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“Are you out of your mind?” Arwen was in full rant. Quinn was almost too tired to care.
The donkey cart got them home that afternoon, and they’d tucked her into a healing room to give Daren an opportunity to frown at her foot. A Healer she scarcely knew, a woman in her forties named Meade, danced attendance. Quinn just wanted to be left alone. To sleep until the foot healed and she was free to return to her usual duties.
When she didn’t reply, Arwen continued her assault. “To take off into an unfamiliar land where your sash might not be respected, on your own. The miracle is, the mess you made of your foot didn’t give you blood poisoning.”
Meade slipped from the room.
“Go away, Arwen.”
The uncharacteristic rudeness made the older woman draw back. In a milder tone, she said, “When I told you to go home, I didn’t mean for you to take up residence. We needed you here. We’ve got Terrans in the southwest plains, the threat from Borgonne... hell, one of our apprentices is pregnant. I didn’t need the extra worry.”
“I’m here now.”
Arwen sighed, letting Quinn hear her exasperation. “Daren’s not optimistic about the foot. How do you expect to get around? Hmm?”
“By horse.” With that provocative phrase, Quinn rolled over and turned her back on her mentor, friend, and boss.
“My office. As soon as Daren clears you to walk.”
Quinn didn’t answer.
She heard quiet voices near the doorway. After a while they all went away.
~~
THE NEXT MORNING, IGNORING Daren’s dictates, she claimed her hated crutches and hobbled to Kiril’s healing room. He lay under a wool coverlet, awake but unresponsive. He’d been bathed; she wondered if they had been able to feed him. The most he’d managed on the trail was an occasional sip of broth.
“You’re exasperating.” Daren came up behind her, gave her a quick hug, then took her elbow and steered her out of the room.
In a consultation room across the hall, they sat and Daren said bluntly, “Your foot’s bad, Quinn. And you’re not helping things by walking on it.”
“How bad?”
“Breaking the bones and resetting might work. Or could make it worse. There’s tendon and nerve damage besides the bones.”
“There must be some kind of manipulation—”
Daren laughed without humor. “You of all people should know we’re not miracle workers. Even when it first happened, it would have been difficult to restore you to full functionality. Now, after all this time...” He shook his head. “Noni and I did an assessment, and Meade’s promised to check this morning. But the prognosis isn’t positive. After a mangling like that, it’s pure good fortune you haven’t lost it.”
“Would I be better off? Perhaps get an artificial foot?” Brave words; she was scaring herself.
“Time will tell, but I doubt it. Best I hope for is that you won’t need those.” He gestured at the crutches, propped on the table beside her. “But give us a chance, Quinn. Wandering around makes it worse. If you really have to go somewhere, I’ll arrange transport for you. We have wheeled chairs, or we can ask one of the agriculturists to carry you.”
She finally smiled, at the image. “I’m not a small woman, Daren.”
“They’re not weak men. Do you want time with Kiril, or were you just checking on him?”
“Can we get Dorcas? I need to assess the binding. Given the circumstances, I don’t have much confidence in it. She knows what I’m looking for.”
“Gauvain as well?”
“Where is he?”
“Guest lodge, last I heard. I daresay he’s met with Arwen already.”
Quinn sighed and leaned forward on the table, propping her chin on a hand. “They’re here about food. They wouldn’t tell me what they planned. I was along to provide a safety shield to get through the hills. But I think the idea was to somehow claim the Midland. Take us over. Kiril took care of that. Ask Gauvain, he’ll know.”
“And I think this is going to be a very interesting debrief.” Daren gave her a smile, quickly extinguished. “But I’ll tell Arwen she’s to conduct it in your healing room. You’re not traipsing all over the Motherhouse, understand?”
“Let me look in on Kiril, then I’ll be a good girl and go back to my bed.”
“The rooms are all bound with Healing templates. This really is the best place for you.”
“I know, Daren. Sorry to cause hassle.”
This time his smile was genuine. “Take my arm, infuriating woman.”
