Steven Brust - Athyra

It was only then, with the unlit torch in his hand, that he realized that it was chilly. “Are you cold?” he asked Polyi.

“Yes,” she said, “but I’m all right. Hurry up and light the torch so we can go.”

While Polyi waited by the cave mouth, Savn pushed together a pile of leaves that weren’t too damp and succeeded in making a fire. The glow hurt his eyes so much, he had to look away while igniting the torch, and once he’d managed to do so, he had to look away from both while he stamped out the fire. When he’d done this, he hesitated, wanting to wait until his eyes adjusted to the light, but not wanting to remain outside the cave where the light could be observed.

As he stood, undecided, Polyi said, “Come on, Savn,” so he squinted as best he could and headed into the cave. The jhereg, visible now in the torchlight, stayed with them, as if to be certain they completed their journey.

At last they reached the chamber where Vlad lay. Savn put the torch in the wall, lit another from the stack on the floor, brought it over to the Easterner, and gasped.

“Savn, what’s wro—”

“Hand me the sack, Polyi. Thanks. Now, find the mortar and pestle. Quick.”

“Where? Oh, here it is.”

Savn dumped the contents of the sack on the floor, and found the prairiesong. “Crush this up with some water,” he said.

“Where’s the water?”

“I don’t know, look around. Wait, in the wineskin, against the wall, below the torch. No, the brown wineskin; that one still has wine. Yes.”

“How much water?”

“After you’ve crushed the prairiesong, fill the bowl. Wait, give me the water first.”

Savn inspected Vlad, looking at each wound carefully, then got a cloth wet and put it around Vlad’s head. Then he began fanning him.

“What happened?” said Polyi.

“The Imps of Fever have entered his body, but I don’t know how. His wound isn’t infected.”

“What do we do?”

“Have you mixed the prairiesong yet?”

“Yes.”

“Then we will help him drink it.”

“Then what?”

“Then we’ll get the fire started again. Is there any wood left?”

“Not much.”

“After he’s had the prairiesong, take a torch with you and get some wood. Don’t stay out there any longer then you have to. Be careful not to be seen.”

“All right. What will we do when we’ve got the fire going?”

“We will sit here with him, keeping him cool, chanting the charms against fever, and feeding him water with prairiesong until his fever breaks.”

“What if it doesn’t break?”

“It will,” said Savn.

“But what if it doesn’t?”

“It will. Here. I’ll hold his head, you open his lips and pour. Slowly, we don’t want to spill any.”

They helped the Easterner drink. He was only semiconscious, but he was able to swallow normally. His skin was still very hot. Savn wiped Vlad’s forehead again, while Polyi got the firewood. He reviewed the chants against fever, while he ground up more prairiesong and set it aside, then began fanning Vlad. I’ll have to send Polyi out for more water, he thought, but that can wait until the fire’s going.

He began the chant clumsily. It was difficult to perform the invocation with the proper rhythm while fanning Vlad, until he managed to adjust his fanning to the rhythm of the incantation. After that it was easier.

Polyi returned with the firewood, and built up the fire, got more water, then sat down next to Savn. “How is he?”

“He burns,” said Savn, his voice already hoarse. “Come, listen to the chant so you can help me with it. I’ll fan him, you make sure the cloth on his forehead stays damp, and we’ll perform the healing together.”

“All right,” said Polyi.

Vlad moaned softly then, and mumbled something. Polyi made a soft exclamation. Savn glanced at her and said, “We do not pay attention to the ravings of those under our care.” Then he resumed chanting. Presently his sister joined him.

Several hours later, when both of their voices were raw and sore, when Savn felt more exhausted than he ever had in his life, when he was afraid that his arm lacked the strength to lift up Vlad’s head one more time, he felt his forehead and found it was cool to the touch.

“You can stop, Polyi,” he said.

She kept chanting, stumbling a little, slowing down, then at last ran down like a spinning doll at the end of its string. She looked at him blankly, as if unable to comprehend the silence. Perhaps they said something to each other—Savn later had a memory that they exchanged a hug, but he was never certain. All he knew was that within a minute after the sudden silence boomed through the cave, he was sound asleep.

When Savn awoke, the first thing he did was stifle a cry and look at Vlad. Then he realized that he’d only dreamed that he’d fallen asleep while Vlad’s life was still at stake, and he relaxed. The Easterner slept, but his color looked good and his forehead felt cool, though perhaps slightly clammy.

The next thing he did was make sure Polyi was all right. She was still asleep (or, for all he knew, asleep again). He badly wished for tea. Then he noticed a dead norska lying by the fire. He looked at the two jhereg who stood over it, either guarding it or showing off, and said, “Now, I suppose, you’re going to want me to skin it and cook it, aren’t you? Haven’t we been through this already? Fortunately for you, I have a stewpot, because I wouldn’t want to risk the smell of roasting it again.”

The smaller of the jhereg hopped over to him, jumped coolly onto his arm, and licked his ear. Savn wondered why this didn’t bother him, and, moreover, how the jhereg knew it wouldn’t bother him.

He built up the fire, skinned the norska, and put it in the pot with water and more three-season herb than probably ought to go in. That was all right; it might make the stew a little sweet, but it should still be edible. The smell woke up Polyi, and, at almost the same time, Vlad.

Savn realized the Easterner was awake when the two jhereg suddenly stopped nibbling at the norska skin and flew over to land next to his face. Savn followed them, knelt down, and said, “How are you?”

Vlad blinked, cleared his throat, and said, “What did I say this time?”

“I have no idea,” said Savn. “You sound stronger than you did yesterday.”

“Do I? I think I feel a little better, too. How odd.”

“Did Fird do something to you?”

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t think he could have done anything I wouldn’t have noticed, and he doesn’t seem to be the type that would try anything, anyway. No, I think it just happened.”

“You do sound better.”

“Thanks. I really didn’t say anything?”

“I wasn’t paying attention. What was Fird doing here, anyway?”

“Giving me some information I’d paid him to find out.”

“Oh. I hope it was worth it.” .

Vlad laughed, weakly. “Oh, yes. It was worth it.”

Savn grunted and stirred the stew, spilling some, which made the fire hiss, and thick smoke curled up into his eyes. He waved it away and stepped back. He added a little wine, Figuring it couldn’t hurt anything and remembering Vlad’s comments last time.

He glanced back at Vlad, who had struggled to a sitting position on his own, and was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, his eyes closed.

“You’re going to make it,” said Savn quietly.

“Eh?” said Vlad.

“Nothing. Rest now and I’ll wake you when the food’s ready.”

“Thanks, but I want to be awake. I need to think.”

“Are you afraid they’ll find you?” He didn’t think the stew sinelled as strongly as the roasted norska had, and hoped that the smell wouldn’t manage to sneak its way out of the cave.