cure his wife by touching her with the Orb?’
‘That would have killed her!’
‘Yes, I know. I managed to persuade him not to try it without
some guidance from either you or your father.’
‘At least he had enough sense to listen to you.’
‘Can you cure my queen, Pol?’ he asked as we went out into the
courtyard.
I looked directly at his handsome face and knew that I could tell
him a truth that I’d hidden from Riva and Daran. ‘I’m not sure,
Kamion,’ I admitted.
He sighed. ‘I was afraid it was more serious than we thought at
first,’ he admitted. ‘What’s causing the illness?’
‘The filthy climate of the God-forsaken island!’ I burst out. ‘It’s
destroying my sister’s lungs. She can’t breathe here.’
He nodded. ‘The queen’s been falling ill every winter for quite a
number of years now. What do we need from the city?’
‘I need to talk with Arell, and then I’m going to ransack the shop
of a herbalist named Argak. I think I might want to talk with a man
named Balten as well.’
‘I think I know him. He’s a barber, isn’t he?’
‘That’s his day-job, Kamion. At night he’s a grave-robber.’
‘He’s what?’
‘Actually, he’s a surgeon, and he digs up dead bodies so that he
can study them. You need to know what you’re doing when you
cut into people.’
‘Surely you’re not going to cut into the queen’s body?’ he
exclaimed.
‘I’ll take her apart and put her back together again if that’s what
it takes to save her life, Kamion. I don’t think Balten’s going to be
of much use, but he might know something about lungs that I don’t.
Right now I’d strike a bargain with Torak himself if he could help
me save Beldaran.’
Arell was older, of course. Her hair was grey now, but her eyes
were very wise. ‘What kept you, Pol?’ she demanded when Kamion
and I entered her cluttered little dress shop.
‘I only heard about Beldaran’s illness recently, Arell,’ I replied.
‘Is Argak still in business?’
She nodded. ‘He’s as crotchety as ever, though, and he hates being
awakened before noon.’
‘That’s just”too bad, isn’t it? I need some things from his shop,
and if he doesn’t want to wake up, I’ll have Lord Brand here chop
open the door with his sword.’
‘My pleasure, Pol,’ Kamion said, smiling.
‘Oh, another thing, Arell,’ I said. ‘Could you send for Balten, too?’
‘Balten’s in the dungeon under the temple of Belar right now, Pol.
A couple of priests caught him in the graveyard the other night. He
had a shovel, and there was a dead body in his wheel-barrow.
They’re probably going to burn him at the stake for witchcraft.’
‘No. They’re not. Go get him out for me, would you, please,
Kamion?’
‘Of course, Pol. Did you want me to chop down the temple?’
‘Don’t try to be funny, Kamion,’ I told him tartly.
‘Just a bit of levity to relieve the tension, my Lady.’
‘Levitate on your own time. Let’s all get busy, shall we?’
Kamion went off to the temple of Belar while Arell and I went to
Argak’s chemistry shop. I wasn’t really very gentle when I woke
up my former teacher. After Arell and I had pounded on his shop
door for about five minutes, I unleashed a thunderclap in the
bedroom upstairs. Thunderclaps are impressive enough outdoors.
Sharing a room with one is almost guaranteed to wake you up. The
stone building was still shuddering when Argak’s window flew
open and he appeared above us. ‘What was that?’ he demanded.
His eyes were wide, his sparse hair was sticking straight up, and
he was trembling violently.
‘Just a little wake-up call, dear teacher,’ I told him. ‘Now get down
here and open the door to your shop or I’ll blow it all to splinters.’
‘There’s no need to get violent, Pol,’ he said placatingly.
‘Not unless you try to go back to bed, my friend.’
It took me about an hour to locate all the medications I thought
I might need, and Argak helpfully suggested others. Some of those
herbs were fairly exotic, and some were actually dangerous,
requiring carefully measured doses.
Then Kamion returned with Balten. Evidently even the arrogant
priests of Belar knew enough not to argue with the Rivan Warder.
‘What’s behind all this idiotic interference from the priests?’ I
demanded of my teachers. ‘This sort of thing wasn’t going on when
I was studying here.’
