Steven Brust - Athyra

“You didn’t come today. I was expecting you.”

“No, Master. I—”

“You were off searching the green for this monster with whiskers, along with everyone else?”

“Uh, no, Master.”

“No? Why not?”

“Why aren’t you?” asked Savn.

Master Wag snorted, and came closer. “Is that how you talk to your Master?” He didn’t wait for Savn to answer, however. He said, “I don’t know this Easterner, and he didn’t do anything to me, so why should I hunt him down? Now, what about you?”

Savn, not quite knowing why he did so, said, “I want to help him.”

“Hmmph. I suspected as much. Why?”

“Well, because ... I don’t know. I saved his life, and if they find him—”

“You saved his life?”

“Yes, Master. He’d been injured.”

“Tell me about it.”

Savn, as coherently and quickly as he could, gave a brief summary of the fight, explained the odd wound, and described what he’d done about it.

“Hmmph. Not bad. Did you perform the rituals against infection?”

“Not very well, Master. I don’t really know them, and I haven’t any herbs.”

“Hmmph. Then you can bet the demons have infested him by now.”

“I think he’s past the worst of the wound—”

“Not if he’s burning up inside.”

“But I can’t move him, and he’ll need blankets, so—”

“So, nothing. We can find the herbs we need as we go, if we go now, while there’s still light.”

“We, Master?”

“We’ll also need torches.”

“Torches?”

“It’s dark in the caves, and I can’t think of anywhere else he’ll be safe. There are torches at Speaker’s house, but I’d better get them myself, in case Speaker hasn’t gone with the others—I don’t think you could survive his questions. Wait here while I get them; then we’ll go see what we can do for your friend.”

I will not marry a filthy hermit,

I will not marry a filthy hermit,

Such a life I could not permit.

Hi-dee hi-dee ho-la!

Step on out ...

Master Wag, to Savn’s surprise, led them through the woods by paths that he, Savn, had never known. He had always assumed, without really thinking about it, that no one over the age of ninety or so, except perhaps for trappers and hunters, knew anything about the woods. The idea that Master Wag knew, or at any rate remembered, the forest near town startled him.

They made good time, even with a few stops to gather knotweeds and blowflowers, and they found Vlad as daylight was failing. The two jhereg were still there, and hissed suspiciously at Master Wag, who jumped back and began waving his arms around, as if to shoo them away. They didn’t move, but kept staring at him as if wondering what his peculiar gestures were intended to accomplish.

“It’s all right,” Savn said; then he repeated the words, this time speaking to the jhereg. He felt Master Wag looking at him, but the jhereg calmed down, moving closer to Vlad and watching carefully.

“When there is time,” said the Master, “you must explain this to me.” Then he knelt next to the Easterner. He moved his hand slowly, watching the jhereg. When they remained motionless, the Master touched Vlad’s forehead and cheek, and frowned. “He seems feverish,” he said, “but I don’t know about Easterners—perhaps they have wanner blood than we do.”

Savn touched Vlad’s forehead and said, “He was cooler than this when I left.”

“Well, then.”

“What do we do?”

“We get him to a cave, and then we bring his fever down. First, wrap him in the blanket.”

“All the blankets? Do we need to keep him warm?”

“No, no. It’s just easier to carry him that way. We have to keep him cool, not warm.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Roll up the blanket first, just a little on each side so we can grip—No, the other way. Good. Now lift his head and I’ll slide this—Good. Now lift up his waist. That’s right. Now his feet. Good. You’re younger than me; you take that end.”

“Just a minute,” said Savn, and picked up the sack containing the food and the water jug. He looked around for a moment, trying to figure out how to carry it, until Master Wag set it carefully on the Easterner’s legs. Savn opened his mouth to object, but could find no reason to. He felt his face turn red and was glad there was so little light.

Savn picked up the blanket at Vlad’s head, Master Wag picked it up at Vlad’s feet. They had no trouble lifting him. “Master,” said Savn, “it’s getting dark—”

“I know the way. Let me get turned around ... There. Now, be careful; we’ll have to go slowly.”

He led them deeper into the woods, but he must have struck some sort of path, because they didn’t have to stop or even slow down. They began to go down a gentle slope, and there were not even twigs brushing against Savn’s face, although Vlad seemed to get heavier with each step. Savn recalled the dreamwalking he had done, and wished this journey were as easy.

They came to the loose stone of the slopes above the caves and went down sideways, never quite losing their balance, but feeling the strain of maintaining it. Savn began to feel the effects of carrying the Easterner, light though he was. At about this time Vlad began to moan softly. Savn asked, “Vlad, are you awake?” but the Easterner said nothing that sounded like a response. A little later Savn said, “Master, maybe we should try this one?”

“I don’t remember how to get back to the water. Do you?”

Savn blinked back his surprise. “Yes, I think so.”

“All right. This way, then. Stop; this is far enough. I have to light a torch, or have you learned how to see in the dark?”

“How can we hold a torch and still carry Vlad?”

“I’ll drill a hole in your head for it.”

Savn considered himself answered. After carefully setting the Easterner on the floor of the cave, Master Wag brought one of the torches to light. He put it into his fist so it stuck out to the side, then indicated that Savn should pick Vlad up again.

They made their way back into the cave, Savn leading, until they could hear water dripping. “This is as far as we can go,” said Savn. “To get to the stream we have to go over this ledge and down a very narrow—”

“I understand. Set him down and let’s see how his fever is doing.” Vlad moaned again, and muttered something that sounded like “Do it yourself.”

Master Wag felt his forehead and said, “Start bathing his face with cool water, and find something to fan him with. I’m going to find the infection and see if we can exorcise it. Here, wipe this on his face, too. I have to find somewhere to put the torch—look!”

Savn looked in the direction Master Wag was pointing, but saw nothing except the two jhereg, who were sitting on the floor of the cave, wings folded, watching the proceedings. “What is it?” he said.

“They followed us!”

“Oh. Well, they’ve been doing that.”

“Mmmmm,” said the Master. “All right.”

He found a place to wedge the torch in between a pair of rocks, lit another, and set that on the other side of the cave. His two shadows performed an odd dance as he returned to the motionless Easterner. Savn continued bathing Vlad’s face and fanning him with the leather pouch taken from his room.

Master Wag peeled back Vlad’s shirt, and carefully removed the bandage. “Not bad,” he said.

“Master?”

“You could have done worse with this. But there are no signs of infection, which puzzles me. The fever—”

“Perhaps his leg,” said Savn.

Master Wag looked at the bandages wrapped around the Easterner’s thigh (which was hairy, like an animal’s, though Savn had not noticed this before), and began removing them. “Keep fanning,” he said.