Gallel's Heir 4.2: Encounters

I feel you there beside me like shimmers of light.
---Sirah Anath Sorrel Albandor of Dunaya

The autumn air outside was a fresh chill in shade, and warm in the golden sunlight. Dylin and den Ubal passed under the dappled greens and reds of her garden, through her gate, and crossed the short stretch of forest to the Logan Bridge, which arched high over the Kanterol in graceful stone. Dylin watched the water race under her feet. Den Ubal's arm was gentle, and her wari strengthened with his touch. The scalwax probably wouldn't last as long as she needed. The powder was so bitter, she always underestimated how much she should drink.

Den Ubal broke the awkward silence with, "Where are we going?"

"Kampten." She braved a look into his face. "I get notes all the time, people asking for my help." He nodded. "Sometimes the 'emergency' can wait, but I think this one shouldn't."

Lianna ran towards them with Dylin's gray leather bag under her arm. Close behind ran two of Gallel's guards, muscular men who probably wished they were at Galia's border with Turbia fighting a war instead of chasing a little girl. "No!" said Lianna. "I need..." A guard caught her at the waist. She screamed and kicked furiously. She had reason to be terrified of these men: Large, if not mean, they followed Tutang's orders with determination. At least they never physically harmed her.

Dylin shuffled down the arch, den Ubal following. "Jamesen, let her down!" The strength in her voice surprised her.

"My Lady," said Jamesen, "why you keep trying to take her out is a mystery to me."

"Do you want a siran who's sheltered? Without our escapes, she wouldn't even have been across the river."

"That's none of our affair," said the other guard, Maluan.

Dylin lacked the energy for this. "Fine, just take her." She knelt before Lianna. "I'll be back in a few hours."

Lianna nodded, tears wetting her cheeks. "Here's your bag, Mama."

"Thank you." She kissed Lianna's forehead, then the girl ran into the garden, her two braids swaying. The guards bowed to Dylin and followed.

Den Ubal shouldered the bag, took Dylin's arm and pulled her a little closer to him. "Is it always like this?"

Dylin said, "If they catch us. I don't usually even try to bring her, but if I'm not feeling well, it's nice to have her company."

His shoulders clenched. "Indeed."

They crossed the Logan Bridge and followed the road deeper into the Darkwood Forest. The fresh air brought a little clarity, if not strength, to her mind and body. Den Ubal's solidness beside her was pleasant, especially since time lacked to brew cacao or scalwax properly. He chatted about the weather, and jen Albey, Mistress of Servants, how glad he was to be away from work for a few hours. He seemed familiar, and the familiarity frightened her, drew her to him. He chatted as her equal, a thing from a servant she found refreshing.

"Won't jen Albey miss you if you've skipped your work?" she said.

"Today is my day off. It's just good to have access to the library whenever I want."

Her lips tightened from weariness; she should have taken more scalwax.

Merase had mentioned that she spent time with den Ubal; she spoke once of wanting to bond him, so to even think of him was foolish. Some of the female servants blatantly asked Dylin if she was ever planning to bond someone; all the other servants gossiped about it, a young and pretty siran with a cruel husband and no other men of interest.

She kept talking to keep her mind occupied. "Once, someone requested my healing for her bondman who had been drinking all night. She didn't know he'd been drinking, she thought he was on death's door the next morning. I got there promptly, her note seemed urgent, but I spent the next hour explaining to her why her bondman's drinking was her problem, not mine, and that there was nothing I could do about it. I can only heal the body, not stupid behavior. I told her the headache would go away soon enough. She said, 'That man of mine will never go away!' " He chuckled, and her stomach fluttered again. She smiled at him. "Most people don't know who I really am: they just put their notes in a box near my garden. I prefer that. There is nothing so annoying as having someone bowing at you."

He nodded. "I'll remember to keep my back straight around you."

Dylin fell silent as they followed the main road, then a path northwest through the forest toward Kampten Village, through the sun and shade dapple. Nebulous warmth and shadowed chill touched her cheeks by turns. She couldn't help but notice how the slanting sun rays highlighted den Ubal's features, the angle of his nose, the turn of his lips, his easy smiles to passers-by.

"I... I have to know." He cleared his throat and spoke with apparent effort. "Why did you avoid me for so long after that?"

