But it had to be done.
Garth took a deep breath and lifted the bag of instruments his father had given him. “Ravenna,” he said quietly, his eyes not leaving Maximilian’s face, “take his hands. Hold him tight.”
She nodded, and lifted Maximilian’s hands into her own.
The prince’s torso was already bare, and Garth folded back the sheet so that he would have easy access to his arm. Trembling slightly, he ran his hands over the thick scar that rippled over most of Maximilian’s upper right arm, trying to feel the outline of the Manteceros beneath it. He probed with the entire strength of his Touch, but, unlike the first time he had Touched the man beneath the Veins, it was useless. All he could feel was the hot angry ridged tissue beneath his fingers. The mark was buried deep, very deep.
“Maximilian,” he said very softly. “The scar tissue must be cut away. It will hurt.” He hesitated. “I am sorry.”
Maximilian, his face even paler than normal, if that were possible, nodded curtly, then turned his face away, burying it in the comforting folds of Ravenna’s gown as she sat beside him.
Garth clenched his hands momentarily to stop their trembling—how was he going to be able to get through this!—then took gauze and a flask from the bag beside him, liberally wiping disinfectant over the scar. He took a deep breath, focusing both mind and Touch as tightly as he could, then reached into the bag and withdrew a shiny scalpel.
It glinted wickedly, even in this misty light.
His jaw tight with strain, Garth touched the blade to the lower portion of the scar tissue.
The door had just slammed behind Egalion and his two soldiers, the limp form of Jack dragged between them, when lightning agony knifed into Cavor’s arm.
Unable even to scream, his eyes and mouth open round in shock and horror, Cavor slipped from the chair to the floor and thrashed about, clutching his arm, his low, agonised moans inaudible to the guards outside the room.
At the first touch of the blade, Maximilian arched his body in shock and screamed.
Ravenna cried with him, her eyes wide with horror, and Garth, appalled by the prince’s reaction, dropped the scalpel from his hand.
It fell with an apologetic splash into the water that flowed gently about his feet.
Trembling almost uncontrollably now, Garth reached down, mentally cursing himself. The metal would be contaminated by whatever medium it had fallen into, and he would have to wipe it clean again. Gods but he wished this were over and done with.
Gods, but he wished his father were here to do this instead of him.
His hand groped about at his feet, searching blindly through the water—surely it was only a finger’s width deep? But however much his fingers scrabbled about, they found nothing. Garth met Ravenna’s eyes above the now silent prince. “What are you going to do?” she asked, and Garth wondered if her calm expression hid accusation.
He groped about a moment longer, his heart sinking icy cold within his breast, then he sat up. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I have no other knife.”
To his surprise, Ravenna relaxed. “Believe,” she said. “Believe in yourself, and trust in the man who lies between us. Believe.”
“Believe?” Garth whispered, appalled.
“Believe,” she said gently, and leaned across Maximilian to kiss Garth gently on the cheek. “I believe in you, and Maximilian believes in you, and above all you must believe in your Touch. It is far deeper and far more powerful in you than in any before you. Joseph does not understand that yet, and neither do you. Believe in yourself, Garth. Trust in your ability. In you and in this place the Touch can be used in ways unimaginable.”
Garth stared at her, mesmerised by the touch of her lips and by the words she spoke. Believe.
“Believe,” he whispered and, his hands still trembling slightly, he Touched Maximilian’s arm just above the elbow.
His Touch was warm and dry, yet felt like the distant reverberations of a swarm of bees. Maximilian shuddered, trusting, and fought to relax under Garth’s hands.
“Believe,” Maximilian whispered. “Believe.”
Garth’s Touch felt strange, unsettling, but it did not hurt. Maximilian relaxed further, and Ravenna stroked the backs of his hands with her thumbs and crooned wordlessly to him.
Garth was now concentrating so hard he was hardly aware of the man beneath his hands or of the young woman across from him. The Pavilion faded into insignificance, and all Garth could feel was a throbbing that thrilled through his veins from the very centre of his being towards his palms and fingertips—which burned as though they had been engulfed in cold yet painless fire.
