Gail Martin - The summoner

Vahanian jabbed the point of his sword into the soft ground and rested both hands on the pommel. He wasn't even breathing hard, Tris noted sourly. "Right you are," the mercenary replied. "And it's a good move if you're fast enough, because you're assured they won't be coming after you."

"That's cheating," Soterius replied with a knowing grin.

Vahanian shrugged. "When would you rather learn moves like these, now-or when some son of a whore clips you in a fight?"

Soterius raised a hand in appeasement. "No contest from me on that one, Jonmarc," he conceded. "I've spent enough time around the barracks to be a little dubious about chivalry and honor."

Vahanian raised an eyebrow. "Chivalry, yes. Honor is another thing entirely."

"That's not a beginner's move," a rough voice said. They looked up to see the burly giant who had been with Carina.

"I'm not a beginner," Vahanian replied neutrally. Tris noted that the fighter neither raised nor sheathed his sword, and he guessed that the mercenary sensed no threat.

"Obviously," the large man answered. His unruly dark hair sat like a storm cloud around his face, and his skin was bronzed from a season out of doors. He was dressed in a simple tunic and pants, but the sword belt that hung from his ample waist was finely worked, and if the blade in the scabbard lived up to its pommel, it was well crafted, a working piece and not for show.

There's more here than meets the eye, Tris thought.

"I'm Cam," the dark-haired fighter introduced himself, directing his comments to Vahanian but taking in the rest of them with a sweep of his glance. "I watched you practice. I'd like to join you if I could, for a few rounds."

"Sure," Vahanian agreed amiably. Maybe with luck, Tris thought, the big man would be a good source of information. At the least they should be able to learn something more about the other guards who attached themselves to the caravan.

Cam was surprisingly agile for his size, Tris found after a round with the giant, and good with his sword, too. Although seeing the blade in action gave little opportunity to appreciate the

artistry of its forging, Tris thought he glimpsed runes etched in the side of the blade, and a complex and foreign inscription on the guard. An unusual weapon for a hired fighter. He watched from a distance as Cam sparred with Harrtuck. Either the weapon was stolen or, like themselves, there was a story unwilling to be told.

The smells of dinner reached them on the crisp night air as Tris and Vahanian ended another round. Tris dragged a sleeve across his face and wiped back his hair from his forehead. More than a candlemark of hard practice worked up a sweat, even in the cool fall air. He was just about to suggest that they head for dinner when a man ran up from the camp.

"Cam! Come quickly!" the runner shouted while he was still a distance away. "You're needed!"

Without a word the giant sheathed his sword and with a nod toward the group, started out at a run for the camp.

"That's it for tonight, anyhow," Vahanian said, putting up his own weapon. "Let's see what all the excitement is about."

It was not hard to keep Cam in view, even when following at a more leisurely pace. The burly fighter stood a head taller than many in the camp, and was twice the bulk of all but a few. Cam slowed to a jog as he reached the more crowded section of the caravan's midway, then took off again at a run as the messenger pointed to the left. Sure enough, there was trouble, Tris noted. But not the sort for which he imagined Cam would be summoned. He had expected a brawl or a thief. One of the large tents where the caravan performers held shows in the evening collapsed. A crowd of caravaners gathered, and Tris and the others worked their way toward the front.

"What happened?" Tris asked one of the men who was nearest the front.

"Damn pole snapped clean in two," the man replied. "Kraveck was setting the last of the rigging when it went down, and so did he."

Carina knelt beside the fallen rigger. As Cam approached, she stretched out her hand to the big man, who took it, paused for a moment as they spoke in low tones, and then settled into place on the other side of the man. Cam raised his massive hand for quiet, and the crowd hushed immediately, stepping back a few paces.

Carina reached out once more for Cam with her left hand, and placed her right hand gently on Kraveck. She shut her eyes and let her hand begin to slide gently down the length of his body, slowly, hovering just above his skin. As Tris watched, her face twitched with pain, and her eyes pinched shut with the suffering she shared.

When she had followed the full course of his form once, she shifted toward his head, and gently laid her hand on his forehead, retaining her contact with Cam with her other hand. Cam looked as if he were in a trance, his eyes shut and his face slack, completely open to Carina's working.

She's drawing strength from him for her healing, Tris realised. Kraveck must be in bad shape.

Carina's hand remained over Kraveck's forehead for a quarter of a candlemark. Then, slowly, she began to move once more, slowing this time over his chest. Her face contorted and it seemed to Tris that Kraveck breathed more easily.

Just below Kraveck's ribcage, Carina stopped. She swallowed hard and leaned forward, and it seemed to Tris that the thin healer was willing every ounce of her strength into her effort. For nearly half a candlemark, she labored, her lips moving in concentration, her body tight with effort. Then suddenly she slumped and would have collapsed but for Cam's quick reflexes, as he caught Carina and tenderly lifted her into his arms. She raised her head and lifted one hand, giving direction that only Cam could hear. "You there," Cam hailed one of the riggers standing near. "She's done all she can for him, and she wants to get him to the building where he'll be easier to watch. She says to slip a board under his back so you don't undo what she's done, and take him there directly. She'll be there as soon as she's rested."

Two of the riggers sprang to do as Cam ordered, and Tris noticed that the big man looked drained and tired himself. Cam waited, Carina cradled in his arms, until the riggers did as he asked. Satisfied that Carina's wishes were carried out,' Cam turned toward the healer's tent, followed by the crowd as if he were a prophet.

"I've seen healers before," Vahanian said. "But not like her. Curious why a healer with that kind of talent is here, wouldn't you say?"

"Maybe they were dismissed from a noble house."

Vahanian shook his head, still staring after them. "I doubt it. That kind of talent is too rare."

"Easy on the eyes, too, if you ask me," Soterius offered from behind them.

Vahanian shrugged. "Friends and lovers are just hostages to fate, waiting to be- taken," he replied. "When you're out on the road long enough, you learn that," he said, and turned away, walking back toward the fallen tent where workers were already swarming to ready the area for the night's crowds.

"Leave it to our friend to have a sour comment on everything," Soterius said darkly, watching Vahanian leave. "I've never spent much time with a mercenary before. Guess I haven't missed much, if they're all like him."

"Only the ones who stay alive very long, m'boy," Harrtuck commented, joining them from behind. "When you've survived as many tight spots as Jonmarc has, you'll have rough edges of your own, I wager.".

"We can't reach Dhasson soon enough for me," Soterius returned.

That night, the dreams came. Tris heard Kait calling his name so plainly that he expected to see her standing in his tent. She called again, more distant now, so plaintively that it made his heart ache.

"Kait, are you here?" he asked quietly, unsure whether he was awake or asleep.