The Silver Mage - Katharine Kerr [63]
Paraberiel and Hwilli dutifully smiled at the jest, which reminded Hwilli of a problem of her own.
“Par, I meant to ask you,” she said. “Could you take over my patient, Gerontos? His leg’s nearly healed, but someone should look in on him fairly regularly. If the master agrees, of course.”
“I could, certainly,” Par said.
“What’s all this?” The master turned to Hwilli.
“He looks forward too much to my visits. When Nalla was still here, it didn’t matter, but now I hate to be alone with him.”
“Oh.” Jantalaber nodded in understanding. “Very well, Par. He’s your patient from now on.” He paused for a sigh. “I’m glad he’s nearly healed. We’ve got so many new patients among the Mountain Folk that I doubt if our herb supply will last the winter.”
The slow days piled up around them like the snow itself. More than herbs began to run short, despite the extra food taken from the farm folk. The refugees from Lin Rej had brought nothing with them, and the Mountain Folk tended to eat heartily at all times. Prince Ranadar spent much of his time answering complaints and accusations, that the People were hoarding, that the Mountain Folk were greedy, that the fortress was far too cold. Worse yet was the feeling among the prince’s guard that the usual winter catarrhs and rheums were somehow the fault of the Mountain Folk. Hwilli and the other healers explained over and over again that no, the refugees had not somehow brought disease into the fortress, that those minor ills struck every year.
“They’re a bit worse this year, though,” Hwilli admitted to Rhodorix, “but then, everyone’s on edge and frightened, so maybe they just seem worse.”
“I’ll accept that,” Rhodorix said. “I keep telling my men to worry about themselves and their horses and let the prince worry about the men from Lin Rej.”
“That’s probably all you can do. At least the days are getting longer now.”
“That last snow seemed light, too. Let’s hope that spring comes soon.”
Hwilli felt as if her heart stopped, just for a few moments, then started again with a wrench that left her trembling.
“Spring means the war starts up again,” she said.
“Perhaps. If it’s true that the Meradan have been camping up in the mountains, there may not be a lot of them left by spring.”
“Didn’t the prince tell you about the scrying?”
“No,” Rhodorix looked puzzled. “What scrying?”
“Mistress Vela’s fairly sure the horde went back into Lin Rej. She’s been scrying, and she can see someone moving around in there. It’s in ruins, but it would still be better than the shelter they’d find in the wild mountains.”
Rhodorix swore under his breath. “If the prince didn’t tell me and Andariel,” he said, “it means he didn’t want any of the guards to know. Not a word to anyone else about this, beloved. It could send the axemen into a blind rage, and it could sink the fighting spirits of our men. Do you understand?”
“I do, truly.”
“Good.” Rhodorix said nothing more for a long moment. “We’ll deal with them when spring comes. There’s naught we can do about it now.”
That he was so obviously right wrung her heart, but she smiled and put on a brave face, just to ease his worry. Yet not two days later she received news that left her helpless against tears. Nalla contacted her during a scrying practice.
“I’m so sorry,” Nalla said, “but you have to know. Your mother caught a fever. She died last night in her sleep.”
Hwilli tried to speak, but the only sound she could make turned into a sob.
“I know,” Nalla said. “I’m so sorry. Hwilli, I’m leaving Rinbaladelan in the spring. I’m being sent to meet Maraladario at the Lake of the Leaping Trout. I’ll tell you more then.”
Hwilli nodded to show she’d heard, then dropped her face into her hands and wept. The vision disappeared and left her to her grief.
The shortest day of the year came icy cold but clear. The gongs woke the