.  “Where have you been?”

“The evil is dense, and the barriers,” he heard the voice speak, but it faded out, and he heard no more.

“What are you talking about back there?  Who are you talking to?” Pastin called back to Theus.

“No one,” Theus muttered, his head hanging once again as he realized that the voice wasn’t able to reach him.  He’d wait, and try again later.

“So not only are you a lame and wounded mess, but you’re talking to the empty air,” Pastin muttered.  “The guard was right; we should have just dumped you in the harbor.”

The carriage rolled along, then made a turn and followed a different road that headed straight towards the palace.  Theus shuffled his body and craned his neck to look at the building.

It looked hostile.  His first impression was of a building designed as a barrier.  The windows were narrow and high off the ground.  There were no attractive decorations, only the plain stone walls.  The palace reared high above the surrounding grassy lawn, without anything to break up the monotony of the flat landscape.

There were guards patrolling around the exterior of the palace, and even some on top of the building, Theus saw.  It wasn’t a place to tread lightly.

The carriage pulled through an arched opening, and beneath a portion of the palace, then emerged in the rear of the building, and rolled to a stop.

“Out of the cart.  Your good times are over.  You belong to the palace now,” Pastin spoke without facing Theus as he climbed off the carriage.  “You stay here.”

Theus saw Pastin climb a half-flight of stone steps and disappear inside a doorway, while Theus rolled to his good side and slid off the carriage, then waited, as the shackled chain rattled before it settled into silence.

Minutes later Patin backed out of the door, listening to someone onside.

“You left him out here unattended?  He’s either run off or he’s dead,” a woman’s voice called shrilly.

“He’s chained, my lady,” Patin protested as he descended the steps.

A woman stepped out onto the porch space at the top of the steps and disdainfully watched Pastin, then turned her eyes on Theus.

She was an attractive woman, someone who appeared as old as his mother, or older.  But she was not as care worn as his mother; her face appeared smooth and wrinkle-free.  Her eyes were cold and chilling though.  Her hair was short, and whiter than any human hair he had seen in his life.

Pastin pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the shackle around Theus’s good leg.

“She is your new master; go to her and obey her, you foreign scum,” Pastin directed Theus.   The man pulled the loose chain up into the back of the wagon, then climbed onto the bench as Theus began to walk around the carriage towards the steps.  Pastin chucked the reins, and the mules pulled the wagon away.

Theus took a deep breath when he reached the bottom of the steps.  There was no railing, no aid to help him make the painful climb up.

“Move faster; I don’t have all day to stand here and wait on you,” the woman told him impatiently.  “What’s wrong with you?”

“I was injured in a battle, my lady,” Theus explained, as he swung his good leg upward, then pulled the wounded one up after.

“Slaves like you are always wounded, always trying hard, always failing,” the woman answered harshly.  “Now, don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.  Get in the kitchen and let Letta take a look at you to see if you can be any good, or if we ought to give you to the stables.”

Theus started to ask who Letta was, but stopped himself from risky further disapproval from the icy woman.  He would stumble into the kitchen and hope to find the right person in one way or another.

A full minute later, the woman snorted in disgust and stopped waiting for Theus.  She left the doorway with a muttered insult, and left Theus alone to enter the palace.

He found himself in a roomy vestibule, where several crates of produce were stacked, including artichokes, which he knew he needed to concoct one of the remedies he hoped to mix in the kitchen.  He grabbed one with his good hand, then walked through the largest doorway and into the palace kitchen.

There were many similarities between the kitchen in the Southsand palace and the kitchen in Warrell’s mansion.  But there were also differences, the most notable one being the difference in size.  The palace kitchen appeared to be at least five times as big as Warrell’s kitchen.  There was one entire wall that was a collection of ovens, so many that Theus couldn’t begin to estimate how many loaves of bread might be baked at any one time.

People walked about with purpose, but not as many as Theus would have expected in such a large facility.  There were large swathes of the kitchen that were unattended.

Theus had no idea which of the half dozen people he saw were Letta, the woman he was supposed to let judge his fitness to serve in the kitchen.  He stopped and leaned on a counter to look around.  In one direction he saw several empty counter spaces, in another direction he saw dishes being scrubbed, and in a third direction he saw an open pantry door, within which there were many commodities and herbal items.

He felt an inspiration.  Theus quickly placed his purloined artichoke on one of the empty counters, then walked to the pantry and surveyed the herbs and spices.  Three quarters of the ingredients he wanted to use were plainly visible; without hesitation, he lifted the containers one by one, tucked them between his wounded arm and his body, then turned and shuffled back to his counter with the canisters.

He bent and looked beneath the counter, where he found a bowl.  The next several minutes were spent making measurements that were only approximations of the amounts needed, and then he carried his plundered resources back to the pantry and restored them as best he was able to remember where they went.  But when he returned to his counter once again, he found that a woman was waiting there, lifting his bowl and swirling the contents, observing the mixture within.

“Good day, chef,” she said brightly.  She was an attractive woman, of medium height, with a pale complexion that made her dark eyes seem larger.  Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun.

He had been caught, Theus could tell.  The polite greeting was only a façade, an opening line before she was going to lower the boom on him.

“My lady,” he began, “I’m a new slave for the king.  I wanted to heal myself, so I began to mix a remedy to treat my wounds,” he explained.  “Are you the lady Letta?”

I am Letta, the chief slave of the palace kitchen.  Since you know my name, you must know that you should have come to see me before you began to waste the king’s kitchen supplies on this waste,” the woman said calmly.  She reached out and grabbed the wrist of his injured arm, then gently pulled it forward.  Theus winced but allowed his injured limb to move as her firm grasp directed.

She stared at the arm, then look at his leg, the angry red flesh visible where his pants remained slashed as a result of the battle he’d fought on board the Swaigg.

“You’d be better to just have these amputated,” she said calmly.  “The poison must be spreading to the rest of your body already.”

“This remedy will heal it, if I just have two more ingredients – antimony and mistletoe berries,” Theus insisted.

“Nobody can heal a mess like you’ve got.  I’ll call the surgeon,” she dismissed his comment as she released his arm.

“My remedy is tested, my lady,” Theus reached forward with his good hand and held Letta’s hand in his own.  There were smudges of flour on her wrist he noticed.

“Unhand me,” she said calmly.

Theus released his hold.

“My apologies.  I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.  He was a slave, and he suspected his touch was a severe violation of what was permitted.

“If you ever touch me again without my permission, I’ll have you flayed alive,” Letta spoke matter-of-factly.

“Were you a physician in some other life?” she asked.  “No, of course not.  Look at your age.  You’ve barely started to shave or look at women.”

“I worked in a shop.  I learned many remedies,” Theus replied.  “If you have some ailment, tell me and I may be able to heal it for you,” he offered eagerly.

The pain in his leg grew momentarily severe, making him wince and stagger momentarily.

“I can’t afford to be soft.  I have a kitchen to run and delicate appetites to please,” Letta showed a flash of annoyance.

“But I’ll send for antimony and mistletoe.  In the meantime, tell me what you’d need to cure itchy feet, the type of itching that is constant and burning,” Letta directed.

“Let me see your feet to make sure I understand the problem,” Theus requested.

“It’s not for my feet.  Do you know a remedy or not?” she asked sharply.

“I know two,” Theus replied, an edge of desperation creeping into his soul.  The question was a test, he was sure, and his future depended on answering it correctly.  “Knowing more about the problem will help me make the correct salve to cure the problem.”

“Make both of them,” Letta told him.  “What does it take?  Are they expensive?”

“One requires only baking soda, mustard seeds, salt, Grace tree oil, and sour milk,” Theus rattled off a remedy.  “The other requires walnut hulls, blueberries, quicksilver, distiller’s spirits, and powdered pumice.”

“You rattled those off like you really know what you’re talking about,” Letta observed.  She paused.

“Go write down everything you need on a piece of paper on the desk over there,” she pointed towards a corner of the kitchen.  “Do you have quarters assigned?”

“No my lady.  You’re the first person I’ve spoken to since the white-haired lady directed me to see you,” Theus answered.

“Colandra sent you to me, did she?” Letta asked softly.  “This will be delicate.

“Now go over there,” Her voice returned to its firmer tone as she dismissed Theus.

He felt her eyes upon him as he limped over to the desk, then gingerly lowered himself into a seat, and gave a sigh of relief as he took his weight off the wounded leg.  If he had a blade, he’d be best served by cutting the wounds open and letting the pus drain away freely, while he waited for the treatments to be applied, he knew.  That would be his next order of business, as soon as he wrote his list of needed materials.

He plucked a quill pen and dipped it in the ink well, then began to write on a small piece of white paper, listing the ingredients he wanted in three different lines of text.  Satisfied with his work, he put the pen carefully back in its place, then stood and waved the paper to dry the ink while he looked around for Letta’s location.

His arm sent a spasm of pain shooting up to and through his shoulder.  When he looked down, he saw the angry red streaks climbing through his flesh from the infected battle wounds, and the skin drawn tightly over the unhealthy area.  He would have to pierce his wounds and let them drain sooner rather than later, his imposed memories told him.  It would be painful for him, and an ugly sight for others, he realized as he watched his mind’s eye relive those scenes that the ancient memory stone had imposed upon him.

It wasn’t something Letta would want to take place in the kitchen, he was sure.  The now dry list of needed ingredients was still in his hand, he realized, before he laid it down on the counter.

He hobbled over to the blocks that held numerous knives, and selected one, then returned to the doorway he had entered the kitchen through.  On the outside of the palace wall the same intimidating steps without railings remained in place, daunting his faltering courage as he stood at their summit.   He looked to his right and saw that past the end of the drive there was a paved yard, and on the far side of the yard was a stable.  Either the yard or the stable would do, and the stable would provide some privacy from prying eyes, if he could make it that far.

He took a deep breath, and then exhaled.  He made the first step down the stairs, the paused before he attempted the second step.  He felt his injured leg start to tremble with weakness, on the verge of collapsing beneath him, so he threw himself down into a sitting position on the steps, where he sat and winced and moaned.

“Here now, what are you doing out here?  Trying to run away?  You ungrateful whelp!  You wouldn’t get far; the guard would catch you up on two shakes,” Letta stood behind him at the top of the stairs.

Theus felt his pain and weariness and sadness overwhelm him as he turned towards her and looked up.  He felt the tears starting to stream down his face.  He was ashamed, but unconcerned too.  He had no pride left to lose, he consoled himself.

“No my lady, not running away,” he told her.  He would tell her the truth and let it be.  She didn’t seem as bad a person as the white-haired woman had been, or as bad as the whole dark and dreary city seemed to imply it was.

“My wounds are badly infected; they’re suppurating,” he found himself using the word that the memory stone had implanted in his mind.  “I wanted to cut them open and drain out some of the pus,” he held his knife to show her his instrument.

“You give me that!” she said shrilly.  “You’re not going to use my best knife for deboning chickens to cut your nasty arm open!” she told him indignantly, holding her open-palmed hand down towards him in a demanding fashion.

Theus exhaled, then held the knife up to her, handle first.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to open them in the kitchen,” he said in a low voice.

Letta had already disappeared with the knife, he realized, but she returned within ten seconds, holding a smaller knife.

“Here,” she told him.  “You can do it here, and we’ll throw a couple of buckets of water to wash away your mess.  You can take your clothes off so they don’t get stained.

“Or on second thought, you can just take them off so that we can burn them!  They’re pitiful.  I’ll order new things in a minute,” she added, the disappeared inside the door.

Theus considered her command.  He was willing to remove his shirt, but less willing to forego his pants in such a public place.  His wounded limbs were too sore to allow him to easily remove his shirt, until he decided to use the knife and simply cut the shirt along the seams, removing it in pieces.

When that was done, he pressed the point of his knife against the warm skin of his arm, and hesitated, then applied pressure.  As soon as the knife point sank into the skin, a bloody mix began to ooze forward, carrying a terrible stench that made him turn his head away, his face screwed up in a frown.

The drainage began to drip off his arm, and fell down to the pavement below, next to the side of the staircase.  Theus left his arm droop, then tried to gently run his good hand down the arm to press more of the infection out.  It hurt, but it felt like a relief too; the arm no longer felt tight and stretched.

His leg was next.  He cut away the shredded material from his pants on the leg that was injured, then he swung his legs to the side and let them hang towards the pavement, before he pressed the point of his knife against the red skin of his thigh, and repeated the experience from his arm, releasing an even greater flow of pus.

“What?  You’ve plunged right into it without even waiting for me to help?” Letta came back out of the kitchen.  She nimbly stepped around him, down to the pavement, then circled around to take a closer look at the wounded leg.

Do you really think your medicine can save this?” she asked doubtfully, after several seconds of study.

“I’m sure it can,” Theus told her earnestly.

“I found your list on the counter.  I’ve sent for the things we can get easily; finding pumice and quicksilver will require trips out of the kitchen confines, so that’ll take time,” she told him.  “If you’re ready, come back inside and wait in the corner while we carry on with our work.”  She took another look at the drainage that had ceased to seep from his wounds, then closed her eyes, before she opened them again and came around to climb back up the steps and re-enter the kitchen.

Theus groaned, then lumbered up the steps and re-entered the kitchen as well.  He felt less pain in his limbs thanks to the removal of the pressure and infection as he walked over to the counter where his unfinished remedies sat in their bowls.  He pulled a stool over to where he wanted it, then sat and leaned forward on the counter and rested his head on his arms, as his eyelids closed.

A rustling noise next to his face startled him, and he opened his eyes.  An elderly woman with graying red hair had placed a burlap sack on the counter.

“That’s from her layship Letta,” the woman told him with a smile that revealed several missing teeth.  Theus thought of the healing stone he had left at Falstaff’s office.  He could have restored the woman’s smile – and her bite – in a matter of minutes or hours with the use of the stone, he mused regretfully.

“Thank you,” he told her out loud.

She nodded her head.  “I’m sorry to awaken you from your nap,” the woman told him, then walked away.

He sat up, and saw that the kitchen was much busier.  A number of people were working in multiple portions of the kitchen where there had been no one earlier, and the sunlight slanted into the room at a lower angle than before.  He had fallen asleep for some time.  He was thankful he hadn’t fallen off the stool, he told himself wryly, then he pulled the burlap sack over and looked inside.   It was full of a number of jars.

He pulled the containers out of the sack and inspected them one by one.  He discovered that Letta’s efforts had acquired everything he had asked for except quicksilver.  He had what he needed to complete one of his remedies, he excitedly realized, and he set to work placing the things he needed on one side of his mixing bowls, then he put the other ingredients back in the burlap sack and set it aside.

Theus began to measure and prepare the items he had collected on his left side, still without tools to measure precisely, but using care, motivated by the thought that he was truly on the verge of having a treatment for his painful injuries.

When he mixed in the sour milk as the final ingredient, he turned his head away from the unpleasant smell, until it dissipated in the mixture.  He looked into the bowl at the paste-like substance he had created; it looked like it should, according to his ancient memories.  All that remained to do was to slather it onto his wounds.

With the fingers of his good hand, he gently traced lines up and down the length of the slice on his arm, and atop the red streaks of infection.  When his arm was finished, he paused and felt compelled
to say a quick prayer.

"Great Limber, thank you for this cure. Please, please let it heal my wounds and restore my health, I pray to you," he murmured his invocation.

There was an immediate loud clap of thunder overhead, one that rattled the dishes on the counters and made all conversations and activities cease for three full seconds.

Was it a reaction to his prayer, Theus wondered, or just a coincidence?

“Voice?” he whispered cautiously, prompted by the thought of Limber, and by the strangely coincidental prayer and thunderclap.  “Are you listening voice?”  He’d heard a whisper from the voice, or perhaps he had merely imagined it in his illness, he wondered.  But he’d only had the one whisper, through all the trials and tests of the past several days.

“Voice?” he repeated, then listened fruitlessly to the silence around him.

Finally, with a sigh, he returned to the matter of healing his wounds.  He smoothed his ointment on the deep wound in his leg, hoping that its effects would be able to penetrate deeply into his flesh and treat all the infection that was far below the surface there.

And then he was done.  His bowl still held a portion of the remedy, which he didn’t need to use.  Next to the bowl sat the unfinished preparation of the other remedy, and next to that sat the bag of ingredients that were yet unmixed.

He looked around the kitchen, and saw that servants were carrying dirty dishes in through a pair of doors, and piling them next to a sink. He felt re-energized, not by the ointment itself, but more so by the feeling of satisfaction he’d received from creating and applying the ointment.  It had been his first positive action in many days, and it helped lift him slightly out of the state of depression he had sunk to.

The dirty dishes offered an opportunity to do something more, and to do something to show Letta that he appreciated her support.

He limped over to where the piles of dishes were growing.  Was the challenging work a typical day’s labor, he wondered, or was there some special event taking place that called for so much to be served?

Regardless, he found the barrel that scraps were thrown into, and he began to clear off the dishes that kept entering the kitchen.  As he did, another worker, an older man, came over and started taking the dishes that Theus had scrapped, and placed them in a large sink full of water.

“Are you new here?” the man asked Theus after a minute.  Theus had built up a pile of scrapped dishes ahead of the man by starting first, but Theus’s limited use of one arm slowed his efforts, and the other dishwasher soon caught up to him, and seemed to wait patiently for Theus to hand over additional dishes one by one.

“I just got here today,” Theus volunteered.

“Brand new?  We’re glad to have you; we need extra help; Letta’s feud with Colandra means we haven’t been getting the workers we need to keep up with everything.  Even if you are halfway crippled, you’re a help,” the man told him.  “And if we could heal some of the ones who were burned in the fire, we’d be back at full strength.

“But if wishes came true, none of us would be here, would we?” the man asked philosophically.

Theus nodded his head in agreement.

“So where are you from?” the other man asked.  “My name’s Creighton, by the way.”

“My name’s Theus,” the boy responded.  “I’m from the Jewel Hills originally.  I was living in Great Forks until my sailing ship was captured by pirates.”

“I never heard of the Jewel Hills, or Great Forks,” Creighton answered as he scratched his chin.  “I’m sorry to hear about your ship being captured.”

“Where are you from?” Theus asked in return.

“My parents were both slaves.  I was born on the estate of Lord Graisse, but my mother was sold to the palace when I was a little boy, so I’ve lived here my whole life, really,” Creighton replied.

“You’ve been a slave your entire life?” Theus asked in amazement.

“Sure.  I have, Gretta has, Rousey has, Allo has – lots of slaves are born as slaves.  I feel sorry for someone like you who wasn’t a slave and is one now.  But you’ll get used to it; you might even find it has its advantages,” Creighton said.

“I doubt that,” Theus muttered.  “Once I get healed, I want to figure out how to get free again.”

“Sshhh!” Creighton said, looking around fearfully.  “Don’t ever talk that way.  Don’t ever let anyone hear you talk about running away.  You’ll be in chains in a minute if they do!”

“What are you doing here?” Letta interrupted their conversation.  “Shouldn’t you be working on your medicine, or resting someplace?”

“I wanted to help, my lady,” Theus said quickly.  “You were kind to help me heal, and I wanted to return the favor.”

She stared at him hard, then her expression seemed to soften.

“Have we assigned quarters to you yet?” she asked.

“No, my lady,” he told her.

“When you’re finished here, come find me, or send for me, and I’ll have a spot for you,” she told him.  She left then to go check on other workers in the kitchen who were sending dessert plates on their way.

“You are that new, if they don’t have quarters for you.  Take the north hall if you get a choice,” Creighton advised.  “The south side gets too hot from all the sunshine.”

The pair proceeded to wash and make progress on the pile of dishes they faced.  More kitchen workers came to join them, as the cooking pots and pans and utensils also arrived to be cleaned, and Theus found himself having to explain himself to four more people.

“I’ve heard of Great Forks, it’s away far away,” one man said following Theus’s introduction.  “I used to live in Steep Rise; I used to be a free man,” he told Theus.

“Were you captured by the pirates too?” Theus asked.

“No, I gambled too much, and went to debtor’s prison, then was sold as a slave to pay my debts,” Taylor answered evenly.

Theus shook his head, as he thought about the con men he had seen with the shady games they had played in Waterspot.  He had been angry at the con men, but he had never considered that the gambling they were practicing could have led someone to gamble their way into prison, or slavery.

Theus was the slowest-working of the people who labored through the cleaning duties, but when they all were finished two hours later, each of the others thanked him for his help, as they went their ways from the kitchen, their chores finished.

Theus watched them all go, and realized that many of the lanterns had been doused.  He was alone in the kitchen, in the near darkness.  He didn’t know where Letta was to ask her for a place to sleep.  He walked to a doorway and peered down a hallway that led to parts unknown in the palace, then walked to another doorway and opened it to see that it led into the formal parts of the palace, where grand tapestries and paintings hung on the walls and the furniture appeared refined.

He heard a noise behind him, and whirled to see a man entering with a pack of four dogs.

“What light is that over there?” the man asked from the puddle of light he brought in with his own lantern.

The dogs all barked twice, then raced over to see Theus, with one dog limping badly behind the others in the race to investigate.

Theus braced for the animals’ arrival and attack, but when they reached him they started leaping at him and licking him, treating him as if he were a returning family member.

“They aren’t real ferocious, but they’re good trackers,” their handler said as he walked over to join Theus.  “Down boys, down,” he commanded curtly, and the dogs ceased their affectionate assault on Theus.

“I’m going to be sorry to see Larsey leave us,” the man said, as he knelt and began to stroke the head of one of the dogs.

“Where’s he going?” Theus asked politely.

“He’s not healing from an injury.  They tracked a boar for Lord Glous last week, and Larsey got gored.  He can’t keep up with the others now.  I’m afraid his lordship is going to put him down.”

“What’s the injury?”  Theus asked instantly.  “Where is it?”  He felt a certain hunch, and felt confident that circumstances were going to turn out as his instincts predicted.

“It’s his hind leg,” the handler touched the rear left leg of the dog he was petting, and the animal whimpered.

Theus leaned down slowly, his own injuries hindering his movements, and he held his lantern close to the wound to examine it.  The wound was festering.  It was infected, just as his own wounds had been infected.  There might be other damage to the muscles or bone within – Theus didn’t know and couldn’t tell – but at least part of the health problem was something he recognized and could offer to help.

“I have an ointment that might help him,” Theus offered.  He hadn’t known dogs very well during his life.  His own family had never had one, but some of the nearby farms had, and Theus had always enjoyed the company of the friendly animals.

“Where is this ointment?” the dogkeeper asked.

“It’s on a counter down at the end of the kitchen,” Theus said as he slowly pushed himself up from the floor.  He rose more easily than he expected, an improvement that he hoped was credited to his own use of the just-mentioned ointment.

He limped down towards the end of the kitchen, the dogs and their handler in tow.

“This is handy; it’s where the animals sleep anyway,” the man commented as they stopped by Theus’s bowl of medicine.

“In the kitchen?” Theus asked in surprise.  He thought back to the kitchen in the mansion of Lord Warrell.  He couldn’t imagine dogs being allowed into the space, let alone spending the night there.

The man opened a lower set of cabinets, and pulled out a large roll of rugs.  He spread them in the nearby corner, and two of the dogs immediately went over to lay down.

“This is their spot.  Colandra approved it just two nights ago, so that they didn’t have to be put in the stables overnight,” the dogkeeper said as he turned back to Theus.  “I’ve never heard of such a thing,” he added in a lower voice.

Theus lifted the bowl of ointment, and carried it over to the heap of dog blankets, then beckoned for the injured dog to come to him.

“I’ve got more blankets down here, if you think he needs more,” the handler offered.

“Get them all out, please,” Theus answered, as he began to gently slather his ointment upon the injured dog.  The animal whimpered with each stroke, despite the lightness of Theus’s touch.

When he was finished, Theus sat himself up on the stack of still-folded blankets the other man had offered.

“I’ll stay here with them for the night,” Theus offered.  “I can keep an eye on them, and keep them from making a mess in the kitchen.”  And he would be able to wrap himself in some of the blankets, giving himself some semblance of an opportunity to rest.  He needed a place, since Letta had never returned to give him one.

“Are you sure?  If you’re sure, then I’ll be on my way so I can crawl into my own sack,” the dog keeper answered gladly, happy to feel free of his obligation to watch over the animals any longer.

“Mally will be here in the morning to pick them up,” the man added.  He gave Theus a wave, and then was on his way out of the kitchen, and on his way home.

Theus unfolded several of the blankets to create a padding for himself, then he checked the leg of the wounded animal one more time, before he extinguished the lantern and let darkness take over the kitchen.   The dogs were all settled into their places in the corner, pleased to have Theus join them.  He felt them snuggle up against him as he lay down.  He placed his hand on the head of the injured member of the pack, and then he remembered no more for a long time, as he fell quickly asleep.

Theus awoke in the middle of the morning darkness, surrounded by the bodies of the dogs, pressed around him on all sides.  He heard noises, and saw a light on the other side of the kitchen, a light that was slowly meandering through the kitchen work areas without any obvious pattern.   Theus's movements as he raised up jostled the dogs, and they began to awaken as well.

As they awoke, the dogs spotted the moving light.  They barked briefly, their hackles up, then went running towards the new arrival.

"You mangy creatures!" Theus heard Letta's voice. "What's wrong with you?  You haven't been destroying my kitchen all night!"

Theus rose to his feet and hurried over to separate the dogs from Letta, alarmed by her apparent unhappiness with the animals, and their apparent previous behavior to merit her scorn.

"My lady," he spoke up as he hurried through the dark corridors of the kitchen, "the dogs were with me last night.  I don't believe they did any harm."

"Who the devil is that?" Theus heard Letta exclaim.

He approached her and saw her more clearly in the light of her lantern, her hair covered in a cap, a robe hanging casually open around her, until she spotted Theus and drew it closed.

"You're the new boy, the crippled one, aren't you?" she asked.  "What's your name?"

"Theus, my lady," he stopped in front of her and called the dogs back over to him, then knelt to examine the hind leg of the injured dog.

"What happened to your limp?" Letta asked Theus.

He looked up from the dog’s leg.  He hadn’t limped while approaching Letta, and he felt little pain anywhere in his body.  He was using both arms and hands to examine the dog.  His infections had been extraordinarily cured, pressed down to just bare hints of their former threats to his well-being.

“The remedies last night seem to have worked very well,” he answered.

“That well?  Impossible!  Let me see you,” Letta swung her lantern around and lowered it, then squatted next to him.  With one hand holding the lantern close, her other hand touched his arm and traced the pale skin that had formerly been red and unhealthy, then she lightly traced her finger along the rapidly healing scab that covered the former slice in Theus’s arm.

She lowered her hand to touch his leg, but he found that his attention to her touch was distracted.  Without a hand or a belt to hold her robe closed, Letta’s cover gaped open, revealing the light gown underneath.  Theus felt his throat go dry and his pulse start to increase as his eye inadvertently stared at the revealed pale skin of her chest, and after a long moment of heavy breathing, he wretched his eyes away, and stared at the darkness over her head, desperately trying to avert his eyes from the fascinating view.

“Were you really even hurt yesterday?” Letta asked, unaware of Theus’s brief examination.  She lifted her eyes from his leg.  “What are you looking at?” she asked as she observed him staring into the darkness above her.

“Nothing,” he swallowed and replied, as he lowered his eyes to look at hers.  “Yes, I was hurt yesterday, and so was this dog.  I put some of my ointment on the dog last night, and I want to check his wound."

"You healed yourself and a dog?  What are you doing down here at this time of the morning anyway?” she asked.

“I slept down here, with the dogs,” Theus answered in a lower voice, embarrassed to admit he had done so.

“Slept with the dogs?” Letta’s voice rose an octave.  “Why did you do that?  Why not go to, oh,” she suddenly recollected the events of the night before.  “I didn’t give you a room last night, did I?”

“No, my lady,” Theus answered in an even lower voice, and he averted his eyes from hers, not wanting to emphasize or see her guilt in her eyes.

“But because you slept with the dogs, they stayed in place with you all night?” she asked in a lower voice.

“Yes, my lady.  They were all around me all night long,” he agreed, looking at her once again.

“They have been such a terrible nuisance since Colandra stuck them in here a few nights ago.  They’ve made a mess of the kitchen, and I’ve had to have a crew down here early in the morning just to clean up their disasters.  This is such a relief!” she smiled at Theus.

“I am so sorry to forget to give you a room last night,” her voice was sincere.  “Even though it turned out so well for me, I hope you know I didn’t intend to neglect you so badly.  I’ve just had so many problems to deal with these past few weeks, since Colandra,” she paused, and didn’t finish her sentence.

Theus felt sympathy for the woman.  She didn’t seem to bear any ill will towards the slaves that worked for her, he felt sure.  He wanted to help her, especially since a few hints from her and others had indicated that the cold and distant Colandra seemed to be her opponent.  He had heard and stored away a nugget of information that Creighton had mentioned the previous night when the two of them had been washing dishes together.

“My lady,” he began, “I heard that you had some workers injured in a fire?  May I offer to try to heal them for you?” he asked.

“Heal the victims of the fire?” Letta’s eyes widened.  “You have no idea how badly they were burned.  They suffer such pain – I know that some of them wish they had died, or so they say during their dark hours.

“Your miracle cures can’t manage that type of healing, boy doctor,” Letta stood up, and tousled Theus’s hair affectionately, looked down at him thoughtfully for a moment, then she pulled her robe shut and picked up her lantern.

There was a noise from a door opening, and the dogs all began to bark, then rocketed away.

“Good morning, my babies,” a man’s voice spoke to the happy animals seconds later.

“It’s Mally, come to fetch the dogs,” Letta said.  “Go see him and tell him you healed the injured one.”

“Are you coming?” Theus asked.

“Dressed like this?” Letta asked incredulously.  “It’s bad enough you’ve seen me.  I’ll go up to my room and prepare myself, then come back down.  As soon as I return, we’ll get clothes for you and a room and a place to clean up, I promise you.  I’ve got the time to do it since I don’t have to clean up after the dogs this morning, thank you.”

She gave Theus a light shove on the shoulder to send him off to meet the dog keeper.

“Who do we have here?” Mally asked.

“I’m Theus.  I stayed with the dogs last night.  I put some ointment on the injured dog’s leg and I think he’s much better this morning,” Theus advised.

“Is that so?  You fixed up poor Larsey?”  Mally knelt and looked at the dog, then stood again.

“Let’s go outside, boys,” Mally told the dogs.  “Let me see how he looks,” the man said in an aside to Theus, then went outside behind his pack of animals.

They went down the stairs, and Mally suddenly took off at a sprint, immediately followed by the full foursome of dogs, running around his heels and barking as they all ran in a tight cluster.  He stopped and instantly reversed course, he and his lantern light running back towards Theus, as the animals belated turned themselves and raced after him.

“Larsey kept right up with them all!” he exclaimed.  “What did you say you did for the old fella?”

“I put some ointment on his leg to treat the infection he had,” Theus answered.

“Larsey’ll be out there hunting with the rest of the crew this afternoon.  I was sure we were going to have to leave him behind.  You’ve done a really fine thing by the dog.  If I can ever return the favor, you let me know,” Mally slapped Theus on the shoulder, then whistled for the dogs and led them into the darkness at the back of the palace.

Theus felt pleased, and a smile creased his face as he climbed the stairs and returned to the kitchen, only to be confronted by two people holding lanterns.  He recognized one of them as Colandra, the unsympathetic assistant steward of the palace who had spoken so cruelly to him the day before.  The man with her was an older man who Theus did not know.

“Who are you?” Colandra asked in a demanding voice.  “What are you doing here?  What’s happening in this kitchen?”

“My name is Theus, my lady,” he answered hesitantly.  “I’m a,” he paused before he forced himself to say the word, “I’m a slave working in the kitchen for Letta.”

“You’re one of her slaves, and she has you down here all alone at this time of the morning?  That’s disgraceful,” Colandra criticized Letta.

Though he didn’t understand the politics of the palace, he sensed that Colandra had the power to make Letta’s life unhappy.  And Theus also knew that Letta seemed like a decent person, whereas all that he had seen made him think Colandra was not.  He would stand up for Letta.

“But Lady Letta has already been down here to inspect the kitchen this morning.  She just stepped out a minute ago,” Theus said stoutly.

“An inspection.  And she left the kitchen in its present condition?  Let’s take a look around, shall we, my lord Hampton?” Colandra asked her companion.

“Lead on, Colandra,” he said mildly.

The assistant steward took the lead, holding her lantern high to cast light widely through the kitchen areas they strolled in.  She walked in a beeline back towards the corner where the dogs had slept.  She looked along the cross aisles as she walked, slowing at each to look along their lines, slowing as she continued to walked and found only organized and clean spaces throughout.

“Where are the dogs?” she spoke loudly when she reached the back corner and found only the nest of blankets that Theus and the animals had shared.

“Mally came and took them, just before you arrived, my lady,” Theus explained.

“They were here all night?   That’s impossible; there’s no sign of any muss,” Colandra insisted.

“Lady Letta keeps the kitchen clean and tidy,” Theus offered with just a trace of satisfaction in defending his mistress.

“What’s that on the counter?” Colandra asked as she spotted Theus’s bowls of healing remedies several feet away.  She glared at Theus, dissatisfied with his answers during the inspection of the kitchen, then she stalked over towards the bowls on the counter, the two men following.

“Why would this be out at this time of the morning?  It should be put away,” she said insistently.

“It held a healing mixture, an ointment that we applied to one of the dogs before it left,” Theus explained once again.

“You even healed the dogs you sheltered here?  That’s quite a service!” spoke up the man with Colandra for the first time on the tour.

“Perhaps I should bring my pets, or maybe my children to Letta’s kitchen for doctor visits,” he chuckled.

“Let’s be on our way Colandra,” he turned to his associate.  “These spot inspections are a novel idea, and it’s good to know that Letta keeps her kitchen and her staff so well organized at all times, though I dare say she should spend a bit more to clothe her slaves better.”

A door opened, and a light entered the kitchen.

“Theus, are you down there?” Letta’s voice called.

“I’m here with visitors, my lady,” Theus called loudly to answer with a warning.

“Visitors?” Letta hurried across the kitchen and joined the group.

She was properly dressed, Theus saw, no longer wearing a cap or a loose robe.

“We just made a spot inspection, Letta,” the man spoke first.

“My lord Hampton,” Letta belatedly recognized who the man was next to Colandra, and she paled in the lantern light.  “We have tried our best to run the kitchen as well as possible.”

“I must say, you seem to do quite well,” Hampton observed.  “Your slave here tells us that you even have been healing the nobility’s dogs.  That’s quite a service; I’ll be sure to mention that in court,” he smiled.  “But be prepared for an onslaught of animals to proceed towards your doorstep as a result.”

“Yes, your lordship,” Letta said faintly with a slight bow.

Theus belatedly realized that Hampton was a person with some connections.  Colandra had brought him to the kitchen to try to display poor management by Letta, but the plan had backfired.

“There is one thing that concerns me though, Letta,” Hampton added.

“I see that your boy here likes to run about mostly naked, and I suppose it’s your decision to make, but I think you should perhaps spend a bit more of your budget to make the boy dress a bit more in keeping with the standards of the palace.  I shudder to think what the nobles would say if they saw one of ours so deprived of necessities,” he told Letta.  “I’ll arrange for an allotment of funds to be provided for the slaves’ wardrobe; will that be suitable?” he asked.

“Yes my lord, I’ll see that the boy had better things this morning,” Letta humbly agreed, though Theus thought he saw the glimmer of a smile cross her face.

“Very well.  All in all, we’ve found the kitchen to look quite well, and of course, the king and the residents of the palace continue to find the food you serve to be quite admirable.  Our compliments to the chef and to you.  Let’s be on our way, Colandra,” Hampton said, and he lifted his lantern to light the way out as the two of them walked away.

Letta stood stock still until the lights of the visitors disappeared from sight.  Then she set her lantern down on the counter as she whirled and grabbed Theus by both shoulders.

“Tell me everything that just happened!  I need to know every detail!” she exclaimed.

Theus paused to recollect, and then recounted what had happened from the time he had gone out the door with Mally and the dogs to his return and the inspection and then the discussion of treating the dog’s injury.

“And tell me again what Hampton said,” Letta still held a tight grip on Theus’s shoulders after hearing his recounting of the story of the visit.

“He said he might bring his own pets and children here to be healed, and you keep things here in the kitchen well-organized at all times,” Theus repeated.

There was a sound from the other end of the kitchen once again.

“It’s the morning shift arriving to start the day,” Letta said.  “And I’m sure they’re all delighted to have not been woken earlier to clean up after the dogs.

“Let’s go get some clothes for you and find a room for you,” she squeezed his shoulders affectionately, then finally released him, and led him down to meet the others.

The ovens were already being lit to warm for the baking, and a variety of tasks were being performed as a number of lanterns were brought to life.

“Were there no dogs here, my lady?” one of the bakers asked as Letta and Theus arrived.

“Let me introduce our newest slave, Theus.  Theus arrived yesterday, and he actually slept down here with the dogs, so they never went rampaging through the kitchen last night.  In fact, Colandra brought the head steward, Hampton for an early morning inspection, and they found the kitchen in order!” Letta crowed with pleasure.

“Then we’re all much obliged to young Theus, it seems,” the baker smiled politely at the new team member.

“Are there rooms available in the better wings of the servants’ quarters?” Letta asked.  “We need to give the boy a place to stay.”

“The south wing has several rooms available,” the baker responded quickly.  “Some have windows looking out at the gardens.”

“Are there any rooms in the north hall?” Theus quickly asked.  He recollected Creighton’s recommendation that the rooms in the south wing grew too warm in the sunlight.

“We’ll go look through the north hall after I’m sure all the morning duties are on track,” Letta told Theus.  “And we’ll go to the laundry to get some clothes for you.  You go sit over there and wait for a few minutes.”

Theus obediently walked away from the small gathering of staff, conscious of the stares the women on the staff had given him as he strolled about without any shirt.  He sat down and leaned back, watching the members of the kitchen crew talk to one another as others continued to work.  He was tired; sleeping with the dogs on the floor hadn’t been the most refreshing rest he had enjoyed, and his body needed energy as it continued to enjoy the healing that his medicine was promoting.

Theus closed his eyes, and he soon began to doze.  Letta observed his sleeping posture, and continued her activities around the kitchen, until two hours later, after the sun had risen and the rest of the palace had begun to creak into action.   Then she walked over to him and lightly tapped him on the shoulder, pulling him out of a dream about Coriae and sailing.

He looked about in confusion, until he recognized Letta and recollected his circumstances and situation.

“Let’s go to the laundry and get some clothes for you,” the chief of the kitchen suggested.  Theus quickly rose from his stool and followed her.  They left the kitchen, his first time to do so, and they entered a wide hallway where several servants seemed to be pursuing multiple tasks, carrying clothing and sheets and cleaning supplies and even furniture.

Letta led him down a set of stairs, and they passed through a doorway into a steamy room where large tubs of hot water were being stirred and prodded by numerous servants – boys and girls who Theus guessed were slaves.

“How many slaves work for the palace?” he spoke to Letta for the first time on the mission.

“Good lord!  Who knows?” she replied.  “We’ve got a dozen and a half just for the kitchen.   Look around here- there are probably three dozen who work in here.  You add the maids and the coopers and the stable hands and the others, perhaps four or five hundred, I would guess,” she told him.  “What did you expect?”

“I didn’t know.  I don’t know.  I’ve only been a slave for a day, but I was an indentured servant for a few weeks, and then an apprentice,” Theus rambled, as he looked around.

They approached a desk where a woman was looking at a board with several slots cut into it, and slips of paper sticking out of the slots.

“How can I help you?” the woman asked without looking at them.  She pulled two pieces of paper from one slot, and distributed one to a different slot, while she slapped the other piece down on her desk.

“We want some clothes for this boy,” Letta explained.

“Does he have any in the laundry?” the laundry worker asked, still studying her papers instead of her customers.

“No,” Letta said assuredly, “he doesn’t have anything but the pants he’s wearing.  What can you give him?”

“That blue hamper is all our extras,” the woman said as she looked up at last, and pointed to her right.  “Go look through there.”

Letta looked at Theus, who shrugged his acquiescence, and they strolled over to the large blue hamper, a canvas sack of great proportions mounted on a wooden frame.  The hamper was more than half full, odds and ends of cloth mixed and lying haphazardly together, layer on top of layer.

A green shirt on top caught Theus’s eye, and he stretched across the hamper to retrieve it.

“These are all just cast-offs and lost items; you don’t have to settle for this,” Letta told him as she eyed the hamper critically.

“This is fine,” Theus replied, as he remembered the limited wardrobe he had possessed on the farm in the Jewel Hills.  The hamper was like a great treasure chest of potential.  He retrieved the green shirt and held it up in front of himself.

“It’s not bad,” Letta grudgingly agreed.

Theus slung the shirt over the side of the hamper, then began to root through the collection of clothing, seeking items that appealed to him, and appeared to be the approximate size he needed. Letta looked on with an expression of disapproval, but kept her silence.  Five minutes later, Theus finished.

“I’ll wear this one now,” he pulled a yellow tunic over his head, and draped the other things over his arm.

“It’ll do for now,” Letta said.  “We’ll get some better clothes for you later.  Let’s go find a room for you.”  She led the way out of the laundry and then through a warren of passageways that confused Theus, until they arrived at a doorway, and crossed a narrow open space to enter a different building.

“This is the north hall.  We can start looking for empty rooms,” Letta said. “There won’t be any on the ground floor, so we might as well go up one or two flights to start the search.”

“So your medicine healed your own wounds so well you can do all this walking we’ve done this morning, and keep up with me, and feel alright?” Letta asked conversationally as they reached the landing of the third floor a minute later.

“I’m not completely healed, but much better,” Theus said.  He thought about his remedy he had used to reduce his headache in the aftermath of a bad fall during the tournament in Great Falls.  “It may take another day for complete healing, but it’ll come,” he assured his mistress.

“And,” she paused and took a deep breath after climbing the stairs, “you think you could heal more injuries, even people who have been badly burned?”

“I’d have to see them to be sure, but I think so, my lady.  It couldn’t hurt to try,” Theus answered.  They were walking down a hallway, and Theus saw light coming from an open doorway ahead.

“Let’s look in that room,” Letta spoke as she spotted the square of light in the hallway.

“I don’t know much about the north hall,” Letta told him as they reached the doorway.  “I live in the palace servant’s wing.”

They pressed the door open wider.

“Is anyone home?” Letta asked loudly.  They waited a second, and when no one answered, they entered the room.

It was a large rectangle, with two windows and a bed.  The windows had curtains that were pulled open, but there were no other amenities in the room – no other furniture, no closet, no bedding on the bed.

“Shall we look for something better?” Letta asked.

Theus looked out the window, and saw a man leading a pair of mules out of a stable not far away.   It was a homey sight, one that made him feel peaceful as he watched the familiar animals.

“No, this will be fine,” he answered.  He walked over and laid his new-found wardrobe upon the bed.

“We can find some furniture and have it sent up here,” Letta conceded.  If he was happy with the room, she was satisfied to end the hunt for a room.

“Shall we go see your burn victims now?” Theus asked.

“I really should get back to the kitchen,” Letta answered slowly, “but,” she paused, “Since you picked a room so quickly, yes, we can just run by there.

“Prepare yourself,” she added, staring directly at him, making eye contact that he could not break, “some of them are in very bad shape.”

She stepped out into the hall and looked at the door.  “You’re in room five now, on the third floor of the north hall.  Don’t forget that,” she pulled the door closed.

They left the building and walked outside, around the corner of the dark stone palace exterior.

“The hospice is around this way; it’s a faster walk outside,” Letta explained as they approached a small, white clapboard building that sat among a small grove of scrawny trees.

The building emitted groans, Theus noticed, or at least those inside the building groaned.  The pair walked up to the door, then paused as Letta hesitated and took a deep breath before entering.

A man sat at a desk inside the door in a small hallway.

“We’re here to see Ruuner and Weese,” Letta said briefly to the attendant, then she led Theus past the man and into a room on the left.

Several beds were in rows against either of the long walls in the room, and each was occupied by a man or woman who moaned or lay silently and motionlessly.

“Weese? Are you awake?” Letta asked softly as she walked over to one of the closer beds, with Theus following closely.

The man in the bed lay silently, but turned his scarred head to see his visitor.

The man’s face was terribly scarred.  One eye socket was empty, and the streaked and shiny skin continued from his face to his neck and to his torso that was covered with a sheet.

“What brings you Letta?” he rasped the question.

“Just in the neighborhood,” Letta responded with forced cheerfulness.   “And I wanted to tell you that everyone misses you in the kitchen.”

“I miss the kitchen too,” Weese replied.   Speech seemed to require considerable effort, for he lapsed into silence.

“We’ll let you rest.  Take care, my friend,” Letta gently placed a hand on his cover, about where his shoulder should have been, then lifted it.  She silently nodded her head towards the door, and led Theus out.

They walked without stopping, and left the clapboard building.

“Oh, that hurts so badly!  I hope I never have to see them like that again!  They were such great people, so full of life,” she shuddered, and Theus knew without seeing that tears were on her cheeks.

“Let’s get back to the kitchen.  You decide if you think you can heal them,” she said brusquely, walking quickly, still staying ahead of Theus and keeping her face averted from him.

“I can do it,” he said simply.

She came to a full stop, then whirled suddenly.

“You are telling me that you can heal that?” she asked in disbelief.  “Those poor broken, burned bodies?  You can heal them?” he saw the moisture in her bright eyes.

“It will take time, and some rare ingredients, but I know how to do it,” Theus answered.

She stared, then whirled and started walking quickly again, forcing him to quickstep to keep up.

“How much will it cost?” she asked without looking at him.

“I don’t know; I’ve never tried to buy the ingredients before,” Theus answered.

“Are you making this up?” Letta sounded angry as she asked.

“No, I think it’s possible.  I’ll need to go to a market, or give you a list of what I need,” he answered as they entered a door and stepped back inside the palace.

Chapter 4

Theus spent the rest of the day working at odd jobs in the kitchen, helping in menial tasks as he was assigned.

That evening, when the dinner dishes were done, Letta came to see him.  She had avoided him all day, ever since she had led him back to the kitchen.

“Will you sleep with the dogs tonight again and keep the kitchen clean?” she demanded of Theus abruptly.

He was caught by surprise.  “Yes, my lady,” he stuttered his reply.

“Good.   Then tomorrow I’ll have Molly take you out to the markets and you can look into these ingredients you think you need.  I don’t promise I can’t give you enough money to buy anything expensive, but you can check the prices,” Letta told him.  “Is that fair?”

“Yes, my lady,” he answered again.  “And can I go to my own room tomorrow sometime, and get bedding?”

Letta made a raspberry noise through pursed lips.  “I’ll tell Molly to swing by the laundry to get sheets for your bed.   Now, you go get your space ready for the dogs; they should arrive in the next few minutes.”  And with that the chief slave of the kitchen was gone for the evening.

Theus’s pack of beagles rejoined him just a few minutes later, jumping joyfully on him when they entered the kitchen and found his scent.

“Larsey, look at you jumping with the rest of the gang,” Theus observed with a grin.

“I hear tell you’re the one that healed the old boy up – made him right as rain, didn’t you?” the evening dogkeeper said fondly.

“It was easy – I had the medicine right on hand,” Theus answered.

“Can you heal anything else?” the man asked.

“Somethings,” Theus answered cautiously.  He hadn’t considered the cost of buying supplies before Letta had raised the question, and the topic hadn’t faded far from his awareness.

“My wife has a goiter on her neck; it’s so big it makes it hard for her to breath sometimes,” the huntsman said.  “Would you be able to come to my home to look at her sometime?  Maybe offer a cure?”

“If I’m allowed to leave the palace, I’ll be happy to check on her.  I might get to go out tomorrow; where do you live?” Theus asked.

“We’re a block south of Bipping Bridge, in the blue housing square, on the second floor,” the dog handler immediately recited his address.

“What’s your name?  What’s your wife’s name?” Theus felt he had to ask, even though he thought it was unlikely he would be able to venture out about the city freely.

“I’m Gance, and my wife is Losa,” the man said gratefully, making Theus feel disheartened by the false hope he might be planting in the man’s heart.

“I can’t promise that I’ll see her,” he tried to backpedal out of the conversation.

“I understand, young fellow, and I appreciate your good heart for considering us,” the man said in a kindly manner, thought seemingly still confident that Theus would manage to treat the illness.

Theus and the dogs were soon settled into their corner, lying in a heap among the blankets.  The dogs grew still, and Theus found that his mind was meandering drowsily towards sleep, investigating his situation as it delved towards rest.

He was healthy at last, and able to begin to consider his situation.  His situation was a far cry from anything he had ever experienced before.  During his months of life of adventure since he’d left the farm in the Jewel Hills, he’d been exposed to a great many new faces of the world.  He’d come to experience travel and cities and money and employment, romance and competition, freedom and servanthood.

He’d not been prepared to experience life as a slave.  He’d only had two days of slavery, and nothing bad in the process, but he didn’t like it.  He didn’t like the notion of being owned, of not controlling his own life, of limits on his choices.  He had one goal in mind – to return to Coriae – and slavery was a word that stood in the way of his getting back to her.

He was going to need a day or two or more to figure out what the best way was going to be to start the journey back to a normal life, but he would figure out his route to return to freedom, and he would go.  And with that happy conclusion, his mind allowed itself to finally fall fully asleep.

The dogs woke him in the morning, when Mally arrived to retrieve them.  They leapt up from their resting place, awakening Theus, who bid them and Mally farewell, then sat in the darkness of the empty kitchen for a few minutes, wondering what to do.

He considered trying to go find his room, on the third floor of the north building, but immediately dismissed the idea.  Even if there was daylight present, he wouldn’t know how to find his way across the vast palace grounds to find the hall where he had claimed a room.

Instead he took the bedding he had shared with the dogs and stuffed it into the cupboard space where it was stored, then waited for anyone else to arrive in the kitchen.

Minutes later, he grew restless, and decided to try to help the bakers get a start on the day by lighting the oven fire for them early.  He walked cautiously in the dark kitchen to where the ovens were, and withdrew the flint and steel from a drawer, ready to create a spark.  He found the tinder and kindling, and slowly worked in the fading darkness as the sun started to light the world outside, and to shine its faint beams into the kitchen.

By the time he had the tinder set, the door opened, and a pair of bakers walked in with lanterns.  They thanked Theus for the work he had done and quickly had a small blaze started, beginning the process of baking the palace’s daily supply of bread and other food stuffs.

Theus stood back and watched, until Letta entered the kitchen along with other workers several minutes later.   Her eyes searched the kitchen the moment she entered the vast work space, until she spotted Theus, and then she walked immediately towards him.

“How are you this morning, my young helper?” she asked with a sincere tone of kindness and concern in her voice, one that Theus was happy to hear.

“The dogs stayed with me all night, and Mally took them away this morning.  I started to get the tinder ready in the ovens, but then the bakers came,” he recounted his evening.

“And no surprise inspection from Colandra?  That’s good,” Letta celebrated with a smile.  “I had the best night’s sleep I’ve had in two weeks,” she told him.

“You go sit at your counter and relax.  We’ve give you a bite of breakfast, and then Molly will take you shopping in the markets,” she promised.

Theus did as told, and enjoyed a nice breakfast a half hour later, his efforts to keep the dogs at bay overnight appreciated by the kitchen crew members who did not have to rise early to clean up.

By the time he finished his breakfast, the sun was shining brightly outside, its light entering the kitchen and rendering the lanterns superfluous.   He sat back lazily, his stomach full and his mind sleepy.

“Theus come here,” Letta called, and he promptly crossed the kitchen.

Letta stood next to a plump girl with apple cheeks and a warm smile, who gave a small curtsy as he arrived.

“This is Molly.  She’ll go with you to visit the markets this morning to see if you can find the supplies you need for the project we discussed yesterday,” Letta said.  She handed him a large canvas bag.  “Carry your goods in this.  Molly has the coins I’ve given her – don’t think you have to spend them all.

“And wear this around your neck,” she held up a black leather collar with red triangles decorating it.

“It shows that you’re property of the palace,” she explained.  “You won’t be hassled in the market.”

Theus rolled his eyes at the unexpected requirement, but held his head still and his chin up as Letta applied the collar around him, then clasped it shut in the back

“Do you want to get your shoes?” Molly asked.

“I don’t have any,” he replied simply.

