The Third Scroll (9 page)

She pulled two glass phials, one white, one black, from the folds of her dress. She handed me the white one. “For Keela. I want to make sure she conceives a male child.”

I nodded, having heard of such potions, although the Shahala would not have dreamed of trying to influence the spirits in such a way.

She handed me the second phial, and I nearly dropped it. The cold glass seemed to burn my skin.

“For Lord Gilrem. One drop in every cup he drinks. I can do this much for them, but no more. You will do the rest.”

I looked at her bewildered, for truly I did not understand what she expected of me.

“Lord Gilrem will leave when Tahar returns at the next moon crossing.” Her sharp eyes narrowed. “If Keela is with child, I will ask Tahar for a favor. He has never denied me yet. I will ask for your freedom.”

My heart leaped with joy. For such a price, I would have done anything. If only I understood what she wanted from me.

“But if Lord Gilrem leaves before planting his seed in my daughter, you will be chosen for Tahar at the feast. And after that, the warriors… I would not be surprised if they all had you. Especially if they thought your healer’s blood made them invincible.”

She said this without the slightest malice in her voice, as if she were telling me what foods she had asked Talmir to prepare for the evening meal. And then she turned on the wooden heels of her jeweled slippers and left me to think about it.

That veil of dread returned and tightened around my face until I could scarcely breathe. Did she fathom I had powers such as to create new life in the womb? Not even the best of the Shahala healers had the ability, not even my mother.

I paced the outer chamber, not daring to disturb the couple in the smaller one as I contemplated my sorry fate.

Soon Lenya brought a tray of food but could not stay to talk under strict orders from Kumra. I decided I would have to go to Keela and Gilrem at last, for they might have been waiting for the meal. So I called Keela’s name loudly, and when she bid me to enter, I carried the food in.

Since I had set up the room with Lenya, a great transformation had taken place. Soft pelts covered the floor so barely a patch of rock showed; embroidered pictures of silk hung on the walls that showed men hunting and women bathing in enchanted pools. Satin pillows lay piled high on the bed.

Keela stood in the corner by a large chest and sorted through a pile of elaborate dresses, some of which I knew to be her mother’s.

“I heard you will be helping us.” She tossed the dresses aside.

I set the tray on the carved bedside table and added a drop from the white phial to Keela’s cup. She came and drank it at once.

Lord Gilrem lay upon the bed, his tunic removed, wearing only his leggings. He hummed a lifeless note, himself as listless as the song, as if his strength had been drained.

“He feels poorly.” Keela picked at the food without sitting. “Mother has been giving him something to help him recover, but I do not think it works. Maybe you can do better.”

I stepped closer and looked into his vacant eyes. He did not seem to recognize me. I did not expect him to. He had last seen me in the dark, from some distance away.

I placed my hand in the middle of his chest to touch the rhythm of the life within. Slower than it should be. His body was awake, but his spirit was sleeping. I knew of only one thing that would make a man so: the juice of the lantaya.

I had seen such a man once before, brought to my mother by his family, he himself not even aware of his illness, protesting. People who drank of the lantaya were like that. No herb would cure such a person, for herbs went into the stomach to diffuse into the body. The lantaya juice did not go into a person’s stomach. It went into his head and his heart and filled them up until no room for his spirit remained.

Only a very strong spirit could have fought against such a curse, but those whose hearts and minds had been so corrupted tended to lose their spirit.

My mother had talked to that man’s spirit for many days and nights. The lantaya did not like what she was saying. It fought against her and against the man, nearly killing him before he recovered.

When he left, my mother gave him a mirror to look into every morning. She told him the day he no longer recognized the man in the mirror, it meant the lantaya had come back to take him again. For that was the worst thing about the lantaya—it took people in such a treacherous way, they were unaware that it had their heart. So my mother gave that man the mirror so he could see through his own eyes into his own heart and know who owned it.

But even that failed. Sometime later, we heard from a visitor that after the man had returned home, the lantaya grew strong in him again. He broke the mirror and left his family so they would not make him fight against the curse.

