HEALING

“This process is going to take a while,” Ben said.

“Define ‘a while,’ ” Karigan said. She lay on her stomach on an exam table with her back exposed.

“A few days, with periodic checkups thereafter.”

“A few days?”

“Calmly, Rider,” Master Vanlynn said. “A few days is not long for the damage we see. You are lucky it is not worse, and this after you did not heed Mender Bertine’s advice. Ben will work on it for only short periods of time, which is better for the both of you. The process, we have learned, can exhaust both mender and patient, and we cannot afford to have Ben totally incapacitated for any length of time. You will be able to leave the mending wing between treatments so long as you obey our orders.”

“What orders?”

“To rest. You are forbidden to ride or lift things, or exert yourself in any manner that will stress your back.”

In other words, she would be next to useless until this was all done, even as Second Empire tried to overcome the city’s walls.

“Do you understand, Rider?” Master Vanlynn asked.

“Yes.” Only a few days, she thought, only a few days, and in between sessions she’d get to see Condor, Ghost Kitty, and her Rider friends.

“Your arm wound is healing just fine without magical intervention,” Master Vanlynn said, “and so we will not interfere with it except to provide salve and fresh bandages. But it is looking very good.”

Karigan thought it looked rather ugly, herself. The scabbed, puckered flesh. Erin had removed Aldena’s sutures a couple days earlier.

“A warning,” Master Vanlynn continued. “I mentioned that the process of healing can be exhausting. I am not exaggerating. You may find the treatments make you very sleepy afterward, so I would not plan to accomplish much until all is done. It is asking much of one’s body to heal so quickly.”

Which brought Karigan back to the thought of how useless she’d be. She listened to the slow footsteps and tap-tap of the master mender’s cane as she departed, and finally the opening and closing of the chamber’s door.

“Go ahead,” Karigan told Ben, “make me a new back.”

“Karigan . . .” he said.

“What?” She didn’t like the tone of warning she heard in his voice.

“I can’t make it like new.”

“But—What about Sperren’s hip?” The former castellan had fallen and broken his hip, but Ben, new to his special ability, had made him a new one.

“I worked on it right after he injured himself,” Ben replied. “It was fresh. These days Vanlynn wouldn’t allow me to be so, um, thorough. And in truth, it was not a new hip, just a lot of repairwork. In any case, I can’t undo what has already healed and scarred, just the more recent damage, and maybe some of the older that hasn’t quite mended all the way.”

Her hopes had risen when she learned that Ben would be allowed to use his true healing ability on her. She could be her old self, she thought, maybe even better, the violence committed on her would be wiped away. Now she must lower her expectations. She’d retain the skin of a monster. But, if he could at least eliminate the pain . . .

“You will have to continue rebuilding your back muscles,” Ben continued. “I can’t create new muscle for you, but you can strengthen what you have. On the positive side, someone, or it sounds like a few someones, have done excellent mending work on you, which makes it easier for both of us. Are you ready?”

When she gave him her consent, she was aware of him placing his hands above her back. A warming sensation that alternated with cooling flowed across her skin and deep into the tissue. It was quite pleasant.

“It may begin to feel a bit odd,” he murmured after some time had passed.

It was an understatement. It felt like worms wriggled through her muscles. She wanted to shift and stretch.

“Hold still,” Ben warned.

The wormy feeling continued and she fought not to squirm. Even worse, it was followed by a tingling and itchy sensation as he continued to work. What she did not feel was pain, but she assumed he was numbing it. Soon he stepped back from the table.

“That will do for today, except for some liniment.”

He warmed it before applying it to her back. When she turned her head to look at him, she saw that his features were drawn, his complexion wan.

“What was done to you was inhuman,” he said, shaking his head. “There are scars on the surface, but I can see how deep they go and the damage that was done. You had good care at the outset, and that saved your life and prevented a crippling deformity.”

Enver, she thought. The melancholy she felt whenever she thought of him and their parting came back to her. Enver had saved her. Would she see him again?

“I want you to rest for a while before you go anywhere,” Ben said.

“But—”

“Mender’s orders.” He smiled and poured her a cup of water from a pitcher. “Drink this. Your body needs fluids after such a healing.” He left the cup for her on a table. “You’ll feel achy and sore, probably, but the liniment I put on should help. Remember what Master Vanlynn said about no lifting, riding, or exertion.”

“I remember.”

He gave her a doubtful look, then smiled. “It’s good to have you back, Karigan.” Then he departed.

Left on her own, she moved hesitantly, not wanting to ruin his work. She pulled on her shirt and obediently sipped the cup of water. Then she paced about, experimentally stretching and bending. There was still pain, but the intensity was gone.

A tap came on the door, and Mara poked her head in. “Hello.”

“Mara!” The two hugged—Mara doing so gently—and started talking at once, then laughed.

