Storm Rising

Vanyel after Tylendel died, Karal seems to be getting the blame for things that happened before he was born. It's going to be interesting.'

Natoli gave an unladylike snort, while An'desha just looked bewildered.

'Meanwhile,' Talia continued, turning to An'desha, 'I'd like to get him out of the Palace for a while so that people can calm down, and I would like to see that he gets some rest before his stomach begins to bleed from all the strain he's going through. Can you and Firesong take him in again?'

'I was going to offer just that,' An'desha replied, 'Firesong's been off on some project of his own anyway, so he'll gets lots of peace and quiet at our ekele. Are you going claim he's collapsed with shock and stress?'

'That was the general idea,' Talia told him. 'And if I can get a Healer to confirm that, it will simply add to the story.'

'Will you please stop talking about me as if I'm not here'' Karal asked plaintively, looking from one to the other.

An'desha patted his shoulder and looked down at him with speculation, as if there were a number of ideas going around inside his head and he was just weighing them all to determine which one might be the best. 'Sorry, my friend,' he apologized, then took a closer look at him. 'You look like you've been dragged at the heels of a horse across the Dhorisha Plains,' he said, with a frown. 'Herald Talia, please have a real Healer attend us as soon as we get to the ekele, would you?'

Karal stared in surprise; that didn't sound like the diffident young Shin'a'in he knew. That sounded more like someone who took it as given that he was Talia's equal.

She nodded just as if she accepted his status, too, and slipped out the door before Karal had a chance to object. 'You stay here with Natoli; I think I can manage to pack for you,' the young Shin'a'in continued sternly. 'Anything I forget, you can borrow from me. If I have anything to say about it, you won't need anything but a bed shirt for two or three days anyway.'

As An'desha disappeared into his bedchamber before he could object to that, Karal looked at Natoli with a face full of woe.

'Don't I get any choice in any of this?' he asked.

He got no sympathy from her.

'No,' she said flatly. 'You don't. You've done your best, and you've gotten into a mess you can't do anything about. You're tired to death, you're sick with strain, and your judgment is not good right now. We're going to take over and let you rest, so you might as well relax and enjoy it.'

Be careful what you ask for, he thought, as the memory of his earlier wishes flashed into his mind. You might get it.

An'desha and Natoli took Karal and his bag across Companion's Field, trailed anxiously by every Companion there. Florian led the parade, which under other circumstances might have been hilariously funny. A hard frost was forming; the stiff blades of grass crackled underfoot, and their breath hung in frosty clouds in the still, cold air. Behind them followed dozens more 'clouds,' the silent, white forms of the Companions. They weren't being herded; An'desha would have recognized that behavior. They were worried about Karal, and although he was no Empath, their concern was strong enough it made itself palpable even to him.

The Healer was waiting for them just inside when they reached the ekele, her eyes closed as she breathed in the faint, sweet perfume of some of Firesong's night-blooming flowers. 'Thank you for letting me come here. I know this is just a more sophisticated version of a forcing-house,' she said to An'desha as they entered through Firesong's clever double door that kept cold drafts out. 'But this place always, seems the epitome of magic to me.'

'You could build one of these yourself, with one of our steam boilers and pipes to send hot water through the room to heat it,' Natoli told her matter-of-factly.

'You could not have plants this large and healthy in a matter of weeks without the magic, however,' An'desha countered firmly, standing up for his discipline. 'Here is your patient, lady Healer—' He pushed Karal to the front, as his friend seemed inclined to lag back, trying to avoid attention.

The Healer took Karal's wrist, put her free hand under his chin so that he could not look away from her eyes, and frowned as she stared into his face. 'One would think you were a much older man—or a Herald—the way you have abused yourself. Come, child,' she continued, although Karal was not a great deal younger than she. 'I think you should be put straight to bed.'

'I am very glad to hear you say that,' An'desha told her, relieved. 'Follow me, please.'

Before long, Karal was indeed in bed, dosed with several potions from the Healer's bag, and blinking sleepily. An'desha had his instructions and a line of bottles of more of the same stuff with which to ensure that Karal remained in his bed and permitted his poor abused insides to heal. The Healer, who never had given her name, also