I prayed to the spirits for Lord Gilrem and put a drop from the black phial into his cup, then lifted it to his lips, hoping Kumra had some strong medicine.

I repeated this for many days with each meal while snow storms raged outside. At times, the wind blew so fiercely that I could not walk even to the latrines and had to bring a bucket into my chamber.

I cleaned the inner room every morning and did whatever other task Keela demanded. Mostly I listened to her talk, as she took to coming to my chamber to spend the time while Gilrem slept through most of the day.

“Can you make him better?” she would ask each time.

I begged the spirits with fervor for Lord Gilrem’s recovery and the blessing of a child. My freedom depended on it.

“Let us pray for Rorin’s favor,” I would say.

The Kadar disliked mention of the Shahala spirits. They believed in their god of war ferociously. The warriors prayed only to him, while the women prayed both to Rorin and to his many concubines, the goddesses.

Keela would sigh as she sat next to me on my pallet, then recite her prayers.

“At least he stopped talking about leaving. I could not live if he left without me. I love him,” she said one day and flushed at the confession.

“What of Rugir?”

A moment of uncertainty crossed her face before she responded. “Mother was right. He is beneath my station. I am the favorite daughter of Tahar.”

I wondered if Tahar or her mother had told her that, or if she thought so because she had not yet been sent to another Lord’s house.

She glanced toward the door. “Lord Gilrem loves me too. I see it in the way he looks at me. If only he had more strength.”

I nodded. If Lord Gilrem’s strength returned, he might yet fight off the lantaya and break free.

“I have been thinking,” Keela said and cocked her head to the side. “Maybe his illness came from the manyinga.”

“An herb?”

“Their beasts.” She rolled her eyes as if I was too stupid to know anything. “All the Kadar used to have them back in the old days.” She shuddered. “They are sure death to women.”

“They eat women?” I recoiled at the thought of Lord Gilrem possessing such beasts and letting them do as they pleased.

Keela laughed at me. “Of course not. They draw your life through your blood.”

I must have looked stunned at this revelation, for she continued to explain. “When the Kadar came to Dahru, they brought with them many manyinga. The beasts were peaceful then. But this land did not like them, and little by little the great herd lessened. Not many remain now. They are all at Karamur, in the High Lord’s service.”

“You think one might have bitten Lord Gilrem?” If his troubles came from some unknown venom and not the lantaya, there could be a cure.

Keela rolled her eyes at me. “They obey their warriors who ride them to battle. Gilrem probably rode one to Kaharta Reh.”

I grew even more alarmed at the thought of such a beast at the House of Tahar and wondered where it must be hidden. But as Keela went on, she allayed my fears.

“It is probably at the High Lord’s stables at the port.”

“How could it hurt Lord Gilrem, then?” He had not appeared sick upon his arrival.

“The manyinga can draw a man’s spirit out of his body through his blood. The warriors ride the manyinga into battle, to crush the wounded enemy beneath their mighty feet and soak up their spirits from their spilled blood. Women never ride them. Should you have your womanly flow, the beasts could suck your spirit right out of your body through it. No woman would even touch a manyinga.”

She rubbed between her fingers one of the many protective charms that hung from her belt.

I wondered what such fearsome beasts looked like. I had known many animals that could take away someone’s life, but I had never heard of one that could take the spirit. “But would such a beast harm its own master?”

“I heard that as their numbers decrease, they grow more ill-tempered.”

I tried to separate the truth from Kadar superstition, of which a good measure seeped into every story, especially tales told by Kadar women. They were wholly attached to their charms and other small rituals to ward off bad luck and ensure good.

I wondered if the manyinga simply had their bad reputation because of their size and the fact that they fought in battle.

“Mother says if I am with child, Gilrem will take me with him for sure.” Keela switched topic suddenly as if even talk of the beasts could bring harm to us.