"After... that?"

"We flew across the ocean. I never learned what happened to Gizelle. You can't tell me you didn't know where I lived, Gizelle gave us her land."

"I..." Moisture disappeared from her mouth. She took ten steps before she managed another word. "Our time together was... I couldn't face you again. Gizelle's death was more intense than you can imagine."

"She was my best friend, and I never knew what happened to her, other than her house seemed to have exploded, and she left me a barn full of books. I had to assume that she tried to burn her things herself, and was... too successful." He shook his head vigorously, almost with anger. "If I had been there like she'd asked, she would probably still be alive."

Dylin stopped, and braved enough to grasp his elbow. "No. You would most likely have died too. A horrible, horrible death. Gizelle knew what was coming, and she was not the one who burned her things."

"Who did, then?"

"A very powerful mage did everything she could to destroy anyone who stood against her. The visions on the night of Hallel's star finished Gizelle's change of heart, and her enemy would not accept it. This mage would have destroyed you for fun, but I think she would have been afraid of you, too."

"Afraid of me?" Den Ubal laughed. "What, did she think I'd throw a book at her or something?"

"Gizelle knew your potential, and so her enemy would have sensed it, too, had you been there. She would not have allowed you to fulfill it." She sighed. "Look, I didn't really want to get into this with you. The night Gizelle died was the most horrifying and traumatic night of my life."

"Sorry." He scratched his neck. "As far as potential, all I wish for in life is to walk through this forest with my pretty friend, whom I have been wanting to reunite with for eight years."

"I'm sorry, too," she said. "I was young and foolish then, and not in a position to go traipsing through the forest with anyone I found interesting. It was a couple of years before I braved the forest alone, and I did only because I needed to go heal people. And by that time, our meeting would have been just too awkward."

"Indeed. I was in Gallel for a month before you stopped hiding behind curtains and bookshelves whenever I passed by."

Workers with scythes and full sacks cluttered the path on their way from the cleared-forest fields back home for dinner. Dylin asked one for directions to the Penander cottage. He gestured blandly ahead and said, "Next path to the left'll get you there."

"Thank you," she said, then bowed and followed the path. They came to a cottage surrounded by a tall, golden hedge that would sprout orangeberries come spring. Dylin found a name inscribed in the gate. "Yes, Penander."

When they passed through the gate, a voice called from behind them. "You're here! Praise the Ancestors!" They turned, and a thin, swarthy man pointed to the barn. He had closely-cropped wooly hair, and wore a farmer's loose, frayed clothing. He flailed his arms about. He pushed past them, towards the small stone barn that clung to the hedge and darkwoods behind it. "Come, I think she's dying! I've been waiting and waiting all day." He glanced from Dylin to den Ubal as he moved. "You are the healer, aren't you? My daughter fell last night in Sharon's stall, and she got trampled."

"Yes, that's what your note said," said Dylin.

Inside was warm with the smell of well-tended animals, and one lantern lit a corner beyond two stalls, dim sunlight penetrating slits under the eaves. A black cow belched in one of the tidy stalls, and a bay horse munched on feed in the other. A half-empty bucket stood in a corner near where a girl lay.

The girl, perhaps ten years old, lay on a pile of fresh hay under the lantern. Dark-skinned like her father, the girl moaned. Her black hair flowed in matted waves about her round face, sweat trickling on her forehead. A bloody bandage wound around her thigh and hip under a loose, tattered skirt, moist from perspiration. Two cloth dolls lay at the girl's head; she clung to a third. Dylin gasped and glanced at den Ubal: this was the dark woman in her dream, the one with dimples. It was the woman as a child.

"Ancestors smite me," said den Ubal. It seemed he recognized her also.

"Breathe in love, breathe out fear," Dylin chanted. Strength bled into her, strength to heal from the Ancestors.

"She's been screaming awful sounds," said the man. "She's finally asleep, but she hasn't stopped moaning. I did what I could for her, Healer." He glanced at den Ubal, but turned again to Dylin and pointed to the bandages. "What took you so long?"

"I came as soon as I got your note. I can't be everywhere at once. What time was the accident?"

The man grimaced, rubbing his forehead. "Of course, Healer. I meant no disrespect. It was dusk, during milking."