“Buy him some,” Letta said promptly.  She reached into a pocket and pulled out more coins, which she handed to Molly.

“Then we’re off,” Molly said.  “I’ve got your shopping list as well,” she told Letta, then led the way out of the kitchen and into the palace, following a hallway Theus had not walked through before.

The hallway was a formal one, elegant in a way that reminded Theus of the mansion Lord Warrell and his family had lived in, and he momentarily thought of Coriae.

They passed out through a pair of glass doors and walked across the wide lawn that separated the palace from the defensive wall that surrounded the grounds.  Molly smiled sweetly at the guards in the gatehouse, and then the two of them were free of the palace.

Theus looked up and down the busy streets.  Commerce was evident, as wagons and traders and others traveled busily along the paved roads, while storefronts were open.  There was a crowd, and an opportunity to disappear into it quickly.  He looked around for clues as to where the harbor front might be; he would surely be able to claim passage aboard a freighter carrying goods away from Southsand and back in the direction of Great Forks, he told himself.

“Letta said that I should tell you that if you try to run away, she and I will be the ones who will be severely punished for trusting you,” Molly spoke up, as if she were reading his mind.

Theus felt a barrier erupt into his thoughts about running away.  He wouldn’t try to make his break to the waterfront that day.  He wouldn’t imperil Letta, who had been a benign overseer so far, or Molly, who he had just met.  But he felt frustrated at the ease with which the women had manipulated him.

“What do you want from the markets?” Molly asked.  “Tell me that, and I’ll have an idea of where to go first.”

“I need aloe, vanilla, black tea, charyn crystals, vinegar – that’s white vinegar – honey, zinnia petals, milk, silver-cleaning compound,” Theus rattled off a list of items he had in mind.

“That’s a load!” Molly said, stunned by the volume of material requested.  I don’t even know what some of those are.  Let’s go to the west market and get some of the easy ones, then figure out what to do next.”

She led him to the right.  They walked together along the busy city street.

“I came to the palace three years ago.  My mother died of the wasting illness, so I went to an orphanage, and they sold me to the palace,” Molly spoke forthrightly about her path to becoming a slave.  “Lady Letta tells me you were a doctor who was captured on a boat?” she asked.

“No, I’m not a doctor, but I learned a lot of medical remedies when I worked at a shop in Great Falls,” Theus fudged the facts.  “I was on a boat, and we were captured by pirates, so now I’m a slave at the palace, for a while.”

“Probably for more than a while, unless you do something foolish like try to run away,” Molly told him in a semi-stern tone.  “If you try to run away, they’ll catch you – they’ve got the dark magics to do it.  And you’ll be punished; others may be punished too if they are at fault,” Molly explained succinctly.  “Don’t even bother trying to run away.”

“I’ve never been on a boat before,” she casually changed topics as they rounded a corner.

“This was the first trip I ever took out on the ocean,” Theus told her.  “I thought the boat looked pretty big when I got on board in the port.  But after it sailed out, and there was no land in sight – just water all around, everywhere – the boat didn’t seem so big after all.  I’d rather not sail again if I didn’t have to,” he said.  But I will if that’s what it takes to escape this place, he added silently to himself.

They continued to stroll until they reached a market, where Theus was able to find several of the common elements he wanted for his complex burn remedies.  They strolled up and down numerous aisles of goods, and Theus finally declared they had exhausted all the possibilities of finding further items at that particular market.

“We can go to the Bipping market next,” Molly suggested.  “It’s not too far away.”

“Is there a bridge near the market?” Theus asked, a memory triggered.

“A bridge?  The Bipping Bridge?  Yes, we’ll go right over it.  Why?” Molly wanted to know as she led him out of the market, and towards a narrow road that had only a smattering of pedestrians walking.

“Someone at the palace asked if I would try to heal his wife.  He said they lived near the Bipping Bridge.  Could we stop there?” Theus recollected the heartfelt request of Gance, the dog handler who had dropped off the dogs in the evening at the kitchen.

“I don’t know.  Mistress Letta didn’t mention anything about that,” Molly said doubtfully, uncertain about the departure from her planned itinerary.

“It shouldn’t take long, since we’re going to be right there anyway,” Theus pointed out.  “Gance said it’s a blue housing square; let’s just see if we pass it.”

“We’ll see,” Molly said noncommittally.

They continued on, as Molly cheerfully discussed the palace kitchen.  “Those sinks where we wash the dishes are terrible,” she opined.  “It’s too easy to splash water on your clothes.

“And those ovens,” she added the incomplete thought.

“What about the ovens?” Theus prompted her to finish the comment.

“Well, you know, the way they exploded and burned all those people who were trying to clean them out,” she said.

“I don’t know about it,” Theus told her. He presumed she was talking about the very people he was going to try to heal.

“There was some problem with the ovens, and when some of the crew tried to clean them out before lighting them, the ovens just exploded out and killed some of them, and burned others.  It was all very horrible, and then Colandra got immediately involved, trying to prevent Letta from overseeing her people and investigating the problem,” Molly told him.   “I don’t know much else, but I try to never be involved with the ovens now, especially when they light them in the morning.”

Theus listened in silence, wondering what was at the root of the topic.

“There’s a blue housing square,” she noted.  “And we’re almost to the bridge.  I suppose you could go talk to this woman if it won’t take long.”

“Their home is on the second floor,” Theus informed Molly.  He didn’t know which apartment they would have to visit; discovering that would be a matter of trial and error.

The square had a wide set of covered steps that led through the width of the building to a balcony that ran around the perimeter of an interior courtyard.  There were no other people visible as they reached the second floor.

“Hello? Is Losa home?” Theus decided to boldly knock on the first door he chose at random.

There was no answer after a minute’s wait, and so he moved to the next door and tried again, Molly standing next to him.

“Who?” a child’s voice answered as the door opened.  Theus looked down and saw a young boy looking up through the door opening.

“I’m looking for Losa, who lives with Gance,” Theus answered.

“They don’t live here,” the boy answered forthrightly.

“Can you tell me where they do live?” Theus asked, and received directions to go to doorway number seven, on the other side of the courtyard.

Seconds later, in front of the correct door, Theus knocked again.  “Losa?” he called.  “Losa, are you home?  Gance asked me to visit you.”

There was no response, and Theus knocked again.  Again there was only silence.

“She must not be home,” Molly declared.

“If she’s ill, she may not be able to answer the door,” Theus replied.  He placed his hand on the knob and jiggled it, then swung the door inward.

“Theus!” Molly exclaimed in astonishment.  “You can’t go in there!”

“I’m just going to check on her.  If no one’s home, I’ll be out of here in two minutes.”

He stepped into the doorway, and surveyed the room he entered.  It was plain, with a minimum of furniture, and doorways that led in the other three directions.  He stepped over to one and looked through the open space at a kitchen.  He left it and went to the door on his right, where he softly opened the door and looked into the next room.

“Here she is,” he said over his shoulder, as he noticed that Molly had entered the apartment and was behind him.  A woman lay in a bed, sleeping soundly.  Her neck was malformed, carrying an extremely large, swollen expansion of flesh on one side, something that looked as though it was so large it would be a heavy encumbrance on the lifting of a head.

“Losa,” Theus went over and touched her lightly on the shoulder.  “Losa, Gance sent me to look at your goiter, to see if I could help,” he spoke slowly.

She opened her eyes and stared vacantly at him for several seconds, then closed her eyes again.

“What’s wrong with her?” Molly asked with a note of concern in her voice.  “Can you help her?”

Theus stood over Losa, looking at her and reflecting on the knowledge that the memory stone had implanted within him.  The cure seemed straightforward, though he would have liked to have asked some questions of his patient.  But the case was a severe one, according to the references he found his mind sorting through.  Losa would be best served with immediate care.

“She needs some medicine right away,” Theus said to Molly.  “Let’s go to the market and get a few things for her care, and then we can finish our shopping for the palace needs.”

“We’re really only supposed to be taking care of palace business, but she looks like she needs help,” Molly spoke slowly as she worked to justify the extra steps Theus proposed.

“Can you do this quickly?” Molly asked.

“Yes,” Theus said assuredly.  “It won’t take but four or five things.”

The two of them left the building and went to the market they had been headed towards initially, where Theus found what he wanted with visits to only four stalls in the market.  Afterwards, they went back to the apartment.   Theus mixed and sliced and mashed the ingredients into a pulp, then put it in a glass with water and stirred it.

“Now we have to get her to drink this,” He told Molly, as he carried his remedy to the bedroom.

“You wouldn’t get me to drink that,” Molly muttered under her breath.  “It’s a good thing she’s unconscious.”

Together, as Theus propped Losa up, while Molly gently dripped the drink into her mouth, they slowly gave the woman a full dose of Theus’s remedy.

“That’s all we need to do,” Theus said as he laid her back on her mattress.

“Will she heal quickly?” Molly asked as they left the building.

“She’s going to need to take that every day for several days to return to full health,” Theus estimated.

“You’re going to have to come here every day?” Molly asked in protest.  “Who’s got the time to escort you around like that?”

“Her husband comes to the kitchen every day,” Theus pointed out.  “We can just prepare the mixture at the palace and let him deliver it.”

Molly conceded the point, and they were soon browsing among the stalls in the market, adding to the items Theus had selected earlier in the day.

“Are you hungry?” Molly asked after their luck in finding needed ingredients lagged.  “It’s past lunch time.”

“I am hungry,” Theus realized as soon as he heard the question.  “I just need a couple of additional things.  Can we go to a fish market?” he asked.

“And eat lunch by the harbor?” Molly responded.  “That’s a good plan.”

After further shopping for the items Theus wanted from the vendors at the fish market, the pair sat down to eat in a tavern by the water.  The atmosphere in the tavern was rich with the effects of the alcohol that several sailors were drinking heavily, and Theus began to quickly suspect they had made a poor choice in eating at the place.  The pair sat and waited as inconspicuously as they could while the drinkers at the nearby tables grew more rambunctious.

“Here’s your food,” the waitress slide two bowls of fish stew onto their table.

Theus thanked her, and watched as she gave a sigh, then began the trip back to the kitchen, past the rowdy inhabitants of the tavern.

“Theus!” Molly said in shock as one of the drunken sailors reached out to pinch and then grab the waitress, making her shriek as the man pulled her in amongst the men at the table.  “Do something to help her!”

He thought of Eiren’s admonition to him back when he’d been in the caravan.

Theus looked around at the tavern as he started to rise.  A long pole used to open and shut the high windows of the building stood in a corner, looking to Theus suspiciously like a fighting staff.  He felt comforted as he saw it, and allowed Molly’s words to propel him into action.

“Let loose of her and leave her alone,” he said loudly as he stood up.

All heads of the four sailors at the table turned in unison to look at Theus, and the room grew quiet.

Theus stood, a thin youngster, sitting only with one other person, and appeared far from threatening to the quartet of men who were harassing the waitress.  With their attention momentarily diverted, the woman managed to break out of their grasp and pulled away, backpedaling so strenuously to escape from them that she backed across the room and landed in a sitting position on the floor, her eyes glued to the brewing confrontation.

Theus had two flashbacks.  He remembered his brief battle with the members of the patrol in Great Falls.  He doubted the brewing battle in Southsand would end so easily and quickly.  And he again remembered the long-ago and far-off words of Eiren in the caravan, who had told him that he must do the right things.  Protecting the waitress from assault seemed like the right thing.

“What bone-snapping stupidity made you interrupt our fun?” one of the sailors asked as the four rose from their table.

“I just asked you to leave the girl alone and let her do her job,” Theus said.  He inched to the side to be within easier reach of the pole; he had little doubt he was going to need it.  And he hoped that no other alcohol-fueled customers of the tavern would join the coming battle.  He thought he could hold his own against the four, with their alcohol-addled abilities; he doubted he could fight many more.  Forgon and Coriae had taught him well, but there were limits to his abilities, which would be rusty in any case.

“Maybe you should have left the situation alone and let us have our fun,” another sailor in the group said menacingly, as they all lurched towards him in a sudden rush of violence

Theus lost any remaining shred of doubt that he would have to use the pole, and he reached over to grab it as a weapon.  The wooden shaft felt instantly comfortable in his hands; he slid his fingers along its length to reach the positions he wanted while he lifted it in front of himself, and then the staff swung into action.

One end struck the center of the forehead of one sailor square on with considerable force, and the man fell backwards.  Theus raised and swung the other end to strike another man in the temple, while the swinging lower end of the pole cracked hard against the shin of another man.

Theus stepped back, and three of the attacking drunkards were on the floor.

The remaining fighter took no heed of the loss of his companions.  He stepped in close to Theus and swung a fist towards Theus’s face, with enough energy to knock Theus off his feet.  But the blow didn’t land as the staff in Theus’s hands rose to strike the threatening arm off course, followed by the other end of the staff hitting the man in the ribs, followed by a quick strike across the bridge of the man’s nose, causing him to fall to the ground in writhing pain.

“Let’s go Molly!” Theus said urgently.  Only one of the men was unconscious, and the others were struggling back to their feet.  Theus wanted to escape while there was the least likelihood of being followed.  He held the pole in one hand, while he reached over to grab his companion’s hand and pull her up out of her seat.  As soon as she did he released the pole, letting it clatter to the floor, while he grabbed his bag of purchased medical supplies.  He was astonished at how easily the ability to use the staff had responded to his need, how thoroughly entrenched the moves must be in his muscles for him to take such a victory in his first use of the weapon in weeks.

And then the two fled, Molly silent until they had exited the tavern.

“Who are you?” she asked in breathless astonishment.  “I’ve never seen anything like that!  I’ll bet the king’s own guardsmen couldn’t have done what you just did!” she exclaimed.

Theus still held her hand and was leading her through the traffic on the street as quickly as possible, trying to get out of sight of the tavern before trouble might follow them.

“Were you in the army?” she asked.  “You aren’t really a slave, are you?” her tone was serious as she looked at him.

“I’m just a slave,” he assured her slowly.  “I’m not in the army.”

“You just beat four men in a matter of seconds!” Molly marveled.  “You saved that girl, the waitress.  All you used was a stick!”

“They were drunk,” Theus pointed out.  And he recollected that Coriae, in her matches against him with a staff, had demonstrated the very effective use of the weapon.   Perhaps his quick victory hadn’t been as astonishing as he had initially thought, he began to doubt himself.

“Let’s go on to the market,” Molly suggested.  “Unless you want to fight anyone else?”

“You’re the one who told me to go help the waitress,” Theus pointed out.

“Are you saying I started that fight?” Molly stopped walking to look at him incredulously.

“Well, no,” Theus wisely chose not to try to press his point.  “Shall we go to the market?”

They said nothing further as they reached the fish market, and Theus strolled among the displays of seafoods, selecting a few things for Molly to purchase.  “Okay,” he said after they bought some seaweed from a merchant who was only too happy to receive money for the material he used only to store and transport his fish in.

“We’re on our way back to the palace then?” Molly asked.

“Unless you have a better idea,” Theus answered jokingly.

She subjected him to a piercing stare as they stood in place, then she tossed her head, and they began the meandering journey through the city, back to the palace after spending nearly three quarters of the day shopping.

The two of them remained together all the way back through the city, back into the palace grounds, and back into the kitchen.

“You’re officially no longer my responsibility,” Molly told Theus when he lifted his bulging bag of goods up onto the counter he had used before.  “Now hold still a moment,” she directed him.  He did as ordered, and she caught him off-guard by reaching around his neck and removing the leather collar with the palace slave markings.  He’d worn it so long through the day he had become accustomed to it, and had forgotten he had it on.

“Thank you, Molly,” he said solemnly.

“Thank you, Theus.  I’ve never had such an adventurous day!” Molly told him as she stood beside him, holding the collar, suddenly hesitant to leave him and acknowledge the end of their day together.  “What will you do now?”

“I’m going to start working on the remedies that we bought all these ingredients for,” Theus reminded her.

“Well then, I guess I’ll be going,” Molly said.  She stuck her hand out, and Theus shook it, before he watched her walk away.  After several steps opened up distance between them, he turned to the goods that were spread across the countertop, and he set to work.

His first priority was to create a new dose of the goiter treatment medicine he had created earlier in the day.  When he saw Grance, he wanted to be able to give the man more of the medicine his wife needed.

Theus proceeded to work through the late afternoon and evening.  The others who worked in the kitchen offered him a plate of food, which he ate at his work station, and by the time evening rolled around, he found that he had fallen into an assumption that he would remain in the kitchen for another night with the dogs, so that he could work on his projects longer, and so that he could meet Gance and give the man the remedy that was prepared and ready to go back to his apartment to help heal his wife.

He felt a trace of bitterness; he wanted to go to his room.  He wanted to change clothes into something fresh.  Once upon a time, when he had lived on the farm, he would have thought nothing of wearing homemade clothes for several days in a row.  But after the relative luxury he had become accustomed to in Great Forks, he wanted to have a bed, and clean clothes.

The memories of the farm reminded him of his sister, Thera.  He wondered how she was.  He’d not seen her in months.  The potato crop on the farm had surely matured and been harvested already, and the starvation that had posed such an imminent threat to his family should have receded.  Perhaps a new nanny goat had been bought, and Thera would have learned to milk the new creature.  It was all so long ago and far away, and he realized he no longer truly wanted to try to go back to that life.

He wanted to go back to Coriae and Great Forks.  He would dearly love to see his parents and Thera and the other siblings, too.  But his goal was to get to Coriae.  He remembered the times the two of them had battled with staves in her family’s armory, when she had been feisty and cunning and competitive, full of emotion and life.  She was unlike any woman he had met in his limited life, and he was determined to get back to her, to find a way to make a match with her.  He couldn’t imagine anything that would be more important in his life.

He found himself yawning as his memories continued to roll and his hand continued to cut and measure and mix and mash the elements of the complex ointment he was creating – a tripartite remedy for curing and healing the terrible scars and pain inflicted by the oven fire the kitchen staff had suffered.  He would have to administer the three parts of the remedy on three separate days to cause it to begin to release its power upon the damaged flesh.

There was a sound at the door, and a bark, followed by others.  It was Gance, the evening dog watcher, bringing his charges to the kitchen for their evening stay.

“Young fellow!  Young fellow, I don’t even know your name,” Gance said excitedly as he followed the rushing parade of dogs who bounded to the back of the kitchen to greet Theus happily.

“Young fellow, you did it, didn’t you?  You went to Bipping Bridge and you saw my Losa!” Gance reached Theus after the dogs, and he thrust his hand forward through the jumping pack of animals to grab Theus’s hand and shake it appreciatively.

“She was sitting up this evening, and the swelling has gone down.  She remembered someone being in the house with her, but had no idea who,” Gance reported.

“It was Molly and me,” Theus confirmed.  “I’m glad she’s better.

“Here’s another dose,” he reached over and pushed the jar of medicine across the countertop towards the man.  “The more doses we give her, the faster she’ll be cured.  Take this home and tell her to drink it all, and I’ll give you another tomorrow.”

“This is a blessing, a real blessing.  It’s like the gods of old have come back to bless us,” Gance told him.  “If there is anything I can do, anything at all to return this favor, any price, please let me know.”

One of the dogs jumped especially high at that moment and administered a wet lick to Theus’s face with uncanny accuracy, before dropping back to earth.

“Could you, as a favor, find a different place to take these dogs every night?” Theus asked, blurting out the question without even thinking, but instantly knowing it was the right favor to request.  It would free him from the captivity of having to sleep on the kitchen floor with the animals, and free Letta from the chores and hassles of cleaning the kitchen after the dogs wrought havoc.

“Why, of course,” Gance answered.  “We can go back to the kennels in the stables and leave them there.

“To be honest, I was never sure why we were told to bring them to the kitchen in the first place,” the man said in a lower, confidential voice.

“You bring them back here tomorrow and I’ll give you a couple of doses of medicine for your wife, and then you can take the dogs off to the kennels.  Is that a deal?” Theus proposed.

“It’s a deal,” Gance said enthusiastically.  “You can tell these dogs this is their last night to sleep here,” he said as he started to back away.  He held the jar of medicine for his wife in his hand as he left Theus, turned towards the door, and walked out of the kitchen.

Theus looked down at the dogs, who had grown quiet.  “Time to put out the bed?” he asked them, as they all watched him inquisitively.

He walked with them to the corner where the blankets and bedding were stored in a cupboard.  He spread the cloth about for the dogs to lie down on, then left them while he finished the final steps in his preparation of the medicine for the burn victim.  When he finished, he moved everything to a separate counter, the medicines separated and ready to be administered, and the extra ingredients back in the canvas bag he had carried them in.

And after that, he went to the dogs and pushed a pair aside to make room for himself, so that he could fall asleep and rest for another evening as a slave in Southsand.

Chapter 5

The dogs were on their way out the door with their daytime attendant as Theus opened his sleepy eyes in the morning.  He lowered his head and rested in a dozing state of weary awareness.  When the morning bakers came into the kitchen with their noise and their lanterns, he awoke again.  He stretched, put the bedding away, thankful to know that it was the last time he’d have to sleep with the dogs, then went to join the bakers.

Minutes after the bakers were bustling around the kitchen, Letta entered as well.  Her eyes spotted Theus, confirmed his presence, and then she proceeded to talk to the bakers to check on the status of the day’s baking.  When that conversation ended, she strode rapidly over to see Theus.

“You were out quite a while yesterday shopping.  Are you sure you didn’t drag the errands out so that you could be free from the palace?” she asked him.

“No, my lady,” he replied earnestly.  “We had to go to different markets to find all the things we needed.  The cure for the burns is very complicated.”  He didn’t want to admit that it was far more complicated than any of remedy he had produced in his short career of helping to treat illnesses.

“And we treated Losa too, Gance’s wife,” he added.

“Who?” Letta asked sharply.  “Who’s Losa?  Who’s Gance?”

Gance is the doghandler who brings the dogs here every night,” Theus answered.  “His wife was ill, and since we were near her home, Molly and I went and gave her a quick treatment.  It didn’t take long.”

“You’re not here to be an angel of mercy to the whole city,” Letta lectured him, but her tone wasn’t as astringent as it might have been.  “We need you and Molly here in the palace, helping us manage this undermanned kitchen.

“Your act of kindness didn’t help us with that, did it?” she asked rhetorically.

“Because I treated his wife, Gance agreed that he’s not going to bring the dogs to sleep in the kitchen anymore,” Theus sprung his pleasant surprise upon his chief.

“What?  No more dogs in the kitchen?” Letta took a step back to scrutinize Theus.  “You bargained to get those animals out?”

“And to stay out,” Theus agreed.  “I need to give Gance another set of medicines tonight, and he and the dogs will go away.  I’ll need to return to the markets briefly to get a few ingredients, if my lady allows,” he told her.

“Well of course!  To keep those dogs away, you can go right now,” she told him.

“I don’t know the way,” Theus admitted.   “I didn’t pay attention to the directions.  I’ll need Molly again.”

“She’s got other duties today, but I’ll find someone for you after breakfast.  This won’t take all day, will it?” Letta wanted to know.

“No, it’s an easy remedy.  “One visit to one market will do it,” Theus promised.

‘Well, that’s good work on your part.  Thank you,” Letta had finished digesting the advantage of no longer having to worry about the dogs wrecking the kitchen, and knew it was a boon.  “When can you start treating the burn victims?  Tomorrow?” she switched topics to something else that weighed on her mind.

“Later today – this afternoon – if someone can lead me to where they are,” Theus replied.  “I’ve got the treatment all ready to go for the first patient,” he gestured at the jars that sat on the counter.

“I’ll have,” Letta eyed him speculatively, then grinned, “I’ll have Torella take you around the city today.  Go have a seat and wait for your breakfast and stay out of the way,” she directed him.  Without another glance she turned and left the medical counter space.

Theus watched her leave, then walked closer to the active center of the kitchen and sat down, pleased that he had persuaded Letta to trust him out in the city once again.  He yawned and watched the working crew apply increasing energy to their tasks as the work of the kitchen came to life, and before long, a few snacks were casually passed his way to munch on contentedly while the morning menu was rounded out for the nobles and royals and servants who occupied the palace.

Sometime later, a small, pretty girl with frizzy red hair handed him a plate silently, then stood nearby watching him as he started to eat the bacon that was always his first target to consume on a breakfast plate.

“Would you like a piece?” Theus asked after a minute, as he grew slightly unnerved by the girl’s studied observation of him.

She shook her head gently in the negative.  Theus ate some of the fruit that also sat on his plate, while the girl watched him still, but before he started on the toast, he looked directly at her.  “Do you want some of the toast?” he asked crossly.  Her blatant study of him had crossed the line from odd to rude.  He knew that he was still wearing the same clothes he’d worn for two days, but he was only a new slave, and she was presumably still only a slave herself.

“What do you want?” he asked crossly.

“I’m waiting to be your guide,” she answered.

“You’re Torella?” he asked in surprise.

“I am,” she bobbed her head in agreement.

“I’m finished,” he pushed the plate away and stood up.  “Do I have to wear a collar again like I did yesterday?”

“Yes,” she nodded.  She was wearing an apron over her skirt, Theus realized, as she reached into a pocket beneath the apron and pulled out a collar for him.

Theus approached her, and she motioned for him to bend down.  She was petite, and Theus bent at both the knees and the waist to lower his head sufficiently for her.  Their eyes were on the same level, and he stared at her green eyes as she watched her own fingers fasten the collar around his neck.

“What does this collar do, anyway?” Theus asked.  “Why do I need to wear it?  Molly didn’t wear anything when we went out yesterday.  You not going to wear one today, are you?” he asked her.

“I don’t need to wear one.  The magicians know I’m not going to run away,” she replied succinctly.

“Magicians?” Theus scoffed in disbelief.

“The king has magicians who can cast spells,” Torella answered.  “They can cause great pain for those who wear these collars. The collars can only be put on and off inside the palace grounds, or so far away from the magicians that they can’t reach you.  If you have one on outside the palace, and try to run away, the magician casts his spell, and you come running back to the palace to make it stop.

“That’s what they say, anyway,” she added.

Theus ran a finger around the collar, finding it more uncomfortable than it had seemed the day before.

“Let’s go to the market,” he said.

Torella nodded silently, then led him out of the kitchen and through the palace, into the courtyard in the early morning.  They left through the same gate that Molly had used, and they walked through the city to a market that might have been one Theus had visited with Molly, though he wasn’t sure.  Torella was silent throughout the journey, speaking only when spoken to, and answering with few words even then.  Her silence intrigued Theus, who came to see it as a challenge, and resolved to make the girl talk.

“How long have you been a slave?” he asked.

“Since I was born,” she told him only that, and no more.

“Do you have any medical problems?” he asked.

“No,” she answered. Frustrating his hopes of being able to heal some problem.

Eventually, as they browsed through the stalls of the market, he gave up the game.  When they had the things they needed to blend additional doses for Losa’s goiter cure, they left the market and returned to the palace.  Torella removed the unpleasant collar from Theus, then sat down on a stool near the counter where he had placed his new supplies.

“You can go now,” he said absently, as he began to think about the process of mixing Losa’s medication.

“I’m supposed to guide you to the hospice where the burn victims are,” she said.

“It’ll be a while.  I want to mix this first,” he answered.

“I’ll wait,” Torella told him calmly.

Theus felt a sense of irritation at the girl’s continued presence, but he turned his back to her and attempted to forget about her as he carried out the production of three extra doses of the medicine that Losa would need to finish the treatment of her goiter.  He’d be able to give the three jars to Gance in the evening, and then be able – he hoped – to go to his own room and sleep on a bed of his own, to settle into a more normal life.

Except that he wasn’t going to settle in, he sharply rebuked himself.  He wasn’t going to accept his role as a slave.  He was going to study his environment, and learn how to put an end to his captivity.  Learning about the collar that was supposedly controlled by magic was an example of the types of things he needed to learn.

Within an hour he had three doses of the medicine prepared.  He pushed them to the back of the counter, then cleaned up his work space and finally lifted the first canister of medicine that was needed to treat the terrible burns he had seen.

“I’m ready to go start making life better for Weese,” he said to Torella.  “Would you lead me to the hospice where he stays?”

“You mean Ruune, don’t you?” Torella answered.  “You want to go heal Ruune first.  He’s the one that was burnt the most.  He’s the one who tried to help the others escape the fire.   You should treat him first.

“He’s in the same hospice anyway, so that’s where we’re heading,” the girl spoke more words, with more passion, than Theus had expected.  He looked at her in surprise.

“I guess I could treat Ruune,” he agreed cautiously.  “I was only going to treat one of the victims to start, just to make sure everything works the way I expect.”

“You could treat more than one,” Torella suggested.  “You really ought to, as a matter of fact.”

“I don’t have the items I need to make another set of the doses,” he explained.

“After you treat Ruune, we can go back to the market and get more of the things you need, so you can treat Weese.  That would work, wouldn’t it?” the girl asked earnestly.

Theus drummed his fingers on the counter absentmindedly as he tried to estimate what the time requirements would be to carry out Torella’s suggested new routine.

“If we go treat Ruune, and then go to the market, I can mix the new treatment for Weese, but I may not be able to administer it to him until the evening.  It’s a complicated remedy,” he said slowly.

“I’ll stay with you and guide you everywhere you need, right into the middle of the night if needed,” Torella had grown passionate and loquacious.

“Okay,” Theus decided to fulfill the girl’s request.  He could take the actions, and perhaps have a chance to learn something from her, about her, especially regarding why the treatment for Ruune was so important.

“Take me to the hospice, and then we’ll go out to the markets again,” he said as he gathered up his jars and his bag for carrying the new supplies.

“And one more thing,” he added suddenly.  “I’m not going to wear that collar.”

She stared at him.  “That’s not my rule.  I’m not in charge of that.”

“If you try to make me wear it, I’m not going to treat Ruune, and we’re not going shopping for more supplies,” he told her.  There was a noise in the front of the kitchen, and Theus saw Letta talking to a dishwasher.  “I’ll ask Letta to give me a different guide.  She’s right there,” he threatened.

“Oh, you’re a terrible person!” Torella wailed.  “This is unfair!  Why are you doing this to me?  Just wear the collar.”

“Letta,” Theus called loudly.  He wasn’t sure why he was letting the whole situation escalate into a drama, but his dander was up and his ego was in charge suddenly.  He wanted to prove to the girl that he could have an impact.

“No, no, it’s okay.  You don’t have to wear the collar,” Torella surrendered to his demand.

Letta looked up from her spot at the sound of her name.  Theus waved at her, then looked away.

“Let’s go now,” he said.

“You won’t run away, will you?  You promise?” Torella made one last plea.

“I won’t run away this time.  Not today,” Theus agreed.

The pair walked through the kitchen.

“Did you want something, Theus?” Letta asked.

“I just wanted to say hello,” he assured her, and then the furtive pair were out the door and walking through the palace.

Torella led Theus through unfamiliar halls – they were all still unfamiliar to him – and then outside.  Minutes later they were at the door to the small white clapboard building.

Theus opened the door and stepped in.  “Come on,” he told Torella.

“I can’t.  I’ll wait out here,” she told him in a strangled tone.

“You’re a strange person,” Theus blurted out.

“I know.  I’m sorry.  Thank you for helping Ruune.  Please go do your work now; I’ll be waiting here,” she answered.

Theus shrugged and went in.  He asked the attendant where Ruune was, and then turned right instead of left, and entered a different ward of the medical facility than he had entered before.  In the third bed on the right he found Ruune.

Theus studied the scarred and ruined flesh that lay on the bed, filled with compassion and horror.  Ruune had one arm missing, and the other badly withered and scarred.  The man was a vast mass of scars, and had virtually no face left.  He had taken a full blast of intense heat, and somehow survived, in a fashion.

“Can you hear me?” Theus asked quietly.  The head of the disfigured man rolled slight towards him.

“My name is Theus.  Letta sent me to try some medicines to help treat burn scars and injuries.  “I’m here to visit you,” Theus told the man.  “I have some medicine that can help you.  We’ll see how much it can help.”

Theus had doubts.  Though his implanted memories from the stone had shown him severe burn scars that had healed, none had been as horrific as the damage done to the lump of flesh that lay on the bed in front of him.

The man gave a hollow groan as his response, and Theus felt compassion for all that the man had lost, and the pain he must have suffered.  He set his bag down, pulled out the jar of the first ointment he needed to apply, and opened it.

Theus took some of the ointment, placed it in both hands, and grasped the badly burned arm, running his hands up and down from the fingerless hand to the shoulder, smearing the cream over the rough flesh.  He dipped his fingers into the jar again, then took a deep breath before dabbing the ointment gently around the perimeter of the man’s face, followed by gently rubbing and spreading it around, including upon the hairless scalp that wasn’t resting on the pillow.  Nearly half of his supply was gone, and he knew he’d have to make a second dose just to finish Ruune, not to mention what he would need to apply to Weese.  He continued to spread the medicine across the expanses of the scarred chest and torso of the man, before he ran out of what he had prepared.  He closed up the empty jar, while he placed the two jars of lotion he would need for the next two applications on the floor beneath the bed.

“I’ll be back later today, or maybe tomorrow, and we’ll finish this up,” he told his voiceless patient.  “I hope we’re going to make things much better for you.  Much, much better,” he emphasized.

Theus picked up his bag and left the hospice.  Torella was sitting on the ground, leaning against the building, but sprang to her feet immediately.  “Did you see him?  Did you treat him?  Is he better?”

“I saw him,” Theus said heavily.  “I treated him with what I had, which wasn’t enough; I’ll need to make more to finish healing his wounds.  And I don’t know how well I can help his worst wounds.  It’s,” he stopped talking, at a loss for words to describe.

“I know; I understand,” Torella surprised him by taking his hand in her smaller one.   “Thank you,” she told him.  “Let’s go to the markets now,” she released his hand and led the way through the palace to the front, and then out the gate and into the city.

They proceeded to visit four markets to find all that Theus wanted, including the market by the waterfront where Theus had found the sea-based items he required.  He was cautiously on the lookout for trouble, as he recollected the drunken sailors Molly and he had encountered earlier, but Torella and he entered no taverns and finished their trip without incident.

When they got back to the kitchen in the palace, Theus set to work producing more of the ointment needed for the first round of treatment for the burn victims.  Torella brought him a bowl of stew from the stove top, and the two of them ate together while Theus continued to work in the late afternoon.

Why is it so important to you that I treat Ruune?” Theus asked after a stretch of silence during their time together.

“Ruune is my betrothed,” Torella said softly.  “Or he was.  I hope he will be again, after you bring him back to me.”

“I’ll do the best I can. I’m really going to try,” Theus answered, surprised by the girl’s answer.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

Two hours later he was finished creating the new batch of the first medication that he would administer to the patients in the three-step process he planned to use.  Torella stood hopefully by, her eyes showing tiredness from the long period of waiting.

“Let’s go to the hospice,” Theus told her, as he held a jar of ointment in each hand.

The girl led him through the palace, and Theus found that some spots were beginning to look familiar, a sign that perhaps he was beginning to remember the layout of the routes he traveled.  When they reached the hospice, Torella again decided to wait outside.  “I just can’t bear to see him like that,” she explained tearfully.

Theus entered the hospice building once again, and finished rubbing his ointment upon the untreated burnt portions of Ruune’s body.  Afterwards, he crossed to the other side of the hospice building to see Weese.

“I was here with Letta yesterday, and she told me to give you some medical treatment to improve your condition,” Theus told the man when he walked up to Weese’s bed.

“The best thing you could do is to help me take the long sleep and be done with all of this pain,” the man answered grumpily.

Theus opened his jar, and rubbed some of the ointment on Weese’s shoulder, before the man knew what was happening.

“It’s chilly,” he complained.  “But,” he began, then paused.   “It feels like its tingling, like something is happening.”

“I have to put this on you today.  It won’t do much,” Theus said.  “Then I’ll put a different lotion on you tomorrow, and that will start to show some results.  Then, on the third day, I’ll apply the final potion, and after that we just wait a few days for everything to work as best it can.”

“We’ll see,” Weese said skeptically, but he remained silent as Theus spread the first ointment upon his face and arms and body.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Theus promised when he was finished.

“I hope you bring me hope,” Weese said.

“I’ll try,” Theus promised, and then he was on his way back to meet Torella.

“Now, could you show me where the North Hall is?” Theus asked.

Torella executed a double take, looking at him, then jerking her head to look at him again.

“Why?” she asked.

“I have a room there, but I’ve never been to it. I’d like to know the way to go there so I can get some sleep tonight,” Theus explained.  “Is that a problem?”

“No, it just happens to be my home too,” Torella answered.  “I thought maybe you knew that somehow, though I know that doesn’t make any sense,” she was flustered, Theus could tell.

They walked in silence for several seconds, before Torella spoke again.

“So you still have to mix up the batches of the medicine that you have to give them the next step?” she asked.

“Yes, I’ll do that tomorrow, and then put it on them,” Theus confirmed.

“This is the north hall,” Torella told him as they walked past a building.  “Here’s the front door,” she motioned.

“Thank you,” Theus murmured to her as he stopped and looked at the building, studying it.  He looked forward to spending the night sleeping there.

“Okay, now show me the way back to the kitchen, so that I can memorize it before I try to come home tonight,” he told her.

“Why don’t you just let me walk you back after dinner?” Torella offered.

“That’s nice of you,” Theus said sincerely, “but I have to stay late, to meet Gance the dog handler, to give him his wife’s medicine, so I’ll be late.”

“I’ll wait,” Torella told him.  “Let’s not fight about it.  I’m just so happy that you’re doing all of this.”

When they arrived back at the kitchen, waves of food trays were being sent to a banquet in one of the meeting halls, while other meals were going to various destination.  Theus and Torella split apart to help with chores; Theus with dishwashing, and Torella with delivery.

“Are you healing my friend?” Letta came up to Theus and asked.

“I applied the first dose today,” he confirmed.

“And how quickly will we see results?” Letta wanted to know.

“Not before the third part of the application.  It may be five or six days before we know if this works,” he warned.

“That’s if you don’t join the army or the palace guard first,” Letta suggested.

“I don’t understand,” Theus said.

“Molly has quite a story about you beating four men in a tavern, using just a stick,” Letta studied him closely as she spoke.  “Molly isn’t one to make things up, you know.”

“Oh, that,” Theus said flatly.  He didn’t want people to know too much about him or pay too much attention to him.  He wanted to remain unknown until the time came to escape from slavery.

“What are you that you know how to brawl and how to heal?” Letta asked.  “What kind of surprises do you have hidden?”

“I’m not that special,” Theus differed.  “You know me for what I am here,” he told her.

“I do, and I’m going to keep using you for all you’ve got, don’t worry.  And I’m not going to use you badly either, my young mystery,” she said with a hint of affection.

“Clean those dishes and then get some sleep,” she patted his shoulder, then left him to go oversee other operations.

Theus finished his work with the dish-washing team over an hour later, and discovered that Torella was sitting by his medical supply counter, waiting for him.

“You will not believe the things that Molly is saying about you!” Torella whispered eagerly as soon as he joined her.

“Is she telling people I fought in a tavern?” Theus asked.

“No, she’s saying it wasn’t a fight, because the other men didn’t stand a chance against you!” Torella answered.  “What a crazy story.

“It’s not true, is it?” she asked a moment later, when Theus didn’t deny it.

“It is true,” he answered.  “We saw the men starting to mistreat the waitress, and I made them stop.  They were all so drunk they could hardly stand on their feet.  It wasn’t much of a fight, I’ll tell you.”

“Have you been in other fights like that?  You don’t seem like a fighter?” the girl asked.  Her chin was resting prettily in her hand as she leaned on the counter, studying him.

“I haven’t been in many fights,” Theus answered.  “I practiced with the staff, but never really used it.”  He paused as he thought of the practice sessions he had shared with Coriae.

“What about you?  Have you been in many fights?” he tried to change the subject.

“I’m small enough that folks don’t think of fighting me,” she said in a practical tone.  “And then Ruune started watching out for me, and that scared people off if they thought of fighting.”

“Is Ruune a good fighter?” Theus asked.

“He is.   He fought to protect me one time when one of the waiters was getting too friendly with me,” she told Theus, “and then I found out he was sweet on me, and we just became a couple.”

The pair chatted, each revealing some things about themselves, until the kitchen’s exterior door opened, and Gance and the four dogs entered the kitchen.

“These are for Losa,” Theus said, as he handed over the three jars of medicine.  “She’ll be fine when she takes one each day.”

“She’s so much better already!” the man said joyfully.  “You’ve saved our lives!  How can I repay you?”

Theus shook off the talk of repayment, and soon the dogs and the man were gone.

“So, are you ready to go home now?” Torella asked.

“I am,” Theus said with satisfaction.  He would finally be able to have a bed to sleep in, one that he could call his own.  It was a small achievement, but he wanted to accomplish it.

He walked with Torella through the night time palace halls.  As they moved along one passageway they passed a great deal of music and laughter.

“There must be a ball going on in there.  They usually hold those in the other end of the palace,” she commented.  They walked on without stopping, and soon exited the palace, to return to the outdoors.

“Look at those stars overhead,” Torella said wistfully.  “Wouldn’t it be something to be as free as the stars?”

“It’s better than being a slave,” Theus agreed.

“That’s right, you’ve been free,” Torella answered.

“Well, here we are,” she said then as they came to a dimly lit doorway, the entrance to the north hall.

“Thank you for the guidance,” Theus told her as he held the door open.  They both went to the staircase, and both walked out through the third floor door.

“Are you on this floor?” Torella asked.

“Yes,” Theus affirmed, as they walked down the hall together.  “I’m in room five.”

Torella grabbed his arm and halted him.  “I’m in room six; we’re neighbors!”

“You don’t snore loudly, do you?” Theus asked with a laugh.

“You’ll never know,” Torella said primly, then laughed.   They walked the length of the dark hall, until Torella stopped.  “This is my room, at least for a while.  Yours is the next door down.”

Theus felt Torella’s small hand grab his, then shake it gently.  “Thank you for helping Ruune.  Someday, when he’s better and healthy and working, he and I will be married, then I’ll move out of here to live with him, and you can have my room!  You can make it your doctor office!” she laughed.

Theus laughed with her, then watched her dim shape enter the room and close the door behind.  She had come out of her shell, and was open with him.  He found that he liked her – she would be good to have as a neighbor and friend.  She was different from Coriae in so many ways, but yet a reminder of why he loved Coriae – the possibilities of conversation and laughter and romance.

And then he went to his own room.  Inside was completely dark, until he opened the curtain, and let the faint moonlight and star light offer some illumination.  He stripped off his shirt, pleased to think that he would be able to wear something clean in the morning for a change.  And then he was lying on the hard, thin mattress of his bed, pleased to have a place of his own for the first time in several days, and he fell asleep.

Chapter 6

Theus awoke in the darkness.  He heard the sound of gentle knocking on his door.

“Who is it?” he asked as he swung his feet over the side of the bed and sat up.

“Theus?” he heard his door open as a feminine voice spoke, then light appeared as a hand-held candle was thrust through the open door.  “May I come in?”

“Who is it?” Theus asked again, groggily.

“It’s me, Torella, your neighbor,” the voice was impatient with his question.

“Come in, please,” he replied.  He rose to his feet and briefly looked around the room in the light the candle provided.  There was his pile of clean clothes that he had left earlier, and a small pile of cloth, the bed coverings that Letta had promised to have delivered.  There wasn’t much else.

Torella appeared, dressed and ready for the day.

“I thought you might like to walk to the kitchen together this morning,” she told him.  “Otherwise, you might get lost,” she said mischievously.

“Thank you,” he told her.  “I just woke up; I’m not ready yet.”

“I can wait a few minutes,” she told him.  “Let me go get a candle for you.  It looks like you don’t have one.”

“I don’t,” he agreed, and watched her slip out of the door.

When she returned a moment later, with candles in each hand, she asked, “do you know where the wash rooms are?  Would you like for me to show you?”

To his surprise, she led him to the stairs and up a flight to the fourth floor.  “The men’s room is up here; we have a woman’s room on our floor.  There’s only one other man on our floor, and only three women on the fourth floor, so we separated the wash rooms like this.  The washroom is the first door on the right.  I’ll meet you back in my room when you’re ready, but don’t be long.”

Theus complied with Torella’s command, and minutes later knocked on her door, then opened it.  The room was feminine with frills and colors.

“Do you like it?” Torella asked, as she extinguished her candle.  “I could decorate your room to look just like it,” she told him impishly.

“Let’s think about that later, much later,” Theus laughed, and the pair walked through the brightening morning air to the kitchen, where the bakers were already busy at work with the day’s orders.

“What will you do today?” Torella asked.  “Oh, you’ll be healing the burn people, Ruune and Weese.  Will that take long?   What else will you do?  What’s your regular assignment?”

“Washing dishes?” Theus hazarded a guess.  He hadn’t had any inkling of a regular assignment; Letta hadn’t mentioned anything to him.

“What about you?  What do you do?” he asked.  “Besides wasting time walking me around town?”

“I try to avoid getting pinched and kissed,” she told him, causing him to look at her quizzically.

“I deliver meals to noblemen who are eating alone in their rooms,” she explained.  “They’re always happy to see a pretty girl deliver a meal, but sometimes some of them get too happy.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” she surprised him by asking.

“Yes, certainly,” he answered.

“I didn’t want to talk to you at first yesterday, because I didn’t want you to think you could get familiar with me,” she confided.  “But you’ve turned out to be a good person, and I don’t worry about that now.”

Theus felt pleased by the girl’s growing confidence in him, and he vowed to himself that he’d continue to earn it while he remained in the palace.

“Theus?” just then he heard Letta call his name.  He turned to see the head of the kitchen approaching.

“How did you two get along yesterday?” she asked as she reached the spot where Theus and Torella stood.

“We did pretty well as a team,” Theus answered, as Torella nodded her head.

“You’re going to treat our friends in the hospice today?” Letta asked.  “How long will it take?”

“No more than an hour or so,” Theus answered.  “I have to mix some of it today as well.”

“Do you need to go to the market to but anything else?” Letta asked.

“Not unless you want me to treat someone else,” he countered.

“As of now, I don’t.  So why don’t you accompany Torella while she makes her deliveries today – help keep her out of trouble, okay?” Letta assigned him.

The two looked at each other and laughed.

“I take it that’s a ‘yes’?” Letta said.

“Yes,” they each said in unison.

“Don’t you two get in trouble with each other,” Letta warned.

“No ma’am,” Torella answered.

“And you can start early.  The armory commander wants breakfast for four delivered for a meeting this morning at his office. Why don’t you all run over there as soon as the food comes off the stove?” Letta ordered.

Theus’s ears perked up at the name of the location as the armory.  He hadn’t even considered the likelihood of one being located in the palace, as his head had spun with the need to adjust to his changed status.  But in just a few minutes, he would be sent on his way to the armory, to learn where it was and how it was run.

“What’s that look in your eye?” Torella asked him.

“I was just thinking.  Nothing,” Theus hastily replied.  “I’ll go get started on mixing the medicines for this afternoon,” he stepped away and walked over to the counter where the bag of unused supplies waited for him to resume his work.  He opened the bag and began measuring out ingredients for several minutes, until Torella called his name.

“Are you ready?” she asked, walking halfway towards him from the other end of the kitchen.

Theus left his unfinished concoction on the counter and joined Torella, letting her place three of the four warm breakfast plates on small cushions on his arms, while she carried the fourth plate and a carrier with bottles of juice.

“Follow me, and don’t dawdle,” she ordered him authoritatively, then proceeded to move with a quick step out of the kitchen, out into the hallways of the palace, and into a maze that looked unfamiliar to Theus.  She stopped at a pair of double doors and pulled one open, at which point Theus knew where they were.

He smelled the familiar scent of the armory – ten times stronger than the scent he had known in the Warrell estate armory, but the same nonetheless.  It was a musky mélange of sweat and leather and wood and metal, all deeply ingrained in all the artifacts of the armory, even into the very floor and walls and ceiling of the space.

“Phew!” Torella wrinkled her nose.  “I hate coming here!”

They entered the room, where Theus heard only a pair of practice competitions taking place in a vast hall that was large enough to hold scores of battles.  Torella walked along one edge of the room to a set of doors, then knocked briefly, and entered, followed by Theus.

There were four men in military uniforms at a table at one end of the room, while a large desk dominated the other end.  The men had large pieces of paper that Theus recognized were maps, spread across their table top.

“Steep Rise will fall if the magician is right,” one of the men said.  “But which direction do we go next?  Exlive or Stoke itself?”

“Wait,” the man at the end of the table held a hand out to cease the conversation as Torella placed her plate of food in front of him.  She put down her bottles, then led Theus around the table, taking his plates from him one by one to serve the other members of the meeting.

“Will there be anything else, my lord?” she asked meekly when the service was done.

“That’s all for the moment.  Why don’t you wait outside for a few minutes, then clear these things away when we’re done?” the commander at the head of the table spoke again.

“Yes, my lord,” she replied.  She gave a curtsey, and led Theus towards the door.

“A dainty dish there,” Theus heard one of the officers say as the pair of slaves exited the room.

“What do we do now?” Theus asked.

“We wait,” Torella answered, leaning back against a wall.

Theus stood beside her for a few moments, then gave in to his curiosity, and walked down the wall to where a number of wooden practice swords were stored in racks.  He idly pulled one off the rack and assumed the position Vanline had taught him as the beginning of any engagement.  He was conscious of Torella’s eyes upon him, as he began to advance through the motions that had been so rigorously drilled into his consciousness.

“You look very elegant,” the girl said with a smile, stepping closer to observe him.

“Would you like to try?” Theus offered.

“I’ve never done anything like that in my life!” she laughed.

“Here,” Theus slid over to her, flipping the sword in the air so that he extended the handle towards her.

“Okay,” she said, taking the handle.  “Now what?”

Theus grinned, and stepped around behind her.

“Here, hold your elbow cocked just so,” he reached around her body, adjusting her posture, suddenly aware of her scent and her small, compact body that began to lean back against his.

“Now, move forward with your body, as you extend your arm, and take a step,” he pressed a leg against hers to signal the move, while his hand on her forearm pulled her, and his chest and hips against her back pressed her forward.

“I feel so militant!” she laughed, and turned her head on her shoulders, looking back and up at him.   Their faces were quite close, and the sparkle in her eyes seemed unnaturally bright and appealing as they looked at one another.

Their mutual smiles faded, as they looked at one another and felt the warmth of one another.  It was intimate – an intimacy Theus had not known or thought about for several days, and it ensnared both of them for having bubbled up in such an unexpected moment.

“What do we have here, a slave boy sword master?” a voice spoke with a loud laugh.

Both Theus and Torella’s heads snapped up and swiveled around to see that one of the officers from the meeting at the table was standing at the door, observing them.

“If the lady really wants to learn about how to handle a man’s sword, I can give her a lesson,” the officer said.

“No better than the lesson I can teach her,” Theus said hotly.  He was mad about the interruption, embarrassed to be made fun of, and angry at himself for having fallen so close to changing the nature of his relationship with Torella.

“Whoa ho!” the officer laughed, as the others came to the doorway to see what the topic of the mirth was.

Theus released his hold on Torella and ended his body’s pressing contact with her.

“Would you accept a challenge?” he asked the officer boldly.

“Theus,” Torella hissed.  “No!  you’re a slave.  A slave!  You don’t challenge the officers of the palace.”

“Well,” the officer said softly, stepping forward.

“Go on, Montuse, see what the boy has to offer!  Maybe he’s an untapped talent,” one of the men behind him said.

“Theus, put the sword down and apologize, and let’s just go get the plates and get out of here,” Torella begged him.

“Go ahead and listen to the reasonable young lady,” Montuse the officer mocked him.

“No,” Theus answered.  “I think I can beat him.”

“Let me get one of those swords.  Alamice, will you officiate?” Montuse asked one of the others, an older man.  Montuse appeared to be in his thirties in age, while all the others were older.

“Let’s just use this practice mat right here,” Alamice suggested.

“Go easy on the boy, Montuse,” he said in a softer tone.

Montuse approached the mat with a wooden sword in hand.  “We’d normally wear padding, but I’ll make sure I don’t strike you too hard,” he said to Theus as they took positions facing each other.

“First to land three strikes wins,” Alamice said.  “Fighters, go,” he called the beginning of the match.

Montuse approached Theus with astonishing speed, and tapped him on the shoulder within five seconds, before Theus even had his defenses up.

As Montuse backed away, smugly smiling with satisfaction, Theus managed to lunge low and land a tap on the man’s thigh.