“He has many concubines, but none has given him a son. If I give him his first son, I will be the favorite in his Pleasure Hall, the mother of his heir, the mother of the High Lord’s nephew. I do not seek it for myself, of course.” She moved away as if regretting the familiarity. “It is your duty to help. My son will bring great honor to the House of Tahar.”

She stayed with me and talked and talked about the glorious future and her part in it. Even when Lenya brought their evening meal, Keela kept me to listen to her instead of taking food in for Lord Gilrem. And when she finished talking, she insisted that I go to the servants and ask them to prepare a bath for her in her chamber.

Four slaves carried in the large wooden tub and worked hard to fill it. Then Keela ordered me to help her undress and wash her with the scented potions her mother had prepared. I sniffed and tested each, but they seemed to be harmless waters of vanity, scented with the essence of flowers.

My fingers turned numb by the time I freed her elaborate braids secured in place by small metal clips and held up by the grease of having gone unwashed for many days. Their creation required much effort and time, so some concubines were reluctant to undo them for the mere sake of cleanliness. I worked soaproot paste into her long tresses, then rinsed them, repeating the task many times.

At home, it had been my custom to wash every day in the creek that ran down our hillside. A healer should always have a clean spirit and a clean body, a lesson my mother had taught me well. The Shahala valued cleanliness as one person’s courtesy to the other.

The Kadar paid less attention to such things, and I wondered if their cold northern land had something to do with it. Maybe they were reluctant to bare their bodies to the chill. But Keela did not have to worry about that, for a strong fire burned in the brazier and filled the room with warmth.

Half the night had passed by the time I could feed Lord Gilrem and give his medicine to him. He grabbed my wrist as I lifted the cup to his lips. I did not expect such strength from him, so I looked up, into red-rimmed eyes that seemed more awake than I had seen them in a long time.

He too smelled in need of a bath, but I did not dare risk offending him by offering. He surprised me by opening his parched lips for a whisper, his voice so hoarse with effort I barely understood him.

“Help me.”

~~~***~~~

CHAPTER SIX

(Lord Gilrem)

I pried off Lord Gilrem’s fingers from my wrist, sloshing some of his drink before I could pour the rest into his mouth. He choked and sputtered it all over the pillow. I wiped his chin and switched pillows to make him more comfortable.

“Will he be better soon?” Keela asked from the wooden chest in the corner, combing her hair. “I wish he would laugh and talk again like before. He sleeps so much now. Except when I lie next to him and do what Mother told me.” She sighed. “You would not know about such things.”

I did want to know what her mother had taught her, but I dared not ask. The matter of lying with a man had been discussed at length at Maiden Hall, but the chatter had done nothing save confuse me.

Some of the girls claimed to know more than others, but their tales grew too outrageous to be believed. My mother’s explanation made the most sense, although even about that, I had some doubts.

I understood that after a girl became a woman, a man might ask her to become his wife. And if that man wanted to, he could put his manpart into that woman’s secret cave, and that manpart would leave a seed.

If the spirits favored their union, they would make the seed grow into a babe. And the babe grew until it outgrew the cave, and then it crawled out.

But my mother had said nothing about the blood I had seen smeared on Onra’s thighs, nor the pain in her eyes. Tahar’s manpart must have done something awful in Onra’s secret cave.

Yet Keela seemed happy about such things. I wished my mother still lived so she could have taught me more. I thought I might ask Onra the next time I saw her.

But what happened the following morning pushed those questions from my mind. When I brought Lord Gilrem’s medicine to him, he pressed his lips together and knocked the cup from my hand.

“Poison,” he whispered.

Keela had gone to the latrines as the weather had turned milder for the day. Gilrem had been using the pot under the bed in good weather and bad, sometimes with my help.

“No poison here, my Lord.”

He ate the same food from the same tray as Keela, and I poured his water from the same jar as I had for Keela and myself.

“The lantaya made your spirit weak. You must drink Kumra’s medicine.”

He turned his head in refusal, and I let him be this once. For all the days I had been giving him Kumra’s potion, he had not improved any. But neither had he gotten worse, I thought then, and hesitated.