“Welcome back,” Mara said. “It feels like ages since I last saw you.”

“It has been.”

“Ben says you’re free to go if you feel up to it, but to rest. Join me for supper?”

Karigan followed her friend to the mostly empty dining hall. Servings were smaller than she remembered, though there was a quantity of fresh greens available thanks, she was told, to Estora’s foresight in planting more gardens. Their stew was thin on meat but full of root vegetables.

As they ate, Mara caught her up on all that had been happening at the castle. She was pleased to hear that Anna was doing very well as a Green Rider and getting on with a one-eyed mare with the unlikely name of Angry-Mad, or Maddie. There was no word on the colonel, but then Mara told her who had been sent to Varos to reclaim her.

“My father?” Karigan’s exclamation was loud enough that the few in the dining hall looked her way.

“I don’t know all the details,” Mara replied, “but he has gone in his capacity as a merchant to bargain for her release. He took Melry with him.”

Melry, Karigan thought, certainly had a vested interest, and so did her father. It was canny of Zachary to send him—he had traded in Varos before, was persuasive, and if the effort failed, he possessed other skills. As for his vested interest? He loved Laren Mapstone and he wouldn’t leave Varos without her. She was sure Zachary had known all this. However, it left her in the unusual position of being the one doing the worrying instead of her father.

Mara leaned in. “I heard Connly demoted you.”

Karigan yawned, feeling suddenly very tired. It wasn’t just the exertion of the day, she was sure, but the healing session catching up with her. “It’s for the best.”

“Best for who?” Mara demanded. “Tegan is fine Chief Rider material, but you are better. Frankly, I could strangle Connly—the colonel and I chose you. When the colonel gets back, she’ll set it right.”

Karigan was not sure she wanted it set right. Being Chief was a lot of responsibility. She yawned again.

“Looks like it’s time for you to be abed,” Mara said. “Ben told me the healing session would make you sleepy. Here, I’ll walk you to your room, and then I have to return to the throne room. They’ll make poor Trace use her ability until she collapses unless I intervene. They barely allowed her a supper break.”

As they walked through corridors toward the Rider wing, Karigan could not stop yawning, and she staggered like a drunkard.

“One thing I have to know,” Mara said as they went along, “is what the queen meant when she referred to your new station and called you ‘my lady.’ ”

That was certainly something Karigan did not feel up to broaching that moment when she was nearly falling asleep on her feet.

“It’s a long story,” she said through another yawn. “Can’t it wait until morning?”

“It will kill me by then.”

Karigan paused unsteadily. “All right. I am now an heir to the House of Santanara.” She thrust the ring under Mara’s nose.

“What?”

Karigan chuckled. Gods, she felt drunk. “The Eletians made me one of them.”

“How on Earth is that possible? Why? When did you see them?”

“Like I said, long story.” And she toddled down the Rider wing.

“I guess I will have to wait,” Mara said. “I’m not sure you’re making much sense just now, anyhow.”

Karigan was never so happy to reach her bed chamber. A lamp had been left at low glow for her. Her gear had been deposited by her bed.

“We aired it out and put fresh linens on the bed,” Mara said. “And when I say we, I mean Anna and Merla.”

“It’s so wonderful.” Tears unexpectedly streamed down Karigan’s cheeks. To be home and among her friends again. “Kitty!”

Ghost Kitty was curled on her pillow, but considering the feline look of disdain he cast her, her presence clearly disturbed him. When she sat on the bed, he leaped off and ran out the door.

“He’s so happy to see me,” she murmured.

Mara helped pull off her boots. “Do you need help with anything else?”

Karigan lay on her stomach, her limbs sprawled out. “Nope.” Her eyes were already closed.

“All right. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Karigan was barely aware of Mara shutting the door, and started to sink into blissful—

Shaking. Someone was shaking her.

“Mmmff?”

“C’mon, Karigan, wake up!”

“Wha—?” She woke just enough to see Fergal hovering over her. “Fergal?”

“You awake?”

“I am now,” she said, unable to withhold the crankiness from her voice. She glanced at the lamp that was still aglow and noticed it was the same as when Mara had left her. “What time is it?”

“Just after seven hour.”

“In the morning?”

“No. Mara just left.”

Karigan pushed herself into a sitting position. “The better question is why you woke me up.”

“We have to talk.”

“Can it wait till morning?”

“No. I’ve been holding this secret too long. I was going to tell you back at the encampment, but then you disappeared, and I was sent back here with Melry before you showed up again.”

“A secret?” She tried to focus her attention on him, but sleep was clawing at her, pulling her back into oblivion. She shook her head. “What secret?”

“It’s about King Zachary, and you’re the only one I dare to tell.”

He had her attention now. “What are you talking about?”

He glanced around as if there might be spies hiding in the shadowy recesses of her room. In a low voice, he said, “The king is bespelled.”