At a brief hearing a few days later, Neeka was officially declared blameless in the death of Guardsman Loo Fahlkop, since the deceased had kidnapped her, robbed her and injured her and was attempting to ravish her when his fatal injuries were sustained. Her Ehleen attorney immediately demanded return of her silver ring, the value of her clothing and the sum of five hundred silver thrahkmehee as suffering-price, the last to be collected from the estate of the dead guardsman and from his two living accomplices.
“That will be, counselor, from two estates and one living guardsman,” remarked Judge Gahbros, dryly. “Guards Corporal Lyl Ahnyel showed the discourtesy of dying while being… ahhh, questioned about his part in the incident. But this court feels that it is unreasonable to expect that all the worldly possessions of any six guardsmen, much less a mere three, would total a value of five hundred thrahkmehee. So let us be realistic and set suffering-price at half that figure, eh?”
Eventually, Neeka received one hundred and eighty-seven thrahkmehee and her silver ring.
At her worktable, Neeka chose a stone mortar and began to compound an herbal decoction to relieve the cramps and usual discomforts of Treena Sanderz’s moon-sickness. Since she habitually kept her equipment and ingredients in meticulous order, she moved quickly and surely.
“Order,” dear Lokos had told her so many times. “Order and neatness are the elements of success in our craft, and they are the salvation of those sufferers for whom we labor.”
She recalled how the quick, spry old man would take a pinch of crushed, dried herbs between thumb and forefinger of each hand and extend them for inspection by a new apprentice, prospective client or casual visitor. “Observe, two pinches of herbs. They appear identical, eh? If you steep this pinch in a brandy-cup measure of boiling water until the water colors, then strain it, stir in a dollop of honey and drink it down, it will cure your headache. Yet do the same thing with this other pinch… and you’ll be dead in an hour!”
“How?” She put her weight on the pestle and ground viciously. “How did I, carefully and so patiently trained by Lokos to heal the sick and ease the sufferings of the hurt, get myself into this nasty business of killing old men with slow poison and young ones with quick poison?”
Her line of thought was interrupted by a forceful knock upon her door. Since her present task was in no way dishonorable to her mind or harmful to anyone, she said loudly, “Ehrkohmai.” Then she completed her compounding before she turned.
Expecting her visitor to be the Thoheekeesa Mehleena, a servant or, perhaps, Lady Treena in a hurry for her medicine as she was in a hurry for most things, Neeka was taken aback to see the richly robed Zahrtohgahn physician, Master Fahreed, standing just inside the closed door. From his dark fingers dangled a slender golden chain, from which depended a lovely crystal prism. The prism caught the light, threw off shafts of it. Neeka thought it the most beautiful thing she ever had seen… and she could not seem to take her eyes from off it
She did not see any movement of those night-dark fingers, but suddenly the prism was moving, spinning, spinning, faster, faster, and her eyes could only follow the spinning light And she was so tired, so very tired and sleepy. Her eyelids weighed so heavily, so heavily…
Chapter XII
Ahrkeethoheeks Sir Bili Morguhn of Morguhn strode out of the main entry of Morguhn New Hall; his three-quarter plate clashed and clanked as he descended the broad steps to the stone-paved courtyard. Softly nickering a greeting, the black warhorse, Mahvros IV, paced to greet his brother, Bili. After patting the big horse’s mailed cheek, the old nobleman buckled his cased axe in its place on the off withers, then came back to the near side and mounted.
To flourishing trumpets, Sir Bili led his two-score Freefighter dragoons down the hill toward the ford and the road to Vawn. At the foot of the hill, two noble officers joined the bead of the column and another standard bearer—this one bearing a sky-blue standard on which was embroidered, in white and gold, the White Hawk of Vawn-Sanderz took his place beside him who bore the famous Red Eagle of Morguhn. Behind the Morguhn Freefighters, one hundred Ruby Company lancers joined the column, their long, deep-red pennons fluttering on a stiff breeze, the steel points of the polished ash shafts glittering in the sun.