“The score is one to one,” Alamice announced.

The other two officers murmured in low tones to one another.

The contestants stood cautiously, eyeing each other.

“Was that luck, or thoughtful?” Montuse asked.  “I think it was luck,” he said, as he stamped a foot then lunged towards Theus once again.

Theus blocked the thrust cleanly, and with a riposte brought his own wooden blade to within an inch of Montuse’s shoulder, before the officer managed to block the attack and send it rising above its target.

Theus stepped back before Montuse could recover, and he feinted high again, then struck low, tapping the side of the man’s thigh.

“The score is two for the slave, one for Montuse,” Alamice intoned in a neutral voice.

“Is this a trick?” Montuse asked aloud.  “General, Benitte, did one of you dress one of your guards as a slave and bring him in today?”

“As far as we know, he’s just a slave,” one of the men answered.  Neither Montuse or Theus shifted their eyes to look at the two; the two contestants held a steady gaze that examined each other.

“Okay slave, let’s see how you react to this,” Montuse launched a furious attack that drove Theus two steps backwards, until Montuse started to back up himself.  As Theus tried to advance, Montuse startled him by flipping his sword from his right hand to his left, and planted a tap squarely in the middle of Theus’s chest.

“The score is tied, two to two.  The next touch wins,” Alamice let a hint of excitement creep into his voice.

“That was tricky,” Theus said.

“But completely within the rules,” Montuse countered, as they engaged in a desultory exchange of strikes against one another.

“I do not doubt it, ”Theus answered.  “But if it was acceptable, so is this,” and he flipped his own sword to his left hand, lunged forward rapidly, pulled back, and flipped the sword to his right hand again, and landed a sound strike on Montuse’s shoulder as the man tried to shift and re-shift his stance.

“The match goes to,” Alamice said in a soft voice, “the slave.”

Theus looked at Montuse.  The officer had provided competition as least as challenging as anyone he had faced during the Great Falls tournament.  The man had been good, very good.  Theus knew that they both had begun the match with over-confident expectations of an easy victory, and both had found the challenge to be far above their expectations.

Theus raised his sword in front of his face, then bowed deeply.

“You were a very good opponent,” he said.  “That was a worthy battle.”

“Listen to the slave being gracious!” one of the observers crowed.

Montuse bowed in return, then hesitantly held out his hand.  “It doesn’t matter if he’s a slave or an officer; he’s one of the best swordsmen in the palace.”

The two shook hands, Theus grinning suddenly, until he turned and saw Torella looking at him with large eyes in a pale face.

“I’ll help clean up your plates now, my lords,” he belatedly remembered that he was not a successful swordsman at the moment; he happened to be a slave.  Seconds later he had the sword back in its spot in the rack, and he held his head down as he walked with the silent Torella into the office, where they collected the plates without speaking a word, then left the office, as the men in uniforms filtered in.

“What’s your name, slave?” Montuse asked.

“Theus, my lord,” Theus replied automatically.

“Come back and bring us breakfast again tomorrow, will you?” the officer asked.

“Yes my lord, if my supervisor permits,” Theus agreed in a low voice.

Torella bumped her shoulder against him in a meaningful way, and the two of them shot out of the office with their load of dishes, then walked in silence until they were out of the armory.

“Maurienne!  That was something!” Torella swore the goddess’s name and gushed as soon as they were five feet beyond the doorway.   “You left him absolutely flummoxed!

“You beat an officer with a sword!  I can’t believe it!  Molly was really telling the truth, wasn’t she?” Torella’s words were a torrent of astonishment.  “How can someone like you be a slave?”

“I was captured,” Theus answered simply.  His heart was still pounding from the adrenaline rush of the competition, but his mind was already starting to move beyond the physical event to consider the implications.  He might have stirred up trouble for himself, he realized.

“Let’s go finish mixing the treatment for Ruune and Weese, then go to the hospice,” he wanted to end the conversation and deflect it to a different topic.

They returned to the kitchen, and Torella was assigned to make another delivery, while Theus isolated himself in his corner counter, and hoped that no one would pay any attention to him.  He resumed the preparation of the burn treatment medicine where he had left off, but an hour later, a movement in the front of the kitchen caught his eye.

A man wearing a uniform entered the kitchen and spoke to a butcher.  The butcher shook his head, then left, while the officer remained standing in place.  A minute later, the butcher returned, and then Letta came to speak to the officer.  The two conversed momentarily, then Letta’s head jerked sharply towards Theus, who studiously focused all his attention on the bowls of materials in front of him on the counter.  He worked industriously for five minutes, until he heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Theus, a word,” Letta’s voice was behind him.  He turned, and felt momentary relief that she was alone, not accompanied by the officer.

“I just had a visitor, as you know,” she said in an extremely controlled, level voice.  “And I’m sure you know what he wanted to speak to me about.”

“Was it this morning?” Theus asked in a barely audible voice.  “I’m so sorry,” he continued before Letta could even confirm that it was.  “It just happened, and I know it shouldn’t have.

“Torella told me to let it go,” he jumped immediately to the defense of the girl, wanting to shield her from any blame for the incident.  “She reminded me I was just a slave.

“But I was mad, and the officer made fun of me, and I just reacted,” it was the story of the tavern in Great Forks all over again, he knew.  His temper had taken him into trouble.  That first trouble had been the cause of his decision to sail onboard the Swaigg, leading to his enslavement.  And now he had compounded the problem.

“Theus,” Letta sat down on a stool, and motioned for him to do the same.  “I find that in just these few days, I have already grown fond of you.

“I had a son once, who would have been just your age right now if he had been allowed to live.  But the priests of Maurienne took him as a sacrifice when he was small,” her eyes grew moist, and she stopped speaking momentarily until the emotional memory passed.

“If he had lived, he might have grown to be a boy like you, and I would be very proud of him.  But if he was as impetuous as you, I would tell him that his foolish actions are going to be the end of him,” she was trying to counsel Theus in a very real, kind-hearted manner.

“Now, as it turns out, in this case, not all is so bad,” Letta’s voice changed, and Theus looked up at her, attentive to the unexpected note.

“You apparently handle a sword pretty well?” she asked him.

Theus gave a nod, his teeth biting his lips.

“The officers who you showed your skills to were quite amused, apparently.  They want you and Torella to deliver breakfast to them every day from now on, so that they can take turns fencing with you,” Letta told him.

“This is real?” he asked in astonishment.

“It might be some kind of trap or ambush, but I doubt it.  They went through the trouble of sending an official courier to me with the request,” she told him.

“Theus, I can give you a good life here in the kitchen,” she told him.  “You could do some chores, and heal a lot of people, and help me keep things sane here.  But not if you go out and draw attention to yourself and cause trouble for both of us.”

She reached forward and patted him on the knee as she rose from her perch.

“Letta?” he spoke.

“Yes, Theus?” she replied.

“I’m sorry about your son.  That’s a terrible story,” he told her.  The horror of her comment haunted him, had left more of an impact upon him than the rest of her story, which had much more obvious relevance to his own life.

“It happened many years ago, but I still feel the pain every day,” she told him with quiet dignity.  “I don’t want you to suffer any problems now; I would feel even more guilty.  Please just stay out of trouble and avoid calling attention to yourself.  Be a good boy for me,” she said with a smile, the walked away.

Theus blew out air, relieved that the stressful conversation was ended.  He had been unfair to Letta, he realized belatedly.  He had put her into a position that posed danger for her if she were forced to take responsibility for his mistakes, because she was his supervisor.  He would do a better job in the future, he told himself fervently.

After another minute of sitting and stewing, he finally turned around and addressed the materials on the counter once again.  He shook his head to clear away the distractions, and partially succeeded, then he resumed his work, and in another few minutes he had his potions finished.

As he put them in their jars, Torella returned to the kitchen, and strolled back to see him.

“Are you ready to go to the hospice?” she asked, unaware of the new expectations that they would deliver breakfasts to the armory on a daily basis in the future.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said with false cheerfulness.  He gathered up the jars for the day’s treatment, then swept his hand forward.  “Lead the way,” he offered.

Ten minutes later they arrived at the hospice, and Theus went inside, while Torella waited outside.  The patients looked little changed to Theus when he set eyes upon them.  Their scar tissue looked slightly less tight-drawn, but there was no tangible difference in appearances.   He used the jar of treatment that he had left behind on the previous day at Ruune’s bed, then supplemented it with the additional batch he had finished in the morning.  Afterwards he went to see Weese.

“Today’s the day for the second treatment,” he tried to use a cheerful voice as he opened his ointment while standing next to the man in the bed.

“I feel a little different,” Weese told Theus as he looked up at him.  “Does anything look any better?”

“It’s good you’re feeling something,” Theus replied.  He opened the jar and stroked the first application of the new ointment on the man’s arm.  “It really takes a few days for the results to start to show.  I have to put this on today, and I have to give you one more layer tomorrow,” he began to apply the mixture to the man’s cheeks, “and then we just wait and hope for the best.  I’m sure you’ll see some improvements,” he noted.

“You’re awfully young,” Weese noted skeptically.

“I learned this from a much older doctor, one who really knew medicine better than anyone I ever met,” Theus assured his patient. “I’ve never been let down by any of his formulae.”

“Thank you,” Weese seemed mollified.

“I’ll come back tomorrow with the rest,” Theus assured him as he picked up the empty jar.

“Will Letta be back to see me soon?” Weese asked.

“She surely will be.  She personally wanted me to treat you,” Theus tried to comfort the man.  He told himself to remember to ask Letta to visit soon.  “Maybe not tomorrow, but soon.”

He waved, then exited the building, to find Torella waiting as expected.

“We’re done here.  What’s our next assignment?” Theus asked the girl.

“We go back to the kitchen to find out,” she told him.

“I had to take lunch food to the king’s aunt’s sick friend,” Torella gossiped.  “That’s the first time I’ve ever gone that far into the royal wing of the palace.”

The girl described the elegance of the furnishings and the servants’ uniforms, until they arrived back at the kitchen. The head cook, in Letta’s absence, watched the pair enter the kitchen with a concerned expression on his face.

“The magician Donal wants five meals delivered immediately,” he told Torella.

She audibly inhaled, and her face turned pale.

“What is it Tory?” Theus asked.

The girl reached over and grabbed his hand in hers, squeezing tightly.  “I’m afraid to go there.

“Bad things happen down there; sometimes people go there and they don’t come back,” she whispered.

“I’m going with you,” Theus said reassuringly.  “I’ll do my best for you.”

“I know you will,” Torella answered.  “If it was just weapons, I’d stand behind you any day, but the magician uses dark powers.  If he wants to harm us, we’re powerless to resist.”

“He may just want food,” the cook tried to reduce the tension.  “And we’ve got the food waiting.  It’s best not to keep the magician waiting.

“I don’t think this is anything but a delivery, really,” he tried to ease the girl’s fear.

“It’s here in this warming oven,” he pulled the handle down to reveal the covered plates inside the warmer.  “Here,” he said to Theus to move things along, “let me put some pads on your arms so you don’t get burned carrying them.”

Theus extended an arm, and the cook placed folded towels along it, then balanced a pair of plates, and handed a third to Theus.  Torella in the meantime mechanically prepared herself and took the other two plates.

“Stay close to me,” she whispered to Theus when they left the kitchen.

“I’ll be right with you,” he asserted.  They walked for minutes until they reached a large hallway, where guards were stationed, and then stopped at the foot of a circular staircase.

“The magician Donal has asked for delivery of meals,” Torella told the first guard they encountered.

“Make your delivery,” the man said in a bored voice, and he stepped aside to allow access to the stair case.

The pair of kitchen workers began to climb the steps, up a tall flight of stairs that looped around to reach a second floor that was lit only by the lights from the ground floor below.  The floor was a circular opening, with a balcony circling it, and a series of closed doors, plus a further flight of stairs climbing higher into a darker space above.

“We need to keep climbing,” Torella told Theus.

“Do you want me to lead?” he asked, sensing her trepidation.

“Yes, please.  Thank you Theus, you’re so good,” she answered gratefully immediately.

They ascended further to a higher third floor, where there were again no open doors or obvious directions.  The tower narrowed around them, as the central chimney that looked down to the ground shrank to a reduced size.

“We go up one more floor,” Torella spoke between taking deep breaths.

Theus led the way around the balcony to the next flight of steps, then climbed it slowly, giving them both time to breath and prepare to end the trip into the frightening quarters of the magician.  The third set of steps was narrower than the first two, and darker, but just as long.  When they reached the top, both Theus and Torella paused to catch their breath.

“Will we have to come back to get the plates?” Theus weakly tried to jest.

There was an obvious door on this level, a door with a burning lantern hung above it, and a guard standing next to the door.

“Let’s go finish the delivery,” Theus spoke, then walked forward.

Chapter 7

“We’re here to deliver the food requested by the magician,” Theus told the guard, a blank-faced man who stood at rigid attention.

“Proceed to enter,” the man spoke hollowly, without any sideways glance at the visitors.

Theus pressed against the door with his shoulder, and the heavy slab of wood and metal creaked open.  Theus walked in first, followed by Torella.  The interior of the magician’s stronghold in the palace was just as dark as the upper levels of his tower had been, lit only by lanterns that hung upon the stone walls.  Theus proceeded cautiously, looking for anyone they could deliver the meals to.

He stopped when he heard a terrible scream, from some place not too distant. His hackles were up.

“Voice,” he whispered, “I wish you were still with me voice.  I could use your support.”

There was no response, and he walked to the end of the hallway, which provided a choice of going left or right down the crossing hall.  He thought he saw a flicker of movement to the left, and went that way.

He found a man, standing over a table, studying a sheaf of large papers illuminated by three candles, so intent in his examination of the papers that he was unaware of the approach of the meal delivery.

“My lord,” Theus called while still several feet away.  “My lord, we have the meals you requested.”

The man turned and looked at them.  He was a very ordinary-appearing man, and Theus felt even more alarmed by the fact that a man could appear so ordinary while existing in such a frightening environment.

“I didn’t order them, the master did,” the man said calmly.  “Let’s put them at the table for our guests.  Follow me,” he commanded.

He turned and proceeded to walk past them, back down the hall they had just traveled.  They followed warily as they passed the intersection with the first corridor and kept going.  The man stopped just a few steps past the intersection.  He fished a key from a pocket in his gown, then unlocked a door, and pressed it open.

Theus heard a stifled gasp from inside the room, before the door opened wide, and he could see the interior of the space.

It was a large room, big enough to accommodate a very large table, with chairs, and surrounding furniture against the walls.  There were no windows, but a pair of doors were cut into the opposite wall at the long end of the room, and a chandelier held several candles that cast a warm glow across the scene.

Three people sat together at the far end of the table, a woman and two men.  They were middle-aged, and the woman was crying softly as one of the men tried to comfort her with his hand placed atop hers on the arm of her chair.  They were visibly chained to their chairs.

“Place the plates down in front of the guests, and then you may depart,” the escort prompted Theus and Torella to begin to move.

“Help us, please.  Set us free,” the woman spoke aloud as the pair of kitchen workers delivered the food.

“We’re going to die soon.  Help us,” she repeated.  She raised her hands and grabbed Theus’s arm as he placed a plate in front of her.

Just then the door behind the terrified diners swung inward, and a man entered the room.  He was dressed in red, with a black hood pushed back to drape over his shoulders.  His face was as cruel as any human visage Theus had ever seen or imagined.  He made the memory of Monsant, the evil member of the royal family in Stoke, seem kindly by comparison.

Torella gave a soft shriek as she looked upon the man’s face, stricken just as much as Theus was by fear.

“You’re slow to deliver,” the new man’s voice was a deep rumble.  “The food had better be good.  My guests deserve to have a fine meal while they live here.”

“Master, I’ve brought them directly to the dining room,” said the man who had escorted them through the hall. Theus imagined he saw a flicker of concern in the man’s eyes.

“Don’t worry Cask, you’re not at fault this time,” said the man in red.

“Is there some problem with your arm?  Are you unable to place the plate on the table?” he turned to Theus, stepping closer.

“Voice, Limber, please help me,” Theus whispered in true fear.  His hand had frozen in place, without placing the plate down, as he had studied and been terrified by the appearance of the new arrival.

There was a slight pulse of warmth somewhere in the back of his skull, and Theus felt released from his paralysis of fear.  He lowered the plate, then the last one on his arm, and he reached over to help Torella also place her plates on the table.  He gently took her hand in his and pulled her next to his side, keeping a firm grip on the petrified girl.

“We’re sorry for the delay in delivery, my lord,” Theus thought his voice was a high-pitched squeak.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” the red-robed man looked at him with interest.

“Yes, my lord,” Theus swallowed his words.

“Would you like to come work with me, be one of my guests?” the other man asked.

Theus looked at the trio who were chained to their seats at the table.  “I’m still settling into my role in the kitchen, my lord,” he declined as graciously as he could manage.

The man laughed, and after a moment, the man who had escorted them to the room laughed as well.

“See them out, then come feast with us,” the man in red directed the other.  His attention left Theus, and he took a seat at one of the empty seats that held a plate of food.

Theus stepped back, extraordinarily anxious to leave.  His foot landed on Torella’s toes, making her grunt, but then she stepped back too.  They both bowed, then retreated from the room into the hall.  Cask, the man who had escorted them in, led them down the hall.  A door opened on their right side, making both of the kitchen servants jump.  A quartet of men emerged from the doorway, bearing a litter carrying an old man’s body.  The bearers went down the hallway in the opposite direction from Cask, Theus, and Torella, without a single word being exchanged.

When the exit from the quarters of the magician came into view, Theus breathed an inward sigh of relief, and hurried his step to draw even with their guide and to pass him by a step before they reached the door, Theus’s hand still tightly clasping Torella’s.

“Thank you for guiding us,” Theus told Cask.

“Perhaps we’ll see you again,” the man said drolly.  “I think the master took a fancy to you; he may invite you back.”

Theus nearly convulsed as he struggled to prevent bile from rising in his throat.  Still holding Torella’s hand, he began to hurry down the steps, listening to the hollow sound of laughter behind him as the pair hurried away from the lurid location.  They rushed down the next set of steps too, then slowed as they descended the final staircase, back in a brighter setting, exposed to direct light that streamed in through windows and helped to alleviate a portion of the frantic fear that had possessed the two kitchen helpers.

They rushed past the guard at the foot of the stairs, and ran down a hall and around a corner, then finally stopped running when they could no longer see the magician’s guard, and they leaned against the wall, panting and fearful, heedless of the people who walked past them and stared at them.

“Oh Theus!” Torella cried, as she flung herself against his chest and grasped him tightly, while she started to cry.  “I felt like I was going to be hated until I died,” she sobbed.

“That’s how I felt,” he agreed, realizing that the girl had put into words the terrible dread that had threatened to overwhelm his sanity.

“Those people, those captives – they’re going to die,” Torella said.  “They know it.  What can we do to save them?”

Theus audibly gasped at the notion of trying to free the people chained to the chairs.

“Relax, it’s over,” he told her.  “We made it out of there alive.”

“Do you think we can help the people up there?” Torella asked.

“There’s nothing I can do about it.  We can ask Letta, but I think I know the answer,” Theus’s voice trailed away.

“Thank you for going with me.  I can’t imagine what would have happened if I had gone there by myself,” she was still pressed against him, but relaxed now, no longer tense and rigid.  She felt comfortable to Theus as he put his arms around her.

“Go get a room somewhere,” a page sniggered as he and a friend walked by.

Torella tensed, then separated slightly from Theus, but kept her face down.

“We should return to the kitchen,” she said, and proceeded to lead the way.  They no longer held hands, and Theus sensed that some bond between them had been severed by the rude comment the child had made in the hall – that and the fact that time had passed after their horrifying experience together, reducing the need to cling to one another so intensively and intimately.

When they got back to the kitchen, Letta spotted them immediately.  She walked towards them, and as she passed the head cook, she slapped the back of his head hard, knocking his hat free and making him shout an oath, until he saw who had struck him.

“You two are back?  Are you safe?  Was everything okay with your delivery?” she asked anxiously.

“I don’t ever want to go there again!” Torella nearly broke into tears again.

“I can’t believe that idiot sent you two to deliver to Donal!” Letta fumed as she looked back over her shoulder at the sullen cook.  “After we started ‘losing’ delivery people from the magician’s tower, I just turned deliveries over to the palace guards,” she said.  “I’m so glad you made it back unharmed!” she hugged Torella, then hugged Theus too.

“There were people there – they were prisoners,” Torella spoke out.  “Can we rescue them?”

“We can have nothing to do with that place!” Letta said in an agitated voice.  “Don’t stir up any trouble; don’t call any attention to yourselves.  Donal and Colandra are allies in the palace games,” she spoke in a much lower voice to the pair.

“It’s all so dangerous now, with the magician pressing the king to go to war.  No place is safe,” she warned the pair of youngsters.  “I’ll keep you safe here in the kitchen, but we all have to stay out of trouble and just do our jobs,” she advised.

Theus thought back to the words of Eiren, on the caravan journey that now seemed so long ago, in a different life.  Eiren had burned into his soul the precept that he should stand up for what was right.  Yet in the circumstances of seeing how frightening Donal’s evil was he quailed from the prospect of trying to stand up to the overwhelming opponent.

“Are there other chores you need me to do?” he asked, eager to switch the topic.

“There is, as a matter of fact,” Letta was relieved to switch topics as well.  “I had meant to ask if you knew any medication to treat gout?”

“Ah, yes,” Theus refocused his mind, and let his consciousness flip through the stored memories that the ancient stone of healing knowledge had bestowed upon him.  There was a cure, one that required several steps to produce.

“Will you produce a few doses for me?” Letta asked.

“I’ll need a few things, and it will take three days to make it, and I’ll need to cook it on a stove, under pressure,” he spoke aloud as he ran through the instructions.

“What does that mean, ‘under pressure’?” Torella asked.

“He wants to cook it in a pot with the lid latched on,” Letta explained.

“Yes,” Theus agreed.

“Of course, you’ll need to go to the market to buy some things,” Letta asked sarcastically.

Theus bit back a grin as he nodded his head.

“I’m going to send you out first thing in the morning.  This is for the Lady Makbit, a friend of the king’s sister.  We will all be well-served if we can win her gratitude with a treatment that truly works on her gout pain.  I presume your treatment works?” Letta asked.

“I wouldn’t offer them if they weren’t useful,” Theus answered, taken aback.

“Of course!  I know,” the woman smiled.

“Torella, you’re released from duty for the rest of the day.  Theus, you go write up your list of ingredients you’ll need tomorrow, then show it to me before you leave,” Letta directed.

“Now, about those potatoes,” she turned and spoke to one of the workers in the kitchen, and she was off to resume her management of the facility.

Theus closed his eyes and took a last deep breath to cleanse himself of the vestiges of the horror of the magician’s tower.  When he opened them, Torella was standing in front of him, her eyes wide and serious.

“I’m going to leave now, but I’ll see you again soon,” she told him.  Her fingers came up to caress his cheek softly for a moment, then she smiled and left.  He closed his eyes and breathed again, then went back to the counter where his medical supplies had taken up permanent residence, and he slowly wrote his list of ingredients that would be needed to create the treatment for gout.

“The best treatment would be for her to not be a glutton,” he muttered to himself, as he started on his list.  It was a long, slow, complex formula that was being delivered on paper to Letta to peruse.  He wrote out all the materials, and the amounts needed, then walked back to the front of the kitchen and showed the list to Letta.

“The kitchen will go broke if we keep buying all this extra material,” she complained as she looked down the length of the list.

“You could charge people for the medicine,” Theus ventured.

“Touché!” Letta smirked.  “You know I’m not going to ask for money from someone in the king’s circle.  I was just complaining.  Very good; I’ll send you out with someone in the morning,” she told Theus.

He went back to his counter space, and took the time to finish mixing the ingredients together for the rest of the third dose of the burn treatment, so that it would be easily applied on the following day.  When that was done, he helped himself to a plate of food for his dinner, then began wandering through the darkening palace grounds to find the north hall, where he finally stumbled up the stairs in the dim light and returned to his own room.

He was proud to have finally found his way somewhere on his own, he thought to himself as he sat on his bed and pulled off his shoes.  He pulled back the sheet, and laid down, closed his eyes, and tried to compose himself after the horrors of the day.

His door creaked open, and his eyes flew open in fear, as a candle entered through the opening, momentarily blinding him.  He sat up in agitation.

“Theus?” Torella’s voice whispered.  He saw her white gown as she entered the room, lit by the candle she was carrying.

“Theus, I can’t sleep.  I can’t stand to be alone.  I keep thinking about that tower,” her voice trailed off as she approached him.

He patted the mattress next to himself where he sat on the edge of his narrow bed, and the girl immediately took a seat, their hips pressed warmly against one another.

“Don’t take this wrong, I know you won’t – you’ve been so good,” Torella said.  “But, can I sleep in here tonight?  It’s the only way I’ll feel safe.”

“I understand,” he answered.  He knew what she meant, and he felt his own comfort in sharing the dark night with another person close by.

“I’ll go get my pillow and be right back,” she popped up to her feet and disappeared through the door, only to return seconds later.  She surprised him then by placing her pillow down at the end of the bed where his feet rested.

“You sleep with your head up there, and I’ll put mine down here.  It’ll make it easier to share the bed, and less, confusing,” she said.

Theus felt confused and relieved, as she put her suggestion into practice, laying down in the opposite direction from him.  He did the same as she demonstrated, and found that the short girl’s feet reached only to his chest.  He experimentally reached a hand out to stroke her calf down to her ankle, making her giggle and kick.

“That tickles!” she exclaimed.

“We’ll see how this works,” he said aloud.  “Good night, Torella,” he added.

Her hands rubbed his legs with gentle strokes.   “Thank you Theus, good night,” she said.  And comforted by the presence of one another in the darkness, they both fell asleep.

When they awoke the next morning, Torella’s movements to climb over Theus awoke him.  The window was starting to show the signs of dawn.  Torella reached the open room, then bent down and lightly kissed the top of Theus’s head.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Thank you too,” he murmured in reply.

“So today is the day you’ll give Ruune the final treatment, and he’ll get better, right?” she spoke in a soft tone.

“I’ll give him the final treatment today,” Theus agreed.  “And we’ll just have to wait to see how much better he gets.  I’m sure there will be some improvement.”

“I hope it’s a lot,” she sighed.  “I’m going to clean up now.

“You won’t tell anyone about this, will you?” she asked after a further moment of standing beside the bed.  “We know it was nothing, but it might sound different to other people.”

“I understand,” Theus answered.  “I won’t mention it.”  Even slaves want to keep their dignity and reputation, he thought, and they should be able to.

He cleaned and dressed a few minutes later, then circuitously found his way to the kitchen, where Torella was already engaged in helping the bakers.  Theus hovered around, unsure of what to do to help, then eventually was asked to help push a cart of loaves of bread that were delivered to the army barracks on the far side of the palace grounds.

When he and the others returned from the delivery, Letta was waiting for him.

“you’ll go with Kurfa today to the market,” she indicated a middle-aged man.  “He’s got the funds I gave him, and he’ll take you to any market that has the things you need.  Don’t spend all my money if you don’t have to!” she warned with a mock-serious expression.

“What’s your name again?” Kurfa asked as the pair started to weave through the palace towards the gates.

“I’m Theus,” the boy carrying the large canvas bag replied.

“I’ve heard about you,” Kurfa responded.  “That makes sense.”

“What does?” Theus asked.

Kurfa looked at him sideways as they exited the gate.  “You’re Letta’s pet.  She lets you go out and about the city with no collar, even though you’re brand new.”

“She can trust me; she knows that,” Theus said stoutly.  “You can too.”

“I hope so,” the man said amiably.

The pair went to the largest market in the city first, where Theus bought a number of items, then they traveled about the city to other markets and shops, to finally collect all the last items required.  They returned to the palace by mid-afternoon, carrying Theus’s bag and an additional sack as well.

“You know, Molly bought me lunch when she took me out shopping,” Theus ribbed Kurfa.

“And look at the mess she got into because she did,” the older man replied amiably.  “We all heard about you and your fight with the entire crew of sailors from the king’s flagship.”

“I would have let you fight half of them if it had happened again,” Theus offered, making Kurfa grin as they entered the gates through the imposing stone walls and returned to the palace grounds.

They both ate left overs in the kitchen, then Kurfa left to return to other duties, while Theus went to his counter and dropped the bags of goods off.  He picked up the medicine needed for the burn victims, then fumbled his way through the palace and managed to find his way to the hospice.

He went to treat Weese first.  “This is the last time I’ll bother you with this,” Theus told the man; his patient winced as Theus rubbed the ointment upon his scarred chest.

“I hope we see some good from this,” the man said.

“I do too, and so does Letta,” Theus answered as he focused on spreading the treatment evenly across the man’s burns.  “She was particularly interested in giving you this treatment as early as possible,” he reminded his patient.

“She’s a good woman,” Weese agreed placidly.

After he left Weese, Theus crossed the building to where the desolated Ruune lay in bed.  Perhaps the man could hear him, Theus told himself, and so some explanation of what was happening might be in order, instead of the silent workmanship he had carried out previously on Torella’s betrothed.

He suffered a momentary pang of guilt at the thought of Torella.  The two had been chaste and proper when they had shared his bed the night before, but the very phrase “shared a bed” conjured up guilt and betrayal.  Torella was no Coriae, not the exotic great beauty, or the fiery, passionate personality, or the complex individual he was in love with – but in a matter of just days she had found a soft spot in his heart.

“I’m here for your third treatment,” he said loudly when he stood by the bed of the sightless, speechless fire victim.  “Letta wants me to try to help treat your wounds.  This ointment should do some good for you.  We’ll keep an eye on you for the next few days, to watch for improvement.  Of course, you’ll know it sooner than we do.

“This is an old formula that I learned from an ancient master healer,” Theus said as he applied the lotion.  “I’m using it with Weese too, so the two of you can compare notes on how the healing goes, I hope.

“You may not notice anything changing for a day or a few.  Just be patient while your body absorbs all of this; we’re trying to do a lot to you,” Theus finished applying the medication.

“I’ll come visit you tomorrow.  I want to see how you’re doing.  And I like getting out of the kitchen too,” he laughed gently.

“You take care,” Theus patted the man’s shoulder gently.  He looked at Ruune closely, wishing for, but not finding, any clear signs of healing, then he walked away and returned to the kitchen.

Chapter 8

Theus helped wash dishes that night, then returned to his room in North Hall and laid on his bed in the growing darkness.  He wanted to be free.  But to a lesser degree, he also wanted to see how his healing potions would perform in helping the victims of the terrible kitchen fire; if he could bring a notable measure of relief to the men who laid in the hospice beds, he’d almost feel that his brief stint as a slave was a small price to pay.  He was finding the prospect of healing people to be even more alluring than returning to the memory stone trade.  Although he had shone in Falstaff’s service, he hadn’t been as impactful on individuals as he was proving to be as a healer.

But the thought of Falstaff made him think of memory stones, and he suddenly wished that he had one.  He wanted to preserve the memories of his time in the Southsand palace, all except the most terrifying moments of the visit to magician Donal’s lair.  That was a horror he didn’t want to try to remember, or to inflict on anyone else.

He would be free sooner or later, he was sure, and he hoped he could get his hands on a memory stone to record his impressions of the life in the palace.  He would have to get out and around the palace to a greater degree, so that he saw more and knew more and could record more, he told himself sleepily, just before he fell asleep.

The next morning Torella awoke him again.

“Theus, get out of bed!  Let’s start the day,” she said as she shook his shoulder.

“What are you doing in my room?” he asked grumpily.

“I’m making sure you get up; you don’t want to be late.  And besides, it’s not like I haven’t been here before,” she said cheerily.

Theus flung his covers back dramatically, and sat up. “Fine,” he gave a single word response.  “I’m up now.  Go out and I’ll meet you in a minute after I clean up.”

Torella studied him shrewdly.  “I’ll wait five minutes,” she warned, then she turned and opened the door to step out into the hall.

“Torella, that’s not your room,” a voice called.  Theus looked through the open door, and saw multiple sets of shadows, as another candle, held by another person, moved in the hall.  “Who’s in there?” the voice asked, and then the candle and a profile behind it appeared in his doorway.

“Is that Theus?” the voice asked.

“I just went in to wake him up, Molly,” Torella answered shortly.  “He needs to get going to work; I thought he could walk me to the kitchen.”

Molly entered Theus’s room, where he sat in stupefied confusion, uncertain why his morning routine needed to be a public spectacle.

“Is Torella bothering you?” Molly asked.

“She’s just being friendly,” he replied.  “I’m ready to go clean up, if nobody minds,” he said, feeling slightly annoyed by the traffic in his room.  He stood up and walked into the hall.  “May I borrow your candle?” he asked Torella, taking it from her with an assumption she would not object, and he climbed up the stairs to the wash room for men.  Five minutes later he returned, and found Torella waiting for him in his darkened room.

“Turn around and don’t look,” he ordered as he prepared to put on clean clothes.

“Of all the luck,” Torella complained.  “Molly is going to tell everyone she saw me come out of your room,” the girl vented to Theus as he pulled his shirt on.

“Here’s your candle back; I’m done, we can go now,” he told her.  “And what can she say?  We both know you just woke me up; I’ll tell everyone who will listen,” Theus assured the girl, brushing the topic aside.

“It isn’t that easy,” she said.  “I know someone’s going to make trouble over this.”

“They’ll have to reckon with answering to me if they do,” he still dismissed her concerns.  The pair left the floor, and building, and walked back to the kitchen to begin the day.

“Theus!  You’re in demand!” Paire, the head of the morning bakers called upon his entrance into the kitchen.  “The armory wants to know why you didn’t deliver their breakfasts yesterday.”

A memory exploded into his consciousness.  “Tory, we’re supposed to deliver the breakfasts to the armory officers every morning,” he exclaimed to his companion.

“Who says that?” she asked dubiously.

“Letta told me, because the officers sent a note requesting us,” he answered.

“Because of what you did with the sword?” she asked him in a confidential tone.

“I don’t doubt it,” he admitted.

“We’ve got your load ready to go; now get moving,” Paire indicated a platter full of covered plates, sitting on the counter waiting to be carried away.

Theus raised the full platter, and Torella proceeded to lead him through the palace once again.  Minutes later they were back in the area of the armory, amidst the familiar atmosphere that Theus recognized.

“How can anybody even eat when it smells so bad?” Torella asked in a low voice as she held a wide door open for him.

“You get used to it,” Theus assured her as he passed through the doorway with the platter held high over his head, as he had seen waiters do at some of the fancy restaurants in Great Forks.

“There’s our wayward slave warrior!” a voice called.  After a moment’s blank thought, Theus recognized that the voice was Montuse, the officer he had fought two morning earlier.

“We’re ready for you, slave.  And since you cheated us yesterday by not appearing, we have a double dose ready for you!” the man spoke loudly.  His voice extended through the nearly empty armory.  There were more men present than Theus had seen on his last visit, but not enough to fill even a quarter of the space.

“Put the plates down, and pick up a weapon,” Alamice spoke up, the other officer whose name Theus had learned.  “We’re ready and waiting to see which of us can demonstrate that we’re better than Montuse.”

They were joking, Theus was sure.

Theus reached a long serving table, and lowered the platter, while Torella removed the plates one by one and placed them on the table.

“Will there be anything else, my lord?” the girl gave a slight curtsey to the nearest officer.

“You’re not ready to leave, are you?  Aren’t you going to stay and watch your boyfriend demonstrate his mastery of the noble weapon again?” the man asked.

The officers might be serious about further fencing with the slave after all, Theus belatedly realized.  He felt his face grow flushed at the thought that he was about to resume fencing once again – the flush was both embarrassment and pleasure.

“Truly, my lords?” he asked.

“Look at the boy!  He wants to handle the sword – he’s a warrior, not a slave.  I say we recruit him and put him in Alamice’s battalion for the games,” one of the others suggested.

“What’s your name again?” the man asked.

“I’m Theus, my lord,” he replied.

“Little lady, you just go lean against the wall and wait a bit, so that you can walk your lover back to the kitchen after our little exercise,” the man gestured to Torella.

“We’re not lovers, my lord,” Theus defended his friend in a low voice.

“So you say.  It doesn’t matter. What matters is we’re wasting time in a busy day.  Grab your sword,” one of the others standing nearby said as he picked up a plate of food.

Theus and Alamice each walked to the rack of practice swords and selected weapons.

“That’s right, I’m your opponent this time,” the man grinned at Theus.  “And I won’t start out taking you lightly, like Monty did.”

“Good luck, Theus!” Torella seemed emboldened by the jovial character the officers showed, as she encouraged Theus.

He grinned at her as he took his position on the practice mat, while one of the officers came over to act as the judge for the match.

He called ‘go’ and the two contestants stepped towards one another.  Theus was still coming to terms with the fact that he was fencing once again; it was a startling departure from what he had expected the day to hold, and he found that adrenaline was pumping through him as the reality of the chance to compete was overwhelming him.

He jumped forward and launched an aggressive attack, but Alamice successfully defended, and forced Theus to abruptly back up as the officer’s riposte nearly scored a point against Theus.

After that, Theus calmed down, and the two men fenced back and forth steadily for several grueling minutes, neither one of them scoring a point in the match.

At last the judge called a halt.  “Enough,” he shouted as he stepped forward onto the competition mat.  “We’ve all got places to go and things to do.  It’s a draw.”

Theus nodded his acceptance, and so did Alamice.  Both were drenched in sweat from their labors.

The officers said kind words to Theus while good-naturedly belittling Alamice.  “And you’ll be back tomorrow, right?” one of them confirmed.

“We will, my lord,” Theus agreed.  He picked up the empty platter, then he and Torella turned and left the armory.

“They really like you!” Torella told Theus.  “They were watching and talking about you during that match.  They think you’re good.”

“I am,” Theus said without false modesty.  “I had a good teacher and a good sparring partner.”

“Theus, you stink,” Torella commented.

“No, I’m really pretty good,” he protested.  “I nearly won the Great Forks tournament a few weeks ago.”  It had been that recently, he comprehended with wonder.

“I mean you worked up a sweat and you smell,” Torella laughed.

“I’ll just stay back in my corner of the kitchen and stay away from everyone today,” Theus shrugged.

“Including me,” she told him as she demonstrably held her nose.  “But you can’t do that.  We have to go check on Ruune today, to see how his healing is progressing.”

Theus bit his lip, wondering what words to use to dampen any inflated expectations the girl might have about her betrothed.

“The first day isn’t that critical,” he said.  “I think we need to expect to have to wait a bit more.”

“Still, it can’t hurt to go see,” she said.  “Come this way,” she reached out and grabbed his hand, jerking him unexpectedly down a dim corridor to the right.

“This will take us straight to our dorm.  You can take a quick shower and change,” she explained, as they exited through a small service door, and emerged within sight of the north hall.

They climbed the stairs in the virtually empty building.  “You go up to shower.  I’ll bring your towel and fresh clothes up to you,” she urged him to hurry.

He did as told, and found pleasure as he stripped away the perspiration-soaked tunic he wore, and the pants, then stepped under the lukewarm shower water and scrubbed himself clean.

“Your clothes and towel are out here,” he heard Torella’s voice call.

Satisfied that he had improved his suitability to be in company, Theus turned the water off, stepped out and was soon back in company with Torella.  The pair then hurried on their way back to the kitchen, and were immediately set upon by Letta.

“Where have you two been?” she demanded.  “We’ve got to go!  Theus gather up your things.  Why is your hair wet?”

“We delivered breakfast to the armory,” Torella began to explain.

“You left here almost an hour ago,” Letta pointed out.  “And you have a delivery to make to the invalid’s quarters anyway – you go take care of that.  I’ll get Theus moving and find out what all the dawdling is about.  I may have to split you two up if this continues.” She threatened.

“I’ll explain,” Theus promised Torella as the girl looked at him beseechingly.  “And I’ll check on Ruune for you as soon as I can,” he affirmed.

She gave him a grateful smile, curtsied to Letta, then left the pair alone.

“Let’s go!  Go get your cure,” Letta urged.  “We can talk along the way.  Is that the best you have to wear?” she was in her frantically driven mode once again.

“These are my best clothes,” Theus answered.  “What cure, which, my lady?” he asked in confusion.

“Have you completely forgotten?  The cure for gout?  Your shopping trip yesterday?  We are going to treat High Lady Citrice, close friend to Princess Maurferg, sister to the king,” Letta explained impatiently.

Understanding dawned on Theus.  “I did prepare that treatment; it’s on the counter back there,” he motioned.

“Go get it!  We’re expected to administer it any moment now.  The High Lady is waiting in her chambers,” Letta sounded relieved to know that the treatment was prepared.

“I need just five minutes more,” Theus requested.  “It’s supposed to be warm when it’s administered.”

“Go!” Letta urged.

Theus ran across the kitchen, grabbed together his jars of ointment, then rushed over to the stove top and appropriated a saucepan, with Letta looking over his shoulder as he warmed the contents of one jar, and then another, and returned them to their containers.

“Are you ready?  We have to reach the far side of the palace – we have to go,” Letta urged impatiently.

The pair started walking.  “Now, what did you two do?  Tell me honest, and there’ll be no punishment,” Letta demanded.

“We took the breakfasts to the officers, and they expected me to fence with them,” Theus said.  “So I did, and it took a while.  They’re good.  I was against Alamice today, and I couldn’t get a score on him, but I wasn’t really prepared either,” he confided.  “If I had known we were going to do that, and been in a different frame of mind, I think I could have started better, and maybe done better.

“But after that, Torella said I was sweaty and smelly, and she made me go to the hall to take a shower.  You wouldn’t want me smelling and looking sweaty for this noble lady, would you?” he tried to press a point defensively.

“Well no, of course not.  I’d have scrubbed you clean myself if you’d shown up in my kitchen filthy, let alone before having to make a visit like this!  I’d have bathed you right there in the kitchen, along with the pots and pans!” she smiled at her own humor.

“Oh, you and those officers!  Boys playing games, if you ask me,” she harrumphed, as they turned a corner in the palace and entered a hall filled with gilded furnishings.  “Still, it’s better to keep them happy than not.”

“They want me to practice with them every day,” Theus decided he better plant the seed for his continued participation in the fencing rounds.  It was an enjoyment he didn’t want to miss, a reminder of the pleasure of physically challenging himself to wield his weapon and his body as effectively as possible.

“This is the hall.  We have to be very respectful.  Don’t speak unless spoken to.  Make your treatment sound very credible and suitable for a high lady,” Letta instructed, leaning up to speak softly in Theus’s ear.

A servant wearing resplendent clothes passed by, examining them disdainfully as he walked across their path.

“I wish we’d gotten better clothes for you,” Letta fretted.

She turned and came to a stop at a door, a large wooden door that was elaborately carved with a scene of flowers and trees.  She knocked, and they stood in silence, waiting for a response.

A maid opened the door.  “How may I help you?” she asked in a neutral tone.

“We’re here at the request of the High Lady Citrice, to provide medical treatment for her gout,” Letta explained.

“Her Ladyship is in her bath,” the maid answered, as if nothing further needed to be told.

Theus stood silent, next to Letta, waiting to see what would come next.  The wait seemed to stretch on into excruciatingly long minutes, as Letta and the maid stood looking at one another.

“So, she should invite us in, right?” Theus said at last, breaking the silly battle for status.

“That’s right Theus.  If she’s going to properly serve her mistress, she will invite us in, and inform her ladyship that the treatment she requested has arrived,” Letta spoke slowly and loudly, as if speaking to a child, while keeping her eyes on the maid.

The woman at the door set her jaw in a clench, and reddened.

“Wait here.  I’ll go seek instruction,” the maid said after another moment, and she swung the door closed in their face.

“Not a positive start,” Theus sighed.  “Maybe we should just leave.”

“No,” Letta said firmly.  “We will not.  She will come back here and admit us to the suite, or we will,” she paused, “well, we will enter.  Her Ladyship expects us.”

A moment later, the maid opened the door again, her face locked into a rigid smile.  “My apologies for keeping you waiting.  Follow me to the sitting room.” She instructed, without making eye contact, and then turned and disappeared into the interior.

Theus followed Letta, and swung the door closed behind him.  They walked through a foyer and entered a sitting room with plushly padded chairs and sofas.

“If you’ll have a seat,” the maid said to Theus.  “The doctor is invited in to see her ladyship in her bath,” she motioned to Letta to follow.

“I’m not the doctor; he is,” Letta spoke bluntly.

The maid’s eyes widened.  “Oh dear,” she murmured.  She closed her eyes and seemed to compose herself.   “In that case, please be seated,” she spoke to Letta, “and you shall follow me,” she motioned to Theus.

“Perhaps we should both go,” Letta suggested.

“No, her ladyship only expects one visitor in the bath,” the maid spoke firmly.  “You come,” she seemed to have made up her mind as she motioned to Theus.

He looked beseechingly at Letta for advice, but she gave a small twitch of her hand to indicate that he was to follow the maid.

He walked through the doorway, feeling less certain with every step that he really knew what to do.  He had expected that he would only have to walk in and apply his medicine to a woman’s foot, then leave.  But somehow that seemed to have become an overly simplified expectation.

They entered a second chamber with only a pair of sofas, then entered an elegant bedroom.  Theus thought back to the brief visit he had in Coriae’s bedroom, when he had applied his healing lotion to her wounds.  He had seen her room, and thought it to be a luxurious display of how the wealthy lived their private lives.  The bedroom of Lady Citrice seemed suffocating by comparison, stuffed with pillows and covers and curtains and objets d’art and more.

“Go through that door, and her ladyship is bathing,” the maid informed him, stopping and pointing at a door.

“Just me,” Theus’s voice rose significantly, and he saw a smile almost break across the maid’s face.

She nodded.

He closed his eyes, took a breath, and tried to calm himself, then approached the door in question, and knocked.

“Come in, come in, I’ve been waiting,” a woman’s voice called.

Theus opened the door, then stopped as steamy, moist air hit him in the face.  He stepped forward into the room and closed the door behind him, then stopped again and oriented himself.

“Hurry along,” the woman demanded.  The room was steamy, and Theus had only a sense of where she was, but he walked that way, then stopped once again, as he realized he had walked right to the edge of a pool of water set into the floor of the room.  A woman was in the water, her back to him, her head leaning down and forward, with her blond hair darkened and wet, flung across one shoulder.

Her back was an expanse of undressed flesh, clearly visible to him.  From his angle he could see little else of her, but he doubted that she was wearing anything anywhere.

And he was suddenly alone in her bath with her.

He started to breath fast, and his heart started to pound.

“Rub my back for me,” she ordered.  “I can’t reach it.  Use the sponge on the shelf.”

He knelt down onto the floor and picked up the sponge as ordered, once he placed his jars of medicine carefully down on the floor, off to the side.

“Ah,” she expressed her satisfaction as he began to rub the sponge across her shoulders and neck.  “That’s just the right strength, but rub lower,” she commanded.

Theus did as requested.  And kept doing it.

“Lower, get the small of my back,” the noblewoman demanded.

Theus slid his hand down, dipping his sleeve into the water of the tub, and rubbed in a circular motion, then lifted his hand again.

“You’re the best masseuse I’ve had yet this month.  You’ve got the strength to get into the muscles and loosen them without making me sore,” the bather complemented him.

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder.  His head was down low, as he reached to continue to rub her lower back, and so their two faces were only a foot apart when their eyes met.

Her eyes widened, then narrowed into slits, and the lack of fear or shock on her face frightened Theus.

“Ah, not who I was expecting, but such a delicious surprise,” she commented.

“Did someone send you here as a present?” she asked.

Theus hastily removed his hand from her back, and rocked back on his heels, trying to put space between the two without yet rising from the floor.

“My lady, I’m here to offer medical treatment for your gout,” Theus told her, gasping for breath as he spoke.

“Ah, how delightful,” she purred the words as she spun around in the water, offering a flashing kaleidoscope of views of her body as she turned and the surface of the water splashed and flashed reflection of light.  Her torso backed away from him, and then her foot emerged from the water and rested itself on the edge of the floor directly in front of him.

“Here is my problem.  I’d like to be able to dance in the ball in three days.  What can you do for me?” she asked.

Theus shook his head, his jaw hanging limply open as he felt shock and embarrassment from the situation he was trapped in.

“Well, what are you?  You’re too young to really be able to cure anything, it’s clear.  Are you a delightful new young friend?  Will you be climbing in the tub with me?” she lowered her foot and leaned forward.

“No!” Theus nearly shouted the word.  “No,” he repeated more softly.  “Put your foot back up here,” he said in a panic.  “I’m a healer.  I’ve learned many ancient remedies.  I have a treatment for gout,” he held up one of the jars as proof.

“All I have to do is apply it to your toe and foot and massage it in to the flesh,” he explained.  “But then you have to keep your foot dry so the medicine doesn’t wash away.”

“So you want me to get out of the tub?” the woman asked.  She lowered her foot once again, and began to rise, ready to reveal the rest of the glistening flesh that had soaked beneath the soapy surface of the perfumed water.  “Would you like to use the towel to dry me off?” she asked seductively as she paused to point to the towel hanging on the wall next to the tub.

“No, I’ll go wait outside, to give you privacy,” Theus scrambled to his feet in further panic, and picked up his jars of treatment, then turned and fled, as the woman’s laughter followed him to the doorway.  He bolted through the door, threw it shut behind him, then leapt across the room and sat down, breathing heavily.

He was trapped in a nightmare, he was sure.  He had to wake up – he had to find that he was back in Great Forks, sleeping in his bed in Lord Warrell’s servants’ quarters, ready to go to work for Falstaff, ready to eat lunch with the other apprentices, ready to practice his staff work with Coriae in the evening.  That had to be his reality, not this nightmare of running from an amorous noblewoman while serving as a slave in a palace where evil seemed to live incarnate in a tower.

The bathing room door opened, and Lady Citrice emerged, wearing a short robe and a wicked grin.

“Hello healer,” she said, then grimaced momentarily as she limped across the floor on her gouty limb.

Theus immediately stood up.  He was sitting on the corner of her bed, he discovered in consternation.

“Please just lie down, ma’am,” he directed her.  “I’ll apply this ointment to your sore foot.  Would you like for me to call in my supervisor, Letta?” he asked.  He prayed that the answer would be affirmative.

“I don’t think we need her just yet,” Citrice purred, as she reached the bed, then swung her legs up and lay back.

“Alrighty doctor, have your way,” she said.  Her blond hair was spread across the pillow around her head as she closed her eyes, with a half-smile on her lips.

Theus stayed down by the foot of the bed, and opened the jar of lotion he had created, after following the extensive set of instructions that had been etched in his brain by the memory stone from Falstaff’s shop.  The lotion was a complex one, containing many ingredients, and requiring a number of steps to create, but the application to the patient was relatively straight-forward.

He pulled his fingers across the top of the lotion, then spread the goo around the joint that connected her ladyship’s large toe to her foot.  The joint was reddened and swollen.  And her toenails were painted with intricate designs, he was bemused to discover.

He massaged the lotion into the joint, and then all around the toe.

“It’s sore,” the noblewoman cautioned as his fingers massaged the digit.

“I know.  I’m sorry, my lady,” Theus apologized.  He tried to massage with more delicacy as he scooped additional lotion and applied it to the other toes and joints of the foot, then rubbed the lotion up the foot, and even into the ankle, determined to give the medicine the maximum exposure to the gouty foot and the maximum opportunity to heal as quickly as possible.

“And my other foot?” Citrice asked, as Theus finished his work and stepped back.

His eyes widened in concern, as he realized he had not prepared enough of his lotion to adequately treat both feet.  Nonetheless, he scooped out the remaining amount and lathered it around the joints most likely to suffer, while he made a mental note to himself that he might need to prepare a larger dose when he returned the following day.  He methodically massaged the digits of the foot, and the joints, and the foot itself, up to the ankle.

“This one doesn’t appear to be as swollen and sore as the other foot,” he hesitantly commented to Citrice, as he finished his work.

“Oh, it doesn’t hurt at all!” she exclaimed, then laughed.  “I just enjoyed having you give me a foot massage.  I may buy you from the king, just to have you available at my service at all times I desire,” she horrified him by suggesting.

“Go fetch in that overseer of yours, Letta, will you?  I presume she’s nearby?” Lady Citrice said to Theus, making his heart skip a beat, full of fear that he was going to be sold to the noblewoman.  He’d told himself he would try to escape, but if he was placed under the disturbing woman’s’ control, he wouldn’t wait another day to begin his flight, he knew.