Together they made their way across the hall.
Kiril hadn’t moved. Daren shifted a stool to his bedside. She sat and took Kiril’s hand. Daren backed away, but waited outside the room.
“You saved the Midland,” she told Kiril’s inert form conversationally. “Somehow, you knew we were under threat. That thing... I suppose you couldn’t control it, or not completely. But you sent them packing. They won’t try to invade us again.”
No reaction.
“When Dorcas gets here, we’ll see what we need to do to keep you safe from it.”
Kiril’s head shifted slightly, as if he wanted to turn toward her but hadn’t the energy. He murmured; Quinn strained to hear.
I killed them.
Was that what he said? Was his current, near catatonic state the result of guilt, not a bodily reaction to the beastly energy inside him?
Quinn squeezed his hand. “You saved us. I’ll be back. Rest, let the templates heal you.”
Daren helped her to her feet, and she hobbled away to deal with her own healing.
~~
QUINN KNEW BEFORE SHE reached the conference room after breakfast, two days later, that this meeting wasn’t likely to unfold positively. There was something in the air... an emptiness, as if everyone at the Motherhouse was avoiding her. A ridiculous notion; the conversation at breakfast with Dorcas and Dal, back from Stanstead for a few days, had been perfectly normal. But her senses spoke of currents beneath the surface of their chat over hot cereal.
“I’m not late, am I?” It was unusual for her to be the last to arrive. Daren met her eyes with a look of – pity? The others concentrated on their tisanes.
“Right on time, as usual,” Arwen said.
“I see.” She propped the crutches – more comfortable ones Noni had given her to replace the crude sticks that had carried her across the hills – and took an empty chair beside Fergus.
The full council had assembled, Arwen, Fergus, Cynth, Daren, and now herself. Why did she feel like an outsider? Had they met before her arrival?
Was this meeting about her?
Somewhat to her surprise, Dal slipped in as she sat; he circled the table to the chair next to Daren.
Two Healers with Kiril as a patient, and no ability to Heal him.
“Tell us what happened, Quinn,” Arwen said. “Take as much time as you need.”
She hadn’t yet mentioned the possibility of a southern trade route. She wasn’t sure why, but conceded that the whole business of Kiril and the attack by the monster took priority at the moment. Quinn looked at Arwen, puzzled. “I’ve already told you. And I conclude that you’ve told the others. What’s the point in rehashing it?”
She reached to the middle of the table and poured herself a mug of tisane – mint, not her favorite – before she gave them the bare facts.
As she finished, Cynth nodded, her lips tight. Fergus looked troubled, Daren... sad?
“Each time I hear the story, I hope I’ll learn something different. Some ameliorating fact that will change the conclusion.” Arwen said.
Cold dread worked its way up Quinn’s spine. Surely, surely they wouldn’t...
“Four people killed, and under our auspices. We cannot risk his presence any longer. We’ve given him every chance, Healing, binding with our weaves. Nothing has sufficed.”
“You wouldn’t...”
Arwen’s voice was quiet and unbearably kind. “It will be merciful. He’s barely aware of his environment now, and Daren says he’s dealing with self-loathing. Let him go, Quinn. It’s best.”
Cynth spoke. “He presents too much of a threat. We can’t allow him to wander the Midland, never knowing when he might...” She broke off with a shudder.
“But he won’t,” Quinn blurted. “It only happened because of the hills. From where we found the tunic... the hills changed him. Once he’s on his feet again, you can help with his mind, help him come to terms....” Her eyes went to Dal and Daren, the Healers.
Dal’s position was plain on his face; the decision wasn’t his; he supported it but hated it. Daren shook his head. “We can’t save him, Quinn. Not with that thing inside him.”
Quinn felt the panic of disbelief, but faced Arwen, the only other Scribe present. “We have to try harder. It’s bound now, so we can go in and...” Her mind grasped for reasons, for next steps. “And learn, find a better way to bind it. We don’t know this beast. We need to study it. In case it happens again.”