Setting her sack down, she nodded. Dylin knelt at the girl's side; one hand she placed on the girl's cold forehead, the other she placed in her sack. Dylin breathed slowly and carefully. Her partially-recovered wari trickled into the girl; she sensed weakness, pain, throbbing, especially toward the girl's bloody leg. "I think her leg's broken, den —"

"Den Mannen, ma'am," said the man. His fingers fluttered in front of him. "Peloro den Mannen. What're you going to do for Ophy?"

"It hurts!" moaned the girl. "Make it go 'way!"

"Now she's awake, poor thing!" said den Mannen.

"I'll give you something, dear," said Dylin. She cut the bandage around Ophy's leg with a blade she took from her bag. The girl screamed. "Please fill this bucket with fresh water, den Mannen."

"Yes, of course."

"So," said Dylin, "you're name's Ophy?"

"Ugh." The girl writhed on the hay.

Dylin stroked the girl's forehead, whistling softly. At the same time she retrieved a ceramic cup and small pouch from her sack. Ophy's wari fluttered, slipped. Den Mannen returned with the bucket. Dylin dipped the cup into the fresh water, then sprinkled into the cup ester of comfer, a pale green powder, from the pouch. The powder fizzled a deep red. When the liquid settled again, she pulled from her sack another vial, and poured several drops of milk of poppy into the cup. She stirred the concoction with a glass stick she took from its protective box, then placed the cup at the girl's lips. "Here, Ophy. It'll taste nasty, but you'll not hurt after you drink it." Ophy sipped and coughed, then shuddered, and coughed again.

"Make it go 'way," mumbled Ophy.

"It'll go away soon, dear," said Dylin. She turned to den Mannen, stroking Ophy's forehead. "You keep it remarkably clean."

"Thank you, Healer." He fidgeted. "Ophia and I spend most evenings in here reading." He pointed to another shadowed corner, where comfortable chairs and a table stood, along with a small bookshelf and a braided rug. "My bondwoman doesn't like us to make so much noise inside in the evenings, laughter you know, and it's much easier out here."

Dylin pulled a green and purple naya from her sack, and ate vigorously, trembling. Fruit would help her gain strength. When she was well, she didn't need it.

"Your bondwoman doesn't like laughter?" said den Ubal.

The man fingered his chin, grimacing. "Not since my baby sons died. Twins. She says laughter gives her a headache. Everything gives her a headache. The poor woman spent the night out here with Ophy. It was awful to see her, so helpless. I don't know what she'd do if we lost Ophy too. I finally got her to go inside and rest."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be here to help your sons," said Dylin. "I'll leave you some headache powder for her."

"I'm sure anything you give'll be helpful," he said. "It was a long time ago, and Jilly still suffers. We just can't lose Ophy."

"No, of course not." Dylin understood completely. "Ophy'll sleep today and tonight, and may feel sore and sick to her stomach tomorrow, but she'll walk normally after a few days. I don't know how she'll feel about milking, though."

"Milking?" said den Mannen.

"Being in the stall with your cow," said Dylin. She tried to smile, but the gesture was quick. The scalwax was wearing off. If only Tutang would leave her alone.

Ophy moaned again, then her eyelids dropped into sleep. She still clung to one of her dolls, stitched to look like a black rabbit in a blue frock.

Dylin sighed. "All right, then. Step back, please, I need a little space." The men stepped back. Dylin moved the hem of Ophy's skirt again to reveal her bloody, broken thigh; she found a thick cloth from her sack, dipped it in the water, and wiped the blood from the leg. Healing was easier if the wound was clean. She then placed one hand on the thigh and the other on the knee and pulled. The bones cracked sickly, and Ophy's wari jolted. Dylin's breathing faltered. Sweat trickled down her forehead, neck, and back.

"Breathe in love, breathe out fear," she murmured.

Tossing the cloth aside, she rested both hands on the middle of the thigh, where broken skin still emitted blood. She closed her eyes, and started singing, slow, rhythmic cadences, swirling wari into Ophy's flesh, pulling Dylin's own trembling strength into Ophy's weakness. The girl's broken bones, muscles, and tissues clung together, wove together in the music. Dylin's hands vibrated as she massaged the flesh. Ophy's leg rumbled, her wari melding with Dylin's. She felt something else, den Ubal's wari vibrating like shimmers of light behind her. Strange that she recognized his presence, perhaps because of her dream of him.

