Songs of the Earth (54 page)

‘And do you still feel like that?’

He nodded. ‘Not as strong as before, but yes.’

Tanith folded her arms. A frown creased her golden brows. ‘I strengthened the shield,’ she said softly. ‘You should not be able to remember, if it was something that Savin said to you. I don’t understand. You met Savin when you were travelling here from Dremen, didn’t you? What has Alderan told you about him?’

‘Not much. That he was a renegade of some kind. Alderan never said exactly what he’d done, but he hinted at something horrible.’

‘Worse than horrible. Savin was exiled because of it, and the Council ruled that wards should be set around the inhabited islands so that he could never come back without their knowledge.’ She bit her lip. ‘I must tell Alderan. Try to get some sleep, if you can.’

‘I’m not tired.’

She straightened up. ‘You need sleep, Gair.’ Her voice was gentle and not unkind. ‘Sleep and food, and in a day or two, when you’re strong enough, more Healing. Then you will be well.’

‘I’m not a child, Tanith,’ he protested, then closed his mouth when he realised he sounded like one.

‘I know. But you must be patient.’ She picked up the candle to take it away, then banged it back down hard enough to slop molten wax onto her fingers. She did not seem to notice. Her eyes were hard as topaz. ‘Don’t you realise what was done to you? Savin tore your mind apart, far worse than anything he did to your body. When you came back you were barely alive. None of us knows how you managed to hold onto the Song long enough to fly back from the Five Sisters. You were bleeding to death, barely alive, barely sane. I’ve spent hours inside your head stitching you back together again and I just—’

She stopped, hands clenched in the folds of her mantle, eyes screwed shut. Her lips trembled.

Gair stared at her, startled by her outburst.

‘Forgive me,’ she said tightly. ‘I had no right to lose my temper. I’ll see you in the morning.’

Leaving the guttering candle where it stood, she let herself out.

Tanith closed the door to her rooms and leaned back against it. Her father was right, she had lived amongst humans for too long. She had lost her detachment, left herself at the mercy of gales of emotion, just as they were, and how those gales blew!

She shut her eyes tightly.
Oh spirits keep me, what am I going to do?

In the course of her physician’s training she had studied them, those minds born with no concept of restraint, whose hands were driven to terrible deeds by passions they could not rein in. Anger that flared bright as lightning – how did humans withstand it? Did they feel that swelling storm of emotion roiling and trembling inside, despair’s hard hands crushing the breath from their lungs?

Dark tides raced in the noblest human soul, depths in which only nightmares could dwell. She had glimpsed them in broken bodies, broken minds. Had she just seen the first stirrings of them in herself? Covering her face with her hands, she let her head fall back against the door.
What will the White Court make of me now?

The first gale of tears had shocked her. The jealous pang that followed, sharp and sour as hog-apples, had left her breathless. After an upbringing of restraint, of moderation, she had been cast adrift on a surging, ungovernable sea she had no clue how to
navigate. There were no charts to plot a course, no familiar stars to guide her, and she wanted to dive into those murky depths and
feel
, to rage and lust and gorge and revel in excess, not because it would make her a better physician, but, spirits keep her, because it would make her human.

She kneaded her temples. Oh, she was so tired. The Healing had been hard, perhaps the most difficult she had ever done. It had required such delicacy, yet she had had to work feverishly fast to contain the chaos the reiving had wrought before Gair’s mind unravelled around her. She’d spent so many hours in the wreckage of his memories, privy to so much that he would never have shared with her, even under a physician’s oath – no wonder she had weakened.

I have to go home. Once he’s well, I can’t stay here any longer. I thought I could resist, but I can’t. It hurts too much
.

Tanith stepped out of her shoes and sank her toes into the mossy floor. It was illusion, like the trees that screened the walls and the sounds of running water and birdsong, but it felt as cool and springy underfoot as the earth of the birch woods above the Mere. It was enough to restore a little calm, so she could meditate. She really was too tired, but she needed to regain her equilibrium. Her soul felt tossed about by stormy seas; she would find safe harbour for it, then she could sleep.

From the silver-inlaid chest at the foot of her bed she took a flat box and a small brass brazier and chafing dish, which she set up on the chest lid. The merest thread of the Song ignited the charcoal and whilst she waited for it to heat, she unfastened her hair from its braid and combed it out. When the coals were filmed with white ash and the air roiled over the chafing dish, she sat herself down cross-legged at the base of a birch tree and opened the box.

Inside, its multitude of tiny compartments contained other boxes, vials, silk pouches. The yarra-root she sought was wrapped in a piece of kidskin; she lifted it out, together with a clear glass vial of oil, then set the box aside. A few drops of oil went into the
chafing dish first. With a knife, she shaved a fragment from the lumpy black root and as it hit the hot oil it began to smoke, releasing a fragrance as dark and rich as earth after rain. Tanith breathed it in deeply, then exhaled as slowly as she could.

Better. She could almost be back in Astolar. All around her, she let the illusion that replaced her room expand until the simple square chamber encompassed an entire valley. Gentle breezes stirred the leaves of the birch trees over her head. In the distance she heard the murmur of Belaleithne Falls on the far side of the Mere. For the first time in far too many months she felt a pang of longing for her home.

I hear you dreaming, Daughter
.