Arwen shook her head. “Exactly because the demon’s freshly bound, it can’t escape. This is the best time to destroy its host.”
Destroy. Quinn looked around the table. The decision had been made before she arrived; her speech only confirmed their convictions.
For a moment, she wondered why she was fighting for an obnoxious man who played no discernable role in their culture, when even she had to admit the threat he represented.
She stood. “You cannot do this.”
“Sit down, Quinn.” Arwen’s voice carried its usual command, but with an underlay of weariness. “We don’t want this any more than you do. But four people are dead, including one whose loss will have political ramifications in Borgonne, and it’s obvious we can’t control whatever it is that lives inside Kiril. For the good of the Midland, we have no choice.”
Quinn scanned the table, meeting their eyes, one by one. Then she seized the crutches, turned, and did her best to stalk from the room.
At the building’s heavy door, she collided with Bryar.
He put out his big hands to steady her. “Whoa, girl. What’s happened?”
“Where did you come from?” she blurted. “Is Tai with you?”
“Over at the guest lodge, getting our stuff settled. We wanted to call in here before we strike out.”
The day had dawned sunny, but low nimbus cloud was rolling in, keeping the temperature pleasant and promising rain. Of one mind, they turned toward the green. Bryar eyed the crutches and her bandaged foot, but said nothing. The news of her injury and the slaughter would have been communicated to Ezra’s compound by now, so she didn’t waste breath explaining. At their favorite spot, halfway up the slope in a space where the land leveled out, they settled onto the grass.
“I can’t make up my mind if you’re raging or about to cry or what,” Bryar said. “Your energy’s scrambled. Calm down and tell me what’s going on. How’s the foot?”
“Improving. They say it’ll never be right.” She played in the grass, tearing off blades and lining them up on her thigh. A senseless activity, but buying her time to sort out what had just happened. She looked square at Bryar. “Everyone’s spooked by Kiril’s beast. The deaths – there are safety and political ramifications. They’re going to execute him.”
“Like hell.” Bryar half rose, sank down again. Horror filled his eyes, replaced quickly by fury. “Give me the details, Quinn. They can’t... no one’s been put to death in my lifetime. They can’t do this.”
Quinn wasn’t surprised by Bryar’s adamant assertion. Kiril had saved his life. One way or another, it was their turn to save Kiril.
“He’s unresponsive in the healing rooms now, so he’d probably never know. That’s what they said. And to be honest, I’m not sure he wants to live.”
Bryar’s face was pale, and his agitation came through in his voice. “Would you, if you’d killed four people that way? He needs time and Healing. I won’t let this happen.”
“But how? By the time they told me, the rest of council had made up their minds.”
Bryar was silent. Below them, Tai crossed the green from the guest lodge, spotted them and waved, then disappeared into the dining hall.
A small smile appeared on Bryar’s face. “She’ll be up here with some kind of treat soon.”
“You chose well. She’s perfect for you.”
“Who would have thought, huh?” The smile grew larger. Then vanished. “I have to see Kiril,” he said.
“He won’t recognize you.”
“For any medical reason?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. He just lies there, staring into space. He’s so thin now. Not eating.”
“Someone needs to kick his ass. Would you be able to react normally if you’d done what he did? If you were facing life with this beast thing inside?”
“Good point.”
Gauvain came out of the guest lodge and headed toward them.
“More trouble?” Bryar asked.
“I hope not. Dragging me across the hills was insanity, but he did help me get back.” She glanced at her foot.
“A story I want to hear.”
Gauvain stood over them, slightly downslope, which lessened his ability to intimidate. “I wouldn’t mind getting the full details myself. Such as what you were doing in Borgonne in the first place.” He turned his focus on Bryar. “I believe you to be the man who stole the power cell from me. I conclude my restoration of you in the hills proved... beneficial?”
Subtle, Quinn though, suggesting that Bryar had been ungrateful to take the power cell. Based on her observation, she wondered if his political instincts didn’t outweigh even his Auric abilities.
