Arrows of the Queen (20 page)

Safe. She fainted.

She half-roused as someone lifted her up to a rider's arms and they galloped to the very doors of the Collegium. The rider vaulted from the saddle still carrying her, and sprinted effortlessly with her up the stairs to the dormitory floor.

She was passed into more hands on the other side of a steamy portal, and those hands stripped her of her soaked, filthy garments quickly and efficiently. Once again she found herself up to her neck in water, but this time it was blessedly hot.

That brought her fully awake again; that, and the fact that she was being scrubbed with strong soap by three other people.

“Wha—” she coughed, her throat raw. “What happened?”

“That's what
we'd
like to know,” said Jeri, soaping her hair vigorously. “Ugh—your hair is
full
of this muck! Rolan heard your mindcall for help; he alerted the rest of the Companions, and they roused their Heralds. Then he went after you himself. Lord of Lights! You should have seen the Collegium—it looked like a nest of angry wasps! People came boiling out of everywhere! Most of us got to the riverbank just in time to see you slip off Rolan's back and go under. Keren was just a fraction ahead of everyone else, and she dove right off the saddle after you; Sherrill was right behind her. They managed to pull you out—when I knew you were alive, I came back here to get Housekeeper and start what we'd need to warm you up again. Once they'd gotten the water out of you, Teren brought you here. This tub's filthy. We're going to change. No—” she warned as Talia started to move, “don't try to do anything—let us do the work for you. You've got an awful bump on your head and you might get dizzy and fall.”

They lifted her over to a second tub; she still seemed chilled to the bone.

“Are they—all right?” Talia managed to get out.

“Who? Sherrill and Keren? They're fine. Don't you remember? They're from Lake Evendim. This isn't the first ice-rescue they've done. And there were two more riders waiting to bring them here, too. They're both soaking in hot tubs, the same as you.”

“They are?” Talia raised her head, as the room spun before her eyes, and tried to look around. The bathing room seemed oddly turned backward, reversed in mirror-image.

“What ha'n'd to th' room?” Her tongue didn't seem to quite want to behave.

“You're on the boys' side, silly,” Jeri giggled, “It was closer. Take a good look—you might not get a second chance.”

“Hush,” Housekeeper Gaytha scolded affectionately. “Talia, I think we've gotten the last of the filth off you. How are you feeling?”

“Still c-cold.” There seemed to be an icy core that the heat didn't touch. They drained some of the water and ran in more that was fresh and hotter than before. She finally felt herself stop shivering and began to relax. Then a sudden thought made her struggle to sit up.

“Rolan!”

“He's perfectly all right,” Jeri and Housekeeper Gaytha held her firmly in place. “It'll take more than a cold ducking to stop him!”

“The worst was heaving him up onto the bank; he wasn't even chilled, and he's inordinately proud of himself,” said the third member of the group, silent until now. “I suppose he has every right to be, since your bond isn't supposed to be strong enough at this stage for you to call one another, even in panic. You're very lucky that wasn't the case for the two of you.”

Her sight seemed to be blurring, but Talia finally got a good look at this third person as she moved to within Talia's range of vision to speak to her. The woman was a square-jawed ash-blond, and she wore full Heraldic traveling leathers with the silver arrow of a special messenger on one sleeve.

“I'm sorry we weren't properly introduced, Talia,” she smiled. “I'm Herald Ylsa. Keren may have mentioned me?”

Talia nodded, and was immediately sorry. Her head began pounding, and her vision blurred still more. “Keren—was going—t' be waitin' f'r you—” she said with difficulty.

Ylsa saw the glazed look, the fixed pupils of Talia's eyes, and said sharply, “Problems, kitten?”

“I can't—see too well. And m' head hurts.”

“Can you tell what's wrong?” Gaytha asked the Herald in an undertone.

The woman frowned a little. “Well, I'm no Healer, but I know the technique. Hold still, kitten,” she addressed Talia. “This isn't going to hurt, but it may make your head feel a little odd.” She caught Talia's blurring gaze and looked deeply into her eyes—and Talia felt something like a light touch inside her head. It
was
a very odd sensation.