‘It’s Elthek, the new Rivan Deacon, Pol,’ Arell explained. ‘He’s
hysterical about witchcraft.’
‘That’s a pose, Arell,’ Balten told her. ‘Elthek tries to keep it a
secret, but he’s a Bear-Cultist to the bone. He receives instructions
regularly from the High Priest of Belar in Val Alorn. The Cult’s
goal has always been absolute domination of Alorn society. All this
nonsense about witchcraft isn’t really anything more than an excuse
to eliminate competition. Elthek wants the population here on the
Isle to turn to the priesthood in any kind of emergency – including
illness. The practice of medicine can effect cures that seem
miraculous to ordinary Alorns. Elthek doesn’t like the idea of miracles that
come from some source other than the priesthood. That’s what’s
behind all those long-winded sermons about witchcraft. He’s trying
to discredit those of us who practice medicine.’
‘Maybe so,’Argak grumbled darkly, ‘but all the laws pointed right
at us come from the throne.’
‘That’s not entirely his Majesty’s fault,’ Kamion told him. ‘alorn
custom dictates that all religious matters are the domain of the
priesthood. If Elthek presents a proposed law to the throne as a
religious issue, Iron-grip automatically signs and seals it – usually
without even bothering to read it. He and I have argued about that
on occasion. Elthek fills the first paragraph of a proposed
“theological ordinance” with all sorts of religious nonsense, and our king’s
eyes glaze over before he gets to the meat of the document. Elthek
keeps insisting that prayer is the only way to cure disease.’
‘He’d actually sacrifice my sister for a political idea?’ I exclaimed.
‘Of course he would, Pol. He doesn’t worship Belar, he worships
his own power.’
‘I think Algar had the right idea,’ I muttered darkly. ‘As soon as
beldaran gets well, we might want to do something about the
BearCult here on the Isle.’
‘It’d certainly make our lives easier,’ Arell noted. ‘I’m getting a
little tired of being called a witch.’
‘Why don’t we all go up to the Citadel?’ I suggested.
‘You’ll get us burned at the stake, Pol,’ Argak objected. ‘If we
openly practice medicine – particularly in the Citadel – the Deacon’s
priests will clap us into the dungeon and start gathering firewood.’
‘Don’t worry, Argak,’ I said grimly. ‘If anybody’s going to catch
on fire, it’ll be Elthek himself.’
And so we all climbed the hill to the Citadel. Now that I was
aware of the situation and was paying closer attention, I noticed
that there seemed to be far more priests in that fortress than were
really necessary.
Beldaran was awake when we all trooped into her bedroom, and
after we’d examined her, we gathered in the next room for a
consultation.
‘The condition appears to be chronic,’ Balten observed. ‘This
should have been looked into a long time ago.’
‘Well, we can’t turn around and go backward in time,’ Arell said.
‘What do you think, Argak?’
‘I wish she weren’t so weak,’ Argak said. ‘There are some
compounds that’d be fairly efficacious if she were more robust, but
they’d be too dangerous now.’
‘We’ve got to come up with something, Argak,’ I said.
‘Give me some time, Pol. I’m working on it.’ He rummaged
through the case of little glass vials he’d brought from his shop. He
selected one of the vials and handed it to me. ‘In the meantime,
dose her with this every few hours. It’ll keep her condition from
deteriorating further while we decide what to do.’
Arell and I went into Beldaran’s room. ‘Let’s air out the room,
clean her up, change her bedding, and comb her hair, Pol,’ Arell
suggested. ‘That always makes people feel better.’
‘Right,’ I agreed. ‘I’ll get some more pillows, too. She might be
able to breathe a little easier if we prop her up.’
Beldaran seemed to feel much better after Arell and I had attended
to those little things that men can’t seem to think of. She did not
enjoy Argak’s medication, however. ‘That’s terrible, Pol,’ she said
after I gave it to her.
‘That’s the whole idea, Beldaran,’ I said lightly, trying to keep my
concern for her out of my voice. ‘Medicine’s supposed to taste bad.
If it’s bad enough, you get well just so that you don’t have to drink
any more of it.’
She laughed wearily, and then went into an extended bout of
coughing.
I sat over my sister’s bed for the next day and a half while Argak,