Bryar stood. Although not a tall man, with the advantage of the slope he and Gauvain were eye to eye. “I am in your debt. The cell has been secured.”
“Which Ezra orchestrated, no doubt. Seems we both paid a price.” Gauvain fingered the scar that cut his face, brow to jaw, as he stared pointedly at Bryar’s left hand, the missing fingers.
Tai emerged from the dining hall. Quinn watched her coming up the slope, her hands full of pastries, then said, “If you’ll excuse us?”
Both men reached out a hand. She took Bryar’s and nodded a thanks to Gauvain. “I’m not so great on hills.”
“You’re not going to fall.” Bryar held her arm, the crutches in his other hand, as they made their way down the slope, sweeping up Tai on the way. At the door to the guest lodge, Quinn turned to Gauvain. “This doesn’t concern you, but thanks for the help.”
He brushed off her dismissal. “You are discussing Kiril, so it concerns me. I am intrigued, and would value an opportunity to study him further.”
After a pause, Quinn said, “You may not get that opportunity. But this is a reunion, not a strategy session.”
“Very well. As it happens, I have business to discuss with Arwen.”
“She’s either in the conference room or her workroom.”
With a nod of the head that managed to imply that he had dismissed them, rather than the other way around, Gauvain turned and strode toward the Centra.
Tai and Bryar had a suite on the ground floor. Quinn accepted a hug from Tai, then sank into a chair. “Five minutes on my feet and I’m exhausted. On my foot, I should say.”
For half an hour they shared news and consumed Tai’s stockpile of pastries. Quinn still chose not to mention the possible trade route; the question of Kiril’s fate loomed too large.
“I don’t know what to do,” she concluded. “Kiril doesn’t deserve to die, even apart from the mystery of the energy inhabiting him.”
Bryar placed a calming hand on her arm, as always reading her accurately. “It’s reasonable to conclude that the hills caused the emergence of that – thing – and triggered the attack. Was he defending the Midland? Or with so many people attempting to cross, perhaps he was defending the hills.”
Quinn nodded. “That’s my opinion. Based on where we found his tunic, he didn’t transform until he was in the hills.”
Tai had been silent through Quinn’s narrative. Now she spoke up. “Then it’s simple. The problem’s the hills, not Kiril.”
“Yes,” Quinn said. “It’s as if the hills own you when you’re in them. There’s been speculation around the Motherhouse almost from the beginning, because they exert a draw on him, one he can fight off only so long.”
“Until it takes him over,” Bryar said.
“So logically, the farther from the hills he is, the healthier he should be,” Quinn concluded. “Assuming, of course, that the energy can be kept bound. And I’m not at all sure about that.”
“Do you see another option?” Bryar’s voice was hard.
Quinn swallowed and shook her head.
Bryar’s and Tai’s eyes met and locked. Quinn watched an unspoken message pass between them.
“I guess we’ll forego our little vacation here,” Tai said with a hint of humor.
“But first,” Bryar said, “we need to rouse Kiril. Get him mobile enough that we can take him to Stanstead.”
“You’d do this?” Quinn, who lately found herself uncharacteristically emotional, felt her eyes filling.
“I owe him. And he’s my friend, sort of.” Bryar stood, as if the issue was settled. “I’m going to the healing rooms.”
“And I guess I’m repacking.” Tai grinned.
“Good luck. I can’t see council wasting time. We need to get him out of here.” Quinn’s heart thumped in her chest. She was about to defy council, possibly put the Midland at risk, and involve her closest friends in a scheme that might well not work, because how were they to move Kiril in his near-catatonic state?
“I’ll do my best. I won’t return here,” he said to Tai. “Once we’re clear of the healing rooms, we’ll take the back trail around the complex. One of you raid the kitchen for provisions and meet me along the Stanstead trail.”
“Should we try for a donkey cart?” Quinn asked.
“Check in the village.”