Tanith opened her eyes. Coils of smoke from the yarra-root shaped themselves into the outline of the face she knew so well. It formed and reformed as the smoke rose, only the tilted eyes and narrow brows remaining constant.

‘Papa,’ she greeted him warmly.

Are you well?

‘Just tired. It’s been a difficult day.’

K’shaa tells me he has not yet sailed
.

‘No, not yet. I am needed here for a little while longer.’

You are needed here also, Daughter
.

‘Just a few more days, Papa. I have a new patient.’

He sighed.
You should have returned to us a twelvemoon ago, Tanith. I indulged you when you said you wished to become a physician, because you have a gift for it, and such gifts are not to be squandered, but you have responsibilities here in Astolar, duties that await you as a daughter of the White Court. Your continued absence is … most vexing
.

‘I know, Papa, but I swore the Healer’s oath. My first duty is to the patients in my care, and without my care, this one will die.’

You told me some of the finest Healers in their world pass through the Isles. Surely one of them can complete this task?

‘I cannot leave him. Not yet. He suffered a reiving.’

The smoky outline recoiled with a hiss.
You are certain?

‘Never more certain.’ Tanith kneaded her eyes. ‘I have done my best. I have shielded him from the worst of the damage, but there is much more work to do if his talent is to be saved.’

A reiver loose in the world
. Her father shook his head, sending the tendrils of smoke spiralling.

‘This reiver is human.’

Abomination! And you expose yourself to this?

‘There is no one else who can undo what he has done.’

Her father’s image sighed and murmured words she could not catch, although she could imagine what they were. She had doubtless heard them before.

I am uncomfortable with the risks you take, Daughter. You have great significance to the Court, to the continued existence of our people
. The merest pause, as fleeting as a breath.
And you are precious to me
.

She reached out to lay her palm against his insubstantial cheek and smiled.

‘Don’t worry, Papa. I am as careful as I can be whilst doing what has to be done.’

Does it have to be done? You cannot have forgotten what is at stake
.

Tanith’s head jerked up, shocked by what her father suggested. ‘Is he worth the risk, is that what you are asking? Of course he is – any life is, whatever their race or station. He is a good man, Papa, as worthy as you or me or any High Seat at Court.’ She stopped herself before she said too much, but her illusion quivered at the edges as her concentration slipped. Rainclouds darkened the horizon of her dream of Astolar, dimming its eternal blue skies.

But human
.

‘Yes, human. So many of the greatest talents are now, since our people began to withdraw from this world. If we are to be saved at all, it will be the race of men who take up arms to do it.’

Her father’s image looked pained.

‘I know you do not like to think of it, Papa, but our fate lies in the hands of others now. With the Veil threatened, there will be
only a temporary reprieve if we withdraw from the field. War will find us, even in the Hidden Kingdom. We will not be safe.’

There are four Houses voting for exile now. Last moot, House Amerlaine cast its lot in with Denellin and the rest
.

Her heart fell, though the news was hardly unexpected. ‘Berec is old,’ she sighed. ‘He wants to see out his remaining years in tranquillity, not be riding to battle. I can understand his reasons.’

One more vote for exile and the Ten will be deadlocked. The Queen must then decide, and I know she favours peace. We are not a warlike people, my daughter
.

‘I know. But there are some foes even we must fight. The price of inaction is far too high.’

Ah, Tanith
, her father chuckled.
When you succeed me to the High Seat, you will shake the White Court to its very foundations. I hope I live long enough to see it. When are you coming home, daughter mine? Astolar is diminished by your absence
.

‘As soon as I can, Papa, I promise. But I am still needed here.’

How long?

‘A few days more, I think. The physical wounds were grave enough, but it seems Leahns are not easily killed and his body is mending. It is his talent I fear for.’

He is strong, this Leahn?

‘Perhaps the strongest I have ever seen. I delved him once, briefly, and I could see no limit to it.’

Does he know?

‘No, although I believe he suspects there is more to his gift than he has yet embraced. Even if he did know the extent of it, it would not abet him. This is not the first time the reiver has come against him.’

Her voice trembled and even the perfume of the yarra-root could not smooth out the catch in her words. ‘He almost tore him to pieces. I held him whilst he screamed until he had no more breath. I cradled his sanity in my hands and all around me his talent sparkled like the Mere under a trinity moon. That cannot be
lost. His importance to the Order is incalculable and that makes him important to us all, in the final reckoning. I have to Heal him, Papa. I must.’

Her father stayed silent whilst she composed herself. Then he said gently,
There is more here than simply another patient, isn’t there? You have formed an attachment to him
.

‘Even if I had, another has more claim to him than I,’ she said.

But you care for him
.

‘I care for what might happen to this world should he die.’ Vehemence heated her words. ‘He could be the key to ensuring the preservation of the Veil. We live on the borders of two kingdoms, Papa, and as long as the Veil holds, we have a place. If it is rent apart, as I fear the reiver means to do, we will have nothing at all.’

I know this
, he sighed,
however much it grieves me. Very well, my daughter. You must do what you must do, as must I. We each have our battles to fight now, yours with your Leahn sword and shield, mine in the council chamber. May benevolent spirits attend us both
. Ghostly hands spread in benediction and he inclined his head to her.
Sleep well, my daughter
.