“My lady,” he said in a strangled voice when he opened the door of the small salon.  “The Lady Citrice requests that you join us.”

“Did you give her the treatment?” Letta stepped up close to Theus and asked in a low voice.  “Did it work?”

“It’s too soon to tell.  I’ll have to come back tomorrow to give a second application,” he told her, and then she stepped into the bedroom.  Her eyes surveyed the room and saw the noblewoman laying upon her bed in her short robe.  She grew flushed and studied Theus intently, then composed herself, and walked to the side of the bed.

“Good morning, my lady.  I hope my healer slave has given you hope of reducing the pain you suffer,” Letta spoke first.

“He’s been quite an enjoyable visitor in my chambers,” Citrice answered.  “I thought I might persuade him to provide even more entertainment, but he seems to hold to some different scruples than I do.  It’s been quite amusing!” the woman laughed lightly.

“He has given me his treatment, and I believe I can feel my gout improving already!” she declared.  “How long will it take to make the pain go away?” she asked Theus.

“I believe it will be more than halfway treated by tomorrow morning.  I have this jar of lotion that may be applied in the morning to help promote any last improvements needed, and you could even put it on a third time the following day.  But I don’t think that will be necessary,” Theus answered as he held up the unopened jar.

“And you’ll come back the next two mornings to apply the medicine to my foot?”  Citrice asked.  “Or should I just have you transferred to my personal staff to be available when I need you?”

“With my lady’s permission, I’ll certainly be back in the morning to apply the lotion again,” Theus said hastily, frantically determined to cut off any discussion about him transferring from the kitchen to Citrice’s control.  He looked beseechingly at Letta for confirmation.

“If your ladyship wants him here in the mornings, we’ll assign him to come see you,” she immediately agreed.

“Very well, but not too early.   I need my beauty rest, after all,” Citrice answered.  She waited for a moment, then continued.  “That was a joke, of course.”

“My lady, you certainly won’t need any beauty sleep,” Letta immediately pandered to the woman.

“That’s better.  I just wish your young protégé was so polite, but such is the way with youth!” Citrice exclaimed.  So you’ll send him back here tomorrow morning, and we’ll all find out if his medical powers are as extraordinary as you told my household.  Now be on your way, and let me continue my routine,” she sat up and waved them away with her hands.

The pair left the bedroom and walked through the small salon to the public sitting room in front, where the maid was waiting.

“We’ll see you again tomorrow, when we come back as her ladyship requested,” Letta said pointedly.  “You’ll be able to provide us with entry in a suitable manner, I trust?”

“Yes, my lady,” the maid said sullenly.  She held the door open for the pair to exit.

Theus and Letta walked down the elegant halls in silence, until they turned a corner and entered a less august portion of the palace.  Letta turned suddenly on Theus, throwing her arm out in front of him to stop him, then virtually pinning him against the wall as she stared at him fiercely.

“What exactly happened in there between you and that half-naked lady?” she hissed the question in his face.

“Nothing my lady!” These protested loudly.  “Well, hardly anything.  Nothing bad.  I didn’t do anything,” he spit out a stream of answers.

“Tell me,” Letta repeated.

“When I went in, I met her in her bath,” Theus began.  “But nothing happened.  And then we moved to her bedroom, but nothing happened.  I applied the lotion to her feet, and she asked for you to join us.”

Letta studied him, then raised her hand and gently patted him on the cheek.  “Such a good boy,” she said softly.  “Let’s get back to the kitchen; I have four lunch services I have to make sure are carried out.”

“I’d like to have a chance to go by the hospice, if I may,” he requested.  “To check on the burn patients.”

“Oh yes, certainly.  Please do check on our fellows,” Letta softened.  “I do hope that you bring them some relief.

“Lady Citrice – she will feel better, won’t she?” Letta asked, her face drawing closer to Theus’s, and showing the doubt that lingered.

“Yes, I’m sure she will,” Theus answered, suddenly worried once again that something might not be right about the treatment.

“Come along then,” Letta ignored the stares the pair had drawn from bypassers, and she began walking again.

“You go out this door, and turn left, and you’ll find the hospice in a few minutes,” Letta told Theus a few minutes later as they wove among the traffic in the palace corridor, and passed a doorway.  “Now go, then return to the kitchen, and we’ll see what comes next.  I’m sure we’ll find something for you to do this afternoon.”

Theus nodded farewell, then dropped off to the side, and slipped out the doorway.  He found himself outside the palace, on the north side, with landmarks in view that he recognized.  He could find his way to the hospice in the bright sunlight that drenched the ground just beyond the palace’s shadows.  And in the sunlight, he felt a diminishment of the fearfulness that Lady Citrice had inspired in his psyche while he had been in the palace.  He’d only need to go back to see her one more time, twice more at most.  Then her gout would be cleared up, and his service to her would be over.

The hospice came into view as he rounded the corner of one of the turrets that erupted from the palace’s architecture unpredictably.  Theus walked in, and was immediately stopped by the attendant at the front door who had ignored him on every previous visit over the past few days.

“What have you done?” the man asked.  “You’ve got this place in an uproar!  What have you done?” he repeated.

Theus felt his heart thump wildly, as he wondered what had gone wrong.  He rushed past the man and cut to his left, entering the ground floor wing of the building where he had visited Weese for so many consecutive days.

He saw Weese sitting up.  The badly burned man was instantly visible as soon as Theus entered the ward.  He had several people standing around him, talking closely with him, but a gap between two of the conversationalists framed a clear view of Weese.

The man had a face composed of skin that was mottled.  That was different.  Previously, the skin on the face had been one vast swath of scar material, but now it appeared something was changing.  Theus hurried towards the bed where the man sat, and nearly reached it before Weese happened to spot his arrival.

“Here’s the one who done it!” Weese exclaimed.

All heads turned to look at Theus.

“Who are you?” one of the women in the circle asked, as Theus elbowed his way in next to Weese, then bent low to look at his patient.

“How do you feel?” Theus asked.  “How do these changes feel?” he added.

The skin on the man’s face was a patchwork of spots that were growing into pink, healthy skin, and other spots that remained scar tissue – and there were some parts of his face that were changing back to skin, but less slowly than others.

“I feel a tingle in my skin, all the time,” Weese answered.

“What did you do to him?” one of the women standing next to Theus asked.

“These are my nurses,” Weese said, motioning to the women on one side of the bed with Theus.

Theus looked at the women: one looked bored, one looked bewildered, and the one who had asked the question looked interested.  Across the bed on the other side, Theus saw a trio of people who were apparently other patients, judging from the crutches and cadaverous appearances.

“Great lord, can you heal me as well?” a man on crutches asked.

“I’m just a slave in the kitchen,” Theus replied.  “I do as my mistress wishes.  But I can ask if I can return to help others.”

“Can a slave in the kitchen really be able to do this?” asked the nurse who stood next to him.

“I was only recently captured and made a slave,” Theus answered.

“Were you a doctor before?” the nurse asked.

“I learned a lot of remedies, but I wasn’t a doctor,” Theus answered.  “We need to keep an eye on you for the next few days.  The healing process should continue to improve.

“How is Ruune?” he asked the group generally.

“Have you treated him too?  We haven’t been to that side to examine the patients,” answered the woman next to him.

“Let’s go take a look, shall we?” she asked.

They departed together from the crowd examining Weese, and crossed over to the ward of more desperate cases.  There was no crowd around Ruune’s damaged body, but both the visitors stood and stared in silent astonishment at the changes occurring upon the surface of the ruined body.

“We used to think this poor man should have just been put out of his misery,” the nurse told Theus.  “Who would have ever believed this was possible?”

They both stood in silence and looked down at the wrecked body in the bed.  The scar tissue was metamorphizing just as Weese’s was, mottled patches at various location along a spectrum from newly healthy skin to scar tissue that remain intact and unchanged.  Buds were growing on the sides of his head where his ears had burned off, and features on his face were beginning to re-emerge.

“Will his arm grow back?” the nurse gestured towards the shoulder and empty space where scar tissue was changing and the limb was absent.

“I don’t know,” Theus answered.  “That’s so much more than any of the rest of this.”

“How fast will the healing progress?” the nurse wanted to know.

“I think that within a week they’ll receive all the healing this remedy can provide,” Theus guessed.  “I’ll stop in every day to check on them.”

“We’ll look forward to seeing you every day.  Will you heal others while you’re here?” the woman seemed hopeful.

“I’ll ask my mistress,” Theus repeated, “she’ll have to give me the time and the money to buy the ingredients for the treatments.”

“Our infirmary doesn’t have much of a budget, but if we can help pay to end some of the suffering of our patients, we would find a way,” the nurse answered.

“I’ll let you know,” Theus promised.  He patted Ruune on the man’s shoulder, and he watched his patient respond with a wave of his healthy arm, the first time Torella’s betrothed had acted to acknowledge Theus’s presence or treatment.  Pleased, Theus left the hospice and found his way back to the kitchen in time to be asked to help deliver the lunch meal to one of the palace’s banquet rooms.

“Push this cart,” Letta assigned Theus, “and follow everyone else.”

Theus spent hours that afternoon helping to transport plates and glasses to serve a large wedding party for the daughter of one of the King’s friends.  When he got back to the kitchen he found Letta and asked about helping others at the hospice.

“You can spend time there, but no more of my budget,” she said.  “You’ll have to find someone else who can pay for the goods.  I can’t afford charity for the whole palace.”

Theus glumly nodded his head in acknowledgement.  He understood Letta’s budgetary limits.  But he suspected that the number and severity of the cases at the hospice was going to prove too expensive for the nurses to afford to buy his ingredients in more than a few cases.

That evening, as he walked home, he tried to imagine where he could find funds to help pay for the supplies he would need to buy in the markets to treat the other hospice patients.

After he returned to his room and lay down in his bed in the darkness, he thought about Coriae, and her family’s wealth.  With the money they possessed, they could have provided all the supplies he needed to heal every patient in the hospice now, and for the next one hundred years.

There was a suddenly knocking on his door, very faint.  Before he could answer, the latch clicked, and the door began to open, without revealing any light from a lantern or candle.

“Hello?” he called, sitting up, slightly alarmed.

“Theus?” Torella’s voice whispered in the dark, and he faintly saw her dark figure come gliding through the shadows of his room, then sit upon the edge of his bed.

“Did you go to the hospice, Theus?  Did you see him?” she asked in a plaintive voice.

“He’s looking better,” Theus answered.  “He is showing some improvement, but it’s going to be slow, and there’s no telling how far it can go – maybe just a little bit, maybe a little bit more,” he cautioned.

“What’s happening?  What did you see?” she was hopeful, he could tell.

Theus paused and tried to balance what he would report.

“There is some growth around where his ears were, and his scars are starting to soften toward skin in some spots,” he tried to say the things that were most positive.  “But there’s a very long way to go.  I don’t think his arm will grow back.”

“What about his face?  His lips?  His nose and eyes?” Torella surprised Theus by lying down on the mattress beside him.  “Will he have his face?”

Theus lay back, and put his arms around the small girl, wrapping her in a tender embrace.

“I hope so.  He did raise his arm to wave at me today,” Theus decided to reveal the best news, but hoped he didn’t give false hope.

“He knew you were there?  Should I go see him?  Would it cheer him up to know that I visited?” she asked.  “Would you go if it were you?”

“He would appreciate hearing you there with him,” Theus reluctantly spoke.  He had only spent a handful of days with Torella, but as they lay together with intimate coziness, he thought of her as his own special friend, one he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave him to return to affection with the healing Ruune.

“I’ll go back to see both he and Weese tomorrow after my other chores.  Would you like to go with me?” he decided he had to ask.

“If I’m not assigned to other duties, I’ll go with you,” she agreed.

“Mmmm, it’s so nice to just be here with you.  I feel safe,” she said sleepily a minute later, after a silent interlude.  “Is it wrong to just enjoy your company, while we talk about poor Ruune?” she asked softly.

“I hope not,” finding that the question closely mirrored his own thoughts about Coriae while his hands softly massaged the flesh of Torella’s back through the thin fabric of her gown.  “We’re good people.  We won’t do the wrong thing.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Torella responded, then she rose from the bed.  “I better go back to my room,” she said, and then he heard the door latch lift again, and she was gone.

Chapter 9

In the morning, Theus and Torella carried the plates of breakfast to the armory, and learned that the officers were distracted by important orders that had been handed down to them the previous evening.

“We’re going to war next week!  That’s a great thing, eh?” Theus’s opponent in the morning fencing match crowed as they stepped onto the practice mat.  “The magician has his black arts prepared to assist us in defeating Steep Rise’s defenses when we invade.”

The contest on the mat began in earnest then, but the high spirits of the officer made him too reckless, and Theus soon scored the points needed for a victory.  The fast match earned scorn for the officer, and a demand that Theus contest a second match, which he did, and which eventually resulted in a narrow victory for him after a close-fought match.

“At least Glashtin gave you a competitive match,” the officers said to Theus.  “Shouldn’t you plan to pack up and come along on the invasion as one of us?” one of them laughed.  “You’re every bit as good as us with a sword.”

Theus laughed and waved them off, then left with Torella.

“Why don’t you become an officer with them Theus?” the girl asked as the pair walked through the halls of the palace.  “They could pull some strings with their friends for you.  You know they like you.”

“They’re not going to do that for me; they’ve only known me less than a week,” he replied.

“I’ve only known you less than a week too, but I know what a good man you are!” she answered spiritedly.  “I’d do it for you, if I was them.”

“Thank you, Tory,” Theus said affectionately, genuinely touched by her comments.

“Are we going to the hospice now?” the girl asked.

“No, I have to go shower, and then I need to go see High Lady Citrice.  Would you like to be my guide to her quarters?” he asked.  “It’s in the nobles’ wing of the palace.”

“And then we’d go to the hospice after that?” Torella asked again.

“And then we’ll go to the hospice,” Theus agreed.

Torella led him directly to their residence hall, and waited in Theus’s room while he showered on the floor above, then returned to rejoin her.

“We better hurry.  You don’t want to keep the nobility waiting,” Torella commented as they left the North Hall.

“I don’t think this particular noble lady rises very early in the morning,” Theus replied cheerfully.  “We might find her still asleep when we get there.”

“And what are you treating her for?  What medicine is this?” Torella wanted to know, and so Theus explained most of the situation to his companion as they traveled to the far end of the palace.

When they arrived at the door to the room, the same maid opened the door, and admitted then without delay.

“Her ladyship is awake and out of her bath.  You may go into her bedroom to treat her.  You may wait here,” the maid indicated one of the sofas in the small antechamber for Torella, as Theus put his hand on the door of the bedroom.  He knocked lightly, then carefully pressed the door open, and cautiously stepped in.

“There’s my dear boy,” Lady Citrice was waiting for him, lying in her bed under the covers.

“You’ve been an absolute miracle worker!  I’ll be able to dance at the ball the day after tomorrow after all!” she exclaimed.

“My foot feels so much better already!  Would you like for me to throw off these covers so that you can see for your self?” she asked.

“If you could just stick the foot out, I can look at it,” Theus said hopefully.

He raised the covers at the foot of the bed helpfully, and watched the gouty foot emerge, while Citrice laughed at his discomfort.  The foot looked much improved.  The swelling and redness had dissipated by a considerable degree.

“I think it is much better,” he said cheerfully.  “But I’ll put a second treatment on it today for you, just to make sure,” he offered.  He looked over at the window sill to confirm that the jar of remaining treatment still sat in place.

“You are such a good boy!” the noblewoman said delightedly.

Theus stepped over to get the lotion, and when he came back, he found that both of Citrice’s feet were exposed.  “You might as well massage the other foot,” she explained with an impish grin.  “You do it so well!”

Theus laughed softly.  “Yes, my lady,” he agreed as he uncorked the jar in his hand and took out some of the lotion, then began to work it into the foot that needed treatment.

“So what other activities do you have today, beside attending to my feet?” Citrice asked languidly after a minute of quiet.

Theus looked up and saw that her head was reclined back on her pillows, and her eyes were closed, as she relaxed.

“I was fencing with the officers this morning in the armory, and after this I’ll go to the palace hospice to tend to some burn victims there.  And after that, I’ll probably deliver lunch to some meeting,” he summarized.

“You fence with the officers?  The guard officers in the palace?” there was a note of intrigue in the noble woman’s voice.

“Strictly for their enjoyment,” Theus replied. “They find it amusing that a kitchen slave can handle a sword.”

“I hope they’re not too rough on you.  I can put in a word to order them to leave you alone, if you wish,” she kindly offered.

“No,” Theus smiled, “we get along pretty well.  There’s no need to change anything.”

“But if you could ask for more money for the hospice,” he suddenly recognized a chance to do something positive, “I could use their money to create more treatments for the patients there, like I’m treating your gout,” he suggested.

“Well of course.  You should be given everything you need to help people feel better.  You’re doing a wonderful job for me,” Citrice agreed with a sleepy smile.

“Your help would be most appreciated, my lady,” he said earnestly, hoping that the noble woman would truly carry out the simple request.

“You keep massaging my feet like this,” she sighed, “and your hospice will double its budget.”

Theus added effort to his massaging, and switched back and forth from foot to foot for several more minutes.

“There,” he stopped his work.  “Shall I come back tomorrow?” he asked, hoping to prompt the woman to feel more compelled to carry out her promise of funds for the hospice.

“Oh yes, of course.  Another round of massage, eh, treatment, would be so beneficial,” Citrice immediately agreed.

Minutes later, Theus and Torella were out of the noble wing of the palace and on their way back to the hospice at last.

“What does she look like?” Torella asked.

“She’s an ancient hag,” Theus suddenly knew that he couldn’t tell Torella that the noble lady was an attractive woman, one who most men would find desirable.  If he felt a certain, irrational jealousy about Torella, he suspected she felt the same way about him.  He didn’t want to feed those feelings in any way.

“And she says that the hospice will have more money, so that it can pay for more remedies and healing of the patients in the building,” he added.  “Let’s hope it’s true.”

“I hope it’s true that Ruune is recovering from the fire,” Torella responded softly.

“I think he is.  I think there will be a little more recovery every day for a few days.  We’ll have to wait to see how far he recovers,” Theus reassured her.

“I’ll wait out here again,” Torella stopped outside the door of the hospice upon their arrival.  “But please call me in to see him if you think it will be the right thing to do.”

Theus held her hand and squeezed it gently, then went inside.  He decided to visit Ruune first, to reduce Torella’s impatient vigil outside the building, if conditions permitted.  Ruune was alone in his bed, but he was a different person than Theus had seen before.  His ears were nearly completely restored.  Hair was growing back in wisps upon his skull, and more of the scarred skin had switched over to become healthy new skin.  He had lips, and part of a nose.  There were no eyebrows, but the vacant eye sockets seemed whole once more.  His missing arm remained missing, without any sign it was returning; that would have been a cure beyond miraculous, Theus thought.

But the rest of it certainly seemed to qualify as miraculous.  It was extraordinary enough that he was sure he needed to bring Torella into the building, and let her see what was happening.  The recovery wasn’t at an end after only two days, Theus was sure, so Torella would be able to see that there were better things coming.

Or, he could not say anything to the girl, and perhaps continue to enjoy more of her attention to himself.

He gave a sigh, after standing silently for a moment more, then turned and walked back out of the building.

“Tory,” he said quietly, as she stood leaning against the wall, soaking up the sunshine outside.

Her eyes flew open, and stared at him, round and wide.

“I think you should go inside and see Ruune,” he told her.  “I think you’ll like the progress he’s making.”

Her lip trembled slightly, but she remained silent.  Then her head bobbed sideways in a slight nod to proceed.

They entered the building together, holding hands, and turned right, into Ruune’s wing.  They went five steps forward, then Theus stopped and released Torella’s hand, and let her slowly walk forward the rest of the way to the bedside.  Theus watched as she looked down in silence for a long time, then reached a hand forward to touch Ruune’s shoulder.  After that, he turned away, and didn’t see the rest of the reunion.  Instead, he crossed the building to go visit Weese.

“My hero!” the man shouted when Theus came into view.  “They tell me they’re going to discharge me in two more days if this healing keeps up,” he told Theus when the healer arrived at the bedside of his patient.

“Do you think that’ll happen?” he asked Theus.  “You’re the miracleworker here; you’d know better than anyone.”

Theus looked at the expanding patches of pink, healthy skin that had replaced nearly all the scar tissue visible.

“Do you feel much pain now?” he asked Weese.

“Hardly anything at all.  It goes down by the hour.  It’s not like it was when everything was suffering,” he replied.  “So what do you think?”

“I think you can be released tomorrow,” Theus answered.

Weese sat up straight in his bed, a look of joy on his face, and leaned out to hug Theus with intense happiness.  “I never would have believed it!  I thought I’d just stay here in pain until I died,” he sobbed into Theus’s shirt.

“Well, that won’t happen.  And maybe we can help a few others in this place leave happily too,” he added, looking around the ward at the other patients.  He gently pried himself from Weese, then began to make rounds of the others, asking for symptoms and explanations of their problems.  He developed a prognosis for those in who he could identify the problems, and mentally cataloged what he would need to develop a treatment for them all.  An hour later, he felt that he could help half the patients in the ward find better health.

He was pleased with the potential he saw.  He’d been there long enough, he decided, and he could plan to come back to work his way through the patients on Ruune’s side of the building the following day.  He stopped in the center hallway, and looked into the right side of the building to see Torella still standing next to Ruune’s bed, her hands down low, perhaps holding his in his bed, her head bent low, close to the patient’s.

He stepped back, then left the hospice, and walked back to the kitchen.  It was lunch time, and he was assigned to serve plates of food to the guards in the various guard posts around the perimeter of the palace.  He pushed a wheeled cart and made the long circuit, covering a portion of the wall, and handing out meals until he finally met up with another person also making deliveries; the two of them returned to the kitchen together, and each ate one of the leftover meals from their cart as they walked.

Upon his return to the kitchen, Theus had no further work assignments, so he went back to his counter and began to write out a list of the ingredients he would need to buy to be able to concoct the numerous remedies that were needed for the invalids he had seen in the hospice.

“He spoke to me,” a voice behind Theus startled him as he focused on writing out his list.

He whirled about, and found Torella standing behind him, with shining eyes.

“I understood what he said; I heard his voice and could understand his words.  I told him he was healing, and he was going to get better.  I told him I loved him still, and he told me he loved me,” the girl told Theus in a voice filled with emotion.

“You have made this possible,” she squeezed him tightly in a fervent hug.  “You have become the best person in my life, other than Ruune, in just a matter of days!  You are the best person ever!”

He smiled at her emotions, then heard his name called.  “Theus!  Theus, I need to see you!” Letta was steaming towards him, holding something in her hand.

Torella released her grip on him and stepped back, as Letta arrived.

“Shall I leave, my lady?” she asked, looking apprehensively at the chief of the kitchen.

Letta looked down at the diminutive girl.  “Yes, no, it doesn’t matter,” she shifted rapidly through several answers.  “No, on second thought, you might be part of this,” she held out the leather ball in her hand.  “You two have been thick as thieves the past few days.

“Theus, this was just delivered to the kitchen,” Letta held the leather object higher and further, pressing it towards Theus’s face.  “Smell that,” she demanded.

He was examining her face closely, trying to discern some clue about her mood and behavior, but finding none.  He was worried.

He leaned forward and gingerly inhaled the fragrance of the leather ball.  It was a refreshing, flowery aroma, one that was pleasant and exotic.

“It smells nice, my lady,” he replied carefully, hoping his answer was correct.  He was feeling good about his position among the slaves in the kitchen, and he feared that he had somehow just received blame for something that would upset his situation.

“Nice?  Just nice?  Is it familiar?” she asked.  “Would you like to examine the ‘nice’ smell?” Letta asked Torella, lowering the leather to the girl’s face.

Theus watched his friend gingerly inhale.  A half smile formed on her face.  “It’s very nice, isn’t it?” she asked conversationally.

“Oh,” she murmured.  Her eyes rose to Letta, then shifted to Theus.   “It’s the perfume of that noblewoman you visited this morning.”

Recognition dawned in Theus’s mind, and his nose and his memories were reacquainted.   He had known the scent.  He had smelled it in Lady Citrice’s bath, and in her room, and on her skin.

“It is the Lady Citrice,” he agreed, his eyes returning to Letta’s face.

She shuffled the leather in her hand, then held it over the counter beside Theus, and they all watched and listened as a cascade of bright metal coins fell, striking the counter and bouncing about wildly.  Torella instantly fell to her knees and began to trap those that dropped off the counter and hit the floor.

“There was a note with this interesting delivery,” Letta said.  “The note said it was ‘as promised to the kitchen slave whose hands have made life like heaven’,” she recited.

“What have you been doing with that noble woman?” her voice was tense.

“I have done only what I am supposed to,” he replied instantly.  “I am healing her gout; it’s already healed, I believe, but I agreed to go back tomorrow one more time, in order to,” he paused.  He realized what Citrice had done.

“I asked her if she could help me find the funds to buy the medicines to heal more of the people in the hospice,” Theus explained.  “I thought she would just tell someone to give the hospice the money, but I think she must have sent it here.  But it’s for the hospice, my lady,” he spoke emphatically, “it’s not for me.

“I looked at many of the patients in the hospice, and I can heal many of them, I truly believe I can,” he insisted.

“He can, without a doubt, my lady,” Torella spoke up.  “I spoke with Ruune today!  He’s coming back to life.  He’s regaining,” her voice petered out momentarily.  “He has a face again, and it’s getting better.  Theus did that!  He can do so much!  He’s better to have around than a magician, if you ask me,” she spoke in a fervent, but low voice, so as not to be overheard.

“Shush, child,” Letta reprimanded her.  “Ruune is recovering?  What of Weese?” she asked Theus.

“I believe he’ll be discharged from the hospice tomorrow.  He’ll be back here in no time to bake again,” he spoke assuredly.

“Let’s go see this miracle,” she used her hand to sweep the coins back into the leather bag, then took Theus by his arm, and grabbed Torella as well, and began marching through the kitchen.

“We’ll be back soon.  Keep marinating that roast for the royal dinner,” she told the cook as they left the room.

The three hurried through the palace and back to the hospice in the late afternoon.

“Let’s go see Weese,” Letta, led them to the left wing of the hospice.

“My lady!  Your young great one is my hero!” Weese spoke as he saw Letta approaching.  The heads of the other members of the ward were raised by those who had the strength to raise them, as they watched the small entourage with interest.

“Look at me, ready to come home,” he announced, sitting up and flinging his sheet off, to reveal the expanse of healing, healthy skin that had replaced his former scar tissue.  “And the pain’s gone too,” he assured Letta, then looked at Theus and winked.

“You’ll want me to bake a cake first thing when I return, to celebrate, of course,” he said solemnly to Letta.  “You’re getting your very best baker back, you know!”

“And not a moment too soon,” Letta said.  “Colandra has placed an order for two hundred cakes for delivery the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s impossible!” Weese cried.  “You’re truly blessed to have me back.  The youngster must have been the god’s own gift to you.”

“My lady,” a man in a bed three spots further down the row called out.  “Will the great healer be back to heal the rest of us?”

“He’ll go to the market tomorrow morning, after his chores, and he’ll buy all the goods he can to put your remedies together,” Letta replied, without looking over at Theus even once.

“You are truly a great friend to all of us,” the patient said gratefully to Letta.  “May Maurienne have mercy upon you.”

“Alright Weese, we’ll see you in the kitchen tomorrow as early as you’re able to get there,” Letta said briskly.  “Let’s go see Ruune,” she turned and walked away, Theus and Torella trailing behind.

“Torella,” she said when the trio reached the center aisle of the building.  She handed her leather bag of coins to the girl.  “You take Theus out to the markets right now and start buying whatever he needs for these other cures.”

“It’s late my lady; many of the markets are closed,” Torella objected.

“I know, but go get as much as you can, and then go out and get more tomorrow morning, after you two make all these appointments that our young phenom has established for himself.  Here’s a few coins so you can buy dinner too; don’t spend the Lady’s money on anything for medicines, and don’t come in early if you can buy more,” Letta instructed.  “I’ll go visit Ruune myself.  I never thought there’d come a day when I’d ever hear his voice again.

“Now, you two run along,” she gave a gentle push to Theus’s shoulder.  “You’ve got work to do,” she added gruffly.

Theus grasped Torella’s hand in his, and pulled her with him, as they exited the hospice.

“I thought I was going to get to see Ruune again,” she murmured softly.

“You will, tomorrow, I’m sure,” Theus assured her, secretly pleased to have her company with him rather than with her revived betrothed.  “Let’s hurry to get as much as we can tonight,” he urged.  “I might even be able to start mixing some of the remedies tonight, after we return to the palace.”

Torella led him directly through the palace, cutting the shortest route possible to the palace gates, and they quickly entered the city beyond the imposing walls.  They headed towards the nearest market, where Theus launched on a winding, haphazard buying spree.

“I was writing a list when we left the kitchen, but now I have to try to remember everything from many different remedies,” he explained to Torella, as they repeatedly retraced their steps back and forth to return to vendors for items he had forgotten to buy.

By the time the sky was turning purple overhead and the fourth market of their shopping spree was closing down, they were far from the palace gates, and they carried multiple bag of goods.  But Theus felt satisfied that they carried suitable supplies to allow him to concoct one or more complete remedies for the patients in the palace hospice.

“Let’s eat some dinner Theus, I’m famished,” Torella exclaimed, as they passed a posh-looking tavern.  “Let’s go in here.”

“Can we afford it?” he asked in a low voice.  He watched a couple enter the building, wearing fur-lined robes and fine silks.

“Letta gave us a lot of money,” the girl replied.  “And we can celebrate Ruune’s recovery.  I hear that the wines they serve in these places are much nicer that we would ever receive.”

“Okay,” Theus agreed.  He felt a slight pang of misgiving, but he was happy to have so many ingredients in hand, and he was willing to go along to make Torella happy.

The first challenge they faced was getting past the doorman.  When Torella opened the bag of remaining coins from Lady Citrice and showed them as proof of ability to pay, the man agreed to give them a seat, despite their poor clothing and relatively unkempt appearance.

“What shall we order?” Torella whispered, as the pair followed a waiter, carrying their bulky bags through the narrow aisles between tables.  They were seated at a small table near the kitchen door, against the rear wall of the dining room, then left alone.

“What should we order in a place like this?” Torella asked with a giggle.

“We could get something that Letta’s kitchen is good at making, like eggs and hash,” Theus offered helpfully.

“I know!” Torella ignored his suggestion.  “We’ll order a bottle of wine!

“Waiter, bring us some wine,” she flagged down a passing server.

The man gave a curt nod and continued on.

“Let’s have fish,” Torella suggested.  “And potatoes, and honey rolls.”

“Whatever you want,” Theus conceded the decisions to his companion.

The waiter stopped by and placed a wine bottle and two clear wine glasses on the table.

“Here, let me pour,” Torella said excitedly.  She began to pour the first glass, then stopped.

“Is it water?” she asked, discovering that the wine was not the typical deep red color she associated with wine.  “I’ll try it,” she offered.  She raised the glass, swallowed the contents, and gave a delighted murmur of satisfaction.

“You should try this!” Torella proposed to Theus enthusiastically.  She poured two large glasses of the beverage, and raised her glass in a toast.

“Here’s to Ruune feeling better,” she toasted.  Theus clinked his glass against hers, and they drank.  She drank deeply, while Theus sipped his beverage.  The wine was pleasant, much better than he had expected from the strangely tinted beverage.

“And here’s to having more medicine to heal all the people in the hospice,” Torella raised a second toast, and drained her glass, as Theus sipped his again.

“Here’s a toast to people who know how to heal and cure everything in the world,” she raised a third quick toast, with a warm smile, and drank deeply.

“Have our guests decided what they would like to order?” a waiter was suddenly beside their table.

The two guests looked blankly at him, then at one another.

“I could make some suggestions,” the waiter advised haughtily.

“Can I have some stew?” Theus asked.

“We do not serve stew,” the waiter informed him.

“Do you have any chicken?” Torella asked.

“We have pheasant, or quail,” the waiter seemed impatient.

“Do you have any chops?” Theus tried again.

The waiter hesitated.  “Yes, we have lamb,” he reluctantly surrendered an agreement.

“That’s what I’ll have,” both the guests said simultaneously, then laughed.

The waiter stood stoically for a moment, nodded, and departed.

“Here’s a toast to chops!” Theus grinned.

“To chops!” Torella agreed, and they both drank.

There was a sudden, inexplicable blast of cold air in the restaurant, an impossible phenomenon in the semi-tropical city.  The lights from the candles and lanterns dimmed for several seconds, and men and women shrieked in fear.

When the lights rose again, Theus looked to see that Donal the magician, and a pair of servants, stood in front of the main door.

A quartet of diners at a table near Theus and Torella suddenly rose and darted towards the kitchen door, looking to escape from the magician’s presence, but Donal lazily raised his hand and pointed a finger at the group.  There was a flash of light, and the four people collapsed in a heap on the floor next to the kitchen door.

“I hope no one else will be stupid enough to try that again,” Donal said in his low, raspy voice.

“Now, all of you have a chance to help your king with a mission of the utmost importance to him.  Each of you will have a chance to make a small contribution,” he said, his voice projecting effectively throughout the dining room.

“I believe we’ll start with you,” he said casually, as he placed his hand on the shoulder of the woman sitting closest.

He closed his eyes, as the whole restaurant stared.  There was a sudden slight glow around the woman, then a high-pitched humming noise for a second.  The woman shrieked painfully, and the glow migrated from her to Donal, changing color from blue to red as it went.  The woman fainted, while the magician seemed to wince, and straighten his posture involuntarily, then the light around him ceased.

“And now for you,” Donal said to the man sitting at the table with the woman.

“When this is finished, the two of you are welcome to finish your meal, or you may leave,” Donal said, then he placed his hand atop the head of the man, and the process was repeated.

“That was simple and easy.  Who wants to be next?” Donal asked sarcastically.  He took a step to the right, and placed his hand on a man at the table next to him, making the man’s companion scream with fear.

“You two go collect as well, so we can finish here sooner,” Donal said to his assistants.  They each bowed slightly, then also stepped towards untouched tables and began to demonstrate the same terrible treatment that gave pain to the customers of the restaurant.

“What are they doing to them?  Why?” Torella asked Theus in a whisper.  “Can we escape?  Can you stop them?  What if everyone tried to fight them together, all at once?”

“Don’t try anything stupid,” whispered a man at the nearest table.  “We could all be hurt even worse if you make him mad.”

“Why is he doing this to people here?” Torella trembled as she asked.  Theus reached out and took her hand in his, trying to comfort her.

“He is taking life from everyone, a little from each person he treats.  He’ll use the power for his magic,” the man said.

Donal’s eyes turned to look in the direction of the conversation, and the man explaining the situation instantly stopped, then looked down in his lap.

“Hmm,” Donal murmured.  He left his spot and his next victim, to walk towards the location of the voices.

“What an interesting sight,” Donal said when he approached, and came to stand next to Theus and Torella’s table.  “So intriguing.

“The slaves from the palace,” he intoned, loudly enough for all the nearby tables to hear.

“There was something interesting about you in the palace.  And it seems most unusual that slaves would have the funds to afford a bottle of wine in an establishment like this,” he looked down at their table.

“Not to mention the unusual rumors I’ve heard in the past few days.  A master swordsman is defeating our best palace guard officers with swords – but he’s a slave.  A high-ranking noblewoman is bewitched by a charming young man – but he’s a slave.  Miraculous cures are helping the invalids and incurable – but they come from a slave,” Donal ticked through his list, looking down at Theus as he did, his eyes burning with intensity.

“There’s something unusual happening, and I’m always interested in the unusual,” Donal said.  And then he laid his hand upon Torella’s shoulder.

The girl screamed, and her hand and Theus’s gripped one another with intensity.

Donal closed his eyes.  Theus felt suddenly chilled.

He watched as the blue glow began to form around Torella.  Her eyes were wide and round with terror.  Theus felt a gnawing feeling in his soul, as though some horrid predator was stalking him relentlessly in real life, tracking him across an open plain where there was no place to hide.  He was about to be pounced upon and killed, he was sure.  He felt time slowing down, and the air around him seemed to be rushing with terrific force against him suddenly.

“I can protect you,” a voice faintly intoned, echoing through Theus’s psyche.

The hunting monster that was just behind him suddenly staggered backwards.  There was a flash of pain and anger, yet it came from a different place within him.

Theus tore his eyes away from Torella, whose face suddenly seemed to relax slightly.  He looked up at Donal, and saw the man’s head rock back, and his eyes twitch violently.  The glow around Torella transferred itself to Donal, glowing with a sickly light red color instead of the deep color that others had given to the magician.

Torella collapsed forward, as Donal’s hand left her shoulder, and Theus leaned forward and reached out to prevent her face from striking the table.

He looked up at Donal, and saw the magician studying him intently, while rubbing his left hand vigorously across the back of the right hand that had rested on Torella.

“You are on my list,” he almost hissed the words to Theus, who looked up at him in befuddled fear.

“We’re through here for the night,” Donal announced in a voice that carried across the room.  He turned and motioned to his two followers, then walked towards the front door of the tavern and walked out of the establishment.

“Torella!” Theus sprang out of his seat and knelt on the floor, next to the unconscious girl.  He hugged her tightly and gently chaffed her cheeks and hands, until he saw her eyes flutter open.

“Oh Theus!” she moaned, then wrapped her arms around him and began to cry.

There were noises around them, and Theus realized that the other patrons of the restaurant were fleeing from the horrific scene – those who were awake and able.  The others, the worst-affected victims of the magicians’ treatment, remained slumped unconscious in their seats.

“Let’s get back to the palace,” Theus whispered to Torella.

“Yes, please, take me home,” she nodded her head against his shoulder in agreement.

Theus stood, and helped her to her feet.

“Don’t forget the bags,” she urged as he started to lead her away.  She reached down and lifted some of the bounty they had purchased at the markets in the city.  Together, they gathered their goods, then wound their way out onto the street, in the early darkness of the evening.  Holding hands, they hurried through the city and returned to the gates in the palace walls, then entered.

Theus surveyed their surroundings as they entered the palace property, fearful that Donal might be awaiting him, ready to ambush him for some reason.  They hurried to the kitchen unmolested, though Theus feared some attack from the magician at any moment.  After they put their supplies on the counter in the dim kitchen, Theus studied the silent Torella.  She was still pale, her white skin in deeper contrast than usual to her red hair.

“Let’s go to the North Hall, shall we?” he suggested.  When she nodded, he guided her by the hand through the palace and the grounds, to reach their destination.

“I felt his mind inside my soul,” Torella finally whispered to Theus as they walked up the stairs to the third floor of the dormitory for the slaves.  I could feel him taking something from me.”

“Here’s your room,” Theus told as they stood outside her door.  The hallway was dark.  She had expressed her horror, and Theus knew it well; he had felt it just as she had.  And he knew what she wanted now.

“Shall I stay with you tonight?” he asked softly.

“Please, Theus.  Comfort me,” she nodded.  She hugged him tightly, then opened the door, and they both stumbled into her room.  They sat on the bed and removed their boots, then lay down in each other’s arms and whispered to one another that they were safe.

Chapter 10

Theus awoke first in the morning, as darkness was turning to gray outside Torella’s window.  He gently disengaged her arms from around his shoulders, then slowly sat up on the edge of the bed.  He bent over to pull on his boots, then stretched his arms over his head, and stood up.  He was feeling better than he had the night before; the horror of the touch of the magician had been enduring.  Only the opportunity to sleep against Torella, taking comfort in the feel of her body pressed innocently against his, had helped to wash away the residual dregs of fear.

When he stood he felt ready to move on with the duties he had ahead for the day; breakfast delivery to the armory, and fencing, then service to Lady Citrice, and then the chance to return to the kitchen to begin mixing the additional medicines needed by the patients in the hospice.

His eyes were adjusted to the growing dim light in Torella’s room.  He saw, to his shock and horror, that there was a person sitting in the chair in the corner of the room.

“So, you’re Theus?” the man’s voice spoke, as Theus gasped audibly.  He wished he carried a weapon – a sword, or knife, or staff – anything.

“I am,” was all he answered, waiting to find out what the intruder’s intention was.  Theus reached down and gently tapped Torella behind him without looking.  He wanted the girl to be awake and alert to the situation, in case she had to flee for safety.

It had to be the magician, Theus realized.  Or if not the magician himself, one of his minions, sent to do some damage to Theus in retribution for the strange occurrence at the restaurant the night before.

The stranger stood up, unsteadily, it seemed in the dimness.

“What is it Theus?” Torella’s voice behind him responded to his prodding.

“Theus the healer.  Theus the do-gooder.  Theus the hero,” the stranger said mockingly.

“Oh,” Torella’s voice had a catch in it.

“This is the good you do?” the man asked, confusing Theus.

“Ruune?” Torella’s voice spoke a name.

“My betrothed?” the intruder answered bitterly.

Theus felt a second profound shock.  He realized the situation.  He was in bed with the woman who was supposed to be faithful to Ruune.

“This isn’t what it seems,” Theus protested.

Torella sat up and leapt off the bed.  She ran over to Runne and threw her arms around him.

“You’re up!  You’re out of the hospice!” she was full of joy.

“And you’re taking other men to your bed,” Ruune’s one arm attempted to break Torella’s clinch; the man struggled to push the girl away.

“We were only together for protection from the evil of the magician.  He frightened us last night,” Theus protested.  “We did nothing wrong.  We were on the same bed, to feel safe, but that’s all.”  He raised his voice to emphasize his words.

“Truly Ruune!” Torella said beseechingly.  “The magician Donal was in a restaurant last night, where we were. And he touched me – it was horrible.  It was dark magic, but Theus helped stop the attack,” she explained, still struggling against his opposition to her embrace.

“He hasn’t even kissed me,” she wailed.  “I’ve been true to you.

“I’ve been true to you,” she repeated.

“She has been,” Theus agreed.  “She’s the one who told me to heal you; she begged me.  I wasn’t going to touch you until Torella asked.  And she’s been true.”

“Theus, leave us to talk,” Torella turned to him.  “Let me talk to him.”

“Go,” Ruune agreed.

“She’s a good person,” Theus said as he approached the door.  “You’re lucky to have her,” he added, as he opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

“Oh,” he exclaimed in surprise.  Molly and two others were standing immediately outside of Torella’s room, listening to the stormy confrontation.

He glared at the women, who scattered down the hallway, leaving him alone to walk into his own room.  He sat on his bed and exhaled deeply.  The scene in the bedroom had been tense, and unexpected.  He knew instinctively that the quickly-developed work habits he had established of partnering so frequently with Torella would come to an end with the arrival of Ruune back in the kitchen.

He took another deep breath, and tried to relax, then changed his clothes, and left the residence hall to head to the kitchen.

Weese was already at work among his fellow bakers, Theus found when he arrived.  He accepted the hearty thanks from the baking crew, then picked up the breakfast plates destined for delivery to the armory.  He stacked them so that he could carry them alone, knowing that Torella would certainly not be with him that morning.  Yet he made excuses to dawdle in the kitchen for extra minutes, hoping to see the girl, without any luck.

He maneuvered his way across the width of the palace to the armory, and laid out the food he had borne.

“Where’s the real reason we want breakfast delivered?” asked Montuse, as the group noted the absence of Torella.

“She couldn’t make it today,” Theus lamely excused the girl, unable to come up with any answer other than the truth, which he certainly did not wish to disclose.

“Then we’ll make you do twice as much to entertain us,” Glashtin pronounced, raising a round of laughter from the others, and bringing a smile to Theus’s face for the first time that morning.

He proceeded to joust with them, holding his own adequately by his standards, though he remained distracted by the memory of the unnerving confrontation in Torella’s room that morning.  When his last match with the officers was done, he started to walk away.

“Theus, be careful,” Alamice told him as he walked alongside the slave, a friendly hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “We had a servant of Donal the magician down here yesterday asking questions about a slave who brought us breakfast.

“You be careful,” Alamice said in a low voice as they reached the doorway.  “None of us can stand the magician, but none of us can stand up to him either.  We might be able to help you disappear, but we can’t ever try to fight for you openly,” he warned.

“Thank you, my lord,” Theus said.  He was both sincerely appreciative of the helpful warning, and fearful of what it indicated.  Theus was fearful enough of the magician, and had been made even more so after the dreadful encounter in the restaurant.  The words of the officer only increased his anxiety.

It might be time to make his escape from the palace, he decided, as he walked to the North Hall so that he could shower and refresh himself before he went to see the Lady Citrice.

He had found it was extremely easy to pass in and out of the palace gates.  He was already recognized due to his many shopping trips, and he suspected he could easily slip out of the palace grounds as though he were on another shopping trip.

He washed himself in the mostly empty residential hall, glad there were no prying eyes watching him after the morning’s events, and he hurried to the royal wing of the palace.

The maid opened the door to Citrice’s suite without comment, and casually waved Theus through to the noblewoman’s bedroom without comment.

The woman’s feet appeared perfect.  There was no sign of any irritation or inflammation.

“You’ve healed very nicely, my lady,” Theus said, as he sat on the corner of her bed and began to massage the feet that extended out from under the covers.  He no longer even thought it was odd to be with the woman on her bed, but then he thought of how he had been on Torella’s bed, just as innocently, just a few hours previously, and had suffered unhappy results.

“That won’t happen again,” he muttered to himself.

“What was that, young doctor?” Citrice asked.

“I asked if you’ll go dancing tonight,” Theus hastily changed his comment.

“Yes, of course, as you know, I’ll be dancing at the ball tonight.  We’ll be celebrating the king’s plan to expand the kingdom,” she said casually.  “And I’ll be able to dance every dance!” she was pleased with the prospect.

Theus switched his hands to her left foot and began massaging once more.  It was the final time he’d have to carry out the odious task, he was relieved to remember.

“Thank you for the coins you sent, my lady,” he remembered to tell her.  “I bought a great many items that will heal the people who are suffering.  It’s thanks to your generosity,” he told her.

“You earned the payment after all,” she said graciously.  “I’ll expect to see you come running any time I have something to treat,” she predicted.

“Just ask Letta in the kitchen.  She’s my supervisor.  She arranged for me to attend your needs,” Theus wanted to make sure Letta got the credit she deserved.  He knew that somehow, his work for Citrice was a matter of palace politics for Letta in her struggle with Colandra.

“It’s been a pleasure to serve you,” he decided he’d done enough of the foot massage, and he stood up.  “I hope you enjoy your dancing tonight, my lady,” he bowed as formally as he could, then headed away from Citrice, and quickly out of the bedroom.

Minutes later, he re-entered the kitchen.  His eyes probed the corridors and work stations, until he spotted Torella, standing next to Ruunce, who was awkwardly passing trays of baked goods to the ovens.  Torella’s eyes made momentary contact with his.  She gave a very slight negative shake of her head, then averted her eyes away from him.

He gave a sigh, and slumped back to the back of the kitchen, where his counter space held the prodigious stores of supplies he had collected to mix the remedies needed by the patients in the hospice.  He had nearly a dozen patients he expected to help, and the items and ingredients needed to make the spectrum of treatments was randomly piled together.  He busied himself in the task of sorting the materials, and found that he reached mid-afternoon with unexpected speed, as he became lost in the work.

“Theus?” a voice behind him made his head jerk up in surprise by breaking his focus.  He turned, and saw that Torella was standing there, watching him.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” she said.  “Ruune is on an errand, so I have a minute to talk.

“He came to my room to surprise me by showing me how healthy he was getting, and he found you in my bed.  It was such a shock to him, you know,” she told Theus.  “But I’ve talked to him and explained to him that you and I are just friends, that we haven’t been improper, and he’s calmed down now,” she continued.

“But I hope you understand, I won’t be able to do things with you anymore, for a while at least,” she stood nervously, not making eye contact at that moment as she fidgeted nervously with her apron. “But maybe in a while, when he knows how much I care for him, he’ll be more relaxed.”

“I hope so,” Theus told her sincerely, even though a small part of him felt a tiny shred of jealousy that she was throwing him aside so easily to spend her time with Ruune.  “I know you have to do this,” he tried to sound understanding.

“I’ll miss you!” Torella said.  Her eyes rose again to look at his.  “You’re so special.  I wish things were different.  It’s confusing,” she confessed.  “But Ruune needs me now, and he’ll be back soon, so I better go.  Good bye, Theus,” her voice was wistful as she spoke the last words, then she turned and walked rapidly away.

Perhaps he would be able to speak to her during stolen moments when Ruune wasn’t around, to keep their friendship alive, he thought, as he stood leaning idly against the counter, replaying the conversation in his mind.

It all wasn’t going to really matter though, he reminded himself.  He was going to escape from the palace within a few days, and he would never see Torella again.  He’d think of her, perhaps.  But he would be on his way back north to Great Forks, to reconnect with Coriae and his life in the great northern metropolis.

He resumed his attention to his remedies, and began mixing materials together, measuring and sorting and mashing and squeezing according to the dictates of the stored memories in his brain.  He worked at length and completed a pair of remedies, then saw that the evening hours were arriving.  The vast amounts of food that the kitchen staff had worked on throughout the day began to depart from the kitchen in droves.  It was probably the very ball that Lady Citrice had told him about, he realized.

The bakers had been under pressure to produce the countless cakes and other goods that Letta had brought Weese and Ruune back into the fold to handle.  They appear to have succeeded, Theus judged.  Numerous baked goods were piled on racks around the kitchen, awaiting delivery to the diners they were destined for, Theus thought.

He finished one potential remedy after another, completing the combinations of each, then setting them aside.  He had made up his mind while he stood and focused on the preparations; he was going to leave the palace the following day.  He would have all the remedies prepared before he went to bed.  The next day, after he worked out with the officers in the armory, he would treat each of the hospice patients he was prepared for.

Then he’d say that he needed to buy more supplies, and he’d walk out of the palace.  And he would keep walking.  He wouldn’t try to sail away, he decided.  He’d simply set his path north and go as far as he needed to.  He’d already walked across the continent from east to west, from the Jewel Hills to Great Forks, so going from south to north would be no great challenge.

He continued to work away at the remedies, and piled them up, one after another, as the evening arrived and passed.  He went and acquired a pair of candles to use as the rest of the kitchen staff finished their chores, and finally, hours later, after the dishwashers were finished and gone, he ended his activities.  He had the line of jars of ointments and syrups and powders ready to deliver.  And he even had a few items left over that were edible – he would be able to pack a couple of skimpy meals of travel food to take with him to start his journey.  He’d figure out the rest of his arrangements as he went.  He might go hungry, but he wouldn’t be in the clutches of Donal, with all the unknown horror implied by such a situation.

Chapter 11

Theus had trouble falling asleep that night, as he thought of Torella, sleeping in the room next door, just a thin wall preventing them from talking to one another as friends and confidantes.

He did fall asleep, to troubled dreams of Donal and Ruune and Coriae, but he awoke late to sunshine coming through his window.  He hurriedly cleaned and rushed to the kitchen, to pick up the breakfasts that were overdue for delivery to the officers at the armory.

When he arrived at the armory, the officers and soldiers were busy packing and moving and storing their supplies and materials.

“This is our last day, Theus,” Montuse told him as he set up the breakfast plates.   “We’ll all be boarding ships and leaving on the invasion tomorrow morning.  It’s not too late for you to become a lieutenant and join us!” he laughed.

“Will the magician be going on the invasion trip?” Theus asked earnestly, willing to consider a career in the army as a way to begin his escape from the palace.  He could sail away from the magician, and then follow an unplanned path from there.

“I’m afraid so, but he’s necessary,” Montuse answered, as they selected practice swords from the wall.  “He has the power to stop the Steep Rise defenses from destroying our fleet when we sail into the city’s harbor.”

“I’ll wait here for you to return from the war then, thank you,” Theus politely declined the suggestion.

The pair began their evenly-matched contest, and then Theus had a second match, before the officers became too busy to fence any longer.

“Theus, when we return, we’ll be able to beat you, you know,” Alamice promised.  The men in uniform all shook his hand or slapped his back in friendship, and then he left the armory and started on his way back to the North Hall.  He quickly showered, then returned to the kitchen to pick up the cures and remedies that were prepared and waiting to be administered at the hospice.