“I can’t.” She gestured at the foot.
“I’ll go,” Tai said. “It’ll only take a minute to pack. You deal with the kitchen.”
~~
BRYAR ENTERED THE HEALING room quietly, avoiding the workroom where a young Healer he knew only by sight puttered, humming to herself. Kiril lay as Quinn had described, his eyes open, staring at nothing Bryar could see. He looked dreadful, far too thin under the light cover, motionless.
Bryar stepped up to the bed and dealt a sharp slap to his face.
Kiril jerked upright before collapsing against his pillow. “What...?” he whispered.
“We don’t have time for you to wallow in your issues. Get up. We’re leaving.” Bryar rummaged in the supply closet, emerging with a tunic and sandals. He glanced at Kiril. “Now.”
“I can’t,” Kiril mumbled.
In two strides Bryar was back at the bedside. He jerked Kiril upright and tossed the tunic over his head. “Help me, damn you. Your life’s at stake. You wanted to learn more about our land? Well, now’s your chance.” He dragged Kiril’s legs off the bed, then knelt to fasten on the sandals. “You feeling that beast energy?”
Kiril looked bewildered. His voice was barely there. “No. Except it never...”
Bryar hauled the other man to his feet, supporting him as he swayed. “Get this clear. We’re out of here. First we have to circle around behind the storage sheds without being seen. You’ll have to walk – and you’re going to, whether you like it or not. Let’s move.”
With Kiril staggering beside him, Bryar checked the corridor, then moved them slowly toward a back entrance. So far, so good. Kiril was compliant, if not physically capable of much. Slowly, too slowly for Bryar’s peace of mind, they made their way to the perimeter trail.
~~
QUINN ENCOUNTERED GAUVAIN on her way to the kitchen’s back door. It was almost as if he had sought her out. A sort of understanding had evolved between them after the attack, based on a recognition of matched abilities and a need to work together if they were to make it safely to the Midland, so his appearance on the back trail wasn’t a total surprise or entirely unwelcome.
“What are you doing with him?” he demanded as he drew her to a halt near the back wall of the kitchens.
“With...?
He’d mastered looks of irritated exasperation. “Let’s not play games, Quinn. You and your friends were discussing Kiril. From your expressions, I’m capable of making assumptions.”
After a moment’s hesitation she said, “Drop your shields.”
They all maintained relaxed shields to a greater or lesser degree, as a matter of self preservation. Otherwise the energies around the Motherhouse would form a constant bombardment, eventually making you lose touch with who you were as a being separate from the others. They taught shielding early, to the second-year apprentices, because it was, in a real sense, a survival skill. Quinn reluctantly relaxed her hold on her own shield and felt for his energy.
He didn’t like it, but he complied, if only for a few seconds. Long enough, however, for her to read his intent.
“They’re taking him to Stanstead. From there they can go in a number of directions, but ultimately west, as far from the hills as possible. Assuming they avoid detection.”
“And the urgency? He’s not a well man.”
“If he stays here, he’ll be a dead man.”
Gauvain grimaced. “A foolish decision, but I suppose it was to be expected. I fear this removes any hope of my studying this demon of his. I have no wish to explore any more of the Midland.”
“Nor should Kiril be considered a specimen.” Although Quinn had hoped for exactly the same thing, she resented Gauvain’s assumption that he was no more than a curiosity.
“I will help. Leave council to me.”
Quinn shifted, resting against the wall to ease her weight-bearing leg. “Why would you do this?”
He smiled and flicked a speck of dirt from his black shirt. “Specimen, remember? And I owe you for stopping the assault. You and I would have been next. Everyone dies, but I have no wish to perish in the hills.”
The chances of making Gauvain squirm under scrutiny were nil, but she stared at him anyway, looking for... what? A sign of humanity? But this was Gauvain. She’d crossed from Borgonne with him; by now she should know better. She heaved herself from the wall and settled the hated crutches under her arms. “Thanks,” she said, and swung herself toward the kitchen door.