Homage and Honour (33 page)

Malin agreed
with her although he didn’t nod his head. It would have hurt too
much. A splitting headache was one of the disease’s symptoms. “I
can hardly make out the words,” he agreed, pushing the book towards
her. “Perhaps you could read it aloud to me?”

Hannah
recognised the book, the handbook of every qualified Holad
practitioner.

“Every disease
known to man and Lind is here,” he said, “but I can find nothing
that fits what’s hit us.”

“A disease that
we brought with us?” ventured Hannah.

“I thought of
that,” Malin pointed to a much older book, “and I’ve been right
through it and nothing. There are similarities but that is all. I
think it must be a new disease and there is no cure.”

“Don’t say
that,” scolded Hannah, “there must be a cure. We’ve just not found
it yet. I’ve not got sick and I’ve been nursing for days now. I
feel as fit as a fiddle.” She told Malin about her and Kolyei’s
idea.

“You think
there might be something about your home farm that makes you
impervious?”

“Yes but more
than that,” said Hannah. She told Malin about what Nadil had said
about the pestilence that had struck the Larg and those Lind with
Larg blood in their veins after the Battle of Trumpet Keep. “Oh,
I’m not saying that the disease is the same, but there’s something
about it, how they cured the infected Lind. It’s the blood that is
important.”

Though in
obvious pain, Malin’s face brightened then fell again, “but it was
a Lind disease. What we have
now
is a
human
disease.”

“They made a
serum,” explained Hannah with patience, “Nadil said they made it
out of the blood of those who’d had it and survived. If I am right
about this, my blood could be used. If I am immune, my blood can
make the sick better.”

“The
palliatives aren’t working,” croaked Malin, “get the entries out
for AL10. They’re over there on the bottom shelf. I can’t help you
Hannah, I’m not seeing right.” Malin stumbled to a pallet situated
in the corner and lay down, coughing and spluttering.

It took the
rest of the night but Hannah persevered, she forced herself to keep
her eyes open and kept herself awake with an immense quantity of
hot unsweetened kala, a drink she despised under normal
circumstances. But these were not normal circumstances, Hannah had
realised, after one of her periodic tending sessions with Malin,
that he might die too if she couldn’t find the answer. Hannah
didn’t want to think about that. She kept going.

It was past
dawn when Hannah found the entries at last, written in a firm and
neat hand by one who had signed himself Winston Randall. Hannah
turned to Malin. “The writing is faded but I can make most of it
out, Look, it says here that he inoculated (she stumbled over the
unfamiliar word) the Lind with serum made from a man’s blood. It
was a human virus that cross-infected the Larg and the Lind.”

“Whereas this
time we have no way of knowing. We have lost so much in the last
century, because we lack the technology to make specific cures and
have had to fall back on home-grown remedies,” Malin managed to
force out the words through lips parched and crusty.

“We have to try
it,” said Hannah as Malin coughed again, great racking coughs that
sounded as if they were coming up from his boots.

Even a tyro
like Hannah realised that the medic was getting worse and that if
nothing was done he was like to die.

“We’ve got to
try it,” she insisted.

“Inoculation,”
mused Malin in between his coughs, “that’s an old technique.”

“I’ve never
heard of it,” admitted Hannah.

“How do we make
the serum?” asked Malin, “you can try it out on me. If this works
my girl, your name will be written up in the stars for all to
see.”

“Don’t be
silly,” said an embarrassed Hannah, “now, I’ll go get the needle
and you can take the blood.”

“You’ll see,”
answered Malin with a weak grin but he managed to rouse himself
enough to extract some of Hannah’s blood.

By the time
Hannah had found out how to make the serum it was evening and Malin
was unconscious. It took her a further three bells to prepare the
mixture.

When she
injected Malin with what she had calculated as the correct dose,
the man was in a coma, the prelude to death as Hannah knew after
nursing so many of the dying.

She sat up with
Malin watching for a change in his life signs. Towards dawn she
dropped into an exhausted sleep and didn’t see his eyes flutter
open and his voice croak, “Hannah. You are a genius.”

