Exodus of the Xandim (GOLLANCZ S.F.) (24 page)

‘Somebody will be looking for her, you can be sure,’ Osella said. ‘But if someone’s asking around for her, how will we know if they’re the ones who want to save
her, or the ones who want to kill her?’

~

T
he Healers’ compound stood a little way apart from the main complex of Academy buildings. That way, any contagion could be isolated, and
those who were injured or sick in body or spirit could have the peace and quiet they needed to recover, away from the bustle and noise of the city. It was a pleasant place, a complex of four
smaller buildings rather than a single large one, all surrounded by white walls enclosing sunny, sheltered gardens rich with herbs, beautiful trees and colourful flowers – none of which
Chiannala noticed as she walked through the high arched gateway with her shoulders hunched and a scowl on her face.

This was the first morning of her placement in the Luen of Healers. Though she had tried to fight the decision with everything at her disposal: reasoning, argument, begging and even tears, her
tutors had remained obdurate, and the atmosphere among the Luens at this time was so strained with the imminence of war that no one had much time to listen to the carping of a first-year student
who thought she knew better than the most skilled and powerful Wizards in the city.

Chiannala was furious at having her ambitions thwarted in this way. In her daydreams and secret plans she had always been a Spellweaver, a powerful and innovative manipulator of magic. She
simply could not fathom why those idiots had imagined she’d be any use at healing, which demanded both patience and compassion, neither of which, she was honest enough to admit, were among
her strong points. Had she realised that this was exactly why she had been sent to the Healers in her first year – to correct this lack and make a more balanced and rounded Wizard of her
– she still would have been angry and uncomprehending. She didn’t care about being rounded or balanced; she wanted to be respected, deferred to and, above all else, powerful. To
perdition with everything else.

What made it worse was that the only other first-year who’d been chosen for Healing was the stocky, moon-faced Haslen. Haslen the Hopeless, Chiannala called him in the privacy of her own
mind. It was the final straw, being stuck with this buffoon. Not only would he be expecting her to carry him, because of his weak magic, but he had a crush on her besides. As if he had a chance!
She shuddered.

Looking like Brynne might put me under a disadvantage, but I’ll never be that desperate.

When she came to the door of what looked like the main building she almost kicked it open, but instead pushed it violently and marched inside, with Haslen hurrying to keep up with her. She found
herself in a vestibule with tall, pointed, stained-glass windows that caught the sun and cast patterns of dappled colour across the polished wooden floor. On the walls to her right and to her left,
two corridors led off in opposite directions. The rear wall had a broad staircase that started in the middle of the chamber and swept up grandly to the floor above. On its left was an informal
seating area with groupings of little tables and padded chairs; clearly a waiting area. On the right of the stairs was a desk of dark, polished wood with a young man seated behind it, his hair a
tumbled mass of vibrant red curls tied back into long tail. He was writing when they entered, working with intense concentration, but as Chiannala and Haslen approached he looked up. There was a
frown on his face, and when he spoke his manner was anything but welcoming.

‘Oh. You’d be the new student intake, right?’

‘That’s us,’ Haslen said cheerfully. ‘I’m Haslen and this is Brynne.’

Chiannala scowled, saying nothing, but the young man simply shrugged and turned slightly away from her, addressing his remarks chiefly to her more congenial companion. ‘Just a moment
– I’ll call for someone to come and meet you. You’ll start with a quick tour of the place, to get your bearings and see what a variety of work we do here.’ After a brief
pause when he was clearly communicating with someone in mindspeech, he was back with them.

‘My name is Lameron. I’m a final-year student specialising in Healing magic. We – my contemporaries and I, that is – take turns to look after the entrance hall here,
keeping records, directing people to the proper areas and so on. This frees the experienced Healers to get on with more important work.’ He grimaced. ‘Everybody hates this job.
We’d all rather be getting on with practical healing, the stuff we came here to do, so we keep a very strict rota. We—’

At that moment a tall, slender blonde woman with stunning silver-grey eyes came through the right-hand doorway. ‘Ah, our newest students. Welcome indeed to our haven of healing,’ she
said. Though her smile was bright and friendly, it was clear that she was worried and exhausted. Her eyes were hollowed and darkly shadowed in a pale, drawn face, and her shoulders had a weary
droop.