When he got to the kitchen, there was only one servant at work in the vast work space, Ruune.  Theus sighed, but walked rapidly back to his counter space, and started gathering up the jars that were bound for the hospice.

“I want to talk to you,” Ruune’s voice interrupted his work, and he saw the healed burn victim come striding back through the aisle way to confront him.

“Torella tells me that you did not ever touch her with evil intent,” the man said as he walked up to the wary Theus.  “So, I believe her.  And thank you for healing me.  Your work is truly great,” Ruune said, giving Theus a reason to relax and exhale.

“But she is my betrothed, and she should never be so close to another man.  I want the two of you to stop all of your things you do together.  I’ve already told her, and now I tell you,” Ruune added a heavy note to the seeming apology that Theus thought he was delivering.

“I’m not going to hurt her, or you through her,” Theus said.  “But if Letta tells me to deliver something with Torella, I will, or if I see that the girl needs help, I’ll give it.”  He didn’t need to argue, he told himself.  He was planning on leaving the palace within a day’s time, so there was no reason to argue.  But he didn’t like to be told what to do, especially by someone who had no right to impose foolish restrictions upon him.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go back to the hospice to cure other people who need my help, and will be grateful to receive it, I’m sure,” Theus unnecessarily needled Ruune as he gathered his jars of remedies together and then stepped past the hulking man and on his way out of the kitchen.

He walked to the hospice.  Rain started to fall as he crossed the open pavement between the two buildings, and he was moderately soaked by the time he entered the hospice and walked into the left wing of the building, where Weese had formerly resided.

After that, he began working with each of the patients who he had prepared cures for.  He had selected those for whom he knew he could produce a remedy to improve their condition.  For some of the patients, he hadn’t known any cure, while for others, he had known that the remedies he remembered were too expensive, or relied on rare elements that were most likely unavailable.

But for those that he felt he could treat and had treatments prepared for, he worked his way among the patient beds, slowly giving them their key to a return to life outside the hospice.  Many of the patients required ointments to be massaged into their bodies, while others only needed to swallow a jar of potion.  For most of the patients, there was a need for a follow-up treatment, and he spend time explaining the treatment to them.  He didn’t want his future absence to be the reason that the healing failed, and he planned to be absent when the further treatments were required.

By the time he was finished, the sky had grown dark.  He felt exhausted.  He decided to head straight back to North Hall for his last night’s sleep on the palace grounds.  In the morning, when the people in the kitchen would assume he was at the armory, he would simply walk out through the front gate of the palace and depart from his brief time as a slave.

The plan made sense to him, and he was mostly full of satisfaction as he walked through the dark palace grounds.  He had found some valuable experiences during his time in Southsand.  He had learned that he could rely on the healing memories to accurately and reliably treat any number of medical needs.  He had learned that his sword skills matched up well against even the leaders of the palace guard, some of the best wielders of weapons.  And he had learned that he could find friends in the most unexpected places, even among the slaves of a hostile palace.  They were all valuable lessons.

When he reached the residence hall, he climbed the stairs, and discovered that there were the dim shadows of other people in his hallway.  He ventured towards his door, and noticed that the shadows stood very nearby.  He slowed down in his approach, but then became aware that there were others in the hallway, approaching him from behind.  His discomfort began to rise to alarm, and he stopped in his tracks.

“Keep moving slave boy.  Our people are waiting for you,” a voice hissed from the hallwalkers behind him.

“Who are you?” Theus asked.  He wished once again that he carried a weapon, anything that might allow him to defend himself.

“Donal sent us to fetch you,” the man behind him spoke softly, now very nearby as he continued to approach.

“I’m not going anywhere.  I don’t belong to Donal.  I work for the kitchen.   You can come there to see me tomorrow,” he tried desperately to bluff his way out of the situation.  He began to edge down the hall, trying to keep his distance from the approaching speaker.

“We can take you now, or we can take the girl now, and then take you in the morning,” the man threatened.

There was a sudden light at the end of the hallway, making Theus whirl around to look.

The light was a magical ball that floated in the air, illuminating the scene near his room.  He saw two men in dark clothes.  One held a struggling Torella in his arms, while the other stood over the recumbent body of Ruune, lying on the floor of the hall.

“Leave them alone!” Theu shouted.  “They haven’t done anything.

“Leave them alone,” he repeated.

“Will you cooperate?” the man behind him asked.  They were all getting very close to one another, as the men down the hallway closed in on Theus, and Theus inched towards the men who held the captives.

He heard Torella try to say something, her words muffled by the gag tied around her mouth.

“Let her go,” Theus tried to assert some control.  He couldn’t believe that he had come so close to his plan to escape, only to run into trouble in the last hours.  And he didn’t want to see Torella harmed for any reason.

“Why are you taking her?  Leave her alone,” he repeated.

They all were only feet apart.  He didn’t have much more room to give, before he would find himself in the arms of one group of assailants or the other.  He stared at the men holding Torella, and saw that their only weapons were knives that were on their belts.  The same held true for the men who were stalking him from behind, he saw as well.

“We’ll let her loose if you agree to come peacefully with us,” the speaker offered.

“Where will you take me?” Theus asked.  He was still trying to calculate the chance that he could defeat the men holding Torella, then turn and fight the others.  The odds seemed slim.

The globe of light suddenly turned bloody red for a long second, then returned to its whitish cast.

It was a reminder that the men he faced wielded more than just blades as weapons.  Theus thought of the scene in the restaurant, when Donal and his helpers had touched people, and inflicted pain upon them.

“Let her go, and promise not to bother her anymore,” Theus said.  “Then I’ll agree to come with you.”

The man who was speaking nodded his head, and the man holding Torella released her.  She shot forward to Theus and wrapped him in a tight embrace, crying, as his hands stroked the back of her head, then pulled the gag down off her face.

“Oh Theus, don’t let them take you,” she cried.

“Is Ruune okay?” he asked her.

“The boy is just unconscious,” answered the man who had held Torella.  “He was of no value to us.  We just needed the girl to help us capture you.”

“Theus,” Torella whispered.  He heard her, and he felt her.  Her body was pressed tightly against his.

“I have to go,” he told her.  “You take care of Ruune, and he’ll take care of you.”

The man who had held the girl stepped forward, as the man behind them reached forward to firmly grasp Theus’s arm.

The two friends separated.  Torella looked down at Ruune, then up at Theus, then she threw herself down on the floor atop her betrothed, looking up at Theus as she did.

“Let’s go now,” the man who held Theus spoke, and they began to walk down the hall, the glowing light following them, Torella’s sobs growing more distant as they walked.

“Why are you taking me?” Theus asked, shock starting to set in, replacing the adrenaline that had prepared him to fight in the hallway.

“The great Donal himself wishes to know you better.  It’s quite an accomplishment for a slave to gain such attention,” said the man leading him down the stairs.

“I don’t understand,” Theus tried to protest.

“Nor do I, nor do either of us need to try.  Donal always knows what he’s doing,” the man said.  They exited the hall and began to walk back to the palace.

Chapter 12

Theus spent the night in a stone-walled room in Donal’s tower.  He never saw the magician himself, or anyone other than his captors, and he spent the night curled up shivering in his cell, fearful of whatever was going to come next.  At least Torella had not been harmed, he tried to comfort himself with the thought, but it was only a small comfort.

He took more comfort in the fact that Donal would have to leave soon to join the invasion force.  Whatever he wanted to do with Theus, there was little time for it.  Theus was likely to have a long period of captivity in the tower while the magician was gone, and in that time perhaps he could devise a means of escape.

When he awoke, he stood up and began to pace the short distance between the walls, desperate to find a way to avoid seeing the magician.  But after only five minutes of pacing in the darkness, he heard his cell door open, and a light appeared.

“Come with us,” said the voice of an unseen man behind the torch that wavered in the doorway.

Theus reluctantly complied, and found a pair of men standing in the hallway, waiting for him.  They led him up a set of stairs to a brightly lit hallway, where a window showed that it was daylight outside.  They went up another set of stairs, and then another, to arrive in front of an ornate set of double doors – wooden, and encrusted with jewels and gold.  The doors opened themselves silently.

“Go in.  The master awaits you,” one of the men tonelessly instructed Theus.  He gave the boy a shove in the back to propel him forward.

Theus accepted the inarguable, and stepped forward into a spacious room.  It was round, with windows on three sides, looking out at a clear blue sky.  The furnishings were exquisite, though Theus paid little attention to them.  His focus was on the people on the room.  Donal stood, wearing a red and black gown, on the far side of the room, while a half dozen people sat or stood in places scattered about the room.  Each of the six were chained in place.

“We have a new guest,” Donal rumbled as he gestured with a hand.  Theus heard the door close behind him.

“This one is a special guest,” Donal addressed the chained audience in the room.  He began to stroll, walking towards the people who were chained in a line.

“This guest may be able to do what all of you together are doing, and he seems able to do it without suffering any consequences,” Donal spoke as though he were lecturing a class.  There was a shuffling and murmuring in reaction to the comment.

Donal reached his hand to touch the first of the chained slaves, an elderly woman who wore exotic attire that fitted her thin frame poorly, sagging and drooping to reveal the spotted and wrinkled skin of her torso.  The woman shrank from Donal’s touch in fear, but his fingers simply grazed across her shoulder, and he continued to walk on past her.

“As you all know, you are the donors who surrender your life force to me, so that I may have the powers to fulfill our king’s wishes,” he continued to lecture, though his eyes were trained on Theus as he took slow, ponderous steps and spoke.

“And the small price you pay is to surrender a few years of your life each time you surrender your gift to me,” Donal said.  He reached a second elderly woman, and stopped beside her, his hand resting atop her head as she squirmed and cried.

“Look at this good woman,” he spoke directly to Theus for the first time.  “Do you know how old she is?” he asked.

Theus silently shook his head.

“What?  You don’t respect her enough to give her your time?” Donal asked mockingly.

“She is approximately the same age as you,” the magician told him.

Theus cocked his head skeptically.

“Go on, tell him,” Donal’s hand wagged the woman’s head, prodding her to respond.

“I’ll be eighteen at my next birthday,” she told Theus is a weepy voice.  “If I reach it,” she added in a lower voice, then began to weep.

“That’s enough, dear,” Donal said with mock affection.  His hand shoved the girl’s head cruelly as he walked away from her.

The magician walked down to a middle-aged man, one whose back was stooped, as he sat disconsolately on a stool.

“This fellow is hardly any older than you.  How long have you been helping me, Furrel?” Donal asked.

“Two months, my lord,” the man said in a low voice.  “Will my service be finished soon?” he hesitated, then asked.

“I can make it sooner,” Donal sneered in a threatening tone.

“This young thing,” he walked down to a girl who looked nearly the same age as Theus, “Just arrived last week.  She’s hardly begun to enjoy my company, have you my fancy?”

“My lord,” she looked to Theus, not to Donal, “set us free, I beg you, my lord!”

Donal reached down and grasped her shoulder in a vicious grip, his fingers digging into her flesh like talons of a bird of prey.  He closed his eyes, and the girl released a scream of agony, as a glow formed around her.  She passed out, and the glow crept up Donal’s arm and enveloped him, then faded.

“That was bad form,” Donal announced as he released the girl and let her slump heavily to the floor.

“But you,” Donal began to walk towards Theus, “you are different.”

“When I touched your companion in the restaurant, you held her hand.  I should have been able to collect the bounty from both of you at the same time.  I felt her life force ready to come to me, but then I felt yours.

“And after a moment,” Donal said, as he stepped closer to Theus, “I felt yours do something I’ve never encountered before.  It felt as though the flow of energy came not from you, but through you.  You seemed to simply be a well that tapped into an underground stream.

“Until you pulled some trick and ejected me, that is,” Donal’s voice turned darker as he reached Theus’s side.

“You are a puzzle,” Donal stated.  “I have learned a great deal of dark magic, a very great deal.  But nothing I have learned has taught me about how to handle a strange anomaly like you.

“I discovered the dark lord Ind’Petro in my dreams when I was in exile in the southern mountains.  The other magicians thought that my ethics were too vile even for their unsavory company,” the magician chuckled as he reminisced.  “But Ind’Petro led me to his ancient, abandoned temple, and he showed me darker powers than anyone else alive had ever imagined, powers that allowed me to do this,” he swept his arms towards his aging victims.

“And so now I labor in Ind’Petro’s name, ready to lead our nation to greatness and control of the world.  In return I’ll restore Ind’Petro to prominence, and raise temples to his cult in all the nations we conquer, and see that sacrifices are made to raise him back to his place among the gods,” Donal was filled with his own imagined images of glory and power.

“But in the meantime, I have these plebeian tasks to perform,” his voice lost its tones of grandiosity.  He lowered his gaze, and stared silently at Theus for a moment.

“There is much to learn about you.  I look forward to the study.  That is why you and she,” Donal indicated the unconscious girl on the floor, “will travel with me on the ship in the invasion fleet that sails to Steep Rise.  I’ll need your energy, among others, and I’ll perhaps find time to study you.”

Donal reached a hand out before Theus comprehended what it meant, and the man latched his strong grip onto Theus’s shoulder, then he closed his eyes.

Theus felt the same horrible feeling again that he had felt when Donal had assaulted Torella the first time. He felt the naked vulnerability of his soul being exposed, then the headwinds that blew against him and around him and past him.

Then he heard the voice again.  Against this, I will give you all the protection I can.

There was heat and a blinding flash, and then Theus realized he was sitting on the floor, dazed, while Donal also sat on the floor, many feet away, also looking unsettled by the encounter.

“I should kill you!” Donal screamed, as his senses returned and he looked at Theus.

“What are you doing?  How do you fight?” the man demanded.

Could he do the unthinkable?  A wild notion exploded in Theus’s mind.  Perhaps now, while the magician was rattled, he could be susceptible to a simple, old-fashioned assault, not one carried out with magic, but with fisticuffs and weapons.  He rocked himself forward and up on his heels, then rose and sprinted towards the magician.

He raced forward in the hopes that a tackle and a punch, and the striking of the magician’s head against the flagstone floor of the room, might render the man unconscious.  And once the evil power wielder was knocked out, Theus would be able to lift him to a window and roll him out to his death on the pavement many feet below.

Except that Donal wasn’t so befuddled that he didn’t recognize the danger he faced from Theus’s sudden charge at him.  Donal lifted a hand and pointed it at Theus, emitting a soft beam of light that made the air around him grow thick and difficult to pass through, similar to what he had experienced in his vision during Donal’s theft of energy from him.

He couldn’t reach the magician.  The man kept his hand pointed at Theus, while he scrambled backwards.  From his fingers flew a series of glowing darts.  As each hit Theus it inflicted a wildly burning pain, and they knocked Theus backwards, making him land flat on his back, while Donal managed to rise to his feet.  The magician circled around Theus to the door, then jerked it open.

“Come!  Come now! Come take this creature from my sight!” he bellowed.

Theus felt overcome with pain.  His hand touched his body, first at one spot, then another, expecting to find blood welling from open wounds.  But at each spot there was no evidence of physical damage, only the grievous pain that resided in Theus’s mind.

He shook his head.  The tramp of boots echoes from the hallway, and two assistants arrived in the circular room as Theus managed to roll over onto his stomach.   He began to push himself up onto his hands and knees when a boot suddenly appeared and kicked him in the face, snapping his neck back and making him collapse on the floor once again.

Two sets of hand grabbed his arms and pulled him upright.

“I’ll have a great deal of fun with you when the work of this invasion is over,” Donal sneered at Theus.  “You’re going to wish you’d never met me.”  He motioned at the attendants, and they began to drag Theus away.

He weakly struggled to make his legs move, to help him propel himself forward as the attendants moved forward.  He became more aware of his actions as they descended flight after flight of steps.  Then, to his surprise, he was taken outside and chained in the bed of a wagon.  The vehicle began to roll forward, and an hour later Theus found himself at the water front, being driven up a plank and onto a large ship, then led down into a low, dark, moldy hold, and chained in place down where he could hear rats scrabbling across the planks of the ship’s internal structure.

His head hurt badly, but he soon passed out, and so was blissfully spared feeling the pain.  When he awoke hours later, he felt the motion of the ship, and he recognized that they were sailing out at sea.  Donal had made good on his promise, and taken Theus along on the invasion.  Theus too had made good on his pledge, though much less successfully.  He had managed to leave the palace.

Chapter 13

Theus received two cups of water a day, and a bowl of cold porridge each day.  For two days he was left abandoned in the ship’s hold while the vessel sailed north towards Steep Rise.  On the third day the filthy and disheveled prisoner was unshackled and brought up to the deck of the ship, blinking from the exposure to the bright sunlight once again.  As his eyes adjusted, he saw that Donal and a group of officers stood along one side of the ship, looking outward.

Beyond them, Theus saw a mountainous shoreline on the horizon.

“Come here, slave,” Donal spoke casually as he observed Theus on the deck.

Theus was led by one of Donal’s assistants to where the group stood.  From their vantage point Theus saw that dozens of other ships were in the surrounding waters, all part of the Southsand fleet sent to invade the small nation of Steep Rise, a neighbor to Southsand.

From the looks of the shore line he observed, the name Steep Rise seemed an appropriate title.  Although to the north, the land appeared to level out, directly east of the ship, and to the south, in the area where a ship’s officer was pointing, the landscape was mountains and fjords.

“We’ll lead the fleet towards the harbor,” the captain was explaining to the group.  His turned his attention back and forth from the landscape they were approaching to the group of officers, and mostly to Donal.  “And just before we get close enough for the Steep Rise officers to start to raise the alarm, that’s when his greatness,” the ship’s officer nodded towards, Donal, “will unleash his magic that will neutralize the memory stones in the city.”

Theus’s head jerked up, and his senses sharpened to three times their attentiveness before.  Memory stones!

Donal had some claimed power to neutralize memory stones?  What could the evil magician possible think he could do, to neutralize the stones across an entire city.  And what would be the point?

“And why is harming their memory stones so important?” an officer from the group of army leaders asked.  Theus realized that it was Montuse.

“You shouldn’t dare to question me!” a flash of anger rose in Donal, unused to being questioned.

“I’m sending my men into this harbor, into the face of defenses that are known to be the most effective in the world.  Our men are going to drown because Steep Rise can hurl vast boulders a half a mile through the air with their strange ‘catapult’ machines that protect them from just such an invasion force as this,” Montuse responded strongly.

“His majesty claims that you can protect us from those defenses, so that our ships can sail into the harbor and unload our invasion.  But I want to know now – now that we’re on the very cusp of the battle – how you will protect is from those machines the Steep Rise forces own,” Montuse was insistent.

“I’ll tell you how,” Donal had tamped down his annoyance.  “The Steep Rise forces do control the ancient machines that give them the greatest defenses in the world,” he agreed.  “But the defenses only work if they know how to use them.  These machines were created centuries ago, and there is no one alive today who truly understands them.

“The officers of Steep Rise have never faced a true invasion, because their reputation protects them so well,” Donal seemed to enjoy telling his story.  “And so, I realized, we did not need to worry about how to avoid the catapults at all.”

He paused dramatically.

“You’re saying they can’t operate these weapons?” Montuse asked in confusion.  “But I’ve heard people say they’ve actually seen them operate; they’ve seen the boulders fly from the peaks of the mountains and travel over the ocean waters to hit targets.  You’re not right!”

“People have seen such demonstrations,” Donal said with deadly calmness.  “But only once every two years.  Only as a show.  Never at the drop of a hat.

“Because,” Donal said, “the army has to use the ancient memory stones that contain all the instructions on the operations of the machines.  No one alive could even make those catapults spit a cherry pit ten feet if the officers weren’t holding a memory stone to their foreheads, giving instructions to their clueless crews about each and every step that must be taken!

“Once my magic neutralizes the memory stones, there will be no way for the men in the city to operate their defenses.  The city harbor will be wide open, defenseless to prevent our ships from bringing death and conquest directly to their front door,” Donal finished.

“Does that satisfy you, army man?” Donal asked in a threatening voice.

“I merely asked the question an officer should ask,” Montuse said evenly.

“And I merely am tempted to invoke my powers to punish your temerity in questioning me,” Donal said just as evenly, thrusting himself forward toward Montuse.

Theus suddenly began a coughing spasm, bending over as he coughed loudly, seeking to divert attention, before Montuse became a victim of Donal’s wrath.

When he stood up, he saw that all eyes were on him.

“Little trouble maker, what’s your problem?  Should I have you thrown to the sharks, just to be rid of you?” Donal asked angrily.

“I’m not used to the fresh air,” Theus answered defiantly.

Donal’s face grew dark as his anger, first at Montuse, then at Theus, mounted.

“When will you remove their memory stone powers from them” Montuse asked a question to divert Donal once again.  “Is it a complicated magic?”

Donal switched his attention back to the officer, ignoring Theus once again.

“The magic to prepare was very complicated, and required a great deal of power.  I’ve gone through twenty assistants preparing it,” he looked over at Theus.  “All the friends you made in the tower are finished serving me,” he intoned.

“Bring the boy closer,” he said to his assistant, who stood by Theus.

“But now, the steps needed here are simple.  We simply create a breeze that will blow this powder,” he patted a stack of barrels that rested beside him, objects that Theus had ignored up until then, “across the water and throughout the city so that every memory stone is touched and neutralized by my creation.

“And then the ships sail in, and your men are released to rob and pillage and bring Steep Rise under our control.  I’ll send Orcaze,” he indicated the assistant who was shepherding Theus, “to the palace to make sure we eradicate the royal family and seize the seal and crown,” Donal continued.

Prepare those barrels,” Donal ordered.  “Set the fleet in motion,” he instructed the ship’s captain.  “It’s time to make Steep Rise a part of the Southsand nation, the first of many conquests.”

The captain left the group, and sent sailors with bars to begin opening the barrels, under the supervision of Donal, while Theus was left alone with the officers briefly.

“Theus!” Montuse exclaimed.  “What are you doing with the magician?”

“He’s taken me as one of his captives,” Theus said through gritted teeth.

“Oh Theus!” the officer moaned.  “You really should have come as one of ours.”

“I know,” Theus agreed.  “He sent his men to capture me in my residence room.  I had no way to get away,” he didn’t want to mention the fact that Torella had been held as a hostage to make his surrender.

“That violates the palace covenants!” Montuse was angry.  “But who’s going to press charges against the magician?” he asked philosophically a moment later.

“Bring the boy to me,” Donal spoke loudly to his assistant.  Theus looked over, and saw that the lids had been pried off the row of barrels, revealing bright yellow contents inside.

“Good luck, Theus,” Montuse whispered.

Orcaze the assistant grabbed Theus’s arm, and led him over to Donal’s side.  Donal looked at Orcaze and nodded.  The assistant pulled a red and yellow leather collar out of a hidden pocket, and fastened it around Theus’s neck.

“That marks you as my property.  If we become separated in the confusion, the soldiers will know to return you to me,” Donal said.  “Now we can proceed,” he added.

The ship was sailing towards the coast, and Theus could see the other ships sailing as well.   Donal suddenly reached out and grabbed Theus’s shoulder, causing panic to erupt in the boy.

“We’ll see if you’re better behaved this time,” Donal’s face was twisted in a snarl as he spoke to Theus with a threat in his voice.  The magician closed his eyes, and Theus felt the horrible process begin once again.  He felt the invasion of his soul and the fearful sense of something stalking him from inside of his own soul, leaving absolutely nowhere he could turn for safety or security.  He felt panic, but then he felt as though a fence sprang into existence to help protect him from the enemy.

Moments later, he felt a weakness and he sensed a glow occurring about him, just before he passed out.

He awoke moments later, to discover that he was lying prone on the wooden deck of the ship.  Feet were all about him, inches from his face, poking him in the ribs, as a crowd stood all about him, heedless of his presence.

He painfully rose to all fours, and crawled across the deck, bumping heedlessly into legs of men as he went ten feet to find clear space.  He was next to the railing, and by holding onto the railing he weakly pulled himself up to his feet.  As soon as he did, he saw what the crowd on the ship was staring at.

Donal was standing nearby, his form noticeably glowing even in the daylight, and he had his hands extended, pointing across the water towards the shoreline, which had crept closer.

Most noticeably though was the sight of the yellow dust rising from the barrels on the deck, rising like a snake emerging from a lair, lifting up into the sky, then bending towards the shore, and heading directly towards the city around the harbor.  The yellow dust was a compact line in the sky, a clear contrast to the blue sky, until it was three quarters of the way across the water, whereupon it dispersed and became a wide cloud that seemed to hazily envelope a wide swathe of shoreline as it reached its destination.

Theus watched, mesmerized, as the yellow snake continued to rise, shimmering and coursing from the barrels for several minutes, while the ship sailed closer and closer to shore.   If the vaunted machines of Steep Rise were going to rain destruction down upon the Southsand fleet, it should be happening, Theus thought.  The ships were drawing close to the shore; individual buildings had emerged and become discernable, even through the yellow, powdery mist that swirled throughout the city.

The rising dust suddenly seemed to hiccup, and grew thinner rapidly, then ceased to appear at all.  Donal held his hands extended still, while the tail of the snake flew away from the ship, and the sails continued to billow with the following wind that was driving the fleet towards its destiny in Steep Rise.

Donal lowered his hands, and grasped the ship’s railing tightly.  Theus looked at the evil magician, and saw that the man appeared to have aged several years, his hair showing prominent streaks of white and gray.  His assistant Orcaze stood next to him, holding him under one arm.

“Your feast sits ripe and ready to consume,” Donal called out, his voice still strong.  “Prepare for your arrival, and what follows.”

His words seemed to put an end to an enchantment that froze the surrounding audience of guard officers and ship’s crew that stood around him.  Men began to scramble away, and officers called out orders.  Theus watched as soldiers of the guard began to awkwardly scramble up into the masts and rigging of the ships, carrying bows and arrows on their backs as they spread about like deadly fruit blossoming from the branches of a tree.

The ship was quite close to the harbor entrance as it sailed on.  Theus could see the open water between two points of stone bulwarks.  He could see building features, such as windows and doors.  He could see people.  He saw people scrambling, running in panic, at a loss as to how to respond to the unthinkable failure of their defenses, and the terrifying arrival of an invasion force.

Orcaze and Donal moved.  They began to walk slowly across the deck, heading towards Theus.

“See what your help accomplished, young battery,” Donal paused to smirk at Theus.  “Thanks to the power you shared, we have rendered the city defenseless, and now we only have to let the brutes from the army and guard carry out their reign of terror to finish the task.

“I’ll look forward to further encounters with you,” he said, then motioned for Orcaze to move them on.  Theus weakly watched as the pair went through a door and left the deck.  He felt dirty and horrified, as well as weak.

Donal had taken energy from him, apparently with greater success than before.  The magician had used Theus’s energy in part to launch the assault, the drifting invasion of yellow powder that had rendered memory stones in the city inert.  And as a result, the city was about to be ransacked.

Theus watched as the ship approached the opening of the harbor.  There were sailors up in the rigging, contending with the archers, sharing the spars and masts and ropes; at a shouted order from the ship’s captain, the sailors began to furl the sails, reducing the speed of the ship as it cruised into the harbor.

There were archers on the shore, dozens of men who began to fire arrows at the ship, trying to pluck off the individual members of the ship’s crew who had not been destroyed en masse by the motionless catapults that had failed to defend the city.  The arrows began to fall into the water all around the ship, a few making it onto the deck.  Theus watched in detached horror, until an arrow struck the wooden railing just a yard away from where he leaned, then he stepped back towards the middle of the deck.

The archers up in the ship’s sails began to fire their own arrows back in response, firing down from their lofty heights.  Their arrows travelled further than the land-launched arrows, reaching the defenders along the shoreline and striking them down.  Theus watched as the men of the city began to fall to the ground, or tumble into the nearby water as they were punctured by the Southsand arrows.

There were more roared orders, a cacophony of orders.  The ship’s officers were shouting orders, telling the sailors to prepare to bring the slowing ship to a dock, while the officers of the army were likewise shouting orders, telling their own men to prepare to leave the ship and jump onto the wharf that was rapidly approaching.

There was confusion and pandemonium on the ship, matched only by the confusion and pandemonium on the shore.  Men and women were running, some towards the dock to try to mount a final futile defense, while others were running away.  Men were on horses, carts and wagons were fruitlessly attempting to flee through the crowds, and the sounds of terror rose all around.

Theus watched as new flocks of arrows flew both towards and from the ship, while the gap between the vessel and the dock narrowed.  The momentum of the ship let it glide to its destination, as blood was spilled, and then when it reached the dock, the invaders were unleashed.  Men boiled away from the ship, swords swinging, and destruction became rampant.

Other ships were following the flagship to the docks, and the city had far too few defenders to face the unexpected breaching of its catapult protection.  Hundreds of Southsand fighters were leaving the ships and spreading unchecked through the city, infiltrating the shops and warehouses, and storming up the roads that climbed the sloping landscape, as the city was built on the hillsides that faced inward towards the harbor.

Theus’s ship was empty of its soldier component.  Somewhere out in the city were Montuse and the other officers Theus knew, no longer engaging in lighthearted horseplay in the armory, no longer swinging wooden practice swords to score points against one another.  Instead, they were slicing flesh and eviscerating living beings, taking lives.

Donal was out of sight.  Sailors were working on their tasks, working to make the ship recover from its arrival.  The dock was just ten yards away from where Theus leaned against a mast.  He could see a dead Steep Rise defender lying on the stone surface, his sword still grasped in his lifeless hand.

Theus shook his head in realization.

There was nothing to prevent him from stepping off the ship.  He could make his break away from Southsand, away from Donal.  He would be stepping into a warzone, he knew.  But there was a sword lying in front of him, and with a sword, he would be armed again, for the first time since he’d been taken prisoner.

He looked left and right, where sailors were tending to their duties in the hectic environment.  There were no eyes upon him.

He stepped one step forward, and then another, and another, moving to the opening in the ship’s railing, where the planks had been hastily extended to the dock.  He closed his eyes and stepped across the void, expecting to hear a shout, and hearing none.  He opened his eyes, and he was stepping onto the stone surface, and there was still no cry.  Then he bent and took the sword from the bloody grasp of the dead Steep Rise defender, and he started running towards the harborside line of warehouses that marked the beginning of the city.

There were shouts and screams and smoke surrounding him as he entered the city, the war zone.  The areas nearest the harbor had already been washed over by the tide of invaders, and the wave of Southsand warriors was growing into a thinner and thinner line as it went further inland and further up the rising slopes of the city.  Theus had no idea of which direction was the best for him to turn to in his pursuit of freedom.  He looked to his right and saw the bright white walls and spires of an inspiring complex of buildings; that was likely to be the palace that Theus knew would be the target of a spirited attack by the invaders.

He would go in the opposite direction, away from the target of the Southsand invaders.  He began weaving his way into the city, past the broken doors and heaps of debris that had somehow already begun to accumulate in the streets.  He stopped and vomited once, at the sight of three gruesome bodies that had been desecrated severely in some earlier scene of battle.

Twenty minutes later he had climbed two hundred feet above the water, and he could see the vast fleet of ships that crowded the surface of the harbor.  The sounds of combat were close now; he’d nearly caught up to the advancing front of Southsand soldiers.  He held his sword ready, then spotted a broom sitting outside a household door.  He grabbed the broom, glad to have its solid handle as a makeshift staff he could use, perhaps more effectively than a sword.  He thought of Coriae, who had demonstrated such effective and brutal competence with a staff; it was the first time he’d thought of Coriae in days, he was surprised to realize.

And then a noise alerted him to be aware of his circumstances, and the doorway whose broom he had stolen burst open.  A squad of men burst out of the door and Theus instinctively began to run.

The men pursued him as he started to run uphill, towards the sounds of battle.  Theus saw a squad of Southand invaders, and he shouted at them, then dodged down an alley that ran to his right, a narrow, dark space between two buildings, not even wide enough for a cart to pass through.

He redoubled his efforts as he heard the echo of footsteps from his pursuers in the passage, and when the alley ended at the intersection with the next street, he turned right again, and began going downhill, back towards the harbor.

“Turn into the next doorway on the left,” he heard the voice, the invisible, inexplicable, guardian voice speak, with more clarity than he’d heard since he’d left Great Forks.

“I will!” he shouted with joy, and he ran to the door, pressing his shoulder against it as his hand twisted the handle and he struck it at full speed.  The door blew open and he flew through, into a large empty room.

The voice was back in his life!  He didn’t know why it had abandoned him for so long, or under such dire circumstances, (and he was bitter about the period of disappearance) but it was with him now, to a fair degree, he judged by the wavering strength of the voice that spoke to him.

“Behind the bureau, go down the ladder under the hatch,” the voice directed again, and he swerved in the direction of the heavy, carved wooden piece of furniture. There was a narrow space between the bureau and the wall, and knowing that the voice said there was a hatch, Theus looked closely enough to spot the telltale fine lines, then pried the small but heavy square of wooden flooring up on its hinges.

The square showed only a dimness below, slightly less than blackness, but Theus heard a rush of boots clattering on the cobbled road outside, near the door.  Goaded by fear, he didn’t even bother to climb down the steep ladder steps, but took his chances and jumped down, praying that he’d not fall far, and that he’d land safely.

The hatch slammed shut above him a second after his feet struck a solid floor and he tumbled sideways.  There was a burst of noise as boots entered the room overhead, and Theus moaned as softly as he could over the pain in his ankle, while he listened to the searchers overhead tread across the floor of the ground level of the building.

He cautiously pushed himself up onto his knees, one hand still on the ground to steady himself, but he heard no one walk directly overhead, in the space behind the bureau.   After a minute had passed, and he began to feel optimistic that for the moment the hunters had missed finding him, he looked around the cellar he was concealed in.

There was one window, half blocked, that let a slim amount of light into the underground storage space.  Crates and boxes were stacked haphazardly against the walls, and then, his eyes widened, as he saw that there were two people crouched fearfully in a corner, staring at him.

Chapter 14

Theus had lost his staff.  He’d only held the broom handle as a makeshift staff for a few seconds at best, he momentarily reckoned, but it wasn’t at hand as he faced the two strangers.  Fortunately, he did hold his purloined sword still, and he raised it in a defensive position immediately.

He stood up straight on his bad ankle, determined to not reveal the handicap the injury created by reducing his mobility.

“Don’t think you’re going to sneak up on me,” he warned.  “I’ll use this blade better than anyone you’ve ever faced,’ he blustered.

One of the two strangers started to cry.

“Amelia, stop,” the other said.

Theus squinted his eyes, trying to judge what the situation was.  All he had wanted to do was escape from the Southsand army, particularly their wizard.  Yet somehow he had ended up injured and trapped in a dark and uncertain situation.

“We ask for mercy, my lord,” the speaking voice said.  The pitch was high, Theus realized, the second time he heard it.  Either it was a youngster – younger than him – or a girl.

“Come out slowly, with your hands held high,” Theus commanded.  He heard a single pair of boots walk across the floor above, and then silence followed.  Apparently the army squad above had given up on the search.  That was one much needed bit of luck.

The pair began to approach as commanded.  They crossed into the brightest part of the cellar, where the beams of light were most prominent.

“Stop there,” Theus commanded.  He was pleased that they were listening to him, following his direction, and he was pleased they were where he could see them most clearly.  He gingerly stepped forward to see them better.  He progressed with one step, then a second, then a third.  Then his ankle collapsed on the fourth step, and he fell to his knees.  He quickly raised his sword defensively, fearful of being pounced upon while injured.

“He’s hurt, Amory,” a voice that was clearly a girl’s spoke.

“I just tripped in the dark,” he instantly bluffed, and stood up again.

He could see them better.  They were a boy and a girl, similar enough in appearance to be brother and sister.  They were young, four or five years younger than he was.  He exhaled, relieved to see the odds of immediate danger begin to decline.

“Is there anyone else here with you?” Theus asked.  He took one more step forward in his good foot, then carefully probed forward with the other foot, and put his weight on it, bringing him within range of a sword swing.

“No, our guards sent us down here and then we were alone,” the girl replied.

“Amelia!” the boy disciplined her.  “Sshhh!”

“Guards?” Theus picked up on both the word, and the boy’s reaction to it.  “Your body guards?”  They might be personages; if he could rescue them, they and their relatives might be able to help secure a way out of the city, and put him on the path towards freedom.

Both were silent, and Theus studied them.  Their clothes were disheveled, but seemed of good quality.

“You’re local?” he asked.  “You’re from around here?  Do you have relatives in the countryside?”

There was further silence.

They clearly weren’t part of the Southsand force.  He decided to be truthful, or mostly truthful, to see if he could strike a deal with the pair, to share better information.

“I’m a slave in Southsand.  I’m trying to escape,” he admitted.  “If you have a place outside the city to flee to, perhaps we could all go together.  I’ll help you, if you’ll give me a safe place to go to,” he offered.

“Should we try it Amory?” the girl asked in a whisper that was audible to Theus.

“Where can we go?   We need to try to find mother and father.  We can’t leave the city,” the boy answered.

“The city is a mess,” Theus interjected.  He wanted the youths to want to leave the city.  “If your parents had any sense, and any luck, they’d have left the city already.  Where would they go?” he asked.  “We can go there to meet them.”

“They won’t have left the city,” Amory replied softly.  There was sadness in his voice, an ache.  “They’d stay and fight.”

“If they tried to fight, they’re probably dead,” Theus tried to speak realistically.

“Oh Amory,” the girl began to cry, and Thus felt bad for speaking so bluntly.  She was a young girl.  Even though the circumstances were grim, he could have said less, he realized.

“Where’s a safe place we can go to wait for them, if they’re still alive?” Theus asked.  “We can try to go there.”

“What about the castle in the west?” Amory asked his sister.

“We can try it, if you think it’s best,” the girl threw her judgement behind her brother.

“How do we know we can trust you?” Amory asked Theus.

“I can’t give you any proof, but I haven’t tried to harm you yet, and I could have if I wanted to,” Theus replied.

“It’ll take a couple of days to get there,” the boy warned Theus.

“Are you in good shape?  Can the two of you travel on a journey like that?” Theus asked doubtfully.  “And who are you – boyfriend and girlfriend?   Brother and sister?”

“Boyfriend?” the girl asked in a disgusted voice.

“We’re brother and sister; I’m older than her,” the boy responded importantly.  “We can make it; we’re tougher than people think.  Can you make it?” he asked in return, pointedly.  “You don’t look like you can walk.”

There was suddenly another set of boots walking on the wooden floor overhead.  Theus raised his finger to his lips to indicate the need for silence.

All three looked upward at the ceiling of the cellar, watching the progress of the unseen walker.  After two minutes, the visitor exited the shop.

“I can make it, don’t worry,” Theus answered.

“Let’s go take a look to see what’s happening upstairs.  We ought to get going while there’s sunlight,” Theus said.  He limped back to the ladder, juggled his sword to stick it in his belt, then climbed up and cautiously pressed upward against the hatch, raising it two inches, then several inches more, so that he could peer across a narrow swath of floor.  He saw no signs of people in the room, so he raised the hatch fully, and cautiously climbed out onto the floor, then peered around the corner of the neighboring bureau.

When he saw no signs of other people anywhere in the room, he waved his hand behind him to motion the two youngsters to follow him upward.  Once they were all on the ground floor, they approached the door of the building and looked outside.  The street scape was empty.

“Which direction do we need to go?” Theus whispered to Amory.

“Out the back door,” the boy answered.

Theus shot him a sidelong glance, then led the group back through the building, down a hall, and into a room with a wide, double door.  They peered outside, found no one in sight, and stepped out into an alley.

“Which way?” Theus asked again.

“Down there, then turn right,” Amory answered, and they slinked down the alley to the intersection with another road.

“There!  Those three!” a voice shouted.

Theus turned, and saw a head sticking out of a second-floor window next door, and a moment later a squad of Southsand soldiers came boiling out of the ground level door, a dozen men who surrounded the young trio and left the escapees trapped with their backs against a building wall.

“You tricked us!” Amelia wailed.

“We’ll take them from here,” one of the soldiers said.  His uniform was marked differently from the others, an apparent officer.  “And the reward as well.”

“Stay back,” Theus raised his sword, spurred by Amelia’s accusation of treachery, as well as a fear that he would be taken captive as well, and returned to Donal.

“Seargent,” one of the men in the squad spoke up, “look at his neck marker.  I recognize those colors.”

“Oh mercy,” the officer said, his face growing pale.  “I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.  Are you on a mission for your master?”

Theus blinked his eyes, until he remembered the leather strap that Orcaze, Donal’s assistant, had snapped around his neck to identify him as property of the magician.

“Bluster them,” the invisible voice counseled.

“If the magician Donal finds out that you’ve interfered with the mission he’s assigned to me, you’ll be dead, and it will be painful,” he emphasized the last words.

“We meant no trouble,” the officer said immediately.  He motioned to his men to fall back.  “Can we assist you or escort you?” he asked obsequiously.

“No, we are traveling the path he directed.  Let us go our way,” Theus answered.  He jerked his head to the side to indicate his desire to see the men move along.

The officer and his men moved down the road, and out of sight around a nearby corner.

“That was close,” Theus said in relief.

“What are you going to do to us?  Who is this magician you work for?” Amory asked belligerently.  He looked at the sword Theus held, as if he might try to wrestle it away from the injured runaway slave.

“I’m not going to do anything with you,” Theus snapped.  “I’m trying to help you escape the city, and you’re supposed to be helping me escape from my master, the magician.  We just tricked those men, but it may not work again.  I suggest we get moving.”

Amory and Amelia looked at one another doubtfully.

“Truly, I didn’t lead you here; I didn’t know they were here,” Theus pointed out.

“And who are you, that they were so eager to capture you?” he asked in addition, as the odd confrontation played in his mind once again, while they started to move along the street.  “What reason is there for you to be worth a reward?”

“Duck!” the voice called loudly.  Theus dove to the ground, shouting at the two refugees to do the same as he went down.  He heard and saw an arrow strike the wall he had been walking beside, then deflect down to the pavement, and bounce wildly away.

“Stay right there!” a voice shouted.  “Don’t get up!”

Had the soldiers doubled back and decided to take the children as their own captives, he wondered.

“Redford?” Amory called a questioning word in a pleased voice.

“Is it Redford?  We’re saved!” Amelia chimed.

Theus saw his two companions scramble up and go running, as he rolled over to observe their path.  They were running towards a man with a beard – a big bushy beard.  That was what Theus saw first and foremost.

“Be careful!  Stop!” he tried to shout advise to the children, but they ran heedlessly to the man who was holding a bow, Theus noted, and when they reached him, they wrapped their arms partway around his stout frame.

“Redford!” Amelia shouted joyfully, her voice muffled in the coat the man wore.

Theus stood up and turned as he did, so that he faced the apparent reunion.  His eyes warily locked with those of the man who had received his charges.  The eyes were studying him, just as warily.

“Who are you?” Theus asked.  He broke his eye contact to look up and down the street, looking to see if anyone else was visible, or any other dangers approaching.  His simple plan to escape through the confusion of the invasion of Steep Rise had turned out to prove mostly confusing for him.

“Voice, is this good or bad?” he asked softly.

“I’m here to take care of the prince and princess,” the man replied as he scrutinized Theus.  “The question is, who are you?”  The titles made Theus’s eyes widen in surprise.

“He says he’s a runaway slave,” Amelia informed Redford.

“He found us hiding in a basement, after our escort was killed,” Amory added.

“Some of the invader soldiers were going to take us, but he stopped them,” Amelia said.

“They were scared of him; he works for a magician,” Amory took a turn at informing.

“Where’s he taking you now?” Redford asked.

“We were going to try to go to Mount Leaven,” Amory answered.  “He said we could get away from the invaders.”

“But now we can go to the palace, can’t we?” Amelia pleaded.

Theus saw Redford’s eyes harden.

“The palace is captured.  It’s too late.  We need to get away.  Come with me,” he spoke the sentences rapidly.

“Thank you for your help.   You’re free to go now,” Redford spoke directly to Theus, as he put his large hands on the backs of the children with surprising gentleness.

“Where are you taking them?” Theus asked.

“None of your business.  You just move along now,” the soldier answered.

“If you’re going someplace safe, I want to go too,” Theus told the man, making a decision.  He’d heard nothing from the voice in response to his question, so he was making his own snap judgement.  “I want to get away from Southsand; I don’t want to be a slave.”

“He’s been good Redford,” Amelia spoke up in Theus’s defense.

“I don’t trust him,” Amory said flatly.

“I didn’t even know they were a prince and princess,” Theus blurted out.  “I just thought we could help each other.”

“We’re leaving Steep Rise, but it won’t be easy.  We’re going to sail away.  Are you sure you want to risk it?” Redford asked.

Theus heard the sounds of shouts from nearby.

“We need to get out of sight,” he counseled.

“You can come with us,” Redford seemed to make his won snap decision.  “We’re going this way,” he stepped into the doorway he had appeared from.

The children automatically followed him into the dim interior of the building, and then Theus plunged in as well.

Redford led them through a maze of ways that he seemed to know very well, as they traveled in a wildly zigzagging pattern across the city, always edging downward, back towards the harbor, though Theus followed with quiet misgivings.  He had no desire to move any closer to Donal’s location, but he had no further desire to try to find his way to safety on his own.

Theus limped behind the others, thankful that the journey contained so many pauses, fits, and starts, letting him catch up every time he fell behind, as he held onto his belief that he truly could escape from Donal and Southsand, and use the chaos of the invasion of Steep Rise to carry out that escape.

Night was falling by the time they reached the harbor front.  People were beginning to cautiously re-enter the streets of the city, occupants who had survived the invasion, now fitfully venturing into the streets, searching for loved ones, food, safety, and information.  Redford stopped the group at the mouth of an alley when they reached the water level at the bottom of the city.

“You three stay here a bit.  Can you take care of them?” he asked Theus.

Theus nodded silently.

“I’m trusting you, stranger.  Do this or you’ll pay,” the bodyguard warned, and then he stepped out into the street and left them.

“You’re really a prince and princess?” Theus asked.

“We are,” Amory affirmed.

“Huh,” Theus grunted.  He was impressed by the titles.  He’d grown up as a boy on a poor, rural, hard scrabble farm.  Royal families were so distant from his life that he’d never even thought about dreaming about them.

But at the moment, he only felt sorry for the two children.  At best, their parents were captive, their futures uncertain.  At worst, the two were orphans.  Theus had no idea what would become of them.  Redford evidently had some plan to take them someplace safer than the occupied city.

“Where’s Redford going to take us?” Amelia asked at that moment, giving voice to Theus’s own internal question.

“I don’t know, but it’ll be someplace safe.  Maybe he knows where we can meet mother and father,” the boy said hopefully.  “I think the guards must have been able to get them to safety,” he added hopefully.

The trio lapsed into silence, and stood tensely for ten minutes, until Redford re-emerged from the sparse crowds, carrying an armful of material.

“Here, put these on,” he handed robed cloaks to the two youths.  “Keep the hoods up; don’t let anyone see your faces.

“We’re going to the outer harbor.  There’s a boat waiting there.  “I’ve got some bread for us to eat while we sail.”

“Where are we going?” Amory asked.

“We’re going to Exlive,” Redford answered.  “Now, let’s go,” he didn’t allow time for further questions.

“But Redford!” Amelia’s voice wailed as the bodyguard started out into the streets.

“You be quiet!” he turned and snarled.  “Not another word.”  He turned away again and began walking at a determined pace.

Amory followed behind, with Amelia in the third spot in line, while Theus brought up the end of the group.  They walked quickly for minutes, then went inside a warehouse.  Redford led them into a basement, then a damp sub-basement, which became a tunnel, lit only by the torch the bodyguard carried.

Theus held his sword ready, worried about the surroundings.  If they were confronted or followed, there would be no escape route.  But no danger erupted, and minutes later they climbed steps back up to the street level.  Through a small window in a bare stone wall of a room they emerged in, Theus could see that it had grown dark outside.

“We’ll wait here until the moon rises,” Redford announced.  “We’ll use the moonlight to see our way to the boat.”

“Why are we sailing to Exlive?” Amelia asked.  “Will Mother be there?” her voice trembled.

“May the gods rest her soul, your mother is dead, and your father too,” Redford answered.  His voice sounded harsh to Theus, as though he were trying to hide his own emotions.

“I saw her; she told me to find the two of you and take you to your Uncle Baitmin in Exlive,” Redford answered.  “I had a time getting out of the palace alive to come find you,” he lifted a sleeve to reveal a bloody, heavily-bandaged arm underneath.

“If Steep Rise is going to be free again someday, there has to be a royal family ready to lead the people.  You’ll be safe in Exlive, while we figure out what the situation is,” he lectured.  “We’ll start by figuring out why that fleet sailed right into our harbor without a ship being sunk.”

“Donal the magician did it,” Theus spoke up.  “He had that magic powder that made the memory stones not work, so that your big rock throwers wouldn’t destroy the fleet,” he explained.

“It’s dark magic, very dark,” he added in a low voice.

“A magician,” Redford practically spat the word.  “Our nation in tatters because of a magician.”  He rose and looked out the window.

“Let’s get moving, so we can put to sea,” he opened the door and motioned for the others to begin the journey.

The air was cooler outside in the evening, Theus noticed, though not chilly in any way.  Redford led them past buildings and along a road that became a path that went out of the city and along a short stretch of rugged coast.

“What’s your name, boy?” Redford asked Theus in the darkness.

“Theus,” he replied.

“Well Theus, let’s get behind these bushes and push our boat down to the water,” Redford directed.

Theus found a large wooden boat resting on the sandy dunes ide.  Together, grunting and straining, the two warriors moved the boat down to where the waves lapped up on the short, pebbled beach.

“Come down here, you two,” Redford called in a loud whisper.  He bent into the boat and pulled out the sections of the mast, which he erected with Theus’s help, then the pair of them hoisted the sail and adjusted the simple rigging.

“You two jump in,” Redford told the young royals an hour later.  “Then we’ll push it out into the water and get underway.”

Theus and Redford stood on either side of the boat, then ran it out until the warm sea water was up to the middle of their thighs, and they flopped into the shell.  Redford scrambled into place, adjusted the sail, and the ship began to lightly move across the water.

“There’s success for you,” Redford said in a confident voice.  “I haven’t had to do this since I was a young boy in my uncle’s fishing boat, but it all works as right as rain.

“Now, we just keep the shore on our right side and we let the breeze take us north,” he added.

“How long will the trip take?” Theus asked.

“Eight days, maybe nine,” Redford answered.   “It depends on the winds we catch.”

“Do we have anything to eat?” Amory asked.

“How can you think of eating?” Amelia rebuked him.  “Don’t you know mother and father are dead?”

“My hunger won’t bring them back to life,” Amory answered matter-of-factly.

“There’s bread in the bag by, eh, Theus,” Redford fumbled to recollect the name momentarily.  Theus opened the bag.  His hands probed the contents to determine how much was available.

“I’ll give a quarter of a loaf to each of us for tonight,” he suggested.  “That’ll make it last for a few days.”  The loaves weren’t large, and broken into quarters would make each portion even smaller, but there were only a few loaves to share among the four of them.

“You can give more than that,” Redford said munificently.

“We don’t want to run out of food too quickly,” Theus pointed out.

“Run out of food?  We’re surrounded by more fish than all of Steep Rise could eat in a year!” Redford brushed the protest aside.

“There’s fishing tackle in the prow.  In the morning we can cast a line and start catching out meals,” he advised.

Theus handed out larger portions to the children in the dark, as well as Redford and himself, then he settled down and listened to the silence.   The sound of the hull cutting through the water, the occasional flap of the canvas sail, and the cries of sea birds were all that he heard.

He felt a deep sadness.  Even though he had managed to find an unexpected opportunity to escape from Donal and Southsand, he felt the pain of all the destruction he had seen.  The cries he had heard Amelia give still tore at his heart, as he imagined what he would feel if his own mother were to be killed.  The girl was far younger than he was; she deserved to have a mother who would watch over her and advise her about the troubles involved in growing up.

He didn’t know how far Exlive was from Great Forks, but if it was a seven day sailing from Steep Rise, it had to be quite a bit further north, closer to Great Forks and Coriae.

“Theus, wake up,” Redford was next to him, and he realized that he had been sound asleep, sitting in the boat as it moved across the ocean’s surface.

“You take the ship,” Redford said.  “The prince and princess are asleep, and I need some too.”

“I don’t know how to sail a ship,” Theus protested.