To her stunned
surprise Hannah was summoned to Susa Lynsey’s office after her
return from Argyll. There she was informed that she too was to be
presented with the Honour Star in recognition of the sterling work
she had done to cure the disease.

“The Star is
not given only for physical feats of courage,” explained Lynsey.
“You showed courage of a different kind. Your perseverance and
imagination found the cure and so saved many lives. All the Holad
agree that you should be awarded the decoration and I agree with
them.”

When Jess and
Tana had heard they looked at each other in amazement.

“Two of us with
Stars!” marvelled Jess. “Why, it’s unheard of. Stars for
cadets!”

“They mustn’t
be allowed to get away with this,” grinned Tana, “apart from being
thrown into the water trough, this means that we both must do a
wonderfully honourable or brave feat too and who would have
expected Beth to have the guts to do what she did?”

Jess ginned
back, “don’t be daft. As Beth said, they were in the right place at
the wrong time or whatever she said, I can’t remember and it
doesn’t matter. I always get that saying mixed up. Both are
special. We should be proud to call them our friends.”

“You had an
exciting time on your attachment Jess, you maybe haven’t earned an
Honour Star but I for one know that you’ve contributed much to gain
a person’s happiness, two even. Perhaps that’s an even greater
honour.”

“Perhaps you
are right.”

“I know I am.
Aren’t I always?”

Jess threw the
nearest cushion at her. “Ass,” she said.

“Ouch,”
exclaimed Tana and laughed.

* * * * *

Quartet (7)

Jess and Mlei’s
attachment had been with the Fifteenth Ryzck in north-eastern
Argyll.

Tiffney was
drowning.

She had plunged
into the cold river in a last ditch attempt to escape the slavers
who had attacked her home village. The water was cold and she
gasped at its icy touch.

Tiffney could
not swim.

Her body
dropped like a stone.

Is this what
its like to drown?

The rushes
grabbed her legs in a vicelike grip, the strands getting tighter as
she struggled to get free, to rise to the surface and reach the
life-giving air. Her lungs were bursting.

It was no use,
she opened her mouth and the water surged in, down her throat, into
her lungs.

Tiffney was
dying.

Suddenly the
rushes let go and her body rose to the surface. Tiffney gasped a
breath before her body sank to the bottom and the rushes took hold
again.

Her last
conscious thought was of fear of the great unknown realm of
death.

She was not
aware of strong arms reaching for her body, of the belt knife
hacking at the rushes, of being lifted out and dragged to the
riverbank, of her rescuer’s frantic efforts to expunge the water
from her lungs or of his mouth coming down on hers as he forced air
inside her.

: She is
alive! :

The ‘voice’ was
faint and inaudible.

Tiffney was
drifting in and out of consciousness; she was coughing up water.
The man lifted her into a sitting position.

She began to
struggle; her only thought to get away.

Death would be
preferable to being caught. In her disorientated state she thought
the pirate slavers had caught her. Untouched virgin girls commanded
high prices in the slave markets of the South. Rumour had it that
girls as young as ten were being sold to the brothel keepers.

She struggled
more and kept her eyes screwed tightly closed.

The man let her
go for a moment and Tiffney threw herself down on to the ground in
despair.

: She is
filled with fear of you :

: Frightened
of me? :

: She thinks
you are a slaver :

Jon hunkered
down beside her and laid a hand on Tiffney’s shoulder.

“There is
nothing to be afraid of.”

Tiffney
stiffened.

“There is
nothing to be afraid of,” Jon repeated, “the slavers have
gone.”

Tiffney gasped,
only half-believing him but started to cough again.

“Get on to your
knees and cough it all up. Better out than in as they say. You were
lucky we were passing. Jess and Mlei have gone to try and find our
medic but I think you’ll be ok once your lungs are clear. Still,
it’ll be best to have you checked out.”

“The slavers?”
Tiffney was disorientated; her words seemed to be coming from a
long way off.

“They fled as
soon as they saw us running over the hill.”

“Us?”

“Our Ryzck,” he
answered.

“Ryzck? You are
Vada?”