Dylin's arms tingled where she had cut them; Ophy's wari trickled in an increasing flow back to her. Dylin's heart tickled, swelled, and she laughed. The joy in her dream was only a shadow to this. Ophy breathed easily, and Dylin sat back. She tugged her sleeve just to see the joy that tingled there on her forearm. Where an hour before Dylin's arm had been bloody and scarred, it now lay clean, like she'd never touched it in her life. That wasn't supposed to happen with healing; under normal circumstances, healers couldn't heal themselves without forcefully stealing another's wari, and that was one thing Dylin had no skill in. Dylin usually felt spent after using her wari to heal. She laughed again. She felt more energetic than she had in years.

She leaped up and embraced den Ubal. He rubbed her shoulders, and the gentle human touch brought a tear to her eyes. His mouth moved as though he wanted to say something, but instead smiled into her.

Stepping back, she looked up at him. He must have already known what she was, but seeing the healing for himself must have been more than he'd expected. He appeared pale, thin, iridescent. A shaft of light from an eave shimmered around him on dust motes.

Den Mannen said, "Is Ophy all right?"

Dylin had forgotten that he stood there. "Yes," she said. "She'll wake tomorrow, and she'll be weak, but feed her properly, and she'll get stronger. I'll come by in a few days to see how she is."

"Oh, thank you!" said den Mannen. "I don't know what I could do for you...."

Dylin lifted an open hand in front of her. "It's all right. It's what I do." She almost added, Your daughter's done more for me than anyone I've healed, but that wouldn't have made any sense since she didn't understand it herself. She said, "Your daughter is a special girl."

She opened her sack and gave den Mannen a pouch of teslamint leaves. Milk of poppy would have been stronger, but that affected a person's reasoning ability, if not used with care. "Let Jilly suck on one of these leaves when her headache is bad. She'll need to eat first, or she'll get nauseated. Let me know how it works. I'll visit her when I come back."

"Thank you," said den Mannen. "You've done so much." He knelt at his daughter's side and stroked her hair.

Dylin touched Ophy's forehead one last time. The girl's breath came steady and deep, her wari clear.

She didn't need den Ubal's help to stand. They made a feeble good-bye to den Mannen, who ceased paying attention to them, and made their way back to Gallel, arms twined together though Dylin no longer needed his support.

"Why do you think we dreamed about the girl?" said den Ubal a few minutes after they entered the forest.
Dylin laughed. "I don't think either of us knows the answer to that."

He shrugged and a half-grin moved to the side of his mouth. "Something's happening, I can feel it." They stepped ten paces before he continued, his voice slow. "I've never seen a real healing. Read about them a dozen times. I'm... well, are they always like that? I mean, you were weak, and now you're not. And, Lianna kicked me pretty hard, and now my leg feels, well, happy. I thought you have to be touching someone to heal him."

"I've never had a healing like that. I was expecting to spend the rest of the afternoon in den Mannen's barn asleep. I've never been able to heal myself, nor anyone I'm not touching."

"Why, do you think?" said den Ubal. "Have you read anything about it?"

How to explain the dump of information from Gizelle. "Not read, exactly. Gizelle... mentioned... stories of strange healings... before she died." She stretched her neck and back in thought. "Interesting. I don't know, den Ubal. I sensed you there. Strange."

He tilted his head, as though thinking. "The Ancestors of course were said to do all sorts of things, with the help of the Creators. There was one story of two healers, the wari kind, that sometimes tried to kill each other to see how much they could heal, stab wounds, poison, stuff like that. When they did their healing, other sick people in the house got well. That was so long ago, though. Just a story. Is Ophy a healer, then?"

If only... the thought was dizzying. "I didn't test her," said Dylin. "I've given up testing village children. Sensing wari is so rare. This healing did follow what Gizelle indicated happened when mages healed each other. Would you come with me when I go back? I'll ask den Mannen if she can come to play with Lianna."

"I'll go anywhere with you, my Lady," he said. "You're not like other sirans."

She smiled at that.

Image courtesy of
Marchella Piery
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