“See that red star?” Redford pointed high above the horizon.  “Just keep the boat headed in that direction.”

Theus grunted and flopped over to take the helm, then stared at the front of the boat and its relationship to the red star, the Compass Star, as his father had named it to him countless times back home on the ranch.

The boat struck a wave that splashed a large wash of water up into the air, and directly into Theus’s face.  He sputtered and wiped his face dry, as best he could, then corrected his course as best he could to return to the course he’d momentarily veered from.

Throughout the night he kept the boat’s course steady, even later in the night, when Redford was snoring and the wind picked up.  The boat’s velocity increased, and the sound of the water rushing alongside the hull rose in pitch.

“What’s that sound?” Amelia asked sleepily.

“It’s just the water we’re passing by,” Theus awkwardly reached a hand to pat the top of the head of the nearby sleeping girl.  She murmured acceptance of his answer, then shifted slightly and rested her head on his thigh as her pillow, and settled into an immediate sound sleeping pattern once again.

Theus stroked her hair gently, and thought again about the disaster that had befallen her family and life.  He wanted to help deliver her to safety.  Even more, he wished he could help her gain revenge on the bloody magician and the king who had delivered so much blood and loss to her city.

Theus recollected Donal’s rantings about Ind’Petro, the ancient, hateful god that Donal claimed was the source of the magician’s great and bloody powers.  It would take a god of evil to make such a thing as an invasion happen, he supposed.

“Is that true, voice?” he softly asked the emptiness around him.  “Is Ind’Petro causing this evil?”

There was no answer, despite his straining to hear the sounds of the voice that he thought had returned to help advise him and guide him.

“You’re no help,” he mumbled sourly, and he resumed stroking the fine, soft hair of the young princess whose head lay on his lap.

Redford awoke as the sun was breaching the wide horizon, a red ball coming up over the land and the water to the east.

“You’ve done good work” he told Theus.  “I’ll cast a fishing line, while you keep us headed north.  After we have a catch to eat, we’ll go to shore and stay until tonight,” he explained.

Theus continued to guide the ship north, relying on the bearing of the land to his left instead of the Compass Star to the north.  Half an hour later, both the youths were awake, Amelia pretending not to be embarrassed that she’s slept on Theus’s lap.

“Switch spots now; I’ll take us into that cove,” Redford directed Theus.  They sailed into an empty cove, where stunted trees and bushes crowded a narrow, sandy beach.  They pulled the boat up out of sight, then made a small fire and roasted the fresh fishes.

“We’ll stay here until sunset,” Redford informed the others.  “Stay in the shade, out of the sun, so you don’t get burned.  Don’t go far away,” he directed.

They spent a restless day under the trees, resting fitfully and swatting at swarms of insects, until the sun was low in the western sky.

“Let’s haul the boat to the water and set sail again,” Redford tapped Theus on the shoulder to set the team into action once again.  Their second night on the water was much like the first, an uneventful passage across the warm waters of the southern sea, followed by a day spent hidden in an empty stretch of shoreline.

The third night brought a change in their routine.

Chapter 15

The third evening began with the entry of the boat in the water.  Redford had begun to show Amory some of the rudiments of controlling the boat, and the boy was eager to take charge of their navigation again when they set sail in the failing sunlight.  Amelia continued to be withdrawn and silent.  Theus saw Redford give the girl many long stares, as they both sorrowfully watched her depression.

Amory and Redford steered the boat, while Theus sat comfortably.  As the sun set over the western water, he saw that gray clouds obscured the final minutes of the sunset, and he pointed it out to Redford.

“We may have some rain tonight.  Let’s hope there’s nothing worse,” the bodyguard sailor said stoically.

By the middle of the evening, the red Compass star was blocked from sight by the racing clouds that covered the sky.  Theus tried to steer the boat according to the relative locations of the other stars in the sky, but finally awoke Redford to explain the problem.

“I’d say we ought to take it in to shore.  Can you see the shore line?” Redford asked Theus, as a flash of lightning brought a loud clap of thunder.  “Let’s at least sail closer to the shoreline,” Redford suggested.

Theus tried to find the shoreline in the darkness, without actually running into any rocks or reefs.  He had no stars to navigate by, and relied on his best guess of a slight turn to the left.

“How’s our course?” Redford asked, suspicious of Theus’s seeming uncertainty.

A few rain drops began to fall.

“I can’t tell,” Theus admitted.  “I can’t see anything.”

“Here, let me take over,” Redford stepped across the small vessel and assumed control.

The rain began to fall more heavily, and lightning began to flash repeatedly.

Theus saw that Amory was trying to shelter his sister from the rain, leaning over the girl.

“I could see the shoreline with the lightning if the rain wasn’t so heavy,” Redford complained seconds later, speaking in a loud voice to be heard over the noise of the rain.

The wind began to blow even more briskly, and the boat bucked from the action of the waves, even as it gained speed in cutting through the water.

“You children get down in the bottom of the boat,” Redford ordered, seeking to shelter them better.

As soon as the two rose to their feet, a gust of wind tilted the boat dramatically.

Amory!  Redford!” Amelia cried, as she flew off her feet sideways, right past Theus.  He grabbed for her, and his fingers gained a loose hold on the hem of her dress for a moment, but then she was gone into the water.

Without thinking, he flipped his body around and dove over the side of the boat after her, afraid for the little girl.

The water was thankfully still lukewarm in temperature, so there was no shock, but it was dark, and it was turbulent.  He was underwater, then rose, felt a wave break over his head, then heard a scream from off to his right.  He stroked in that direction without seeing, and his hand struck a sodden mass of material.

He lifted his head out of the water and pulled the mass closer.  It started to writhe and struggle.

“Amelia?  Amelia!  It’s Theus,” he shouted.

“Help!  Help! Help me,” she shouted in panic.

“Can you swim?” he asked.

“No, help me!” she replied, as he held her with one arm, his other arm and legs working to keep them afloat.

“Don’t panic,” he advised.  He had pulled her in close, and her arms closed vise-like around his neck.  Another wave broke over both their heads, and they both swallowed water.

“Don’t choke me,” he said as he coughed.  “Let go of my neck; I can’t breathe.

“I’ll hold onto you.  Trust me,” he urged.  “I need you to let go and let me swim for us.”

The girl released her grip, and Theus held his, as he treaded water and tried to guess what direction to head in.  He was lost in the water, too low to see to the shore, which wouldn’t have been visible in the rain and the darkness in any event.  And he knew the boat would have been driven far away by the raging wind in its sails.

He guessed that he was facing the land, and he began swimming slowly in that direction.  The going was challenging.  He felt heavy, and Amelia felt heavier.  He needed to discard his boots, he realized.

“Don’t worry, just relax,” he told Amelia.  “I’m going to let go for a second to take my boots off.”   He released her and hurriedly slipped the heavy leather off his feet, then found Amelia and grabbed hold of her, lifting her higher so that she could take a breath.  She was still very heavy though, a sodden mass of heavy gown material.

There was only one answer.  He pulled his sword free, and began to slice at the dress, slitting it carefully from the bottom.  He placed the sword back in his belt; he’d jettison it next if he had to, but he wanted to keep it for the potential future needs.  His hands fumbled across the girl’s dress until he found where a few inches remained intact, and he tore it, then pulled the material free.

“You’re lighter now,” he explained.  “We’ll get to land quicker,” he predicted, not having any idea if that was true or not.  But she was easier to drag through the water, and his feet were much easier to flutter as he headed in a random direction.

He swam for several minutes, then rested.  Amelia held on to him as he trod water.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked her, feeling her head on his shoulder.

“I think so.  I’m scared,” she told him.

“We’re doing fine so far,” he told her.  “I think the storm is passing,” he tried to encourage her, though he felt the words were true.  The waves were lower, the rain didn’t drive so hard, and he held onto a kernel of hope that they could find their way to land.

He started swimming again, then rested after a while, then swam again and rested again.

It was long, painfully tiring, work.   He lost count of the number of times he stopped to rest.  He continued on, as the spans of swimming between rests became shorter.  But he continued to swim.

After an unknown length of time, he thought the sounds around him began to change.  There was no more rain falling, and the winds had died down.  Then he realized he was hearing something rhythmic, every few seconds.  He paused to rest, and as he did, his feet touched a sandy bottom below him.

They had reached shallow water!  He was listening to waves break on a beach!

He felt a new surge of energy, and he started swimming again, then stopped, and his feet settled on the bottom again, the water only up to the middle of his chest!

“We did it Amelia!  We made it to land!” he told her.  He let her settle down so that her feet were on the ground, and her head was out of the water as well.

“Theus!  We’re going to live!” she shouted.  They held hands as they ran up to shore, and waded through the surf.

The night was still dark, but they were on land!

Chapter 16

Theus and Amelia staggered up the beach until they quickly came to scrubby trees and bushes.  They cast themselves down on the sand.  Amelia was clothed in a white shift that had survived Theus’s desperate undressing of the girl in the ocean, while he was barefoot and wearing only pants and a shirt, and the sword that he had never discarded.  And he still wore his slave’s necklet, though he had forgotten it.

They both fell quickly into deep slumber after the terror and the exhaustion of the long journey to shore, and they slept until long after sunrise, despite the myriad of insects that settled upon and bit them.

“Theus, are you alive?” Amelia poked him to awaken him.

He sat up silently, and looked around.  The shoreline was unremarkable, without any signs of other humans.

“Do you think Amory and Redford will find us soon?” the girl asked.

Theus looked at her, then looked out at the open sea.

“No,” he said softly, “I don’t think so.”

He saw the crestfallen expression on her face.  He couldn’t share with her his doubts about whether the small boat would have even survived the night on the ocean’s surface in the storm.  “We’ll probably meet them in Exlive, when we get there to see your uncle,” he improvised a happy ending.

“What should I wear?” she asked.  “I can’t be seen in just this shift.  I really shouldn’t allow you to look at me this way, but since you saved my life last night, I think it’s forgivable.

“When will you provide me with better things?” she asked.

The shift she wore was nicer than many of the dresses that Theus’s sisters had worn growing up on the farm, but he refrained from telling her that.

“When we get to a village, perhaps we can find better,” he advised.

“I expect so,” she said sternly.

“I know you do, sweetie,” he grinned at her tone.

“And it is improper for you to call me sweetie,” she upbraided him.  “You should address me as your highness, or my princess.”

“My apologies,” he told her.

“And I’m hungry too, Theus,” she told him without any rancor or tone of dissatisfaction over her clothing or title.

“We need to work on that,” Theus agreed.  “Let’s start walking north to see what we can find.”

“I can’t walk fast.  I don’t have any shoes.  I lost them in the ocean,” Amelia warned him.

“I don’t have any either,” Theus told her.  “We’ll have to be patient with each other.”

And so they began to pick their way north along the beach front.  Just a few minutes after they began, the habitat had switched from the scrubby trees to dunes and grasses, where Theus’s eyes were drawn to a leafy plant growing in the spaces between clumps of tall grasses.

He knew what the plants were – turtle shells, they were called.   The large, cupped leaves could be broken open and their exteriors peeled back to provide a tasty crisp snack, and one that was moist too.

Theus turned the path to the right and stopped at a turtle shell, then experimentally snapped one of the leaves off.  He broke the leave down the center vein, and looked at the thick interior flesh.

“What are you doing, playing with that plant?” Amelia asked with an air of annoyance at his divergence.

Theus carefully pulled the top, green layer off the leave, as though it were a film, then pulled away a portion of the bottom of the leave, and looked at the thin, pale interior sheet he had exposed.

“Just bury me here if I die from eating this,” he joked with Amelia, then he bit into the peeled turtle shell.  The taste and texture of the leaf immediately pleased him.  It was lightly crunchy, very moist, and slightly sweet.

“Are you eating a poisonous plant?” Amelia’s eyes widened, as she saw him chew and swallow the leaf.

“I can’t take the pressure anymore!” Theus gasped dramatically, then he pretended to collapse from eating the leaf, and closed his eyes.

“Theus!” Amelia shrieked.  He felt her kneel next to her, and place her hands upon his cheeks.

“Boo!” he called as he opened his eyes, then laughed.

“That was mean!” she protested.

“I’m sorry,” he told her.  “Here, try a bite of this.  It’s good.”

She reached out and took the leaf, then gingerly nibbled on the exposed flesh of the leaf while looking at his face.  Her expression turned to delight, and she took a bite that consumed the rest of the peeled leaf.

Theus prepared several more leaves for them to eat, before they started walking again.

“How did you know that was so good?” Amelia asked as they strolled north.

“I’m not sure,” he said.  Her question was a good one.  He thought for a moment, and realized that the memory of the plant had felt just like the memories he had about healing and medicine.  And then he remembered the second ancient memory stone he had digested in Falstaff’s shop, the stone that the voice had told him to learn so many weeks ago.

The stone had been an endless catalog of information about plants.  It had been boring and yet compellingly fascinating too.  It had been a small stone, without the massive amount of information the healing stone had contained.  Yet it had provided the valuable information that had given the two shipwreck survivors their first meal in hours.

He looked around, aware of the wealth of knowledge that resided in his brain, and he studied the plants that were scattered up the sides of the dunes on the beach.  Each one was suddenly different and most were useful in their own ways, he realized, as he let the stored cache of knowledge come blossoming forth.

After that, as he realized the valuable potential application that the knowledge could be put to, the pair had no shortage of foods during their journey.  As they walked north, he would furnish surprising items to eat, or he’d provide unexpected medical treatments for bug bites, sunburn, or cuts and scrapes.

He also taught the girl songs as they walked.  After a long spell of silent walking on their second day of the journey, Theus found himself humming one of the ancient simple songs that he had learned from listening to his father.  During the long days of plowing a field, or planting seeds, or tending the growing crops, a multitude of songs had helped to pass the time spent on the mindless work.

And so it was that the exiled princess of Steep Rise learned the humorous songs about a five-legged mule, about the talking dog, and about the earthworms in love among many others.

And in turn, Theus learned all about the court that had existed in Steep Rise, as seen by an eleven-year-old girl.  He learned of the holidays and ceremonies and different parts of the city that had been invaded and overthrown.

Together, the pair traveled for over a week along the beachfront, before they came to a small village.  The village was a small collection of fishermen’s homes; the village was so small that there was not even a tavern or a public house.  As a result, the arrival of two strangers who walked in was a remarkable event.

“We were shipwrecked in a storm a few days ago,” Theus explained to the quartet of men who came to greet the visitors.  “We’ve been walking up the coast to get to Exlive.”

“You’re still four days away from the city,” one of the men said.  “What have you been living on?  Did some supplies from your boat wash up on shore with you?”

“No, Theus has been finding food for us everywhere,” Amelia pipped up.  “He can find plants that are good to eat, or good for curing pain.  He’s done the most amazing things!

“Do you have a dress I could borrow?” she immediately switched subjects and asked with aplomb.  “I haven’t worn anything but this for days,” she waved her hand over the tattered shift, less self-conscious than she had been at the beginning of their walk.

“I’ve got a daughter a little larger than you,” one fisherman answered.  “Come to my house and we’ll see if her old dress can fit you.”

An hour later, the pair left the village after acquiring a new dress for Amelia and a nice meal of freshly broiled fish, the first meat Theus had eaten since he’d left the kitchen in the palace at Southsand.  It was astonishing to think that in less than a month he’d gone from being a palace slave to being a traveler living off the land in the wilderness, accompanied by a bright and pert young girl, one who was really only a few years younger than him.

Amelia was innocent to the ways of the world in some senses, but more worldly than him in others, he had discovered.  The pair had developed a close bond, and asked one another questions freely as they walked.  Amelia’s questions had come to focus particularly on Coriae, once Theus had mentioned her as the girl he longed to return to.

The journey to Exlive required five days more instead of four, as the fisherman had predicted.  Theus and Amelia had taken shelter under bushes during a rainsquall that lasted most of a day.  But they were in good spirits when they walked through a village not far from the outskirts of Exlive one morning, then entered the city itself late that afternoon.

Chapter 17

Exlive was a harbor city and the capital of a small kingdom, just as Steep Rise had been, and just as Southsand had been.  It was closer to Stoke than either of the other two kingdoms were, and members of the nobility and the merchant class both had interactions with the world of Stoke, the capital city of the kingdom that ruled over the network of inland cities along the rivers – Great Forks and Greenfalls included.

Theus and Amelia approached the city from the land side, and entered the heart of the city through a gate that stood at the end of a bridge across a river.

“Do you know where your uncle lives?” Theus asked her after they passed the guards at the gate and stood in the center of a plaza that hosted vendors and merchants.

“I don’t know; I’ve hardly met him,” Amelia said.  “He only comes back to the palace once a year to visit my parents,” the girl replied.

They resorted to asking a food vendor for directions to the embassy, but instead were given directions to the palace of the monarch, and told to ask there for information about the embassy.

“Why wouldn’t they know where the Steep Rise embassy is?” Amelia asked Theus as they walked towards the Exlive palace; the girl was indignant at the lack of knowledge about her nation.

When the travelers arrived at the palace around midday, they had to ask three sets of guards for directions to the embassy.  They then had to retrace their tracks to return to the gate, and go beyond it in the other direction to find the embassy from Steep Rise, a gated mansion set amidst mature trees along the river front.

“We’re here to see ambassador Baitmin,” Theus announced to the guard at the gate of the quiet embassy grounds.

“No beggars,” the guard replied, addressing the dirty and tattered appearance the two youths presented.

“We’re not beggars; this is the Princess Amelia of Steep Rise, here to seek her uncle,” Theus replied.

“Go away before I swat you away,” the guard tried to rid the problem from his doorstep.  “The ambassador will be leaving any time now; he doesn’t want to see beggars waiting at his gate.”

“We’ll wait here to see him,” Theus replied, not willing to argue any longer.

“You’ll run along and stop pestering me, or I’ll run you through with a blade,” the guard growled back, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword.

“We’ll stay here and let the ambassador meet his niece,” Theus growled back, placing a hand on the hilt of his own sword.

The guard released his sword, and raised both hands to his mouth, then let out a shrill whistle that rang three notes.  He stepped back, and pulled his sword free, as a pair of additional guards came running down the drive from the mansion.

Amelia, you go stand over by those trees,” Theus directed, as he drew his own sword.  He wanted the girl to be safe, while his mind ran through the probability of being able to defend himself sufficiently against the trio of guards.

“Theus, be careful!” she warned him, then followed his direction, and ran to a safe place to observe.

The additional guards stopped to listen to the original guard advise them, then the three advanced out of the gateway, into the street, spreading out as they approached Theus.

“You ought to run while you can,” the first guard warned Theus, surprised by his refusal to flee.

“there’s only three of you, and I’m not sure how good you are,” Theus replied evenly, stepping back with small steps, wanting to assure he had no fences or obstacles in his vicinity to cut off his options.

“You’ll find out how good we are,” one of the new arrivals growled, stepping in front of the others and advancing on Theus for a singlehanded contest.

As soon as he was within Theus’s sword range, the boy stepped forward and engaged the man, slipping his sword in low, then allowing the guard to make contact.  Theus riposted, and slapped down hard on his attacker’s blade, knocking it from the man’s grip in a shock to the man.  Theus punched forward with the hilt of his sword, hitting his opponent in the nose and causing him to stagger back.

Theus picked up the lost weapon and faced his astonished opponents.

“I’ve got two swords, so the odds are even now,” he taunted.  “If you want to surrender before anyone gets hurt, I’ll accept.”

The guard he had disarmed cursed wildly at him, while the other two separated and began to circle around him to approach from different sides.  He cautiously stepped back further in response, and as he did, he saw Amelia suddenly dart from her safe place and run through the undefended gate, unseen by the guards.

He chuckled, hoping that she could find her uncle, but then he focused on the impending threat of two armed men who took him seriously.

He edged his way towards a tree, to keep it at his back for protection, while the two armed guards began to speed up and close in upon him.

When they were each just a few feet away, the guard on the left began to jab ineffectually, while the guard on his right began to swing wildly, slicing the air between the two of them.   Neither seemed to have the skills to be a threat to Theus if they faced him one-on-one, and he grew more confident that he would be able to withstand their assault.

Theus shifted his attention from one side to the other, using his own sword to fight directly, and using his captured sword to occasionally block a stroke that flew too near.  One slicing attack on the left drew blood from his shoulder, while he managed to pink his opponent on his left in the thigh.

“Stop!  Cease the attack!” a voice called loudly from the gate.

Theus looked and saw that Amelia stood holding hands with an elegantly dressed gentleman.  She had reached her uncle somehow!  Theus had managed to make a successful delivery of the princess of Steep Rise.

“Step back,” Theus told the two assailants.  He threw his extra sword down to the ground in front of him as a sign that he was ready to disengage.

Both guards stepped back, watching Theus carefully.

“All of you come in to me immediately!” the man at the gate called.

The three guards all backed further away from Theus, then turned and walked towards the gate.  Theus waited a few moments, then lifted the sword on the ground, slid his own sword through his belt, and carried the captured sword towards the gate, several steps behind the others.

“You’ve done well to protect our embassy,” the man at the gate spoke to his guards and Theus as they approached.  “But we need no protection from this young lady.  Let me introduce my niece, the princess, Her royal highness Amelia.”

The guards all bowed to Amelia.

“We had no way to know, my lord,” the first guard defended his actions.

“Here’s your sword,” Theus told the man he had disarmed, trying to sound as courteous as possible to the man with the bloody face.

“My niece tells me that her companion has gone to great lengths to deliver her safely here.  We’ll take them both into the embassy and make them comfortable, and learn more of their story,” the ambassador said.  “Carry on with your duties, and thank you for your work.

“Go see about having your injuries tended,” he told the two who Theus had drawn blood from.

“How is your wound?” he asked Theus.

“It’s only a flesh wound, my lord,” Theus replied, as they all walked up the drive.  “Thank you.”

“I thank you,” Baitmin replied.  “My niece says that the two of you have escaped from the horror of Steep Rise.  I’m anxious to hear your story, after you’ve recovered from your journey.”

“She’s a brave girl; Amelia held up very well on our trip,” Theus praised his young companion.

“’Her highness’,” the ambassador corrected him.  “We recognize her title here.”

“Of course, my lord,” Theus said, embarrassed.

They reached the entrance to the embassy, a set of limestone steps that provided access to a large wooden door, where three serving women stood in line.

“Yolanda, you and Grace take her highness to her room; have her tended and cleaned and treated as needed.  I’ll have dinner with her tonight,” Baitmin directed.

“Garsa,” he spoke to the third woman.  “Take our guest to a spare room and make provisions for his comfort.”

“Bye Theus!  I’ll see you soon!” Amelia stepped away from her uncle and hugged Theus tightly.

“Take care, your highness,” Theus tumbled over the title.  “I’m glad we got you here safely.”  He watched the two servants take the girl down a hall, and he felt a spot of emptiness in his heart.  He hadn’t even considered the ramifications of reaching the embassy, that he and Amelia might be separated.  It was an obvious outcome, he realized.

“Shall you follow me, my lord?” Garsa asked him.

“My name’s Theus,” he replied.  “Please go on.”

He turned to the others in the hallway.  “I’m sorry about the fight,” he told the guards.

“You handled yourself pretty well for such a young fellow,” the man with the injured thigh replied.

“Thank you, my lord.  We’re glad to find you.  She’s a good girl.  I’m glad you can take care of her,” Theus told the ambassador.

“It’s going to be a difficult issue, deciding what to do with her,” the man said in a sincere voice.  “But you’ve got her here alive and in good health, and we’ll deal with what is to come.”

Theus followed Garsa down the same hall Amelia had trod, as his mind began to consider what the arrival at the embassy meant.  It meant that the two travelers would be bathed and clothed and fed finer food than they’d had in a long time.  But it also meant much more than that.

“This will be your room, my lord,” Garsa told him.  She reminded him vaguely of a slightly younger version of his mother, he thought as he looked at her.

“I’ll go get some bandages for your wound,” she said as she stood next to the open doorway.  “And some clean clothes,” she added with a slight sniff.  “Please start to clean yourself in the bath.”

Theus stepped into the doorway while the woman left, and he looked around the room.  It reminded him of the quality of the rooms in the Warrell mansion in Great Forks, a comfortable and elegant space.  He stood in a sitting area attached to a bedroom, and a door to the side undoubtedly led to the bathing chamber. He closed the door from the hall, and walked into what was a spacious bathing room, one with a small, deep tub instead of a shower.

He gladly started the flow of water into the tub, delighted that warm water was available.  As the tub filled, he stripped off his filthy tattered clothes, then sank down and let the water level rise around him.

“Stay right there – don’t bother yourself.  I’ve brought the things you need,” Garsa walked into the room with arms full of items.  She laid several down, then walked over and promptly began to clean Theus’s injury, despite his discomfort over his lack of clothing.

“Can I help you get that choker off?” her fingers touched his neck.

“Yes, please,” he answered, having not given any thought to the last remnant of his identity as a slave of Southsand.

“You can take it away and burn it, for all I care,” he said vehemently.

She promised to do so, then continued to attend to his wound.

“I’ve got boys older than you, don’t bother yourself,” she told him matter-of-factly as she finished her treatment by putting an ointment on the injury.   “When you’re done cleaning, we’ll put a bandage around that.  Your clean clothes are right here,” she patted a stack of material.  “I’ll have your dinner delivered to the room in an hour’s time.  Will that be sufficient?” she asked efficiently.

“Yes, thank you,” Theus answered, taken aback by the efficiency of the embassy, while Garsa closed the door and left him alone.

He scrubbed himself clean, then closed his eyes and soaked in the tub, and tried to imagine what was coming next in his life.

He’d stay at the embassy for a day or two or three to make sure Amelia was settled in.  Then, it was all open to conjecture.  He’d head back to Great Forks to find Coriae.  He’d tell her about his astonishing adventures.  The guards from Stoke were certainly gone from the city, and his return would be safe.  Perhaps he could return to his role of working in Falstaff’s shop even, he idly speculated, as he rested comfortably.  Or he might be able to start a healing shop of his own.  He’d grown supremely confident of his ability to use the knowledge from the ancient memory stone to heal a multitude of medical situations.

He heard a sound outside the bath, and a knock at the door.  “Your dinner is served, my lord,” a voice called politely, prompting Theus to rise and dry and dress in red pants made of thick material, and a white shirt.

A table in his sitting area held a candle-lit tray with chicken and pork and bread and vegetables and potatoes, the classic food he’s relied on throughout his life on the farm.  He began to devour the food energetically, and when he was done, he took the candle to his bedside table.  The window in the room showed that night had fallen.  Theus lay on the soft mattress, blew out his candle, and fell into a sound, restful sleep.

He awoke the next morning when a servant brought a tray of food to his room.  After eating breakfast, Theus strolled around the embassy until a servant offered to help him.

“I’d like to see Amelia,” he explained, and he was led to a sitting room and told to wait.  Several minutes later, Amelia and her uncle Baitmin entered the room as well, while a servant brought glasses of juice for everyone.

“Amelia has told me a great deal,” Baitmin began the conversation.  “So I’d like to learn what you can tell me about the terrible events in Steep Rise.  I understand you were a slave?”

“Yes my lord,” Theus began, and he launched into a detailed explanation of his history in Southsand, and his lucky escape from Donal during the confusion of the invasion.

“You just walked right off the ship?” Baitmin asked skeptically.

“No one was watching me.  The magician had gone to recover,” Theus explained.

“Amelia says that when you first found her and Amory, there were guards from Southsand that let you escape,” Baitmin mentioned.

“They thought I was acting under orders from Donal.  Everyone is frightened of the magician, so they let me go because they thought I was helping him.  They didn’t know we were escaping!” Theus grinned.

“Tell me about the storm that you and Amelia suffered in, when you fell from the boat.  What do you think happened to Amory and Redford?” Baitmin continued to ask questions.

“The storm surprised Redford, I think.  We were in a pretty small boat, but in the darkness, we couldn’t see the shoreline to know which way to try to get to shore.  When I saw Amelia thrown out of the boat I just jumped out after her; I didn’t even think about it.  Then we had to swim to shore,” he said.

“You jumped after me?  I thought you fell out too!  Thank you Theus!” Amelia jumped up from her seat and ran across the room to hug him tightly.

“I’d do it again for you,” he told her softly.

“Come sit down Amelia.  A princess must maintain her dignity,” Baitmin said softly.

The girl squeezed Theus one more time, then returned to her seat.

“Well, it was an incredible adventure.  I’m just as impressed by the fact that you were able to survive in the wilderness so easily for such a long time.  Her highness reports that you found food at every opportunity without struggle,” Baitmin seemed finished with his conversation.

“We did fine, my lord.   I just want you to know my lord, that I listened to Donal.  I don’t think that Steep Rise was the last conquest Southsand intends to make.  Exlive might be next; the evil god sounds like it hungers for more blood,” Theus warned.

“Thank you.  I’ll warn the authorities here to strengthen their defenses.  I imagine the local authority already has begun to take action, since word of the Steep Rise invasion reached us through the traders and others who learned of the battle,” Baitmin agreed.

Theus was left alone in the room when the other two left, with an offer from Baitmin to have a tour provided of the city, if he wanted to walk about Exlive and see its sights.

One of the guards he had battled the day before proved to be his guide, a friendly man who showed him a wide variety of landmarks and activities.  Theus was invited to eat dinner with the guards and did so that night, enjoying their friendliness.  They had many questions about the battle at Steep Rise, and Theus gave them the best report he could on how the invasion had unfolded.

He felt good at the end of the evening, when he went to his room and lay down to sleep.

But when he heard a noise in his room in the middle of the night, he awoke to discover that the situation was not as favorable as he believed.

Chapter 18

“Theus?” he recognized Amelia’s voice calling in a whispered voice in the darkness of his room.  “Theus, are you here?”

“Right here your highness,” he said softly.

“You should call me Amelia!” she said, and then Theus felt the bed shake as she climbed onto his mattress.

“Theus, you’re in danger,” she said as she climbed up atop him and rested her head on his shoulder.  “Uncle Baitmin thinks you’re a spy for Southsand.  He doesn’t believe all those things he asked you about today.  I heard him talk to a guardsman; they want to arrest you in the morning.”

Theus tried to register what he was hearing.  “Is this a dream?” he asked outloud, unable to comprehend the ludicrous notion that he was a spy for Southsand.

“It’s not a dream Theus.  This is serious,” Amelia began to cry.

It was all real, he realized.  He sat up, and held Amelia in his arms.

“You know I’m not a spy, don’t you?” he asked the girl.  “I wouldn’t betray you.  I hope that someday I can come back and help you win your home back,” he felt compelled to demonstrate his honesty with the pledge of support.

“I know Theus.  I saw everything you did and how it worked.  I know you’re my friend.  That’s why I came here to warn you.  You need to escape tonight,” she said.

Theus set her gently aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  “You need to go back to your room, so no one knows you’re here.  I’ll get out of here in just a little while,” he told her.  He reached over and hugged her tightly.  “You’re a good girl Amelia.  You were a good trooper on our trip to get here.  You’re growing up quickly.”

“I don’t have a choice,” she said softly.  “I lost mother and father and our home, then I lost Amory and Redford, and now I’m losing you.”

“Stay strong; you know I’ll come back someday if I can,” he promised again.

Amelia slid down off the bed.  “Be careful Theus.  Be safe.  I know you’ll find a way to do something great, something that your girlfriend Coriae will be proud of,” she told him, then she slipped away, and left his room.

Theus sat along in the darkness, trying to make sense of the incomprehensible accusation against him.  Baitmin had to be crazy to believe Theus was a spy.  But the ambassador had to have been shocked to learn that his homeland had been invaded, his own sister – the queen – killed, and his nation under the thumb of others.  Perhaps spies seemed possible in such circumstances.

The boy pulled on his new clothes, and his sword, then he went to the window and opened it.  He slipped outside, then crossed the embassy grounds and slipped over the fence.  When he reached the street he started jogging through the darkness, blindly seeking to put distance between himself and the embassy while the wheels in his mind began to turn.

It was time to go back to Great Forks, he decided.  He had learned enough geography during his tour of the city to believe that there were two ways he could try to reach his destination.  He could take passage on a ship, and sail back to Great Forks, or he could walk across the land, through a vast, mostly empty prairie land that stretched east from Exlive all the way to where the king’s capital city of Stoke stood astride the Westland River that flowed to Great Forks.

He’d had an easy time traveling across land with Amelia.  He’d tried to sail aboard a ship when he’s left Great Forks, and ended up captured by pirates and sold into slavery.  The choice seemed easy – he’d walk to Stoke, then sail down the river to Great Forks.

Chapter 19

By the middle of the next day, Theus was several miles outside the walls of Exlive, walking east along a country road that crossed a landscape of pastures, woodlots, and farms.  It was a peaceful idyllic land.

“Voice,” Theus called out as he walked alone.  He was frustrated with the on-again, off-again nature of the voice in his life.  He’d come to rely on it as a mysterious but useful aid, until it had disappeared totally and completely.  It had returned briefly, but then disappeared again, and he’d not heard from it since.

“I almost said something to you this morning, but then didn’t need to,” the voice unexpectedly replied, and even chatted at an unexpected length.

“What did you plan to say?” Theus asked, so surprised by the comment that he responded to it, instead of expressing his displeasure at the voice’s inconstancy.

“I feared that you might try to take a ship to Great Forks instead of walking to Stoke; I would have spoken up if you had gone in that direction.  But since you didn’t, I didn’t,” the voice told him.

“Why Stoke?  Why is it important?” Theus asked.

“You’ll find out – time will tell,” the voice displayed its usual lack of detail.

“Why did you abandon me in Southsand, and when I was sailing and swimming?  I could have used help,” Theus complained.

“The power of evil in Southsand was so tremendous that I could penetrate it only with great difficulty.  But I did so when absolutely necessary, as with the magician,” the voice answered.  “And I needed help to do even that.

“And I have no way to sense you or help you on the water.  You are lost to me when you sail, which is another reason I prefer you go to Stoke,” the voice told him.  “The water is a barrier I cannot pass through.”

“Well,” Theus grumbled, surprised by the information the voice provided, “I guess that’s the way it is.  But I still needed help.”

“And you will continue to for some time,” the voice agreed in a manner that left Theus unsure whether he was being affirmed or insulted.

The landscape he crossed on his way to Stoke was much different from the seaside terrain he had traveled with Amelia.  The soil was rich, rather than sandy.  Plants grew in profusion, principally grasses, but also a variety of other plants, especially in the stretches of forest he walked across.  There were human inhabitants along the way as well.  He passed farms at first, but after two days of walking, he found that principally ranches occupied the land, raising both cattle and horses.

He lived off the land just as easily as he had during his trip with Amelia, finding edible plants at every opportunity.  He struck up occasional conversations with ranch hands who happened to be near the dusty road when he went strolling by.  The sight of single travelers passing by was not a common one in a wide-open prairie that offered firm allegiance to no country in particular.

And so, after ten days, his country road curved slightly to the south and wound through a set of gentle foothills at the end of a mountain chain, and he entered into the lands that formally answered to Stoke.

Theus began to pass farms rather than ranches once again as his journey took him into the firmly-held territory of Stoke; he thought of his family back in the Jewel Hills as he watched the farm families working industriously in their fields.  After passing through a sizeable village at sunset, he slept in the wild one last night, sheltered in the branches of a large tree.  The weather had changed as he’d travelled inland from the shoreline; it was cool, though not chilly.  And the following morning he set out, moving amongst the farm carts and livestock that headed into the city to feed the population.

He entered the city gates shortly before noon.  The city was a prosperous one it appeared.  The merchants’ shops had well-kept facades, and the people dressed well.  He wondered idly if the appearances were really any different from Great Forks, or if he had just grown use to the neglected state of affairs in Southsand, where he and the other slaves had worn used clothing and worked in neglected facilities at times.

Theus had no sure idea of what to do once he reached the city.  He wanted to start his journey towards Great Forks immediately.  That necessitated finding the docks along the riverfront, so that he could hire himself out to a freighter captain that needed a hand.

But the Voice had seemed to want him to come to Stoke, implying some purpose to his visit to the city.  He couldn’t afford to stay long in the city.  He had no money at all, and less access to the edible foods that had sustained him in the countryside.

Theus decided to find where the river front was, to be aware of his goal at the very least.  He left the vicinity of the gate and began to walk through the city streets, until he came to a crowded intersection where the local police were blocking the flow of traffic across a large boulevard.  Theus slowly worked his way forward through the impatient crowd, until he was near the front.  He could see the line of law enforcement officers who stood at regular intervals, holding a heavy rope stretched across the width of the street Theus stood upon.

“Why is the traffic blocked?” he asked a man who looked like a farmer, standing with a hand cart that contained late season vegetables.

“The parade of justice will be passing soon,” the farmer answered.

“What kind of parade is that?” Theus asked.

“Are you from out of town?” the farmer asked in return.

“I just got here today.  I’ve never been in Stoke before,” Theus answered.

“It’s a criminal in a high crime case, going before the court of royal justice,” the farmer said.  “I’ve only seen one other in my life.  They parade the prisoner in an open cage from his prison to the court each day for everyone to see.

“The royals usually expect people to throw rocks and vegetables at the criminal, but so far they haven’t been doing much of that,” the farmer explained.

“Oh, here he comes now,” the man added, pointing down the street to the left.

Theus could see a wagon being pulled by a team of ten or more horses being led by an escort of several officers on foot and several on horseback.  The watching crowds grew louder as the wagon approached, and the police blocking the street pulled their rope a little tighter and held it a little higher to more firmly block the crowds from surging out into the boulevard.

Theus’s eyes roamed across the crowd on the far side of the street, facing towards him.  They were ordinary people, held back by the massive police presence, watching the spectacle of the criminal being hauled to court.  Above the people in the street, Theus saw that the windows and balconies of the buildings along the street were also filled, on the second and third floors where a more genteel crowd was gathered above the commoners on the street.

Theus continued to observe all, taking in the spectacle, as the wagon continued to roll closer, then his eyes suddenly blinked and scanned back to the right, where they focused on a small group of women on the third-floor balcony across from Theus.

Coriae was standing on the balcony, flanked by a pair of women Theus didn’t know!

Her eyes were intently focused on the wagon that approached.

Coriae was in Stoke!  His plans to go all the way to Great Forks to find her were no longer valid, no longer necessary.

“Coriae!” he shouted loudly.  The wagon was drawing very close, but Theus shouted the name again, pushed his way to the front of the rope line, and waved his hand wildly in the air.

One of the guards who was escorting the prisoner’s wagon turned and looked at the sound of Theus calling the noblewoman’s name.  The guard had an ugly red scar running across his face, a face that was familiar.

The man’s eyes widened as he looked at Theus.  Theus looked at him, trying to figure why the guard seemed familiar.

“Theus!” Coriae’s voice screamed his name.

Theus looked up at the girl, but his view was distracted as he caught a glimpse of the prisoner in the cage that was nearly between them.

Forgon stood chained inside the cage, looking down at Theus with a puzzled expression.

“You!  You worthless Great Forks piece of filth!” the guard in the street was striding towards him.

Theus felt a physical shock to his system at the incredible coincidence that had brought him to the intersection in Stoke, at just the right moment to see Coriae, Forgon, and the guard he had briefly fought in the tavern in Great Forks.

That’s who was stalking towards him, he realized.  That’s who recognized him, and wanted revenge.  It was the guard who Theus had fought and beaten in a tavern because Theus thought the man had spoken too loosely about Coriae.

And now, here they all were in proximity to one another.  The guard, Theus, Coriae, and Forgon.

“You’re a pile of dead meat right now!” the guard snarled as he approached Theus.  The guards holding the rope in place looked on in confusion at the man who was storming towards them.

“Theus!” Coriae called again, and Theus saw her waving her hand in the air.

He made a hasty decision to duck under the rope; he was going to reach Coriae.  He was on a journey that was intended to take him to her.  He could see her, and he wasn’t going to let a parade be the only obstacle that prevented him from reaching his goal.

Theus drew his own sword.  He was driven by emotion and desire and the dream of reaching Coriae, as if he could wipe away all the terrible memories of terrible experiences, merely by wrapping his arms around the beautiful girl.  Theus ignored the shouted protests from the guards holding the rope barrier.  Instead, he charged at the guard that wanted to attack him.  Theus swung his sword recklessly, but perfectly, so that he struck a powerful blow against his opponent’s sword, knocking it from the man’s hand.  Theus followed with a powerful punch to the surprised guard’s face, and for the second time, he knocked the man out of his senses.

He also raised a ruckus among the other guards in Frogon’s escort.

“Stop right there!” several called, but Theus was in no mood to stop.  Instead, he charged forward, weaving among the guards, shaking some off, punching others, and fighting free so that he was able to cross the street, then blast his way into the crowd of onlookers in the far side of the street, the side where Coriae remained standing on a balcony above, looking down at his advance.

“Coriae!” he shouted, then burst through a door into the elegant entry hall of a well-appointed townhome.  He saw a set of stairs and ran up them three at a time.  He heard the sounds of pursuit entering the home behind him, but he continued onward, climbing the next flight of stairs, just as Coriae came bursting through a door into the hallway at the top of the stairs.

“By all the gifts of the goddess!” Coriae exclaimed as she opened her arms and hugged him tightly.

“Where is he?” an angry voice called from below.

“Come with me!” Coriae grabbed his hand.  She led him through a door at the end of the hallway, then stopped inside.

It was a bedroom, with a large poster bed that had a canopy above the mattress.  There were two other doors and a pair of windows.

“Climb up and hide on top of the canopy,” Coriae ordered.  “I’ll send them out the window.”  She left him to go open one of the windows, while Theus climbed up the bed post and threw himself atop the cloth canopy.

It bent slightly, but he found that a network of wooden lathes supported his weight, and he held still.

A moment later he heard the rush of feet, and then the voices of men entered the room.

“Where’s the criminal who ran in here?” one of the voices demanded.

“He went out the window, onto the balcony,” Coriae answered.  Theus could heard the fear in her voice.

“You’re safe now my lady.  We’ll capture him,” a man’s voice assured the girl.

“There’s no one out here now,” a voice reported from the other end of the room, looking out the window at the balcony beyond.

“Everyone back downstairs to keep the parade moving,” the leader of the squad conceded the loss of the suspect they had chased.

Theus stayed still in his spot and listened to the sounds of boots clomping down the stairs, then fading away.

A minute later, Coriae’s voice sounded.  “Theus?  They’re gone.  Come down to me.”

He rolled over, then dropped to the floor and hugged Coriae fiercely, his hand stroking her hair as he silently reveled in the unexpected joy of their reunion.

“What’s happening here?” he asked.

“Where’d you come from?” she asked simultaneously.

They each started to answer the other, speaking over one another for a few words, then stopped.

“Theus,” Coriae started over, “Forgon is accused of murdering Monsant.  There’s a witness who claims to have seen,” the dusky girl paused, “who saw a hand stab Monsant, looking between curtains in a window.  They say it was Forgon, wearing the ring father gave him – the ring you brought with you – the ring I gave you.

“Do you remember that ring?” Coriae asked intently, her hands having moved to his shoulders, holding him at arm’s length as she studied him closely.  “Do you know where it is?” she asked.  “I put my own memories on the ring; we can show that it was my ring, not Forgon’s.”

“I know right where the ring is; I hid it in my apartment in Great Forks,” Theus replied.

“Oh thank Incand!” Coriae’s face lit up with joy.  She pulled herself towards Theus, and kissed him jubilantly.

“We can use it to prove that Forgon didn’t kill Monsant,” she said, then leaned against Theus, her head resting on his shoulder.

Theus’s mind began to open rusty doors, full of memories of the arts of the memory stones.  He’d given the stones little to no thought for weeks and weeks of his life, as he’d been separated so widely from the stones and Falstaff’s shop.  Yet now, those memories began to explode into his consciousness in response to Coriae’s words.

“How can the ring be used to prove anything?” Theus asked.

“The court, the king’s court,” Coriae began.  “There’s a nobleman there, one of Monsant’s friends, who says there are ways to read the memories from a memory stone.  He said if the court had the ring, it could prove or disprove Forgon’s guilt.”

Theus felt an alarm go off in his mind at the mention of ways to tamper with the memory stone.  It reminded him of the dark arts of Donal.

“Theus, can you get that stone here, right away?” Coriae asked.  “I can tell Forgon’s advocate that we will bring the ring to the court.

“Your layer of new memories on the stone, the one you made for me, it will still be there won’t it?” she asked hesitantly a moment later.  “That’s the memories they would see, right?”

“It should be, my love,” Theus decided to be bold and use the word for the first time.

“Good, good,” Coriae said softly, concerned primarily about the memories, not his term of endearment.

“Theus,” she spoke in a different tone a moment later.  She looked at him with eyes that were round.  “You shouldn’t say that.  I’m not a good person; you shouldn’t love me.  I’m using you so terribly to help me save Forgon, and I can’t give you anything in return.  You’re better than I am in so many ways,” she tried to put distance between them.

Theus felt the gentle rejection, but couldn’t decide if her words were sincere or a ruse.

“You’re better than me with staves,” he evaded probing the matter by making the gentle joke.

“That’s right, and don’t you forget it!” she laughed with him, her eyes flashing with irresistible charm.

“If you can get a horse, I’ll be on my way to Great Forks in an instant,” he told her.

“No, you go clean yourself up; use my bath,” Coriae said decisively.  “You need it,” she grinned at him as she wrinkled her nose.  “But don’t laugh at any of my womanly art tools,” she warned him with a mock scowl.

She released her hold on him.  “I’ll go tell the advocate that we can bring the ring back from Great Forks, if the trial can wait a few days.

“Then, you and I will ride to Great Forks together to gather the ring up and rush it back here, so that it can save Forgon’s life,” she spoke with determination.

“Now get going to your bath,” she slapped his cheek gently, then gathered up a shawl, and swept it around her shoulders with a dramatic flair.  “See you soon, my sweet,” she called, and then she was out of the room, pulling the door closed behind herself.

Theus stood in the room, dumbfounded by the unexpected change in direction he had encountered.  He had expected the death of Monsant and all the miscellaneous matters associated with the murder to have dispelled and gone away.  He hadn’t dreamt that it would be the first thing he would be swept up into upon his arrival in the capital city

Nor, he thought to himself as he stripped off his clothes, had he expected to hear that the dark arts might be in use in Stoke, reading memory stones.  It foretold the arrival of dark times.

“It is a grave concern,” the voice spoke to him.  “The progression of prophecy is moving faster than I thought.  You have less time to prepare than I expected, but I’ve seen the strength you hold, and I believe you can triumph.”

“Triumph at what?” Theus asked as he entered the bathing room, off the bed chamber.

“The confrontation that must come,” the voice answered.  “But the time is not here yet.  Clean yourself up and carry out this mission,” it directed, and then it was gone.

He was glad to have the voice back in his life, Theus concluded as he began to run water.  But he was not a great fan of the secrets that it kept to itself.

He glanced at the counter that carried a wide variety of jars and containers, belonging to Coriae, then he stepped into the bath and soaked before he scrubbed himself thoroughly, wanting to meet the girl on her own terms of hygiene.

When he finished, he had to use her still damp towel, and wrapped it around his waist when he went out into the bedroom to pick up his clothes and put them back on.

Coriae was standing at the door, holding his clothes.

“I wondered what you would wear when you came out to gather these,” she smirked.  “You can put them on now, but we’ll plan to buy you cleaner clothes as soon as we get going.” She thrust the clothes at him, then shooed him back into the bathroom to get dressed.

Minutes later, the two of them went down the stairs.

“I’ll be going home for a few days, Simone,” she told the maid, then led Theus out the back of the house to where a horse stood saddled in the yard.

“I arranged for a horse for us,” she explained, as she lithely climbed up into the saddle.  “I thought we could ride together, and just exchange horses at the inn tonight.”   There was already a large, full saddlebag on the animal’s side.

Theus untied the animal, then awkwardly climbed up into the saddle in front of Coriae, and flicked the reins to set the animal in motion.

“Go right,” Coriae directed from behind him.  She was pressed up against his back, her hand wrapped around his chest to hold on to him.  Her voice was directly in his ear, warm and intimate.

They rode for five minutes through the traffic of the busy street.

“Stop here,” she directed suddenly.  They dismounted, and went into a tailor’s shop.

“Give him three outfits he can wear immediately,” Coriae imperiously directed the tailor who came to meet them.

The man looked at Theus, then beckoned for him to follow, and led him into the back of the shop.  Ten minutes later, Theus had new clothes on his frame and more clothes rolled together.  Coriae settled for the items to be placed on Forgon’s account, and then the travelers took their places on the horse again, and rode out of town at a brisk pace.

“Where have you been Theus?” Coriae asked, once they were on the main highway that roughly followed the Westland River from Stoke to Great Forks.  “You did a very good job of disappearing from the city.”

“I set sail on a freighter bound to Thuro,” Theus began, and he proceeded to relate most of his tale to Coriae as their horse covered the opening miles of their long journey.

Coriae asked questions throughout the conversation, which lasted for hours during the day and into the early evening.

“This girl, Torella, you spent a great deal of time with her?” Coriae asked.  “Was she pretty?”

Theus recognized the tone in her voice.

“We were forced together by circumstances,” he replied.  “I was healing her betrothed,” he remembered to emphasize.  “So we saw each other, but she wasn’t as beautiful as you,” he quickly added at the end.  “I’ve never met any girl as beautiful as you,” he spoke truthfully.

Coriae responded by snuggling more tightly against his back, and they rode in silence until they entered a village as the sunset.

“Here, this is the inn,” she told Theus as they reached the center of the settlement.  “Pull into the yard.

“I never get to make this trip on horseback,” she groaned as she climbed down from the horse moments later, assisted by Theus.  “It’s exciting, but I’m so sore,” she began to walk gingerly.  “Can’t you make some magical healing potion to make me feel better?”

“If there was a market open, I could find things to make something to take away the pain,” he assured her, as he stood stiffly by the horse.

“I’ll hold you to that in the morning,” she warned.  “You get the bags off the horse, while I go inside and make arrangements.”

Theus unstrapped the bags, looking forward to spending the night in a bed, and feeling anxious to learn what sleeping arrangements Coriae would make.

“If you need to use the loo, go now.  Our horse will be out in a minute,” Coriae re-emerged from the inn, as a young worker trotted into the stables.

Theus looked at her in confusion, as he stood holding the baggage.

“Our next horse is going to be larger.  If you don’t mind, I thought you might let me ride in the saddle for this leg of the journey,” Coriae spoke to him.  “Your bladder’s stronger than mine if you don’t need to take a break.”

“Are we going to ride more tonight?” he finally asked.

“Oh yes, of course,” the girl said dismissively.  “You didn’t think we were stopping, did you?  We’ve got to hurry to get that ring.”

Theus dropped the bags and entered the inn; when he returned minutes later, the bags were already strapped to the new horse, and a groom stood holding the animal, laughing with Coriae as she sat in the saddle.

Theus climbed up behind Coriae.  “Watch where you put those hands!” the stable hand laughed as Theus gingerly wrapped his arms around the girl.  She flicked the reins, shouted good bye, and the horse took them back out onto the road through the small town.

“He seemed awfully friendly,” Theus commented.

“I usually stop here and stay overnight when I ride in a coach or carriage,” Coriae commented.  “I’ve talked to him many times before.  He’s a good man.”

They passed the last buildings in the village, and Coriae picked up the horse’s pace.  “It’s a little risky to go to fast in the dark, but we need to make this passage as quickly as possible,” she explained over her shoulder.

“I’m so excited to think that Forgon is going to go free!” she spoke after minutes of silence.  “I’m so grateful that you can find the ring!  When I gave it to you, I didn’t think we needed it any longer; I thought Forgon was in the clear.  And I thought you would need money, so I gave you the ring to pawn off,” she recounted.

“Why didn’t you pawn it?” she asked.

“I always intended to give it back to you,” Theus answered.  “I thought of it as a symbol of our devotion to each other, and so I knew I could never sell it.”

“You’re so sweet,” she sighed as she leaned back against him.

They rode on through the evening, passing through villages and countryside without incident.  The pair were both groggy and sore when the sunrise found them in a stretch of road where quiet farms lay along one side, and the Westland River lay on the other side of the road.  Steep hills crested just a few miles to the west, behind the farms, and the river valley was a peaceful place, full of bird songs.

“My cousin lives in an estate not far from here,” Coriae announced groggily.  “They have wonderful vineyards.  Their wine fills some of the best cellars in both Great Forks and Stoke.  We’re almost halfway done with the journey.”

