The Silver Mage - Katharine Kerr [46]
Andariel spoke briefly with the armorer, who nodded his agreement. “He says,” Andariel said, “that he’ll set his men to work on them this very afternoon.”
“I have good news for you,” Hwilli said. “Master Jantalaber is going to take the cast off this afternoon.”
“Splendid!” Gerontos grinned at her over the white crystal, which he was holding. “Although, alas, I’ll miss seeing you every day.”
“Oh, you’re not rid of me yet! Wait till you see what your leg looks like.”
“Good.” His smile turned soft.
Hwilli set the black crystal down on the table beside the bed. She felt uneasy enough to gather up her supplies and hurry out of the sickroom. Brothers always squabble, she thought, but I don’t want them squabbling over me.
When she returned to the herbroom, Nalla was standing at the table, studying a row of freshly-pulled plants.
“What are those?” Hwilli said.
“Comfrey,” Nalla said, “I think, but the roots don’t look right to me.”
Hwilli glanced at them. “They’ve grown in very poor soil, I’d say. The rest of the plant certainly looks like comfrey.”
“Ah, you’re right! I hadn’t thought of that. How’s your patient doing?”
“The master’s going to cut the cast off this afternoon, and then I’ll know. I hope he’s healing well. He’s been terribly bored, and it worries me.”
Nalla looked up with a grin. “What’s this, he’s interested in you, too?”
Hwilli felt her face burn. “My heart belongs to Rhodorix,” she said. “And only him.”
“It’s not your heart that’s the problem, but a very different portion of his anatomy.” Nalla grinned again. “He’s not bad-looking, really, despite those funny eyes.”
“I’m not going to—”
“Who said anything about you? I was thinking of providing him a little distraction.”
Nalla’s grin turned so wicked that Hwilli had to laugh.
“Just be careful of his leg,” she said. “Don’t undo all my work.”
When the cast came off, the leg had shriveled from sheer lack of use, and the skin lying underneath had turned as wrinkled as a toad’s. Master Jantalaber brought all his apprentices into Gerontos’ quarters to see the effects of wearing a cast for nearly two months, tested the leg, pronounced the break mended, but urged him, through the crystals, to keep his weight off it as much as possible.
“You’ll be fine by the spring, lad,” the master said, “if you’re careful now. Hwilli, let’s go to the herbroom. I’ll give you a recipe for salve that you can make up for his skin.”
Hwilli followed the master into the herbroom as the other apprentices dispersed. Jantalaber went to the massive herbal on the lectern, thumbed through its heavy parchment pages, and opened it flat at a particular page.
“There you are, Hwilli,” he said. “The formula I promised you. Before you start preparing it, though, tell me how your work with Nalla’s going.”
“Nalla says I’m doing well,” Hwilli said, “but I think she’s just being kind. I can remember all the information she gives me, but I can’t put it to use.”
“That takes time, a great deal of time. Keep at it, and the results will come. Can you see the elemental spirits yet?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“In good time, then, in good time.”
Hwilli could only hope that the ability would come. It galled her to think that the tiniest child among the People could see the Wildfolk, while to her and her kind, they existed only as tales and jests. And what would “good time” be? Compared to the long lives of the People, she had very little to spare. A few days later, however, her worry proved unnecessary.
“After dinner tonight,” Jantalaber told her, “Maraladario wants to see you.”
Maraladario, the head of the dweomermasters’ guild, the most powerful mage that anyone in the Seven Princedoms had ever known—Hwilli caught her breath in an audible