“Enough to
scare them away. Mislya and I saw you run, came after you.”

Tiffney opened
her eyes.

Two booted
feet. She realised that the man must have jumped into the river
after her.

Jon stood
waiting.

He’s not
acting like he is a slaver. He has saved my life. His words are
kind and gentle.

Two large furry
paws. Wet paws. A large wet nose.

That decided
her. The man was telling the truth. He was of the Vada. This was
his Lind.

She relaxed and
raised her head looking into, for the first time in her life, the
large expressive eyes of a Lind. She had seen them in the distance
often enough but never this close. The eyes were bright blue and
filled with compassion and intelligence.

: Pretty
little thing is she not? :

: Mmm, A
compliment my Delya. Her hair is reddish, I bet you when it dries
it will be a bright titian red and you know of my preference for
red-headed women! :

The Lind liked
bright colours. Delya’s colour stripe was red, much like Tiffney’s
hair would be when it was dry.

: She hears
us :
warned Delya.

: Really?
:
Jon knelt down beside her.

“What
happened?” he asked of her.

: Jess and
Mlei return. Sandy cannot come. He is tending the wounded :

Jon
acknowledged this, “take your time. Jess and Mlei return, not with
our medic, but you seem to be recovering quite well on your
own.”

“Yes thank
you,” she replied.

“So?” he
queried as his cadet pair returned, Jess dismounting and hunkering
down beside Jon. Jess smiled at Tiffney in an encouraging fashion
and Tiffney relaxed completely.

“The pirates
came up the creek,” she began, “I was outside doing my chores when
I heard father yelling at me to run and not to stop. They’ve never
been this far up the creek before. Are my family all right?”

“Everyone is
alive if a little battered,” Jess answered. “The pirates saw us
coming and ran. I’ve told your parents that you are safe.” She
turned to Jon. “Vadryzka Frieda says that you and I are to stay at
the village for now. We are to go there as soon as Tiffney is
able.”

“Very good,”
Jon answered.

“Will they come
back?”

“The rest of
our Vadryz will make sure that they do not,” Jess informed her.
“How they managed to reach your village without detection is
anybody’s guess. We’re far enough inland.”

“Lucky that
Ryzcka Leon ordered patrols in depth,” said Jon, “we’ve not had
duty in this ward for a long time and he wanted detailed surveys
inland. We had no idea that slavers could get here. I suppose we
might have guessed but we of the Vada have never claimed to be
omnipotent. Looks like the slavers have changed their tactics. The
coastal villages and towns are too well defended and everyone there
is on their guard so they’re using the rivers to get further inland
to reach the less well defended areas.”

Jess managed to
keep her composure. She didn’t like hearing about families
disappearing. It rang too close to home.

“So what now
Jon?” she asked.

“We take this
young lady back to her family, Tiffney, isn’t it?”

She nodded,
suppressing with difficulty a shiver.
How does he know my name?
I never told him.

“She can ride
Mlei. I’ll be glad to stretch my legs,” offered Jess.

Tiffney was
glad to accept, she had grave doubts about her ability to place one
foot in front of the other. She stood up. Jess saw a tall, slight
young woman of perhaps her own age or a little older, just the age
to be a prime target for slavers. They never took the old or the
very young.

Jess helped her
to mount and walked her back to the village while Jon and Delya ran
ahead.

Tiffney
regarded Jess, “why has your uniform got white piping on it while
the man’s is silver?”

“I’m a cadet on
training attachment. Jon is a full vadeln and serves in the
Fifteenth Ryzck,” she explained as she gave Tiffney a thoughtful
look. Mlei had told her that Tiffney had been able to ‘hear’ Jon
and Delya ‘speaking’ to one another and Jon was wondering if she
might be able to find out more about the ability. She decided that
the direct approach was best.

“Have you heard
Lind talking inside your head before?” she asked as if it was the
most natural thing in the world.

Tiffney shook
her head. “I’ve never been this close to a Lind before. Father told
me that this was a safe area and that we lived too far from the
coast to be in any danger. The Vada seldom come this way.”