Ylsa placed one hand on Talia's forehead in the lightest of feather-like touches once she'd caught Talia's attention, beginning her probe. She continued to speak in a casual voice, knowing commonplaces would keep Talia from becoming too alarmed if she sensed anything. “I'd only just come through the gate when the alarm went up. Keren's got the tightest bond with that stallion of hers that I've ever witnessed. The two of them were headed for the river before Felara had managed to do more than tell me that there was bad trouble. We took off after them, but we couldn't even manage to keep up. Her mindlink with her brother is almost as strong, and she must have told him what was needed before we even hit the riverbank because he came pounding up with blankets and ropes right after she went in. I knew that she and Dantris were good, but I have
never
seen anyone move like they did—I never even knew you
could
slingshot into a dive from the back of a Companion in full gallop!”

While she spoke, she “read” the child as the Healers she had worked with did. Since she was not formally Healer-trained, she took longer at it—and inadvertently made more contact than she'd intended to.

Talia's head wasn't exactly feeling odd, but the sensation of internal touch was stronger than ever, and she was seeing the strangest things. They came in flashes, confusing and disorienting, as if she were seeing things through someone else's eyes—and what she was seeing concerned Keren and this stranger—intimately. And it was very heavily laden with overtones of complex emotions—

She blushed an embarrassed crimson. Ylsa and Keren—long-time lovers? She didn't even
know
this woman; why should her mind be producing a fantasy like that? She looked up at Ylsa in startled confusion.

Ylsa hastily broke the contact between them when she realized what the child was sensing, and stared at her with wide-eyed respect. First the mindcall to her Companion, and now this! Ylsa
knew
she had one of the strongest shields in the Circle, yet this untrained child had picked out something it might have taken a master to extract. Granted, Ylsa's shields were probably lowered a trifle because of the reading she was doing, but it should have taken someone fully trained to have taken advantage of the fact. This child was certainly far more than her appearance led you to believe.

“Concussion,” she said to the others, “And if she had some kind of cold before she went in, it's getting worse by the moment. I think we'd best get her into a warm bed and have a real Healer take her in hand.”

And I'd better have a word with Keren as soon as I can!
she thought to herself.
If this poor child begins a fever, there's no telling what she's likely to pick up. Anybody that watches her had better have excellent shields—for
her
sake
.

The three of them helped Talia out with care, dried her off, and put her into her warmest bedgown. She wasn't allowed to walk at all; they gave her over to Teren who carried her to her room and tucked her into her bed. It had been warmed, and she was glad of it, for once out of the steam-filled bathing room the air had been very cold and she was shivering by the time they reached her room.

She was having trouble holding to reality. It only seemed that she'd gotten the blankets tucked around her when there was a stranger standing beside her, come out of nowhere, appearing at her bedside as if he'd been conjured. It was a cherubic-faced man whose beardlessness made him seem absurdly young; he was dressed in Healer's Green. He held one hand just fractions of an inch from her forehead and frowned in concentration.

Talia's head was truly beginning to hurt now; it felt like someone was pressing daggers into her skull just behind her eyes. The rest of her was starting to ache, too; her chest rasped when she breathed and she wanted badly to cough, but knew it would only set off an explosion in her head if she did so.

The young Healer took his hand away and said to someone just outside the door, “Concussion for certain, though the skull doesn't seem to be broken. And I'm sure you noticed the fever—pneumonia is a real likelihood.”

There was a murmur in answer, and the Healer leaned down so that his face was at Talia's eye level. “You're going to be a very sick young lady for a while, youngling,” he told her quietly. “It isn't anything that we can't cure with time and patience, but it isn't going to be very pleasant. Can I count on you to cooperate?”

She made a wry face, and whispered, “You wan' me t' drink p-potions, right? Willowbark tea?”

The Healer chuckled, “I'm afraid that will be the least of the nasty things we'll ask you to drink. Can you manage your first dose now?”