“Believe,” he whispered again. “Trust,” and gave himself completely to the Touch.
Cavor moaned one more time, then realised the pain had gone. He rolled over, his fine clothes dusted with the dirt of Furst’s floor, and stared uncomprehendingly at the floorboards as they stretched away towards the far wall. A feeling of warmth and comfort such as he had never felt before was spreading upwards from his right elbow.
Garth massaged Maximilian’s flesh between his fingers and thumbs, rolling it to and fro, probing deep and surely. Slowly his fingers moved up Maximilian’s arm towards the first ridge of scar tissue. His lips moved, although he made no sound.
Maximilian had relaxed completely, and Ravenna had let go of one of his hands and was now smoothing the hair back from his forehead. His head had lolled back on the pillow; his eyes now closed, a small smile lit his face, mirroring Ravenna’s own expression as she watched Garth work his miracle.
Garth’s fingers and thumbs had now reached the scar tissue, and he frowned. It was irritating, irritating beyond measure! Angry with the impure flesh beneath his Touch, he muttered and shifted slightly on the bed, changing his grip on Maximilian’s arm.
He dug his thumbs under the lower edge of the mass of scar tissue and slowly…achingly slowly…rolled and lifted it from the Prince’s arm as a dirty carpet is rolled away from a smooth floor.
Ravenna’s hand stilled on Maximilian’s forehead, and her lips parted slightly in wonder.
Unaware of anything but the need to roll the offending tissue away completely, Garth continued to work his fingers further and further up Maximilian’s arm, submerging himself completely in the Touch, letting its power sweep through him and, through him, into Maximilian.
As the scar tissue buckled and rolled away it exposed white skin almost crystalline in its purity. Not a mark marred its surface.
Ravenna frowned slightly.
But Garth continued to work. Now almost half of the scar had been rolled back, and it bunched and roiled above Garth’s fingers. Maximilian had relaxed so completely he seemed deeply asleep.
A few minutes longer and the scar was almost completely removed—yet still the skin beneath it remained white and pure. Ravenna opened her mouth to speak, thought better of it as she glanced at Garth’s face, and closed her lips slowly.
“Ah!” Garth grunted, and with an abrupt twist of his hand tore the loose scar tissue away from Maximilian’s arm completely. With a look of utter distaste, he flung it as far as he could from them.
There was a distant splash, and Maximilian’s eyes sprang open. They widened impossibly, and neither Ravenna nor Garth could read the expression in them nor understand what he saw in the mist surrounding him.
“Watch out!” he screamed, and twisted his head and shoulders away as if avoiding something charging out of the mists.
Too shocked even to scream, Cavor rolled violently across the floor until he rested against a wall, certain he was about to be trampled.
There was a thunder of beating feet, and Ravenna and Garth winced and hunched low, not sure what to avoid or even what direction the danger came from.
The next instant Maximilian cried again, tore his left hand from Ravenna’s clasp, and gripped his right biceps tight. His body rolled and twisted on the bed.
“Garth!” Ravenna cried, her hands to her face. “Look!”
Following the direction of her eyes, Garth looked at Maximilian’s hand where it gripped his biceps. He gripped so hard that his fingers dug into his pale flesh, but as Garth looked there was a flash of blue light from between the prince’s fingers. Maximilian convulsed, crying out yet again, and then he slowly relaxed, a look of wonder on his face.
His hand dropped slowly away from his arm.
Simultaneously, Garth and Ravenna took great breaths. Emblazoned across Maximilian’s right biceps in all its thick-legged, stiff-maned glory was the blue outline of the Manteceros.
Maximilian twisted his head and stared at the mark, then slowly shifted his eyes to Garth. “I remember,” he whispered. “I remember it all.”
Cavor heaved in great breaths, coughing as floor dust lined his lungs, then slowly, wonderingly, pushed himself to his feet. He stood a moment, his chest heaving, then he tore his jacket and then his shirt from his torso, twisting his head and arm to see.