A half hour later they reached another small town, one that had both an inn and a market.

“Let’s stop for breakfast,” Coriae suggested.

“I’ll see if I can find supplies for a balm for our legs,” Theus agreed.  His thighs were growing increasingly painful.

“Can you give me some coins for the market?” he asked moments later, as they wobbled down to the ground in front of the inn.

“I’ve got a few,” she fished in the purse on her belt, and pulled out several coins.  She held her hand poised over Theus’s, ready to sprinkle them into his open palm.

“And I’m assured of getting good service for my money?” she asked in a severe tone, then grinned to indicate it was in jest.

“The best I can give my lady,” Theus assured her.

Coriae looked around; she saw no one watching them.

“I’d like a kiss, first, please,” she told him.

Theus stepped forward, hesitated, and placed his lips upon hers, feeling the softness of her gentle flesh as they held against one another.

“You’ll really find the ring to save Forgon, won’t you Theus?” Coriae asked softly when their faces drew apart.  There was genuine feeling and concern in her question, Theus could tell.

“I know right where I hid it,” he assured her.  “I just need to go back to my old apartment to retrieve it from the hiding place.

“I’ll even take it to Falstaff’s shop to test it, to make sure that your memories are all the evil ones in Stoke can see,” he tried to redouble his value in her eyes.

“You’re such a good man,” Coriae sighed.  “Now, go get that salve to save me from this pain!”

Theus went to the modest market, and bought most of the items he needed, but could not find one herb, gray-leafed fennel, to complete the remedy he expected to relieve the muscle aches of the saddle soreness.  A grandmotherly vendor offered to fetch some from her own kitchen however, so he followed her to an apartment just off the main street and bought the pinch he needed.

When he returned to the inn, Coriae was sitting on a bench in front of the windows, watching the traffic pass by on the street, while their horse stood complacently hitched to a rail.

Theus sat down next to her, then mixed and poured and measured his ingredients according to the directions that were etched in his head.

“You do that so assuredly,” Coriae commented as she watched him.  “You have such great talents – memory stones, swords and staves, healing.  You’ll do great things in your life.”

“Hopefully with you by my side,” he tried again to discreetly express his desire to be with her.

“Maybe,” she answered noncommittally.  “You’ll probably save some princess from a plague and become the heir to a throne somewhere, and forget all about confused and cranky Coriae.”

“This is ready.  It needs to be massaged into the leg muscles,” Theus showed the salve that he had in a jar.

“Considering the muscles in question, I’ll do this myself,” Coriae stood awkwardly, and took the jar.  “I’ll be back in a minute,” she told him, and disappeared into the inn.

The noble girl returned five minutes later, and handed Theus the jar, as she adjusted the skirt she wore over slacks.  “It felt good going on,” she said.  “It’s tingling now.

“You go apply yours, and I’ll see if we can exchange horses here, or if we’ll have to go to the next town to find a stable to work with,” Coriae directed.  Theus went to the stables and stepped into a stall, applied the last of the ointment to the insides of his thighs, and returned to find Coriae up on the horse they had ridden overnight.

“We’ll ride him to the next stop,” she informed Theus, as she patted the saddle in front of her.

They rode for an hour to another small town, where they exchanged horses at an inn with a stable attached, and ate breakfast in the common room with the inn’s guests and others.

The rest of the journey continued on, a seemingly endless life in the saddle, and they arrived in Great Forks in the middle of the following morning, astride the fifth horse of the trip, both completely exhausted.  The air was cooler there, befitting the more northerly latitude, and Theus felt additional gratitude for riding on a single horse, sharing the warmth of the two passengers’ bodies pressed together.

“Lorinse,” Coriae called as she led Theus through the familiar door into the kitchen.  “Father, mother, good news!”

“Is master Forgon freed?” Lorinse, asked, as the steward stepped into the kitchen.  He looked at Coriae, then at Theus, and his eyes widened.

“No, he’s not free yet, but Theus can help us prove his innocence!” Coriae replied.

“Is that true, my friend?” Lorinse asked Theus directly.

“I think so.  I know where to find the ring that Coriae says is needed to help,” he affirmed.

“We must go tell his lordship immediately.  This is such good news; her ladyship will be particularly pleased,” Lorinse mentioned.  “Go get cleaned up, you two,” he suggested.  “And be back here as quickly as possible.

“Theus, there’s no one else in your old room, and I believe there may even be a set of your clothes there,” Lorinse told the boy, as Coriae hurried away.

Theus carried his bag up to his old room, unpacked the wrinkled clothes, then hurried down to shower.  It felt like a homecoming; only going back to the Jewel Hills farm would feel more like a return to a place he belonged.

Minutes later, he stood back in the kitchen as Coriae combed her fingers through his unruly, wet hair.

“Your parents are in the dining room,” Lorinse informed the pair.  “Won’t you join them please?” he led the way.

“It’s nice to see you again, Theus,” Blanche, one of his friends among the kitchen workers, spoke as he passed her and smiled.

They entered the dining room, where the two senior members of the Warrell family sat with concerned expressions on their faces.

“Lorinse tells us there’s some message we should hear,” Lord Warrell spoke, his eyes shifting from one to the other of the youngsters who had entered.  “We welcome you back under our roof,” he added to Theus.  “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you.”

“Theus is back because I brought him,” Coriae spoke up before Theus could.  “I found him in Stoke, and he told me he knew where the ring was that we need to help prove Forgon’s innocence.

“He and I rode together all the way from Stoke to here without rest,” she told her parents, who reacted with expressions of alarm.

“Theus knows where to get the ring.  We can have it today and be back on our way to Stoke before sunset,” she told her parents.

“You will end the pain and horror that have afflicted our home if you can help Forgon regain his freedom,” Lord Warrell told Theus.  “We know, and you know too, that Forgon is one of the very best men in this city.  He wouldn’t have murdered Monsant.

“If you can prove that, we will be forever in your gratitude,” he concluded.

“There is nothing we would spare to help you and reward you,” Lady Warrell spoke up with tears in her eyes.

“I’ll go immediately to get the ring,” Theus told them.  “You stay here and get some rest,” he told Coraie.

“What do you need?  Is there anything we can provide?” Lord Warrell asked.

“No, I don’t believe I’ll need anything,” he replied.  “Your family means a great deal to me,” he told the parents.  “I’ll do everything I can to always be on your side.

“Now, I’ll go, and return soon, so that we can go back to Stoke,” he promised.

He bowed to the parents, bowed over Coriae’s hand, then left the room directly.  He passed through the kitchen without pausing to talk to his friends there, then jogged at a determined rate through the familiar streets of Great Forks.  It felt like coming home, and he imagined that it might be his home someday, the home where he and Coriae might settle into a blissful life together.

The prospect of such blissful peace in the future might depend on the dire predictions of the Voice though, he recognized.  There might be other tasks he would have to perform to satisfy the invisible presence.  And it might depend on the actions of Donal and the violent aggressors of Southsand; if they were to pursue more and more invasions and conquests, as Donal had madly envisioned, Theus would undoubtedly be drafted by the Voice to fight against the magician.

But, in the end, when any of those unlikely events passed, he would come home to Coriae as his loving wife.

Theus approached the building where he had lived, and decided to be direct.  He climbed the stairs to the second floor and knocked firmly on the door.

“I used to live here.  May I come in?” he tried to practice his unlikely greeting to whoever answered the door while he waited for an answer in the hall.  It might be problematic, he recognized as he stood and imagined the door opening.

He knocked again, and waited.  There was no sound of anyone walking across the floor to approach the door.  He knocked a third time, confident that the apartment was empty.  That would actually make his task easier, he thought to himself.

The door handle would not open when he tried to enter the apartment.  That was not a problem however.  He cheerfully skipped down the steps and circled around the block to the alley behind the building, then climbed up to the roof next door to the windows, and within five minutes he was inside his old apartment.

It was clearly someone else’s apartment, he noted, as he stood next to the window he had pried open.  There was furniture, and clothing, and furnishing in great quantity.   He had lived in a relatively threadbare version of the apartment, with a minimum of clutter.

A minute later he had the trim work loosened and his hand reached up into the wall cavity, where his fingers closed upon the ring.  He pulled it out and stared at it.  The ring in his hand was about to change his life, he suspected

He went back out through the window, then walked over to Falstaff’s shop.  He looked along the way for any of his friends he might happen to see, but none were conveniently in sight.

“Jensen, may I use a work room for a bit?” he tried to sound nonchalant as he entered the front room of Falstaff’s shop.

“Great god Trinte!” Jensen exclaimed.  “Who ever thought we’d see you back here again?”

The assistant to Falstaff stared for a moment, dumbfounded.

“I just want to examine the memory stone in this ring,” Theus explained as he walked to the counter.  “Is Falstaff here?  I’d like to see him,” he added.

“He’s running an errand.  Are the guards still after you?” Jensen asked.

“No, that’s over,” Theus assured the man.  “May I use one of the work rooms for a bit?”

“Yes, certainly, go right ahead,” Jensen agreed, primarily pleased that there would be no visit by the local guards.

Theus thanked his former co-worker as he walked back the familiar hallway, and turned to his right, into the mixing room, where he sat down at the bench in the place he had sat and blended ingredients so many times before.

“Voice, I can see the memories that are stored in this stone,” he told his invisible advisor as he sat and studied the jeweled memory stone in the ring.  He was examining it intently, just as he had on the day the Coriae had brought it to him in the shop many months earlier.  He remembered the day when she had said she needed to manipulate the ring to help protect Forgon.  She had wanted to impose a layer of her own memories over Forgon’s as a way to hide his memories.

And she had hugged Theus, and kissed him, and given him hope that he might find a future with her.

Theus had listened to the voice on that day, and followed its directions on treating the stone to allow the new memories to be imposed by Coriae.

When he had studied the stone, he had looked so deeply and intently through its mass, he had been able to discern the mottled interior, the shadings and distinctions that the voice had told him were the physical locations where memories were stored.  He saw that a small cluster of dark blotches resided near the surface of the stone, presumably showing the memories that Coriae had planted to make the ring seem to be her own.

“Can I read the memories?” he asked the voice.

“You have the power.  You are of the old blood, and it has been passed down to you in the pure way, from daughter to son to daughter to son, renewing and strengthening the abilities with each generation.  If you focus, you can unlock the memories,” the voice answered.

It would be an invasion of privacy, Theus knew.  He should not look upon Coriae’s memories.   But he was curious to know what she had planted, what she had stored as a deliberate means to hide Forgon’s memories.  She had known that the ring might be opened through dark magics, so the memories had to be innocent

Perhaps, he might even find himself featured in one of them, he told himself.

He paused for one more moment, then held the jeweled ring to his forehead, and closed his eyes.  He focused intently, trying to make his inner senses delve into the stone to find the memories there.

Suddenly, he was in the beginnings of a memory.  He was Coriae, laughing and sitting in a restaurant with Caral and Laniae, talking about the material they would use to have new ball gowns sewn for each of them.  The memory went on, but Theus found it boring, and he wrenched himself away.

He gave a sigh, then tried once again to find a memory to examine.

It was Coriae, seated at a small table, with a glass of wine sitting on the table in front of her.  Monsant sat across the table, and the dark night sky was the backdrop behind him.  It was night time, and the two of them were alone.

“Have you had a good evening?” Monsant asked.

“It’s been a wonderful evening,” Coriae replied.  “I’m surprised, I’m embarrassed to admit.  I didn’t know you could be so charming.”

“My private life is very different from the side I show to the public,” Monsant told her.  “I have appearances to keep; the royal family needs to have at least one bully, to make the others look more lovable.”

“If you can be like this, you shouldn’t have to be the one who receives all the disapproval as a bully!” Coriae protested.

There was a knock at the door, and a servant appeared after a moment’s hesitation.

“Master Forgon is present,” the man said.

“Forgon?  What’s he doing here?  Is there some problem?” Monsant asked.

“Oh,” Coriae squeaked.  “I forgot!  Forgive me, my lord.  I wasn’t sure how the evening would progress, so I arranged for my brother to come see me at ten bells to help extricate me if the situation was unsatisfactory.”

“You mean if I was a bore?” Monsant roared with laughter.  “And it turns out you’ve found out that I am exactly that!” he laughed again.  “Bring Forgon up,” he directed the servant.

“On the contrary,” Coriae answered.  “I’m finding the evening to be anything but boring.  I’m afraid I’ve taken my brother away from his friends for nothing, but he’ll be able to return to them for the rest of the evening; I see no reason to leave,” she spoke demurely.

Theus pulled the stone back from his head, stunned by what he experienced.  He rubbed his eyes with his hand, and tried to reconcile the memory with what he had believed.  The memory was one that had been placed in the stone days after the fact.  Coriae had come to him only after the investigation had begun to focus on Forgon.  She had put the memories in place afterwards.

She had apparently chosen to place the memory scene for a reason; she wanted to show an amiable friendship with Monsant.  She had made him seem to be a much better person that Theus believed he was.  And she had shown that there was no violence between Monsant and Forgon.

It seemed, he concluded, that she had placed a memory on the stone that had been false, one that deliberately painted an untrue portrait of Monsant as gentle, and her relationship with the dead man as friendly.  She had wanted to throw investigators off the trail, to turn away from her family as suspects in the murder.

“Is that possible, voice?” he asked aloud.  “Can people place false memories on the stones?”

“The stones cast no judgement as to the truthfulness or dishonesty of the memories they receive,” the voice answered.  “The stones accept what their possessors choose to place.

“It is rare that any person places false memories,” the voice added.  “The purpose of storing memories is to teach and preserve in almost every case.

“But, the exception is possible – it is up to the owner of the stone.”

Theus arched his back to stretch it as he contemplated the words of the voice, and the meaning of the memory he had seen.

What would Forgon’s memories of the evening be, he wondered.  Surely, Coriae could have simply let the practitioner of the dark arts open up Forgon’s own memories and see that he wasn’t the murderer.

Theus examined the stone again, looking for where Forgon’s own memories lay hidden beneath Coriae’s.  He placed the stone against his own forehead once again, and focused his attention on guiding his awareness past Coriae’s memories, down into the stone towards the other memories that were there.

He pressed his soul against the deepest memory present, and as he did, he realized he had breached a barrier below Forgon, and entered a very small, extremely hidden bottom layer of memories, older than Forgon’s.  Before he could begin to recoil, or analyze, his mind filled with a new reality.

“If you have found your way here, to this hidden memory, you deserve to know more,” a man’s voice spoke.  “You in all likelihood actually have a need to know more.”

The man was standing in a room, looking directly into a mirror.  In the reflection of the mirror, Theus could see the background, the room behind the man.  It was a wonderous place, a wild laboratory.  It reminded him in part of the rooms in Falstaff’s own shop, though much larger, and more complex.  And it reminded him to, in a small degree, of the frightening room that Donal had used to practice his dark magic.  There were implements that defied description, whose purposes Theus could not even guess.

But Theus was mostly drawn to the face of the man in the mirror, the man who was speaking – it seemed to him – as the spectator who had found and was reliving the stored memory.  The man had no face; only a blurred patch of flesh existed where the features of the face should have been.  The identity of the ancient mage was unknown.

The man was still talking Theus realized, and he focused again on the words.  “Beneath this stone is that smaller gem, the one that holds the key to understanding the white uses of the powers; it is a very unique and thoughtful gem.  The white abilities are less encompassing than the black powers, it is true.  But your soul will be in no danger for using them.”

Theus withdrew the ring from his forehead, stunned by the memory he had stumbled upon.

White uses of magic sounded startling.  He’d never heard any reference to anything of the sort.  He wished there was someone he could talk to, some older person who had wisdom, and could explain the concept.  Of course, he told himself, he had never heard of black magic – dark magic – until he had arrived in Great Forks, only a few months earlier.  That wasn’t to say that white magic didn’t exist.

“Theus, are you about done?” Jensen startled him by poking his head through the door frame.

“Almost.  Just five minutes more, I think,” Theus stammered.

He needed to hurry.  He pressed the stone against his head for a third time, and tried to focus clearly on breaching the first barrier, going through Coriae’s shallow section, into Forgon’s region, without going so far as he had accidentally done before.

And suddenly, he was living a memory.  He was Forgon, on the night of the great festival.  He was sitting in a box, looking out over a plaza filled with people and music and dancing and lights.  Laniae and Caral were with him, sipping wine and wearing thin strips of black material that hardly counted as masks at all, at least in terms of hiding their identities.  There was little disguising Laniae in any event, as she wore the plunging neckline of her elegant dress, the neckline that had so embarrassed Theus when he had ridden in the carriage with the young nobles; the neckline seemed to dip even further as she sat with Forgon, and to gap even more widely.

But as the church bells started to chime the hour, it made no impact on Forgon.  He set his wine glass down.  It was nearly full; he’d barely sipped from it.

“If you’ll excuse me, I promised someone I’d meet them at ten bells,” Forgon said as he stood.  “I’ll probably be back in ten minutes…but maybe not.”

“Forgon,” Laniae leaned forward towards him, “you didn’t tell us there was someone else!  Who is he?  What are you two going to do?”

“He or she?” Forgon couldn’t prevent himself from taking the grinning jab at Laniae’s question.

He left without another word, and hurried downstairs, then past the guards who kept the nobles in their boxes secluded.  A minute later he was at the stables and rode his horse through crowded streets to a secluded alley.  He climbed a vine growing up the side of a tall wall, with a dexterity that impressed Theus.

On the far side of the wall was a sophisticated garden, and an elegant house.  And from the house Forgon could hear a woman screaming.

He jumped down from the wall and ran across the garden to the doors of the house.  The screaming had changed in that there were two voices screaming at one another, a man and a woman.  And the woman’s voice was Coriae’s.

Forgon entered the house and began to charge up the narrow back staircase used by the servants to move about, out of sight of the masters of the home.  The source of the screams was beyond a doorway at the end of a hall.  The man’s voice gave one last scream that was part anger and part pain, a bellow of sorts, but then there were no more screams, just as Forgon threw his shoulder against the doorway and splintered it open.

The scene inside was riveting – horrifying and riveting.

Coriae stood in a state of nearly total undress, shreds of her ripped gown still dripping in tangles from her body.  And her body was mottled, clearly distressed from beatings and abuse.

She stood in the center of the room, at the side of a large bed.  Sprawled upon the bed was Monsant.  He was no longer a member of the royal family; he was only a dead body, and a bloody one.  The hilt of a knife stood out from his chest, and several stab wounds were evident elsewhere in his torso.  He’d died from a vicious attack.

“He was going to kill me after he used me,” Coriae sobbed.  “He told me so.  He said he’d done it to Janiae, and now he planned to do it to me.

“But he didn’t know that you’ve trained me to be tougher than Janiae, and even tougher than him,” she snarled.  “I killed him.  He deserved it; I’m glad I did it.”

And then she began to cry.  Forgon crossed the room and wrapped her in a comforting embrace.

“We have to get you out of here,” he said.  He looked around and saw a black curtain hanging from the canopy of the bed.  With a powerful yank, he pulled it free and wrapped it around his sister.

“Follow me,” he told her, leading her by the hand.  “And hide your face,” he added.  He stopped to pull the edge of the black curtain up over her head like a hood, then continued to lead her away.

Theus pulled the stone away from his forehead.

Chapter 20

Theus stood in the room in Falstaff’s room in a state of shock.  He mechanically lowered the ring with its mind-bending secret memories, and placed the bauble in his pocket.  He walked out the hallway to the front room, where Jensen stood alone.

“How did it go in there?  Everything okay?” the older man asked.

“It’s fine,” Theus answered in a daze.  He rambled out of the shop without saying anything more, then began to walk down the street, oblivious to everything except the thoughts and memories that coursed through his consciousness.

Coriae was a murderer.  She had acted in obvious self-defense, Theus told himself.   But she was a murderer.

He understood the bruises and welts and contusions he had seen on her shoulders when he’d practiced staves with her in the family armory, the night after the festival and the murder.  He’d seen those wounds back then, and taken his healing balm to her room as a result, and been removed from the Warrell household as a result of that.

He couldn’t blame her for the murder of Monsant, he knew.   But the murder had been vicious – through Forgon’s memory he’d seen the multiple stab wounds on the body of her victim.  Yet she had been provoked; he’d seen the wounds on her body, and he’d heard the report of the admission of the murder of Janiae, the friend Coriae had lost.  It had been Janiae’s murder that had driven Coriae to go to Greenfalls, the place where Theus had first met her.

She hadn’t told him the truth, he thought.  She hadn’t revealed her role in the murder to him.  Even though they’d spent hours and hours together, two full days of continual contact on the trip to Great Falls alone, Coriae had kept her secret hidden from him.  She had never tried to unburden her soul to him, he realized.

She was a deep mystery in many ways.  Theus realized that in his musings he had already nearly reached the gates of the Warrell mansion.  He’d be back with her in a matter of moments.  She would be pleased by the retrieval of the ring, he knew, and she’d celebrate that.  He would be able to watch the emotions of pleasure light up her beautiful face.  But he wouldn’t truly know what was happening behind the face, and that lack of insight confused him.

He was tired; he hadn’t slept in days, it seemed.  The exhaustion of the long ride from Stoke to Great Forks hung over him.  It added to the confusion of his emotional state.

He waved at the guard as he walked up the drive. He took a deep breath and prepared himself.  He would have to hide his concerns for the moment, he told himself.  Ironically, he would have to play behind the same mask of dishonesty that Coriae wore, the mask that so confused him at the moment.  He would reveal nothing.

When he entered the kitchen, he went and sat at his small table for a moment to take the last moments he needed to bring his emotions under control.  “Blanche,” he asked, “would you go ask Lorinse or Coriae to come see me?”

“You don’t want to go to them?” the kitchen worker asked.  “I hear you’ve been to her room before,” Blanche added archly.

“I’m not sure where you heard that, but I would like to talk to her parents, and not quibble over gossip,” he said flatly, his nerves too frayed to engage in banter.

She left him in a huff, and a minute later, Lorinse arrived.

“My boy,” he said excitedly, “did you have success?”

Theus silently pulled the jeweled ring from his pocket and held it aloft.

“We have to tell his lordship,” the steward said excitedly.  “Let’s go to his office.”

Lorinse led Theus through the home to the office where Lord Warrell sat behind a desk.  “I’ll fetch the others,” he said, and departed.

“You believe this will be all that’s needed to set my son free?” Warrell asked Theus as he took the ring in his own hand.

“I do not know my lord.  I only know what Coriae says,” Theus answered.

Lady Warrell arrived and looked at the ring tearfully.  “I pray that this ends our terrible nightmare,” she said.

Coriae arrived as well.  She looked rumpled, awakened from much needed sleep.

“I’ll go tell the stables to saddle a horse for us,” she said when she saw the ring.

“Wait,” Lord Warrell stopped her.  He looked at both of the youths.

“You both need to rest.  You both look just a shade this side of death,” he told them candidly.

“We don’t have time to rest; we have to get back to Stoke,” Coriae emphasized.

“You can do both,” Warrell interrupted her.  “I’ll have the carriage prepared.  You can sleep in it for a few hours, and then ride on horseback the rest of the way,” he pointed out.

“We could do that, I suppose,” Coriae gave the proposal consideration, and agreed.

“Lorinse, go have the carriage prepared.  The two of you, go make yourselves ready,” Warrell set the group in motion.

“Theus, wait a moment, please.  I’d like an additional word with you,” the nobleman surprised Theus as he started to walk out.

“I just want to tell you that our family is in your debt.  We owe you a great deal for this and more.  And as you know, we have a great deal of money set aside from the sale of the jewels you delivered.   That money will be yours in a few weeks, so I want to advance some to you now, in case you run into any expenses or problems on this journey,” Warrell pulled a heavy leather bag out of his desk, and handed it to Theus.

“I know you’ll take good care of my daughter while she’s under your protection,” Warrell added, as he placed a hand on Theus’s shoulder and gave a warm smile.

“She’s shown she can handle a lot; I don’t know that she needs me for much,” Theus struggled to answer as he remained distressed by the revelation of Coriae’s murder of Monsant.

“Perhaps she needs you for things you don’t realize,” Warrell said wisely.  “I sense something.

“Be careful my boy.  We look forward to seeing you back here with both my children soon,” he closed the interview.  “Now go get ready for your trip.”

Twenty minutes later, Theus and Coriae were settled into the back of the Warrell family carriage as it rolled past her parents and Lorinse and out into the street, bound on the first stage of the journey back to Stoke.

As soon as the carriage was out of sight of the family mansion, Coriae shifted from the seat opposite of Theus to sit next to him.  She laid her head upon his shoulder, and softly yawned.

“Four days ago, I had no hope, but today I can rest easy, thanks to you, my amazing friend,” she said softly.  She lifted an arm and draped it across his chest, then began to breath in a soft regular rhythm, as though she had fallen asleep.

I wish I could rest as easy, knowing what I know now, Theus thought to himself.  He closed his eyes and tried to make his weary mind rest.  Instead, he saw in his mind’s eye the image of Coriae, standing virtually naked, blood splattered upon her torso and face, in Monsant’s bedroom.

His eyes popped open, shaken by the image.  He couldn’t reconcile it with the sweet girl who was spread upon him, vulnerable and trusting that he would take care of her.

Weariness was overwhelming, he found.  He listened to Coriae breathing.  He tentatively raised a hand and stroked her luxurious, dark hair, then closed his own eyes, and fell asleep as well.

Chapter 21

“Theus, we’re at an inn.  It’s time to switch to the saddle,” Coriae shook him gently awake.

Theus opened his eyes from his uneven state of sleep.  The road had been bumpy in the carriage ride, jolting him partially awake from time to time, but he felt more energy, if not refreshed, for having had the several hours of rest.

Coriae was sitting beside him still, her back arched as she stretched with her arms raised.  Her chest was provocatively forward, though she had no thought of how Theus saw her at that moment, he was sure.  She reached over to raise the leather curtain in the window, and Theus saw that it was dark outside, with a lantern visible, hanging on the side of a building.

They departed from the carriage, gathered their small bundles of belongings, and thanked the servants who had driven the carriage for hours.  Theus watched Coriae generously slip some coins into the men’s hands as she stepped away from them.

Minutes later they were in the saddle of a horse from the inn’s stables, and riding south towards Stoke once more.

“What should we do to celebrate with Forgon, once he’s freed?” Coriae asked Theus as she sat behind him atop the horse.

“I know,” she began to answer her own question.  “We’ll rent the tent by the Westland River, the one by the Blue Pavillion, and we’ll invite all our friends.  We’ll have musicians, and dance until the sun rises!” she laughed softly at the vision she was painting in her own mind.

“We need to get there first, and then turn over the ring, and then make sure it proves his innocence,” Theus state practically.

“Oh, party-pooper!” she admonished him.  “I’m going to keep planning for the best.”  She pressed her lips against the back of his neck.

They rode on through the night, and changed horses in the morning.  Coriae sat up front, as Theus held on to her.  Rain began to fall just a half hour after they left the stables with their new horse.  Without capes or protection, they were soon drenched and muddy, but they continued on resolutely throughout the day.

They stopped early in the evening at another inn.  By mutual agreement, they went inside and sat by the fire to warm up and dry out as they ate a meal.

Theus studied Coriae as she sat next to the fire.  She looked tired, but the exhaustion on her face did not erase her beauty; it only made her seem more fragile.  She was not fragile, Theus knew.  He knew not just from the searing memory of her stabbing Monsant, but from his own many and repeated bouts practicing staves and swords with her.  There was both mental and physical toughness contained within her lovely façade.

“You look very handsome in the light from the fireplace,” she happened to say just then, as she turned to look at him.  “I’m afraid your natural color has been washed away by the rain, and I’m seeing the ruddy light of the flames, though.

“Once we get to Stoke, we’ll each go to bed and rest under the blankets for a week!” she smiled.  “Once we set Forgon free, that is,” she added.

“And after that party in the tent,” Theus added.

“True,” she agreed.  “But, there will come a time when we catch up on rest, I promise.”

Theus smiled, and their bowls of hot stew were delivered by the serving man just then.  They spooned the warm nourishment into their mouths, left the inn on a fresh horse and resumed their journey to Stoke.

They passed through the gates of the capital in the mid-morning, frazzled and exhausted by the lengthy trip.  “We’ll go to my home to freshen up, then go to see the advocate and hand over the ring to be used as evidence,” Coriae spoke between yawns, as Theus guided the horse according to her directions.

Her home was the mansion on the great boulevard of the city, the house where she had helped Theus hide from the guards.  Inside the hall, as a servant took the horse, Coriae called another servant to take Theus to a room to be his own.

“I’ll meet you back here in half an hour, if I can manage to apply enough makeup to hide the bags under my eyes,” Coriae told Theus lightly, as they separated from each other on the second-floor landing.

“You’re not going to gallantly tell me I need no makeup?” she asked with a laugh, then swatted him on the bottom.  “And here, I was just starting to think you really loved me!” she walked up the next flight of stairs, turning on her way to stick her tongue out at him.

Theus entered the room the servant showed him, a room that was plush and elegant and suitable for guests who were members of the nobility.  It was far nicer than any room he had ever stayed in.  He went to the private bath and splashed water on his face, then wetted his hair down and tried to make it appear less unruly.  He opened his pack of belongings and pulled out clean clothes; Coriae and he had not stopped to change their outfits during the trip.

Minutes later, he returned to the landing at the top of the stairs, feeling better, but not fresh.  He longed for a quick delivery of the ring to whoever Coriae needed to give it to, and then a return to sleep in the extravagant bed in his room.

He heard a noise, and turned to see Coriae descended the stairs, looking fresh and vibrant in a bright green dress, her hair elegantly styled.  Despite her moaning earlier, she looked as though she had just stepped out of bed and a bath.

“How did you do that?” Theus couldn’t help but ask.

“That’s better,” she cooed.  “Maybe someday you’ll get to see,” she laughed at him as she reached the landing.

“You’ll lend me your arm, won’t you, for descending the stairs?” she asked.  Theus extended his arm, and they walked down to the ground floor.

“I’ll need a carriage,” Coriae told both a servant and Theus when they reached the main hall.  “I can’t ride a horse like this!” she smiled.

“So you’re going to give the ring to this person?” Theus asked.

“Forgon’s advocate,” Coriae explained.

“And will you get the ring back after the trial?” he asked.  He wondered about the mysterious second memory stone that was hidden in the ring, the stone that the first layer of memories had told him about.  He’d thought about the promise of white magic that the hidden stone might teach.  He had no real idea of why he’d need any such potential powers – unless it would be to battle against Donal and the other black magicians someday.  Yet the memory of the memory kept rising to the surface of his consciousness.

“Oh yes, once the trial is over, I’ll have it back,” she agreed.  “Then you and I and Forgon can carry it back to Great Forks.”

“My lady, a carriage awaits,” her servant opened the front door, and seconds later they were in a carriage, riding through the city of Stoke.

“That’s the small palace,” Coriae pointed out a large structure to Theus.  “The smaller parties and balls are held there quite often.”

The carriage continued through the traffic on the city streets, then stopped in a busy commercial sector of the city.  Coriae opened the door and the two exited the carriage, then climbed steps to visit the advocate that handled Forgon’s interests in his trial.  After only a few minutes of exchange between Coriae and the man, she and Theus left the building, and rode in their carriage back to her family’s city home.

“Let’s meet for dinner, shall we?” Coriae asked once they were inside the house.  “We can rest this afternoon, have dinner tonight, and then I’ll show you the city.”  They climbed the stairs, and she gave Theus a peck on the cheek, then they separated, and went to their rooms.

Theus immediately removed his boots and laid down to rest, but five minutes later a maid knocked on his door, and entered with a tray of food.  “Her ladyship thought you might want some lunch,” the woman explained before she left Theus alone again.

He discovered that he was indeed hungry.  In short order he had cleaned the contents of the tray away, then laid back.

What was he to think, he asked himself, as sleep began to overcome him.  Coriae and her family had demonstrated affection, trust, and gratitude to him, in ways large, small, and meaningful.  The girl was his dream, and she suddenly seemed as enamored of him as he was with her.  Yet he still knew that she was hiding the secret of her murder of Monsant, justified though Theus had come to admit to himself it was.

He fell finally into an uneasy sleep, without dreams, but without full restfulness.  When a knock on the door awoke him, he wished for more sleep, but a servant entered the room as though he was entitled to belong.

“I’m here to attend to your toilet,” the man informed Theus.

“Is the plumbing broken?” Theus asked in confusion.

“No, my lord,” the man explained patiently.  “I’m here to shave you and cut your hair before dinner with Lady Coriae.”

“Does my hair need cutting?” Theus asked in wonder, tugging on the uneven edges that hung over his ears and upon his back.

“Perhaps you and Lady Coriae can discuss that after I cut it?” the man suggested helpfully.

And so Theus spent time in his bathroom being attended to more personally than he had ever known or suspected was possible.  He emerged a half hour later, and was offered a robe to wear.

“Is this acceptable?” he asked Jens, the servant who attended him.

“I typically tend to Master Forgon or Lord Warrell when they occupy this home,” Jens explained.  “I borrowed this from Master Forgon’s closet for your use.

“It is a bit old-fashioned and a bit formal, but I thought it was the best choice suitable until the rest of your wardrobe arrives,” Jens explained.

“I don’t have any other wardrobe,” Theus answered, worried by the complications.

“I’m sure all of that will be addressed,” Jens said.  “Now, shall I lead you to dinner?”

Jens led him downstairs to a small sitting room, and instructed him to wait for Coriae to arrive.

She appeared at the door to the room two minutes later, and she stood in the doorway, confident that her appearance would have an impact on Theus.  Her hair was intricately braided, and her gown was a combination of sheer white and translucent brown panels that had slits far up her thighs, allowing her legs to show, and a neckline that was not daring, but intriguing.  She gave Theus a warm smile.

“You look very handsome!” she exclaimed as she crossed the sitting room.  “Father would approve.”

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Theus answered.  His throat was dry and his heart was beating rapidly.  No matter what he thought about her morality, he couldn’t deny her beauty, or her courage or willingness to fight.

“Shall we go to dinner?” she asked, with her arm raised slightly as a signal to Theus.

He took the hint and offered his arm to her.  The doors opened from within, and a musician began to play a soft melody on a lute, standing unobtrusively in a corner of the dining room, as Theus escorted Coriae into the elegant chamber.

The central table sat with candles for illumination, and two place settings in one corner of the large expanse of its expensive polished surface.

Theus seated Coriae, and took the other seat for his own.  A servant poured water, another poured wine, and a third brought bread, then all the servants except the musician departed.

“Here’s a toast to Forgon’s freedom,” Coriae raised her glass of wine.  It was a very light colored liquid, with barely any tint except for a very light yellow that separated it from the water.  It reminded Theus of the bottle of wine he had shared with Torella, in the restaurant in Southsand, the night the magician had frightened them.  Coriae and he clinked their glasses together musically, then sipped the wine.  It was delicate, far subtler than any drink Theus had ever known before.

“Here’s a toast to Forgon’s sister, who rode hundreds of miles in less than a week to save his life,” Theus offered a second toast, and they sipped again.

“And here’s to the friend who Forgon thinks of as almost a brother,” Coriae raised the third toast.  “And who seems even closer to me,” she added after they sipped the third taste of the wine.

A servant came about and poured more wine, then disappeared.

“I remember when Forgon and I were children – I mean small children,” she told Theus.  “We played games in this room when the servants didn’t keep track of us very well.  We’d play king of the mountain, on top of the dining room table,” she grinned. “And the servants would be so mad when they saw out footprints on the woodwork!”

Theus laughed as he imagined the sight of the two toddlers playing on the furniture.

The first course of the dinner was served by the servants.

“Use the outside fork,” Coriae said helpfully, in a quiet voice.  Theus appreciated the advice and followed it.

“My parents like to come here in the spring,” Coriae commented.  “You’ll enjoy all the festivals and balls that are thrown in the city in the spring season.  We might even get to go to the palace; we’ll have to see how they feel about the outcome of the trial.”

The pair ate on and drank on and talked on.  The distance that Theus had put between the two of them shrank as he enjoyed the intimate meal with Coriae, and fell under the allure of her beauty and her charm.

When the meal ended, they stood up.

“I’ve got one more thing for you tonight,” Coriae told him.  “It’s a surprise.  Let’s go,” she told him.

He offered his arm, and they walked out to the front hall.  At her direction, he picked up a large leather bag that was surprisingly light in weight, and they walked out the door, then strolled along the street, among a steady stream of other pedestrians.

The streets were lined with mature trees, whose wintery, leafless limbs didn’t block any of the light from the oil lamps that burned at every corner.  Coriae turned at one corner, then stopped in front of a pair of double doors.  Theus looked at her with a question in his eyes, until he heard the faint sound of wooden swords striking one another, and he grinned in delight.

“Yes, it’s the armory Forgon and I practice in when we stay in Stoke!” she grinned.  “And you’re carrying our practice clothes.  Shall we go in?”

They hurried in, drawing stares for their elegant clothing, but they quickly changed outfits and met on the practice pads.  “Let’s practice swords first, and then staves,” Coriae suggested.  “That way I’ll feel like a winner when I beat you in our final matches of the evening!” she laughed mischievously.

They found practice weapons, then found an empty mat, and set to play, sparring ferociously back and forth, Theus ultimately winning each time they bothered to keep track.  After working up a sweat, they moved to the section of the armory where the staves were practiced.  There were hardly any other sparring partners in the room, and they playfully fought across the room, not staying confined to their own practice mat.  They were more evenly matched, and Coriae refused to let them stop until she had swept her staff low to knock Theus’s feet out from beneath him.

“Okay, we can finish now!” she said as she stood over him.  “It’s good to finish on a high note,” she laughed.

“It’s good for you to end on a high note for you!” Theus corrected her as he rose to his feet.

“And it might be good for you as well,” she said slyly.  “I’m much more fun to be with when I’m happy!” she laughed.

They carried their formal clothes back to the lovely city house that the Warrell family kept in Stoke, and stood together on the second-floor landing when they returned.

“It’s been a wonderful day, Theus,” Coriae said.  “I’ll sleep well tonight, and tomorrow we’ll learn what happens next in Forgon’s saga.”

“And I might go to a market to get a few things to make a salve to treat all those bruises you left me with,” he added with a smile.

They kissed, a wonderful, lingering kiss, then Coriae withdrew and climbed the stairs up to her room on the third floor, and Theus walked down the hall to his room.  He’d enjoyed the evening tremendously.  Coriae had charmed him at dinner, challenged him at the armory, and gone a great distance to persuade him to reconsider the reservations he held against her.

He lay down in his luxurious bed, and fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter 22

The next day was the first of several that Theus spent settling into a routine in Stoke, living in Coriae’s family home with her.  They were not allowed to visit Forgon, who languished in the palace prison, but they heard from his advocate that his spirits had risen dramatically upon learning that the missing ring had been found, and that Theus was in residence in the family home.

Theus spent time visiting the markets in the city, buying items that he could use to produce more of the extraordinarily effective cures and remedies that were his legacy from Falstaff’s ancient stone.  Coriae boasted of his abilities, and the house soon had a small but steady stream of visitors from the nobility who sought treatment from him, much to Coriae’s amusement.

The pair of them practiced in the armory on a daily basis, and Theus began to spar with others as well.  He became familiar with several of the younger generation of high merchants, priests, and nobles in the city.  And he would have fit in well, if he hadn’t done one thing.

On some occasions he discussed what he had experienced in Southsand and Steep Rise. He spoke in mostly general terms, without mentioning specifics or particular people.  But he talked about the black magic and the widespread slavery and the desire to conquer.

He found that mentioning Southsand made people nervous.  There were floating rumors of Southsand as a potential enemy of Stoke.  Many people laughed off the idea of the small and far-away city threatening the empire that Stoke controlled, with the great cities of Greenfalls and Great Forks as subjects of Stoke.  Others spoke with fear or caution about the rumors of black magic that existed in Southsand, black magic that was forbidden by the gods.

Theus ceased discussing Southsand topics, and stuck to armory practice and medical practice as his main social functions, other than the frequent times when Coriae took him as her escort to dinners and receptions and plays.  In fact, Theus began to hear comments about that.

“You know, Coriae says she’ll only accept you as her escort for events now,” one of his patients commented as Theus examined the man’s skin rash.

“She’s never been so particular about any one man before,” the patient added.  “Folks are starting to expect to hear some announcement, you know,” he hinted.

Theus coughed nervously without answering, and wondered if he should say something to Coriae.

Then came the news that Forgon’s trial would resume.  The palace expert who claimed to be able to read other people’s memory stones had examined the ring Coriae and Theus had brought, and he was ready to pronounce his findings.

Coriae and Theus dressed in somber clothes and went to the royal courts well before the time for the trial to begin, so that they could sit close to Forgon’s seat in the court room.  They sat silently and held hands, while the courtroom filled with people and came to life around them.

When Forgon was brought in, chains around his hands and feet, his face smiled at the sight of his two supporters.

Theus thought that his fencing friend looked thin and tired, but the smile was a genuine display of good spirits, and Theus was pleased by that.

The court waited as the three judges took their seats, then began the proceedings.  Coriae explained in a whisper what the various legal technicalities were that were being discussed, and what impact they might have on the course of the trial.

After significant time had passed, the judges called the name of Glock, the man who had been a companion of Monsant’s, and who claimed to be able to read the memories stored on private memory stones.

“My lords,” Glock intoned carefully, “I have spent much time looking in upon the memories stored on this jewel in this ring,” he exuded confidence as he spoke.

“This is it!” Coriae whispered excitedly.  “He’s going to say that my memories prove that Forgon is innocent; he had no motive to kill Monsant.”

“The memories recorded on the jewel in this ring do not show anything relevant to the case, and should not prevent you from continuing with this case,” the man replied.  He was pale white, with white hair, though too young to have gray hair.  His lips were colorless as they pressed in a thin smile following his pronouncement.

There were gasps from all portions of the crowded room, at the stunning announcement.

“That’s not true!” an outburst from the audience drew the attention of everyone.

It came from Theus.

Before he even realized he had done it, he had leapt to his feet and shouted out his protest.

“My lords,” he spoke again a moment later, even as he began to realize he was impetuously making another momentous decision.

“My lords, I have the ability to read any memory stone.  I looked at the memory that Lady Coriae placed in the stone; it shows that she had no conflict with Lord Monsant on the night he was murdered, and there was no reason for Forgon to have fought the man,” he was skirting around the real truth by only speaking of a narrow truth, he knew, and his stomach felt queasy.  But Forgon was not the murderer, and did not deserve to be prosecuted.

“Really?  We’ve gone from having no one able to read the secrets of memory stones for hundreds of years, to now having two people in this very room who can do so?” the man who was next to Glock stood and spoke up for the first time.

“Everyone, be silent and maintain the dignity of the court,” one of the judges at the bench spoke loudly, repeating himself and banging his gavel.

“Bailiffs, remove this man,” the judge pointed towards Theus.

“I can read any memory stone, and I’m telling that the stone helps prove Forgon had no reason to harm Monsant!” Theus shouted insistently.

“Fine!” another judge spoke up.  “Let’s see you prove you can read any stone; if that’s true, we’ll consider your claim.

“Someone give the boy a stone,” the judge proposed carelessly.

“Why not ours?” the third judge asked with a chuckle.

“Why not?” the second judge agreed, holding up a squared-off crystal that rested on the bench before the panel.  “Approach the bench,” he nodded at Theus.

“Theus, are you sure?” Coriae asked in a whisper.

“I think so,” he answered softly, as he started to step past her.  His knees were wobbly, he realized, as the gravity of the situation became clear.  He was going to have to publicly prove that he could do something he had never admitted doing before.  Forgon’s future depended on him; his own future might depend on how he handled the situation.

He stepped into the aisle, then walked up to the railing that kept the spectators away from the trial proceedings, and passed the guard on station there.  He approached the bench and looked up at the judges.

The judge in the middle handed down the crystal he had held up before.

“Tell us something contained in this stone,” the judge demanded with a smirk.

Theus took the stone, and he took a deep breath.  He held the stone up to his forehead, aware of the silence that possessed the entire courtroom. Then he closed his eyes and focused.

The stone was packed full of memories, layer after layer of individual memories that had been stored on the stone.  He delved down into the middle of the pack, and selected one at random, one that felt kinder than the others somehow.

A woman was in front of a judge; it was two women, he realized.  A man stood between the two women, holding a young child, perhaps a year or two old, Theus guessed.

The memory was given from the point of view of the judge, a man, an elderly man it appeared, based on the veined and wrinkled hands that rested on the wooden bench in the forefront of Theus’s view of the proceedings.

“You gave birth to this child, you say,” the judge spoke.

“Yes your honor, it was just over a year ago, in my sister’s home.  He was such a beautiful baby,” the woman on the right, wearing green, affirmed.  “There’s no doubt that the baby is mine.”

“But you say the baby is yours,” the judge turned to the other woman, on the left, wearing blue.

“Yes, your honor.  I was in our cabin in the woods, alone.  I had to deliver my baby myself.  It was the most trying thing I’ve ever done, but it was so worth it to have this wonderful child,” she answered softly.

“You both have produced witnesses and stood steadfast by your claims,” the judge cited.  “There’s no clear evidence to help solve this case.  In your hearts you both know the truth, but one of you won’t divulge the truth.

“So we have two options; the first option is that you shall share the baby.  Every other month you shall pass the baby back and forth, from one to the other, to raise jointly,” the judge explained.  “I suggest we do that.”

“No your honor!” the two women spoke simultaneously.

“I want every moment of my baby’s life; he needs my love.  I’ll lay down my own life for him,” the woman on the right declared.

“There’s no reason she should be allowed to raise my baby,” the other woman said.  “I went through all the pain and trouble to give that child life.”

“Well, if you both are unhappy with the logical proposal, I’m afraid we’ll have to fall back to the illogical proposal, the only other option that is available,” the judge spoke sadly.

“We’ll have the baby split in two, and you each shall have half the child,” he said.  “Bring in a guard member with a sharp blade and a good eye for the target, so that we can split the baby evenly.”

Theus felt his soul reel in horror.

“No, your honor!” cried the woman in green.  “Let her have the baby; don’t kill my son.”

The other woman nodded her head smugly.

“I have reached a verdict,” the judge said.  “You are the rightful mother of the child, and you shall have possession, immediately and forever more,” he pointed towards the green-clad woman on the right.  “Hand the baby over,” he told the bailiff holding the baby.

Theus pulled the stone from his forehead.

“I just saw the judge in the case where two women claimed to be the mother of the same child,” Theus told the judges.  “And the judge threatened to split the baby, so one woman said to save the baby, and the judge gave the baby to her.”

“Everyone knows that case,” the judge over Theus said.

“The woman who received the baby was standing on the right, and wearing green,” Theus tried to add detail.  “The other woman wore blue.”

“Give me that stone; let me check,” commanded the judge on the left of the bench, holding his hand out to Theus.  A murmur arose in the crowd.

The judge impatiently took the crystal from Theus and held it to his forehead for half a minute.

“He has the details right,” the man said, removing the stone, causing more murmurs to raise the noise in the room.

“Silence!” roared the judge in the middle of the trio.  “Someone else give us a stone to test,” he spoke to the crowd.

“I have my personal diary stone,” spoke up the prosecutor, the man sitting next to Glock at a bench.  “Let him tell me what the most recent entry says,” he spoke confidently as he rose from his seat and placed a hand in a pocket to withdraw a dark green memory stone.

“Only the most recent one, mind you,” he emphasized as he handed the stone to Theus.

The boy looked at the stone, holding it high for a moment to study it.  It had less than half its capacity filled with memories, it appeared to him.  He bit his lip, closed his eyes, and pressed the stone to his forehead, then focused on finding the memory that was newest.  The images faded from nothingness into near reality in his mind.

The prosecutor was sitting in an office, where a small fire burned at night, judging from the darkness in the window.  The pale Glock was in the room with him, and handed him a piece of paper.

“This will be my report tomorrow in the court,” Glock announced.  “There are no relevant memories in the ring.  Monsant’s murder can be revenged now.”

“It will be quite a blow to the old nobility to see a member of one of their own families go down in humiliation for a crime like this,” the prosecutor commented.  He looked over the written document.

“With this report, the court won’t need more than an hour to finish up this case,” he concluded.

Theus pulled the stone away.

“Were you unable to read this stone?” the prosecutor asked with insincere sympathy.

“You were sitting in an office at night, with a fire burning, talking to that pale man, Glock,” Theus recollected.  “He told you what his report was going to say.

“You said it would be hard on the old families of the nobility, and that the judges would be able to finish up the case within an hour after the report,” Theus reported.

“Is that correct?” the far judge looked directly at the ashen-faced man.

The prosecutor nodded his head weakly, without speaking a word.

“Tell me young savant, what is the second most recent memory on the stone?” the middle judge asked with a malicious grin.

“My lord!” the prosecutor began to protest.

“Do you have something to hide?” the judge interrupted him to ask.

“No, my lord,” he answered in a low, shaken voice.

“Well, go on boy, tell us about the next memory,” the judge urged Theus.

Theus looked at the judge; the man held Forgon’s fate in his hands.  Theus had to please him.

Theus looked at the prosecutor.  There was some mute appeal veiled in his eyes.

Theus closed his eyes and raised the stone to his forehead.

He sorted his way to the next memory, and let its contents flow into his consciousness.

The prosecutor was walking into a hallway, stepping through a door from the outside.  Theus heard the sounds of wagon wheels rolling on the cobbles as the door closed the sound out.

“Daddy!” a pair of young children, a boy and a girl, came running down the hall, a nanny chasing after them.  The toddlers threw themselves at the prosecutor with delight, and he picked them both up in his arms, making them laugh with delight.

“My apologies, my lord,” the nanny said as she reclaimed control of the children from their father.

“It’s alright, Natash,” the prosecutor said.

“How was your day today, my dear?” a new voice came down the hall.  The prosecutor looked and saw a cool, collected woman striding confidently down the hall towards him.  She was lovely, impeccable and composed.  She was his wife.

Into the prosecutor’s mind there rose a memory of a different woman, one with very dark skin and very light hair.  The contrast in colors was exotic and sensual.  The woman in his memory wore flimsy clothing, and she sauntered towards him with a rhythm that was irresistible.

She was the man’s mistress, Theus realized.

He pulled the stone away from his forehead.  He felt his cheeks grow warm, and he was sure that he was blushing.

“What did you see, young savant?” the closest judge asked, with a wink at the prosecutor.

Theus was at a loss, not sure what to say.  He felt like a voyeur for having seen the private memories of the prosecutor, the memory of memories.

“He stored a memory of returning to his home,” Theus temporized.  “He has two small children, and they ran from their nanny to see him come home.

“The nanny came to take them from him, and then his wife came down the hall,” Theus stopped.

“And then what?  What made that memory so special that he preserved it on his stone?” the center judge asked.

Perhaps, Theus thought, he should reveal the embarrassing truth.  He could just simply reveal what he had learned.  But, he didn’t feel empowered to be the one to shed a spotlight on another man’s secrets.

“And then he thought how fortunate he was to be married to such a beautiful woman, and to have such adoring children.  He felt that his life was good,” Theus hastily wrapped up his altered story, and turned to look at the prosecutor.

The look of gratitude on the man’s face was beyond words; he looked as though he had just received a reprieve, a second chance at life.

“Is that true, Hamter?” the judge directed his question to the prosecutor.

“It is, my lord,” the man replied.  “I cannot deny that the boy has the gift.”

“What about you Glock?  Can you read any stone at random?” the judge spoke out to the forgotten, pale man who still sat at a table, alone and isolated by the sudden turn of events.

“This all seems impossible to believe,“ Glock shot out, rising to his feet.  “What impossible powers allow this young poseur to read stones like no one in a thousand years?”

“Tell them,” the voice commanded, “tell them you are of the blood line of Limber.”

“I was born and raised in the Jewel Hills,” Theus spoke up.  He was proud of his heritage, the heritage he truly knew, poor though it was, and he’d not overlook it.  “And I am a descendant of Limber.”

The courtroom broke out into a roar of consternation, as the audience heard mention of the ancient city that had once been a rival of Stoke’s.

“Well, this is quite a turn of events in the court room today,” the farthest judge commented.

“Your honor, in light of the revelations here, I do not believe we can further prosecute the noble Forgon for the murder of Lord Monsant,” the prosecutor spoke up.  “I move for the dismissal of the charges.”