‘Melisanda, are you still here?’ Lameron interrupted, frowning with concern. ‘I thought you were supposed to go and rest hours ago.’

Chiannala stiffened. Melisanda? She had heard that name. This was one of that foul Iriana’s closest friends! For an instant she felt vulnerable, in danger, as if the Healer’s close
association with Iriana could somehow expose her own charade. A shiver went through her – then with an effort she pulled herself together. What nonsense! Melisanda would be as oblivious as
anyone else to Brynne’s change of identity. How could it be otherwise? Unless she herself were to panic and start acting like an idiot, she’d be fine. Firmly, she turned her attention
back to the conversation.

‘Rest? I seem to remember that, from the dim and distant past,’ Melisanda said. ‘I simply can’t be spared just now.’ There was a pause while they held each
other’s eyes. Clearly they were communicating in very private mindspeech, and Chiannala thought it abominably rude of them. She watched with interest as Melisanda’s worried expression
became mirrored on Lameron’s face, then the woman turned to herself and Haslen. ‘I’m Melisanda, Tinagen’s second-in-command. I’m afraid he’s too busy to speak to
you himself, but he sent me to show you around instead.’

She’s a rotten liar.

Chiannala, so accomplished in the arts of deception, shook her head. Melisanda should stick to the truth, or learn to meet people’s eyes frankly when she told them an untruth. Some people
just didn’t have a clue. Idly, she wondered where Tinagen really was. He was probably just too grand and important to be bothered with a couple of lowly first-year students.

Melisanda had gone back to conversing with Lameron. ‘That new patient – what a mess! It’s taking all we’ve got to keep him alive, let alone mend all the
damage.’

‘It’s just not right,’ Lameron protested. ‘All for some stupid foreign stranger. According to Yinze he’s a real bad—’

Melisanda cut him off with a sharp look and an upraised hand. Clearly, this was not something to be discussed in front of new students. ‘Our job is to heal,’ she rebuked him,
‘not to make arbitrary distinctions between the people we should be helping. He was sent to us because we’re the best; the only ones who have a chance of saving him. And if in the end
we can’t – well, it won’t be for the lack of trying.’

Having quelled Lameron, she turned back to Haslen and Chiannala. ‘I’m sorry we’re all too busy to give you a proper welcome, but we have an emergency on our hands. I’ll
show you around, however, and let you find your feet. After that – well, the way things stand at present, you might just end up being thrown in at the deep end, but don’t worry. We
might stretch you a little, but we won’t ask you to do anything beyond your capabilities.’

Chiannala smiled inwardly at Haslen’s sudden worried look.

Melisanda was attempting to smile too, though it did little to penetrate the strain and worry on her face. ‘Brynne and Haslen, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Well, follow me and
we’ll get started.’ With her two students at her heels, she went outside.

There was a lot more to the Healers’ complex than Chiannala had expected. Within the oval of the tall, enclosing walls were four long buildings, each with two storeys, set in a
diamond-shaped configuration around a flagged courtyard. In the centre a fountain made a soothing background murmur as it cascaded into its pool in delicate arches of jewelled spray. Two of the
buildings, including the one they had just left, were given over to housing and treatment of the sick and infirm. Behind them was a sunny garden with smooth lawns, bright and cheerful flowerbeds,
sheltering trees and comfortable benches set at frequent intervals.

‘I’ll show you those areas later,’ Melisanda said. ‘First, I’ll take you round the other two, which are dedicated to the study and refinement of our Healing
magic.’

She gestured to the building on her left, and held the door open for them to enter. ‘This is where we work in conjunction with those members of the Luen of Spellweavers who have an
inclination towards our work. They consult with our own people to improve our Healing spells.’ She opened the first of a row of doors in a long corridor, and Chiannala saw a number of tables
in the spacious room beyond. There was a pair of Wizards at each of them, working with crystals of different sizes, colours and types, which were all glowing brightly as magic was poured into them.
The air crackled and hummed with the build-up of energy, and Chiannala could feel the waves of power coursing through her from all the way across the room.