She nodded just the tiniest fraction; carefully, so as not to send her head pounding. The Healer busied himself at her fireplace for several long moments, and returned with something green and foul-looking.

With his aid she drank it as quickly as she could, trying not to taste it. Whatever it was, it was a great deal stronger than Keldar's willowbark tea, for she found the pain in her head beginning to recede, and her alertness as well. With her alertness went her awareness. Before long, she was soundly asleep.

She woke to fire and candle-light. There was someone sitting in the shadows beside her bed; soft harp-notes told her who it was.

“Herald Jadus?” she whispered, her throat too raw and swollen to produce real sound.

“So formal, little friend?” he asked, laying down his harp and leaning forward to place one hand on her hot forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Tired. Cold. Head hurts. Everything hurts!”

“Hungry?”

“Thirsty,” she rasped. “Why'r'you here?”

“Thirsty can be remedied if you're willing to take another one of Devan's evil brews first. As to why I'm here, that's easy enough. You need someone to help you while you're ill, and I have plenty of time for my friend Talia.” He handed her a mug of the same green potion she'd drunk before, nodding in approval as she downed it as fast as she could, then handed her another mug of broth. “We're taking it in turn to keep an eye on you, so don't concern yourself over me, and don't be surprised to see Ylsa or Keren. Ah, Devan—as you predicted, she's awake.”

The same Healer moved into view on silent feet, smiling down at her. “You're a tough little thing, aren't you? Sometimes being a Border brat like we both are has its positive aspects.”

Talia blinked owlishly at him over the rim of her mug. “How long—sick?” she croaked.

“A few weeks; perhaps more. And you'll feel worse before you feel better. Comforting, aren't I?”

She managed a weak grin. “Truth better.”

“I thought you'd probably prefer it. You may start seeing things when you get more fevered. There will always be someone with you, so don't worry. Beginning to feel sleepy?”

“Mm,” she assented.

“Finish that, then get more rest. I'll leave you in Herald Jadus' competent hands,” he departed as silently as he'd come.

“Is there anything else you'd like, youngling?” Jadus asked, relief evident in his voice.

Talia surmised vaguely that the Healer's confidence had allayed some worry he'd had. He took the now-empty mug from Talia's heavy fingers.

“Play for me?” she whispered.

“You have only to ask,” he replied, sounding inordinately pleased and surprised at the request. She drifted off to sleep followed by harpsong.

Ugly dreams and pain half-woke her; someone—it might have been Ylsa—calmed her panic, and coaxed her to drink more broth and medicine.

She half-woke countless more times, obediently drinking what was put to her lips, letting herself be steered to and from the bathing room and the privy. She was otherwise unaware of her surroundings. She alternately froze and burned, and lived in a dream where people from Hold and Collegium mingled and did the most absurd things.

When her dreams turned evil, they were always chased away by harpsong or comforting hands.

Finally she woke completely to see sunlight streaming in her window. Her head ached abominably; she felt at the back of it, and winced as her fingers encountered a lump.

“Hurts, doesn't it?” the rough voice from the chair beside the bed was sympathetic. Turning her head carefully, Talia saw that Keren had assumed the position she'd last seen occupied by Jadus. She was lounging carelessly in Talia's chair with her feet up on the desk that stood beside it.

She also had her sword resting unsheathed in her lap.

“You're all right!” Talia croaked with relief.

Keren cocked an eyebrow at her. “You forget, little centaur;
I
went in of my own will. My entry was a bit more controlled than yours was. You're damned lucky to be here, you know. You slipped right under the ice when you lost your hold on Rolan's back. I almost couldn't reach you. One fingerlength more and we'd not have found you till Spring thaw.”

Once again, Talia seemed to be seeing things through other eyes—arid feeling things as well. She felt a dreadful fear not her own—and saw herself being pulled under the thick sheet of ice that covered most of the river. And she saw what had followed. She spoke before she thought. “You went under the ice after me—” she said in awe “—you could have died!”