The crowd’s roar redoubled, and the center judge began to bang his gavel rapidly.

“Officials, clear the room if the crowd does not become immediately silent!” he roared.

The shouts descended to whispers, then hushed.

“We have seen remarkable and unexpected revelations here today,” the judge spoke in an authoritative voice.  “For my part, I agree that we cannot trust the claim that this ring belonged to Forgon, and that he wore it when he killed Monsant.  Furthermore, the contents of the ring, as related by this young boy of Limber, this relic of the past, further disprove that Forgon had reason to attack Monsant.”

“I agree,” the farthest judge spoke up quickly.

“As do I,” the third judge added.

“The court unanimously calls an end to the proceedings against Forgon, and directs that he be set immediately free,” the center judge pronounced.  He banged his gavel down authoritatively, then stood up.  The other two judges stood as well, and the trio proceeded to leave the room, as everyone else scrambled to respectfully rise to their feet.

“This is a travesty!” Glock shouted in outrage.  “Where is justice for Monsant?”

“Thank you,” the prosecutor said to Theus, speaking into his ear in a low voice as he grabbed Theus’s arm and drew him close.  “I appreciate your discretion.”

Theus still held the stone, he realized.  He handed it to the prosecutor.

“Your secret wasn’t mine to share, under the circumstances,” Theus answered.  “But your wife is a beautiful woman; I can’t imagine why you’d ever look at another.”

You with Coriae Warrell as your companion, you can say that,” the prosecutor shrugged.  “And perhaps you are right; I’ll think on it.

“And in the meantime, if you ever want to be paid to be a memory stone reader, there’s a spot waiting on my staff for you.  You could change the whole course of the criminal justice system,” he told Theus, then turned and walked away.

Forgon came pounding on Theus’s back, just as the prosecutor left.  “My friend!  My dearest friend!  You saved my life today!” he hugged Theus tightly.

“Theus!  You’re never going to stop amazing me!” Coriae broke free from the crowd and ran to join them, tackling them as she hugged the pair tightly.  She kissed Forgon on both cheeks with glee, then turned and kissed Theus was passion, leaving his knees weak.

“You’re descended from the nobles of Limber?” Forgon asked, as he pulled away from the others.  “I thought those only existed in fairy tales and stories!  We’re talking to a living legend!”

“You’re talking; I’m doing more than that!” Coriae spoke in a smoldering tone of voice.  “I’m so confused by so many things, I don’t know what to think!”

“I think you could take me home and let me taste some decent food for the first time in days, not to mention open a bottle of wine!” Forgon said.  The trio proceeded to wind their way through the backslaps and hugs and congratulatory words that lined their path out of the courtroom and to the street.  They caught a carriage, and finally started to relax when the three of them sat alone in the cozy chamber that rumbled down the street.

“How in the world did all of this come about?” Forgon asked, as he sat in the carriage facing Theus.  Coriae sat next to her brother, both her hands holding tightly to one of his, a contented look on her face.

“Theus just showed up, as if the gods had dropped him back into our lives,” Coriae answered placidly.  “Within hours of his arrival, we were on the way to Great Falls to regain the ring, and now this,” she smiled at Theus, who sat across from the two.

“Thank you Theus, thank you again,” Forgon said.  “But tell me now, how did you happen to arrive in Stoke just when I needed you?  Were you hiding in Limber all this time?”

“I’d feel better if I had been hiding in Limber,” Theus answered.  “But where I’ve been, and what I’ve seen in the past few months have been frightening,” he began, and he recited the story of what had befallen him after his flight from Great Forks.

The story lasted through the rest of the carriage ride, and then into the luxurious home.  The three of them took seats in a parlor, as servants brought fruit and crackers and wine, while Theus unburdened himself of the searing tale of evil that was growing in the south.

“A forgotten, ancient, evil god?” Forgon said in wonder after Theus wound down his tale, and sat in a despondent slump.  “It’s too incredible to believe, except that the most believable person in the land just told the tale.”

“You’re a lost heir to Limber?” Coriae, left her seat to come sit on the arm of Theus’s chair as she asked.  “You’ve been living in secret, waiting for your nation to rise again?

“No,” Theus answered.  “I’ve lived a life as a poor farm boy, whose mother happens to be descended from Limber nobility.

“I’ve never lived in any place as grand as this,” he told them both.

Coriae seemed on the verge of asking a question, and Theus looked at her expectantly.  She started to purse her lips, then paused.

“When we get home to Great Falls,” she began to speak, having seemingly decided to pursue a different topic, “you’ll have to stay in the family quarters, of course.”

“Without question,” Forgon said enthusiastically.  “But before that, I’d like to eat a really good meal – anything better than prison food!” he laughed.  “What can cook prepare for us?” he asked.

“I’ll go see right now,” Coriae offered, and she slipped out of the room.

Forgon watched her leave.

“I’m so glad you’re going to join our family,” he said when the girl had left.  “You’re the best person in the world for her,” he spoke from the heart.

Theus’s eyes widened.  “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Your engagement,” Forgon said cavalierly.  “The way you two are together.  Have you talked to father yet?  Is there a date?”

Theus shook his head vaguely, stunned by the suggestion.  “We haven’t,” He tried to begin, then stopped, at a loss for words.

“You haven’t set a date?” Forgon asked, trying to finish the incomplete sentence.

Coriae re-entered the room.

“Cory, have you and Theus spoken to father about a wedding date?” Forgon asked.

The girl blushed deeply, her complexion growing dusky.

Forgon looked from one to the other.

“I’ve put my foot where it doesn’t belong, haven’t I?” he asked.

“We haven’t had any conversations like that, along those lines,” his sister replied, as she came and sat beside him, not making eye contact with either of the others in the room.

“I went to check on food, and cook happens to have a leg of lamb ready.  He’s preparing some vegetables now.  Shall we go to the small dining room?” Coriae asked, changing the subject deftly.

She rose, and the others rose with her, then all three walked to a side room with a suitably sized table, and took seats, as servants calmly provided place settings, a basket of bread, and condiments.

“You have this small room, but we’ve been eating in that great big, formal dining room?” Theus asked Coriae.  He was torn between acting as though no topic had been raised, as well as his fear of making eye contact with her.

Where could Forgon have gotten the notion of an engagement, Theus wondered.

“I thought you ought to grow used to the larger dining room,” Coriae answered, her eyes also not turning in his direction.  “You’re going to have to sit through a lot of meals in rooms like that – except they’ll have a great many more people,” she laughed softly at her qualifying comment.

Forgon took a slice of bread from the basket, then stood.  “I’ll be back in a minute,” he excused himself, and left the room.

Theus and Coriae sat in silence, alone, neither looking at the other.  The atmosphere was uncomfortable.

“I didn’t start that conversation,” Theus blurted out.  “Forgon just started talking like that.”

“I’m sure you didn’t; you haven’t said anything of the kind to me,” Coriae confirmed in a carefully neutral tone.

“I don’t know what to say,” he let him emotions explode.  “You’re so beautiful and desirable and such a great fighter.”

“You started well, but that last comment is truly sweeping me off my feet,” she laughed.

“You know what I mean,” Theus swept her words aside.  “And I’m just a, just a, a vagrant, practically a fugitive.  You’re nobility,” he drew the contrast.  He didn’t bring up the objection that had faded as a concern in his mind; he’d come to rationalize her murder of Monsant as a measure of not only self-protection, but a favor to the kingdom.

“Theus, you’re a master craftsman of memory stones, a healer beyond any that I know, one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom, and apparently, you’re lost nobility yourself, we’ve just been told,” she cut him off.  “And you’re funny, kind, and loyal. And you’ve got good looks,” she added.

“Coriae,” he looked at her helplessly.  “I don’t know much about how to do this,” he stood and approached her.   He awkwardly reached out, then took one of her hands in his.  “I think,” he paused, then began again, “It seems,” he stopped.

“Coriae, you are the woman my heart belongs to.  Will you marry me?” he asked at last, and his eyes this time were focused solely on her, watching intently to see what answer she would give to the unlikely question he had asked.  It seemed unbelievable that he would be doing this, proposing to such a woman.  He couldn’t have imagined such a scenario being possible six months earlier, yet here it was.

“Theus,” her sparkling eyes were locked on his now, while her mouth was creased with a wide smile.  “When my father gives us his permission to marry, I will say yes with all my heart!  And I have no doubt of what his answer will be.”

She smoothly stood up, and glided into his arms, embracing him.

A pair of servants entered the room with platters of food, saw the intimate pose, and backed out in confusion.

Forgon entered the room again. “Hey ho, what’s this?” he asked upon seeing their hug.  “In the middle of dinner?”

The couple broke the pose and laughed, while still holding hands.

“I’ve just asked your sister to marry me,” Theus announced.

“I had no doubt that you would,” Forgon said calmly.  He paused a moment, then laughed loudly, and hugged the pair.  “Such great news, the best I could ask for, once I got out of prison, that is.

“And what was your answer?” he teased Coriae by asking.

“If father says ‘yes’, I’ll say yes,” she answered her brother.

“Oh, you’ll have father wrapped around your finger in no time!” Forgon dismissed the condition as already met.

“So, when will we start on the journey home?” he asked.

A servant peeked in the room, saw that conditions had changed, and opened the door, allowing the food to be delivered, along with a bottle of wine.  All was placed on the table as the celebratory party of three were seated, and began feasting and toasting merrily.  They finished in the late afternoon, and sat comfortably and silently reflecting for a while, until Forgon spoke.

“Shall we visit the armory?” he asked.  “I may have forgotten a few things, but I think I can still put on a decent match, once I knock off some of the rust.”

When Forgon entered the armory, followed by his sister and her bedazed fiancé, he was greeted with whoops and applause from those who were practicing inside the facility.

A long session of congratulatory banter followed, then, more serious conversations.

"I hear Glock is so angry, he's left the city," one of the participants reported.

"I hear he wants revenge on Coriae's practice partner," a girl nodded at the silent Theus, who stood off to the side as the others stood in a tight cluster.

"How's he going to get revenge if he left town?" a voice asked.

"Where did he go?" someone else asked.

"Who cares, as long as he's gone," a third voice spoke, and the conversation transitioned to discussion of Forgon's plight and freedom,  and the rumors about the dramatic trial scene.

"Is he the one?" someone pointed at Theus as the group discussed the trial.

"Can you really read memory stones?" they asked him directly.

"I can; I've learned how," Theus admitted reluctantly.

"And you're a prince from Limber?" another question immediately rose.

"We're just here to practice blades," Coriae spoke up protectively. "Let’s go to the mats."

"Be careful what you place in your memory stone, Coriae," one wag laughed. "You'll have no secrets!"

Coriae laughed with the others, but then shot a thoughtful look at Theus as they walked towards the practice weapons.

The crowd of young nobles chattered and played and practiced and mixed throughout the afternoon in the armory.  In addition to those he had met before, Theus met many more people, who treated him as though he were born to their class. His skills with the weapons, and the good things that Forgon and Coriae mentioned to their practice partners, soon created an aura of mystery and competence about Theus, and also brought him a few discreet inquiries about providing medical advice or treatment.

He answered as best he could the questions directed at him, and by the end of the afternoon he was not only tired and sore and sweaty, but accepted by the young nobility as though he were born among them.

"You're almost as much a topic of conversation as Forgon is," Coriae told him as they squared off with staves for their final match of the day.  She feinted a thrust at his knees as she spoke.

"I haven't told anyone we're engaged," she said in a lower voice, though no one was near to overhear.  "But I made sure they all knew you weren't available socially!" she smiled. "Unless I was included."

Theus tried to sweep his staff at her feet, but she blocked the effort and countered.

"I've been invited to offer medical treatment to one or two," Theus reported. "Do you want to join me?" he asked with a grin.

"It depends on who they are," she grinned back.

They finished and joined Forgon on the walk home, turning down multiple offers to go out to dinner.

"I'd just like a quiet first evening at home," he politely declined.

As the trio walked together down the street, Coriae began to speak.  "Theus?" she began.

He waited as they walked on, and her pause lengthened.

"Yes?" he prompted at last.

"Nothing," she dismissed the matter.

Later, at dinner, she began again.

"Theus, can you see the memories in any stone, no matter who’s it is, or how it's protected?" she asked.

Theus noted that both she and Forgon were watching him intently.

"As far as I know," he replied.  "I only just started working with memory stones when I went to Falstaff's shop, so I haven't handled many."

There were things he felt he shouldn’t discuss very much.  He wasn't going to admit that he spoke to and listened to an invisible voice.  Coriae would be likely to break off their surprising engagement, he was sure.

"When shall we journey north to go home?" Forgon asked. "I'll write a note home tonight to tell mother and father the good news of my freedom, and announce we're coming back soon."

"Theus needs to talk to father," Coriae responded.  "Let’s go soon. How about the day after tomorrow?"

They all agreed, and headed to bed soon after.

"What an extraordinary day!" Coriae murmured to Theus when they stood together on the staircase landing.  "I'll never see so much drama again in my life, I hope!" she smiled.  "But you made it possible.

"You've made so many things possible," she added.  "We were meant to be together, don't you think? We met in Greenfalls, we were together in Great Forks, and we found each other again in Stoke."

"Even if we hadn't seen one another across the street, I was on my way to Great Forks to find you," Theus assured her.  He placed his arms around her, and they stood in the comfortable embrace for a long time, until they went to their separate rooms for the evening.

The next day was a combination of preparing to leave and receiving the constant flow of visitors that streamed to the house to see Forgon and congratulate him on his acquittal. The visitors universally protested the planned abrupt departure from the city, and were only slightly mollified by the promise to return soon, once the visit to Great Forks was complete.

In the afternoon the three enjoyed more time at the armory.

"We're both a bit rusty compared to when we were practicing for the tournament every day," Forgon pointed out when they faced each other on the practice pad.

"But you're still very good," Theus protested.

"And so I am, and so are you," Forgon agreed.  "But we were better before, and I imagine we'll be better again, say around tourney time next year?" he grinned.

They finished practice, then returned home for a moment to clean up, before they went to dinner with friends.  After a short ride, Theus watched in amazement as the carriage pulled into the drive of an elegant small palace.

"Prince Holco was always friendly and supportive during the trial," Coriae explained.  "I don't think he ever doubted Forgon's innocence, and I'm not sure he really was upset at Monsant's death in any event," she cast a furtive glance his way to check his reaction.

Theus maintained a neutral expression.  He owed her a conversation, he concluded.  He had to tell her that he knew she had killed the royal villain.  And he needed to confess that he had read the one memory of Forgon's that had revealed the truth. They needed to be as open as possible, he felt.  Except for the invisible voice, he amended his pledge.

They enjoyed an elegant meal with many friends of Forgon and Coriae.  Theus and Coriae sat across from each other in the middle of the long table, people on either side of them. Theus found that the man on his left, a young officer in the guard, was interested in hearing what Theus knew about the invasion of Steep Rise, for no details of the battle there had reached the capital.

Theus amazed the man, and left him skeptical about the claims of a magic powder that disabled memory stones.

"I suppose you're the expert on the stones, from what I hear, but the sounds far-fetched to me," he politely dissented.

The woman on Theus's right was an older woman, an aunt of the Prince, who lived mostly in the countryside, at an estate along the Westlands River between Stoke and Great Forks.

"I'd enjoy my estate much more if I hadn't developed an allergy to the wildflowers in the region," she told Theus, then sneezed as if to prove her point.

Theus felt a jolt from a recollected memory about a treatment for allergies.

"There's a treatment for that," he said cautiously, knowing from experience that such conversations typically led to only one conclusion.

"I've spoken to all the best doctors, and tried everything known, without success," the noblewoman contradicted him.

Theus saw Coriae pause in her own conversation on the other side of the table to listen.  She too had an idea of how the matter would proceed.

"But there is a treatment," Theus assured her.

"And where would I have to go to find this miraculous cure?" the noble aunt asked skeptically.

Theus gave a slight, rueful shake of his head.  "Probably the kitchen of this palace," he decided to address the issue directly.  "I can go prepare a batch for you now, if you like". He sat back and waited for an answer.

"You shouldn't tease her," spoke up the young man on the other side of the Aunt.

"He's not teasing," Coriae broke from her own conversation.  "He prepared a salve for me one time in our kitchen that healed my bruises in a day!"

"I'll go right now," Theus pushed back from the table.

"I am astonished!" the aunt exclaimed, as she pressed her own chair back.  "I have to watch this!"

"So do I!" her other neighbor insisted, amused by the sudden turn of events.

The three abandoned the dinner and flummoxed the kitchen staff when they staked a claim to a section of counter space, and Theus began to request a number of ingredients and supplies, which were delivered to him with alacrity by the staff, fearful of upsetting the nobles who coexisted with them in the kitchen.

By the time Theus finished his work an hour later, many of the others from the dinner party had joined the group observing Theus, as he gave a running commentary about the steps he was taking,

When he finished, he held up a spoonful of viscous syrup to the aunt.

"Take this," he instructed.  When she did, the crowd around them applauded, while Theus held up a jar.

"Take another spoonful every night until this is all consumed," he instructed.

"What else can you treat?" asked one of the nobles standing in the audience.

"Almost anything," Theus answered enthusiastically, caught up in the moment.

" Which he may have time to do when we return from Great Forks," Coriae stepped forward to end the conversation.  "Come with me dear," she took Theus by the arm.

"There's dancing, and you and I have never danced," she explained as she led him away, drawing murmurs of approval from the surrounding group.

They passed through the empty dining room, then crossed through other rooms to reach a ballroom where musicians played and a handful of couples danced on the floor.

"You found your way here to the ballroom quite easily, through a bit of a maze," Theus commented.

"I've been here a few times," Coriae commented in an offhand manner.

"The prince took quite a fancy to her," Forgon spoke as he joined the pair and put an affectionate arm around his sister's shoulder.  "She could be the princess, I believe, if she wanted to.

"But I'm happy she's going to be married to you instead," he added in a lower voice.

"You two should dance," he said as he pulled Coriae towards Theus.

"I had the same thought," Coriae asserted.

"I've only been dancing once before," Theus warned.

"We may have to carry you to the carriage, if your toes are all broken," Forgon warned his sister with mock seriousness.

"Come along, Theus," Coriae reached out and pulled her betrothed onto the dance floor with her.

"You could have been a princess?" Theus asked curiously.

"I believe I still could," Coriae answered airily, then laughed.

They danced the song together with a minimum of miscues, then Coriae was invited to dance with the prince, while Theus stood against a wall and wondered how he had come so far from being a farm boy in a poor family in the Jewel Hills.  He was engaged to a woman who was stunning in personality, skills,and beauty.  He'd first been attracted by her beauty, but had come to love her personality more, while he admired the way she handled weapons and horses and more.

And unbelievable as the notion of being engaged to Coriae was, the rest of the story of his past year was just as extraordinary.  The caravan trip, the memory stone skills, the swordsmanship, the Voice, slavery, war - there seemed no end to the impossible parade of events.

"You've made a good friend there," Coriae told him later, speaking of the Prince’s aunt, after they left the palace and began to walk back to her family's city home.  "Your cure for her allergy will work, won't it?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," Theus instantly replied.

"I knew it would," Coriae said without doubt.

They chatted about the people at the dinner while they walked home, and then parted at the landing on the staircase at the end of the evening.  Theus slept well, except for one dream that he remembered clearly the next morning.

He, Coriae, and Forgon were in the saddle of horses immediately after breakfast, and weaving their way through the city streets on the first stage of their journey to Great Forks.

"How did you sleep?" Forgon asked. He looked tired himself, with bags beneath sleepy eyes.

"I kept dreaming of a voice calling my name," Theus replied.

"Perhaps it was Coriae calling you from the third floor," Forgon jested.  "You should have gone up to her room."

Theus blushed slightly, then looked at the lovely girl riding between the two boys.

She grinned and winked at him.

"I'd know the sound of Coriae's voice," Theus said insistently.  "It was a girl's voice, though, now that I think about it."

"So you're dreaming of other women?" Coriae asked archly.

"I'm sorry I brought the matter up, Theus," Forgon apologized.  "So tell me, where did you stay along the way when you rode to Great Forks and back?  We can stay in new places, if you like," he offered.  "Though of course,  Coriae and I have made this trip so many times I think we've stayed in every possible place."

"Theus and I stayed in our saddle, brother dear, just to hurry your freedom," Coriae answered.

"We won't do that for this trip," Forgon said assuredly.

The trip to Great Forks proceeded smoothly and quickly.   Theus and Forgon shared rooms, while Coriae had one of her own each night they stopped, and Forgon's homecoming was a joyous celebration for the family and even the staff of the mansion when they arrived.

And as predicted, Theus was given a room in the family quarters of the mansion, raising eyebrows among his acquaintances on the staff.

Quite the new person now, aren't you?" Blanche asked as Theus came to have an early breakfast in the kitchen on the first morning back.

"I don't feel any different," Theus replied.

"Are we going to the armory, early bird?" Forgon appeared and asked.

The pair went out to the armory where they had spent so much time together before, and were hard at work for a long time before Coriae opened the door.

"You've had enough time with him, it's my turn," she directed her brother.

"Swords or staves?" Theus asked his betrothed between gasps of breath.

"Swords to start, then staves," the girl said.

"Good luck Theus," Forgon offered as he placed his practice weapon in the wall rack. "Are there things you want me to go buy at the market for you, so that you can mix a remedy for all the bruises you two will give each other?" he laughed.

"You can buy a sack to put over your own head, Forgon," Coriae growled.  "Theus is too much of a gentleman to try to bruise me, even if he had the talent to beat my defenses, which of course,  he doesn't," she said in a falsely sweet voice.

Forgon laughed and left, leaving the other two to begin their work out.

After minutes of preliminary practice, Coriae questioned Theus.

"When do you plan to speak to my father, to request our marriage?" she asked.

Theus grinned.   "I want to do it today," he replied.

"Could you wait?" Coriae asked.

The question stunned Theus, who had assumed Coriae was as anxious as he was to receive the permission to take the biggest step they would ever share in life.

"Oh no!" Coriae assured him sympathetically as she saw the expression on his face.  "It's not anything bad, nothing at all," she lowered her sword and stepped in closer to him.  "My parents will celebrate their own wedding anniversary in three days, and I thought it would seem more romantic to ask on their own anniversary," she explained.

Theus grinned in relief.

"Of course," he replied.  "That’s a marvelous idea."

"I'm glad you agree," Coriae said.  She stepped back from him, then raised her sword suddenly, and forced Theus to defend himself in a frenzied flurry of slices, stabs, and blocks, followed by Coriae's whoop of victory.

That night, Theus dreamed he heard a voice calling again.  He recognized the voice that night, because it spoke more words than just his name.

"Theus, Donal, the magician from Southland," she began, though no explanation was needed for Theus to know who Donal was, for the name was inscribed in memories of fear and horror in Theus's soul.

"Donal sent magicians to Exlive and they kidnapped me.  They said they followed that collar you wore, and they found out where I was," her voice echoed through a featureless dream.

"They say that you're the only one who can rescue me," pleaded Amelia, the young princess of Steep Rise who Theus had rescued once already.

He awoke before sunrise, shaken by the dream, which carried a strange and compelling veneer of truth.

Without any hope of getting back to sleep after being so unsettled by the frightening message of the dream, Theus rose and went to the kitchen, before any of the actual kitchen staff had arisen.  He thought of all that he had seen the kitchen staff do in the palace at Southland.  By the time the Warrell's mansion baker arrived to start his day, an hour of his work was complete.

That following night, Theus had the identical dream.  He awoke in a sweat, troubled by the dream.

"Voice, what does this dream tell me?  Why am I having it?" he asked as he sat up in his comfortable bed.

"You're having it because that girl is in grave trouble, and has turned to you as her only hope," the voice replied.

"It's just a dream, isn't it?" Theus asked.   "She's not really a captive of Donal?  They wouldn't follow that collar to find her, would they?"

"The thoughts and actions of the black magic followers is beyond my knowing.  I cannot tell you.  But it does seem plausible for the evil ones to track you through such a collar, and there is no doubt that you are the most desirable captive they would be desperate to hold and use," the voice lectured him.  "They would do incomprehensible damage if they could feast upon you.

"But I do not doubt that these evil dogs have kidnapped your young friend to use her powerful royal blood for their needs, as well as use her as bait for a trap to capture you.  They probably used their own energy to allow her to send a message to you," the voice told him.

Theus sat in his bed after that,  alone in the darkness,  shaken by the voice's revelation.

He felt a tear well up in his eye at the thought of young Amelia as a captive of Donal and his lesser dark magicians.

He had another dream on the third night in a row while he slept in the comfortable bed in the family quarters of the Warrell mansion.

"Oh Theus, it hurt so much!" the girl's voice sobbed.   "They used me for their magic, Theus.  I'm doomed, I know now."

"Voice, what can I do to help her?" Theus asked as he awoke immediately and sat up in bed again.

"You could go to Southsand and rescue her," the voice replied as though it were a reasonable answer.

"I don't want to die trying to save her!" Theus shouted.

"You would not have to die," the voice sounded reassuring.   "There is a way."

Theus sat in his bed. It was impossible to imagine that there was any way for him to go to Southsand, let alone rescue Amelia.

"If you use the power of white magic, you will be able to rescue her," the voice spoke.

"White magic?" Theus wondered.  The phrase was familiar.  He'd heard it, and recently.

"Yes, that's right.  In the ring," the voice prompted him.

The ring.  The ring that Coriae possessed.  The ring that held his betrothed's false memory of Monsant, and Forgon's true memory of Monsant's murder.   There was the third level of memory he had found buried in the great memory stone jewel at the heart of the ring.  There had been the mysterious memory below the others, the memory that had told of the hidden second stone in the ring.

The hidden stone held the secrets of white magic.

And the voice, the great power that he relied on, was telling him to use those secrets to go to rescue Amelia.

"When will I be able to rescue her?  I can't leave right away," Theus asked.  "I'm going to speak to Lord Warrell today.  I'm going to be engaged to Coriae."

"You won't have time for that.  You'll need to leave immediately. The journey will be long and hard and dangerous.  But the life of the girl will be short and painful if you do not save her."

Theus bit his lip and shook his head.  It wasn't right.   It wasn't fair.  He was just hours away from being officially granted Coriae's hand in marriage.   He was going to become a success in life.

But Amelia had been a sweet girl, one who had been like one of his own younger sisters.  She had saved his life by warning him to flee from the embassy in Exlive.

He was going to do it.

He would have to go to Coriae and ask for her ring.

He didn't think she would appreciate the request, for many reasons.

He could sneak into her room and steal the ring.  He'd seen where she kept the ring on her dresser.

Theus threw back his bed covers, and slowly stepped out of bed.  It was impossible to believe he was doing it.   He hoped Coriae could have faith in him; when he returned to her, they would have a difficult time reconciling, he knew.

He carried his boots in his hand so that he could silently creep barefoot through the halls of the mansion.

He reached Coriae's door, then paused with his hand gripping the knob. He could still turn back.

Then he felt the knob turn in his hand, and the door edged open.

Theus shook his head, wishing desperately that there was no need, no problem, no conflict driving him to the unhappiness he felt.  He silently pressed the door further open, then slipped inside the room.

His eyes were adjusted to the darkness, with only faint moonlight entering through a gap in the curtains, and a minute spark beside the bed showing a shuttered lantern on Coriae's table.

Theus slipped over to the dresser where the ring and other jewelry were organized.   He studied the top of the piece of furniture in the darkness, then carefully lifted the great jeweled ring that had seemed to be a part of his life forever -  he'd carried it for Grant, turned it over to Lord Warrell, treated it for Coriae,  retrieved it for Forgon,  and now he was stealing it for Amelia.

"Press the left prong and the bottom prong, then twist the stone," the voice directed.

Theus let his fingers explore the tiny fixtures on the ring and discover the features the Voice had described.  He followed the directions, and felt a substantial 'click' in the ring.

"Who's there?" Coriae was sitting up in bed, the room was suddenly illuminated, and the small shutters of the bedside lantern were open.

Coriae's hair was mussed, but her face was lovely, and her night gown was revealing and alluring.

"Oh Theus," her voice was warm.  "You should wait until father gives his blessing before you sneak in here," she smiled.  "Not that I haven't dreamed of finding you here with me," she added.

"What are you doing?" her eyes comprehended for the first time that he was holding the ring.

"Put that away," her voice carried the hint of an edge.

Theus tilted the ring, and a thin disk of stone slid into his hand.  It felt alive with eager energy.

"I have to go," he choked on the words.   He pressed the ring closed.

"What are you doing?" Coriae didn't grasp.  "Why do you have my ring?  Where are you going?"

"I have to go to save the princess, Amelia," Theus answered.

"You’re leaving me for another woman?  Put that ring down!  How dare you?" She climbed out of bed and stalked over to him.

"I thought," she was suddenly shaking with anger.  The light from the lantern behind her left her face shaded, but Theus could tell her eyes were glittering with moisture.

"I thought," she began again,  "that you were genuine and honest and truly in love with me, but I see that you're just a lying, cheating, good-for-nothing disaster that stabbed me in the heart and is ready to run away again,  before you make a public commitment.

"I suppose I should be grateful that you haven't let more happen publicly; at least there are a few shreds of my public name left untattered," she was growing furious as she constructed an unsavory explanation for what was happening.

"No, listen," Theus knew he had to tell her the truth.  He couldn't let her grow bitter and more angry.  He wanted her to understand the magnitude and gravity of the situation.

Theus reached out and gripped her wrists in his. She flailed wildly, attempting to break his hold, and she pulled them both off balance,  so that they crashed onto her mattress.

"Are you going to despoil me now?" she asked in a voice full of emotion.  Their faces were close to one another's.

"No," Theus answered disdainfully.  He released his grip and lifted his weight off of her.

The gods knew he desired her!

"I can hear a voice," he tried to explain.  "I've heard it give advice for months now, and it always gives good advice.

"Anyway, it has interpreted a dream I had.  The voice says I have to go to Steep Rise and rescue Amelia, the little girl I saved once before.  The evil magicians have captured her,and she'll die if I don't go," Theus said.

"A voice?" Coriae asked flatly.  "You hear a voice.  Can anyone else hear it, anyone at all?"

"Just me," Theus admitted, knowing that it weakened his case.  Even in his own ears it sounded implausible.

"Leave! Just leave our house.  You were never in love with me," Coriae looked up at him and spat.  "You're a fake.  My instincts were right the first time I saw you in Greenfalls, when I rejected your request to travel together.

"Gods above and below, I wish we'd never met," she hissed at him as he edged backwards, unnerved by the fury in her voice.  She was passionate, he knew.  But he'd never expected to become the target of her disdain.  It hurt.  It hurt deeply, in part because he knew that her spirit was such a great portion of what he found appealing.

Theus found that he had backed to the door.

"I love you now, and I always will," he managed to say as he opened the door.  "I'll come back someday and ask you to forgive me, after you've seen the truth of my words."

"I don't ever want to see you again!" Coriae's voice was full of venom.  "If I do, I'll thrash you to within an inch of your life with whatever weapon is at hand. - staves, swords, cudgels, fists.  Now leave; leave my room and leave our house!"

She was growing angrier by the moment, it seemed to Theus.  He had no chance of reasoning with her, calming her.  The expression on her face was nearly the same as what Forgon's memory had shown when she has killed Monsant's.

"Good bye Cory," he whispered gently, then opened the door and slipped out into the hallway before she could unleash another attack, verbal or worse.

He stood in the hall and leaned back against the wall, feeling real physical pain from the terrible turn of events.  There probably had not been any way that his sudden need to depart would have produced a better ending, or any less drama.

He ran down to his own room and hastily packed a few items, then looked at the small dark stone he had taken from the ring in Coriae's room.  There was little he could tell about the object in the darkness.

"Voice, is this stone going to give me the power of white magic?" he asked as he stood in the center of the room.

"I hope that it will allow you to learn some of the secrets of white magic," the voice replied.  "You'll need to learn in a hurry, immediately as a matter of fact," It advised.   "Find a place where you can be safe and alone."

"What does that mean?" Theus asked with concern.

"The memories from this stone will overwhelm you, if it agrees to teach you," the voice told him.

"If the stone accepts me?" Theus asked incredulously.   "I just gave away my entire future - my heart! - for this!  Are you telling me it might reject me?  This would all be for nothing?"

"You are destined for this, and more.  The magical order is ready to rise again.  The ring is not going to reject you; it knows it must play its part," the voice was passionate, but Theus sensed a hint of uncertainty.

Theus decided to set aside the critical question of the stone and white magic.   He felt a compulsion to leave the house at that moment.  He was betraying Coriae and her whole family with his decision to depart on an inexplicable adventure.   It was still unthinkable that he would stay any longer.

He left his room and slipped silently into the hallway,  then proceeded to head towards the steps.  As he passed Coriae's door he heard sobs inside her room, which made tears come to his own eyes before he hastily wiped them and moved on.

Theus gave a silent mental farewell to the whole family of Lord Warrell,  people who had treated him better than he hoped.   He was leaving them and hurting them, and there was no rational explanation for what he was doing, but he knew he had to try.

And hopefully, someday, he would return and explain, and with hindsight, they would understand.

And forgive.

Even Coriae.

Chapter 23

Theus was walking the streets of Great Forks, alone as the sun rose.  He had just exiled himself from the mansion of Lord Warrell.   In reality, he had done more than just that.   He had separated himself from just not his lordship's home, but from his family, including Warrell's daughter Coriae,  who had been on the verge of becoming his betrothed.

Now, he was homeless and at a loss as he contemplated how to comply with the impossible assignment the invisible voice had given him.

He was standing on a residential side street, a small, quiet, tree-lined street as the sun rose, and people left their homes to start the work day.

He recognized the house in front of him, and he realized his feet and mind had conspired to solve his problem of temporary homelessness.

The door to the cottage in front of him swung open.  "Good bye, ma," a girl's voice shouted as the owner of the voice exited.  The girl started down her short walk, then stopped, startled by the sight of someone standing at the edge of the street.

"Theus?" she blurted out the question, then ran to him and embraced him fiercely.

"I heard a rumor that you came back to the city! It's so good to see you!" the words came quickly and breathlessly.

"It's good to see you Glory," he spoke softly, but sincerely.  She was a friend, as simple as that.  He was glad to be with her, to know that the two of them would not ask or expect anything of one another.  Yet he was about to ask for a favor.

"You're okay?" she asked.  "Everything's okay?"

"I need a place to stay," he blurted out.  "Just for a little while."

"You're not staying at the Warrell's mansion?" there was surprise in her voice.

"That's," he paused, "that's over."  There was a lump in his throat as he said it.

"I'm sorry," she spoke in a different tone.  There was a pause.  "Yes, of course you can stay.  Let's go in and I'll tell mother.

"You're not in trouble again, are you?" Glory asked as they broke their clinch.  Her eyes studied his face.

"No," he answered.  "We'll, maybe of a sort. I'm not sure."  It was a difficult question to answer, he concluded.  "But not any trouble with the law," he belatedly understood the simplest meaning of what she had asked.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Glory was leading him by the hand back to the door of her home, looking back over her shoulder at him.

"Pretty good," he replied.  "I feel better knowing that you're still my friend."

"Of course I am!" she smiled at him as she opened the door.

"Ma!  I'm back for a moment.   My friend Theus was out front."

"He's the cute apprentice you used to talk about so much?" the mother's voice drew closer and then the woman appeared in the doorway.  "Oh goodness, he's here! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't have much of a chance to, did I?" Glory blushed.

"Hello Theus.  We've just had breakfast; would you like a bite to eat?" the mother asked.   Her face was much like Glory's, and she was just a hair shorter, he thought.

"I've got to get to the shop, ma," Glory interrupted.  "Theus asked if he could stay with us?"

"Of course, for how long?" the mother asked.

Theus wished he knew.  "Just a day or so?" he tried to ask.  "I can pay," he added as he remembered the purse of coins he carried, the funds Lord Warrell had given him before he'd carried Coriae's ring to Stoke.  He'd not had to spend a coin yet, as Forgon and Coriae had taken such good care of him in the capital city.

"There's no money among friends!" the mother told him.

"Bye ma, bye Theus," Glory had her hand on the door.   "I'll see you tonight?" she asked him.

"I expect so," he answered as he gave a grateful smile.

She was gone, and Theus was alone with her mother.

"We've got a small garret with a cot and a window," his hostess told him.  "I hope that'll be sufficient?

"Glory used to speak about you all the time," she turned and stepped into the back hall, then reached up to open a hatch.  Theus stepped into hallway; he saw a ladder and picked it up, then raised it to the hatch opening.  “My name is Glenda, by the way.

"Go up and look around for yourself.  I have to go pick up some sewing I do at home and I need to help serve a luncheon at a banquet hall - not one so fine as the Warrell mansion, of course," she explained.

"Theus, you're not going to hurt my daughter, are you?" she asked, with a serious expression.   "She is a little rough, but her heart is pure and good, and she deserves a chance at happiness."

What would his own mother have said to protect him, he wondered.  He thought she would have been as protective as Glory's mother.  This woman was worried, and he felt warm respect for her.

"The first few times I met her, I didn't know how to take her.  But she watched out for me, and made me part of the group of apprentices; she’s a very good friend.  I won't hurt her, I promise you," he spoke passionately.

A tear appeared in the corner of her eye.  "Thank you Theus.   I'll be back this afternoon.  You make yourself comfortable," her fingers stroked his arm momentarily, then she was gone.

Theus climbed the ladder up to the garret.   The slanted roof line left no spot tall enough for him to stand upright in, but he didn't need such room, he was sure.  He sat on the straw pallet and laid his pack to the side.   The garret was chilly, but he felt the relatively warmer air from below rising up through the open hatch.

He pushed the hatch back in place to preserve the heat below.

He opened his purse and pulled out the small memory stone that had come from Coriae's ring, the stone that had so completely changed the course of his life.   He raised it to the small window in the garret to examine it in the sunlight for the first time.

It was a translucent blue.  Physically, it had a deep blue smoky appearance,  but his eye scanned it looking at the contents within, the memories that had been stored on the remarkable device.

The stone carried a heavier, deeper load of information than any stone Theus had ever seen.  And there was a remarkable web that tied together the memories in a way that was unlike anything he had ever seen, or even imagined.  The contents had to be extraordinary, he knew.  Even moreso than he had expected from a stone that was supposed to hold the secrets of white magic, this stone both tantalized and frightened him.

Theus closed his eyes, then lay back on the pallet.  His hand moved the extraordinary memory stone towards his forehead, then gently lowered the stone against his skin.

He felt the cool, hard surface and he let his consciousness rise towards the stone, so that he could begin to retrieve the memories of magic that were stored within. He recollected his experience with the stone of healing memories.   He had needed hours and hours of time spent over weeks in order to retrieve the full contents of that ancient repository of secrets; with the dense collection of memories stored on the stone he held, there was no telling how long he might spend collecting the contents.

"Who are you?" a question was posed in his mind.

"Voice, is that you?" Theus asked silently.  Stones held no life,  no sentience. A stone could not ask a question; it could only release the memories it held.

"Let me know you.   Let me feel your blood," the voice he heard was not the voice he knew.  He could feel the difference and the strength of this new voice.

"He is mine, my acolyte," the usual voice spoke up.

"He seems young, shallow, unexperienced.   What are you thinking?" the new voice asked.

"Prick your finger Theus, and let the stone taste your blood, so that it may know your heritage," his original voice directed, and he knew he would obey.

Theus opened his eyes and lifted the stone from his forehead.   He placed it down on the floor, then pulled his knife from his belt to cut a minute slice in the tip of his little finger.  Blood began to well as he exchanged the knife for the stone, and pressed the stone against the bright red blood.

He felt a shock.  His body began to tremble while waves of heat passed through him.

Theus jerked the stone from his finger.

"You see, he is the one," his voice spoke again.

"He has the blood," Theus heard the voice of the stone speak, even though he held the small blue disk away from his forehead.  "But he has little more.

"Find another, and train this one for a few years," It spoke dismissively.

"There are few others," the first voice said without poignancy.  "None can match this.

"You have been gone for a very long time.  My city does not exist.  There have been no people there for centuries.  The high blood is nearly gone," Theus felt the pain in his companion’s admission.

"Take this one and mate it with a girl of noble blood," the stone freely offered advice.  "In a generation they will be ready."

"There is not a generation of time available!" the first voice countered sharply.  "Ind'Petro has risen.   He has a powerful follower.  The conquests are beginning."

The conversation stopped.  Theus sat up in the silence.

"He cannot handle all the knowledge," the stone's voice finally spoke.

"Give him what you think he can accept," the first voice was pleased by the stone’s phrasing, which hinted at some acquiescence.   "Theus, put the stone to your forehead," it directed.

"Wait!" the stone spoke sharply.  "Cut your scalp so that your blood is involved."

Theus knew of many formulas that required the use of a sample of blood to cure a stone and prepare it for its owner, but he'd never learned of one that required blood to be used for the transmission of the memories.

He put the stone down while he lifted his hair with one hand and then raised his knife with the other.  For a moment he hesitated, confused by the conversation of the two voices.  But he had nothing to lose, he told himself, and he sliced the knife across a couple of inches of his hairline.

Theus picked up the stone again.  He felt the blood starting to run down his forehead.  There was no point in stopping the strange ritual he had commenced.  He looked at the blood-smeared stone as he raised it above his face, then his fingers pressed the stone into the bloody hair on his forehead.

And he remembered nothing more.

Chapter 24

"Theus, thank the gods you've woken up!" the voice of Glory brought him to full consciousness.

"Glory, what's happening?" he asked groggily.  His mind was full of cotton, it felt like.  He needed to hear Glory so that he could focus.

"You've been asleep for three days!" the girl's voice sounded stressed.   "We didn't know what to do.  I let you sleep the first day, because I thought maybe you needed it.   I would have sent for the Warrell mansion to care for you the second day, but all the rumors at the market place made that sound like a bad idea.  And you're the best healer I know anyway, but you weren't going to heal yourself. "

"Three days?  Did you say I slept for three days?" he asked.   He looked up and saw the garret ceiling sloped overhead.   His memory came rushing back.  He was in Glory's home.  He had expected to use the memory stone, and he had slept for three days.

He had taken the stone from Coriae.   He had broken up with Coriae.

"Help me up, please," he requested as he struggled to reach a sitting position.

Things were in his mind.  Strange things, new things.  The stone had done something to him.  He didn’t know if it was good or bad.  He couldn't process thoughts very well.

His eyes looked on the floor, and he saw the edge of the memory stone sticking out of a crack in the garret's rough floor.

"Could you get some water please?  I'm very thirsty," he truthfully said.  He wanted her to leave so that he could retrieve the stone and secure it before it got lost.

Glory smiled and climbed down the stairs.  Theus quickly bent and picked the blue disk free, then slid it in his purse, at least temporarily.

When Glory returned, he took a long drink.

"You frightened me," she said.   "What's wrong with you?"

The tone of the question indicated the depth of the question, regarding more than just his health.

He considered how to answer; she deserved an answer for the trouble she'd taken on his behalf, and for her friendship in general.

"I was in the southern lands for a while, and made friends there.  But one of my friends is in trouble, so I need to go back to help her," he explained.

"That sounds noble," Glory didn’t sound convinced.

"My father was home yesterday.   He promised to say prayers for you at the temple today," she changed the subject.

"Maybe that's why I woke up," Theus offered.

He felt the jumble in his mind shifting around, accustoming itself to residence within him.  He needed to rest and examine what had happened.

"I think I need to rest," he blurted out.

"You just woke up! " Glory protested.   She belatedly realized he wanted to be alone.   "I'll be downstairs.   Come get some dinner soon," she offered.   She gave him a sisterly kiss, then departed.

"Voice, what happened?" he immediately asked as he lay back on the pallet.

"You weren't ready for my knowledge," the voice of the stone answered.  "You were overwhelmed."

"Your body is adjusting," his familiar voice spoke too.  "Stay awake and let the knowledge integrate within you."

"A bit of it," the stone added.   "You'll learn a few necessary skills for now, and we'll see if you survive long enough to gain more."

Theus closed his eyes. He didn't want to listen to the criticism; he hadn't done anything to deserve it.  He was giving up his own future because of the demands of the voices.

The memories he had received were asserting themselves as his confusion and emotion cleared.  He began to explore them, then called out to the voices in outrage.

"This is white magic?  The memories tell me I have to use some energy to accomplish things.  Where do I get the energy?  Do I just do the same thing Donal does?   Do I steal life from others and kill them?   I won't do it!" he thundered.

"It's different Theus, considerably different," his voice replied.

"Of course it's different!  If he doesn't recognize that, I'll erase his memories right now!" the stone thundered.

"It's all new to him; give him a chance.

"The difference Theus is that with white magic, you don't take energy from others.   You only rely on your own supply of energy or the energy of the natural world," his voice told him patiently.

"What does that gain?" Theus asked doubtfully.  "White magic can't perform tremendous tasks like black magic?"

"You are generally correct.   White magic is a smaller, more nuanced, more efficient use of energy.  There can be great, large uses, but those are rare.  What capabilities have you bestowed on him?" the voice asked the stone.

"The simple ones, the very, very simple ones," the stone made the answer sound insulting.  "Invisibility, traveling, breezes, ventriloquism, light," the stone answered.

"Those will do," the first voice agreed.

"So Theus, with the power of traveling, you'll be able to carry out an entire day's worth of traveling with just one step," the normal voice explained.  "But you'll be as weary as if you'd been traveling all day.  You will still use the same amount of your own energy – just all at once.

“You will learn how to do it right, and if you are bright, you will learn how to do it well,” the stone voice told him.

The voices stopped talking, and Theus lay in silence thinking of all they had said, while he felt the memories of the spells and powers of white magic continue to integrate themselves into his being.  As the sky outside his small window grew darker, the room grew cooler, and he began to feel the pangs of hunger inside his stomach, the hunger that came from not eating a single meal in three days’ time.

He heard sounds from the downstairs, the sounds of Glory and her mother eating their dinner.

“Stone, are we done with each other?  I mean, do I need to keep the stone with me to recover any more memories?” he asked.

“No, there is no need for you to have the stone.  It will be needed to rebuild the Guild of White Magicians – others will need to use it too,” the voice of the memory stone answered.

Theus climbed down the stairs then entered the kitchen, where the two women were eating; there was no separate dinning room.

“Look who’s come downstairs!  It is as my Glory said!” Glenda stood up with pleasure, happy to see Theus back on his feet.

“If Glory said she knew I’d be hungry, then she knows me well,” Theus answered.

“We’ve got some bread fresh out of the oven today, and some soup.  Won’t you join us?” Glenda asked.  Glory went to fetch a stool from the other room for Theus to sit on.

The three of them sat and chatted amicably, as Theus asked Glory about their many mutual friends in the circle of apprentices who socialized together, while he ate the bread and soup.  He refused to eat any more, even though he felt great hunger, when he saw how little additional food was kept in the kitchen.

“I’d like to stay one more day, maybe two,” he told his hostesses when the conversation lagged and he prepared to go back up to the garret.  “Would that be okay?”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need,” Glory’s mother graciously answered.  “We wouldn’t turn away a friend in need, would we, pet?” she spoke to Glory, who smiled and shook her head.

Glory left the kitchen to turn in for the night, and Theus used the time with her mother for a brief conversation.  “I have money, and I’d like to give you some to help take care of Glory,” he told the woman in a low voice after his friend’s departure.

“You don’t need to give us any money; you haven’t been any burden at all!” she protested.

“I know I don’t need to, but I’d like to.  If you’d like to buy a new dress for Glory sometime, or treat her to something that she deserves for being such a good person, I want you to be able to do that,” Theus argued.  He opened his purse and pulled out several coins.  He was leaving soon, and he now knew that he was not likely to ever come back to Great Forks again; Coriae would not draw him back again.  If he was leaving the city, he wanted to leave something behind that he would feel proud of.  Helping Glory would be such a thing.

“Here, take this, please,” he urged.

“You’re a good boy,” Glenda slowly reached across the small table top and pulled the coins towards her.  “I hope both she and you find the happiness you deserve.”

He went upstairs soon afterwards, and lay in bed, letting his soul and the memories he had gained continue the unsettling process of integrating.  He was beginning to feel the result of the days-long effort; patches of murky memories floated through his consciousness as he lay on his pallet and looked up at the dark ceiling overhead.

He felt the memory of a spell, a spell for traveling.  He recollected the claim of the stone’s voice, that he would be granted the use of that spell, and that he would be able to travel a day’s worth of distance in a single step.

The memory was showing him the experience of performing the spell.  He was reaching within himself; he saw where, suddenly – the place within himself was a place his soul had never known, a cranny his spirit had never rested in, a haven his cowardliness had never looked into for refuge.  But it was there.

The other memories came as well, the abilities the voices had decided he would have.  The spells, the recollected memories were settling into place now, becoming his abilities.

And there were others.  He vaguely sensed the memories of how to perform further spells, but they were hidden behind a veil in his mind, untouchable and unknowable.

In the morning, he would be ready to go.  He thought of one more task he could carry out.  It would solve two problems at once, he smiled, just before he fell asleep.

A few hours later, after the sun came up, he heard a knocking on the hatch, and Glory’s head poked up into the garret.

“Come up; I have a favor to ask,” Theus requested of his friend.

“What is it Theus?” she asked as she grappled up the steep ladder to join him.  She was wearing a nightgown, not yet dressed for the day of work ahead.

“I’m going to leave this morning,” Theus began.

“Oh Theus, are you healthy enough?  You just came back to life yesterday,” Glory sat on the pallet with him, concern in her voice.

“I’m sure.  I’m ready,” he answered easily.  It was true, he could tell.  His mind was no longer subject to the wandering bumps of new memories – powerful ones – settling into his soul.  The process of integration was complete.  “I’ll be fine.”

“But I’d like to make things a little better with Coriae when I’m gone.  I have this stone,” he plucked the small, dark blue disk of the memory stone out of his purse.  “I took this out of a ring, and I’d like Coriae to have it back.  Please tell her to keep it with the ring; it’s important that the two be kept together.”

“Me?   You want me to go to a powerful nobleman’s family and speak to one of them?” Glory asked.

“They won’t hurt you.  Cory has a good heart, a very good heart,” Theus said in sincere defense of his former almost-fiancée.  “She’ll accept it, and know it was from me, and maybe she’ll hate me a little less,” his voice turned wistful.

“Here, take this as payment for doing this for me,” after a moment’s reflective pause, he spoke again, abruptly, as he reached into his purse and pulled out several coins to give her.

“Theus!  This is more money than I make in a year!  I can’t take this; I don’t need anything.  I’ll deliver the memory stone as a favor to you,” the girl insisted.

“No, you’re doing me a huge favor; you’re earning this money.  And what’s more, I want you to make sure your mother is well taken care of.  Buy her a nice cake from time to time if you want, or have an extra cord of firewood delivered to keep her warm.  She’s a wonderful woman, and she’s raised you to be a good person,” he insisted.  He was proud to have thought of the additional chance to try to add some prosperity to the downtrodden household.

Glory’s eyes welled up with tear.  “You’re such a wonderful boy!” she suddenly leaned into him and hugged him, then kissed him passionately, while he felt the softness of her body through the flannel cloth of her nightgown.  He returned the kiss for a long second, aware of everything about Glory that was desirable.

Then he stopped and turned his head away.  It wasn’t right to do any more to or with Glory.  Not when he was about to leave the city forever.

“Take care of her, and take care of yourself.  I’m going to miss you,” he spoke gently, as he held her to him tightly.

“Will we ever see you again?” Glory broke the hug, then rose from the pallet, aware that the moment had come and gone.

Theus gave his head a slight, and uncertain, shake.  “I’m not sure, but probably not,” he answered.

“I better go get ready for work,” Glory started to descend down the ladder.  “But I am sure going to miss you.  I hope that whatever you need to be happy comes your way soon,” she added.  Her climb downward stopped, just as her head was about to disappear.  “I don’t know what or how, but I have a feeling you’re going to do something great, something really extraordinary!”

They smiled at one another, and then she was gone downstairs.  And a couple of hours later, after Glory left the house to go to work, Glenda left the house too.  Theus climbed down the ladder and replaced the overhead hatch to the garret.  He looked around at his brief home.  “Good bye,” he whispered.  He stepped out of the door, pulled it closed behind himself, and started the journey south once again, to try to save a captive princess.