‘Here, for instance,’ Melisanda spoke softly so as not to interrupt the workers’ concentration, ‘we have teams consisting of a Healer and a Spellweaver, investigating the
use of crystals to amplify our healing powers. It’s beginning to look as though certain crystals are most beneficial for particular conditions.’ Closing the door, she opened another
further down the hallway, taking them down the centre of a long room divided on either side into open-fronted cubicles. Each one held a patient in a bed, and each was bathed in a different coloured
light: blue, gold, green, purple, pink and red. Again, there was a Healer and Spellweaver pair in each cubicle, generating the radiant energy.

‘In this room we’re investigating the healing properties, if any, of different colours,’ Melisanda explained. ‘We’re working with volunteers from the infirmary, and
getting some very interesting results.’ She showed them through several more rooms, some with Wizards working on various samples of blood and tissue, others with various combinations of
Healers working in concert to intensify their powers.

When Haslen and Chiannala had seen all there was to see, Melisanda led them to the next building, which had rows of glasshouses leading back from the central section, and an extensive herb
garden behind. Here the rooms contained Wizards brewing, infusing, distilling and concocting various combinations of herbs, or working on individual plants to isolate and strengthen their healing
powers. ‘We work here alongside the Luen of Nurturers,’ Melisanda explained. ‘Earth magic and Healing powers have always had a very strong link, and nowhere is that more evident
than here.’

When they had seen all there was to see, she took them into the third building. ‘This is where we keep our own library of records, though obviously a copy of each is also sent to the
Academy archives. We also have the studies of Tinagen and his four senior Healers, and the day infirmary, where people bring any minor problems they can’t handle at home with basic healing
spells. There is also a rest area and a refectory for the Healers who are working in the complex.’

Quickly she whisked them from room to room, and then indicated a covered walkway. ‘This leads back to the main infirmary building where we started, but before I show you our main infirmary
areas, we’ll stop here for our midday meal in the refectory.’

‘Already?’ Haslen said.

‘Take a look at the sun,’ Melisanda said. ‘It’s well past midday. Time has a way of rushing by when you’re preoccupied.’

‘And when you’re enjoying yourself,’ the young man said shyly. ‘It’s been a really fascinating morning; there’s been so much to see. I never realised just how
much there was to being a Healer.’

Melisanda favoured him with a dazzling smile. ‘Oh, I think you’ll do just fine, Haslen. I can see you fitting right in here.’

She didn’t say that about Chiannala.

Soon they were in the busy refectory and settled at a table with plates of food. Thick hot soup with lentils and vegetables was followed by a choice of roast meats and vegetables, with fruit and
little cakes and taillin to fill in any spaces. Melisanda herself ate like a starving wolf, putting away an amazing amount for one so slender and delicate of build. When she finally pushed her
plate aside and reached for her taillin and a cake, she happened to look up and notice the astonished expressions that they tried and failed to hide. ‘Sorry,’ she said with a shrug.
‘I don’t usually make such a pig of myself, but I’ve been working all night without a break. This is my first food since yesterday evening. You’ll have noticed that we eat
well in here. That’s because Healing spells sap a great deal of energy from the practitioner, and it’s important that we replenish it regularly, or we risk burning out. This is one of
most important things you must learn here. The greatest danger a Healer faces is burnout. It happens when you throw so much of your energy into the patient that you don’t have enough left to
sustain your own life. And if you’re unwary, unwise, or sometimes just too emotionally committed, it can happen more easily than you think . . .’

Chiannala was barely listening. Throughout her tour of the Luen, she had been aware of an uneasy atmosphere. Healers not immediately occupied were whispering to one another in corners or
standing around in murmuring groups, some with worry, some with anger and frustration, and in some cases even fear, on their faces. Something was wrong here – that much was plain. Something
that was being kept from lowly students. She wondered how she could find out. She had a nose for secrets – there was no telling when it might come in handy to have information that someone
didn’t want her to know.