From atop the gatehouse tower, Djef Morguhn watched the departing column until the dust and the rolling landscape had swallowed them up. Then he turned his attention to the camp at the base of the hill, now a howling chaos as the remainder of the Ruby Company struck tents, loaded wagons, hitched teams and otherwise prepared to set out on the trail Reading to Vawn.
“Dammit!” he growled to himself as he turned and started down the steps to the wall walk. “I miss all the fun. Papa goes off to chop Ehleen rebels and I have to stay here and command the hall garrison. What the hell does he think his castellan is for?”
Neeka had never been happier than during the brief—too brief—years of her apprenticeship under Master Lokos. Once arrived at his home/shop and shown the small room wherein lay her trunk, she quickly changed into her own clothing, bundled up the expensive, gaudy outfit in which she had left the bordello and asked leave to return the garments to their rightful owner, but Master Lokos discouraged this, saying that, as Djoy Skriffen was known to be a grudge holder, it were best that Neeka never again place herself anywhere near the evil woman’s grasp. He sent a servant boy, instead.
About a week later, ugly Iktis strolled into the shop. Master Lokos greeted the known pimp and professional ruffian coldly for the benefit of the two other apprentices and the non-Ehleen customers. He invented an errand to take Neeka through the back storerooms and into the living quarters; shortly, he and Iktis joined her.
When Iktis was seated and sipping at honeyed wine, the master inquired, “What of the barbarian dunghill, does she know you are here? You take far too many chances, friend Ahkiles. You’d be of no use to us dead, you know.”
The pocky man smiled toothlessly. “You’re as apprehensive as ever, old man. All my life has been the taking of one risk after another; that’s the life of a warrior… or a conspirator. But your fears are wasted this time. Herself sent me here.”
“Really? Why, pray tell?” snapped Lokos. “Are you to be her scout? Is she planning a second abduction from under my very roof? If so, she’d better have more than four bravos.”
Iktis waved a hand placatingly. “No, no, Lokos, nothing like that. Djoy Skriffen is cold, cunning and a plethora of other adjectives as well, most of them highly uncomplimentary, but she’s too shrewd to butt against stone walls, she recognizes and accepts this defeat
“No, I was to buy a quarter-leetrah of Blue Water for the bitch’s chronic biliousness and then find a chance to tell Neeka that herself holds no ill will against her. Of course, she has no idea how news of the kidnapping really was disseminated. She’s come to the conclusion that Fahlkop’s accomplices broke under torture.”
“And so that precious pair did,” Lokos shrugged, “but we already knew most of what they said.”
Iktis nodded and went on. “Anyhow, Lady Whale wishes Neeka to know that, whenever she tires of you and this kind of work, she will find a warm welcome at the whorehouse.”
Neeka’s mother, father and siblings had been swept off in one of the fevers which ravaged most cities every hot summer, and she had been reared by relatives who had lavished precious little love or affection on her and, with daughters of their own to provide for, had married her off to the first man willing to accept a minuscule dowry. In the house of Master Lokos, she had her first taste of true, familial affection, for the master and his plump, jolly wife customarily treated apprentices like the sons and daughters they had never had.
Many craft masters used their apprentices for servants and household drudges, but Lokos was a wealthy man, employed a large retinue of servants and saw to it that every minute his apprentices were not eating, sleeping or devoting to duties in shop, workrooms or garden, they were reading his extensive collection of works on pharmacology, human and animal physiology, differing theories respecting the treatment of wounds, injuries and illnesses, horticulture of herbs and a vast array of other interrelated subjects. Some of the better books had been written by Master Lokos himself.
There were four apprentices, all male, when Neeka first arrived. Kohmos, the eldest, was really a journeyman in all but name as he had less than two months until the end of his contract. Djahn, though but a year older than Neeka, was already into the sixth year of his apprenticeship. Zindaros, at fourteen, and Sbaidos, at thirteen, were both still in their first year.