of Agronguerre might be exactly what the Church needed at this time was not made in jest, nor for any subtle political reasons.
It seemed obvious and logical, and Bou-raiy was certain that enough abbots and masters would see it that way to elect the man easily.
But when he looked deeper than the seemingly obvious logic, Fio Bouraiy couldn't help thinking that this great living body that was the Abellican Church was now like some giant crouching predator, motionless in the brush, hushed and ready to spring.
And again-his thoughts ironically along the same lines as those of his avowed enemy De'Unnero-Fio Bou-raiy wasn't sure at all that he wanted to head off that predator's spring.
Chapter 17
'Arrgh! Put it back! Put it back!' Seano Bellick roared. He fell to his knees, grabbing at his bloody stump, his hand lying a few feet away, still clutching the handle of his axe.
Pony walked right by him, paying him no heed. ' Belli'mar Juraviel? ' she called. 'Are you about? Or another of the Touel'alfar, then? To be sure, I know that arrow!'
'What're ye talkin' about, girl?' Belster O'Comely asked, coming around the wagon.
'My hand!' Seano howled. 'Put it back, I say! Use your magic, I beg you!'
'I cannot put your hand back on your arm,' Pony said sharply, turning on him with a snarl.
'You must!'
'There is no such magic!' Pony scolded, and it took all of her willpower to stop her from walking over and kicking the ugly brute in the face.
Seano Bellick wailed pitifully, still clutching at his torn stump. He reached for the hand with his remaining one, but recoiled as his fingers neared it, too afraid to even touch the gruesome thing. And he had to bring his hand back to his stump, for as soon as he let it go, the blood started spurting all over again.
'I'll bleed out!' the man cried. 'Oh, but you killed me! Oh, you witch woman! You killed me!'
Belster walked up beside Pony, the two staring at the pitiful sight. 'What're ye thinkin'?' Belster asked, for Pony made no move, either for her gemstone or for any bandages. She just stood there, staring at Seano Bellick as the man's lifeblood trickled forth.
'Girl?' Belster asked, after a long moment passed without her showing any intention of responding.
'Bleeding out,' Seano said, his voice weaker, breaking with sobs.
'I believe that Belli'mar Juraviel or one of his kin is about,' Pony said to
Belster, turning away from Seano. 'The archer was felled by a Touel'alfar arrow, right through the eye.'
'What of it?' Belster asked, motioning toward Seano.
'Am I not worthy of your healing, good woman?' Seano pleaded. 'You then,' he said to Belster.
'Are ye to be judgin' them ye mean to heal? ' Belster asked in all seriousness, but to Pony's back, for she'd started away, looking up at the trees in hopes of catching a glimpse ofJuraviel.
That comment stung Pony and she turned fiercely.
'I'm not sayin' ye shouldn't be,' Belster explained. 'I'm just askin' so ye can get it clear in yer own head. Ye got one lookin' for healin', and needin' yer healin', and ye got the healin', but are ye to tend only those ye're thinkin' deservin'?'
'I cut them just to fix them? ' Pony asked.
Belster gave a shrug.
He wouldn't commit to an answer, but the question alone had given her his opinion of the matter, of course, had held a mirror up before Pony's anger so that she could clearly see that growling expression upon her own face.
She had the power now of life or death over Seano, and over so many. The gemstone, the gift of God, bestowed that upon her, and thus was she to play in the role of God, as judge of the man and all the others? She nearly laughed aloud at the absurdity of it, but she went for her soul stone and moved close to Seano.
Before she fell into the magic of the gem, she looked the man straight in the eye and promised coldly, 'If ever you try to steal from me again or to hurt me or any of my friends or any other innocent person, I will hunt you down and we will replay this fight. My gemstone cannot attach a severed hand, nor, I promise you, can it attach a severed head.'
Pony went into the stone and sealed up the blubbering Seano's wound in short order.
'What say you, Juraviel? ' she called to the boughs. 'Would the Touel'alfar have shown such mercy? '
'The Touel'alfar would have properly finished the job in the first place,' came the answer of a melodic, and most welcome, voice. 'A thrust through the heart, perhaps, and certainly nothing as messy as you have shown.
'The third archer has long fled,' the still-unseen elf informed her. 'Have Belster send this fool along down the south road, and then you come out into the forest to the north, that we might speak privately.'
Pony looked plaintively at Belster.
'Must have somethin' important to tell ye, then,' the innkeeper remarked, and he moved for Seano Bellick. 'Come on, ye great feeder of the pig. Get ye back to Caer Tinella, where ye can tell 'em all that ye met with Pony, and met with disaster. Aye, that's the way of it, ye met with the disaster named Pony.''
'Well put,' Pony remarked sarcastically, and she walked northward, as Belster half walked and half carried the shocked Seano south.
'Did I do well, then?' Pony asked Juraviel when she finally spotted the elusive elf siting on a bare branch a dozen feet off the ground.
'In fighting or in healing? ' Juraviel asked.
'Both.'
'If that clumsy thug gave you any trouble in battle, then surely I would have questioned Nightbird's sanity in ever teaching you bi'nolle dasada,' the elf replied. Even as he spoke the words. Pony noted that there was indeed some strain behind his jovial facade. 'In healing him, you did as I knew you would.'
'What would Belli'mar Juraviel have done?' Pony asked.
'I would have killed him cleanly in the first place, as I said,' the elf answered matter-of-factly, with that cold and calm pragmatism that almost always crept into the thinking of any of the unforgiving Touel'alfar.
'But if you did not,' Pony pressed, 'if you found yourself in the same situation as I just faced, would you have tended his wound? '
Belli'mar Juraviel spent a long while honestly considering the question. Certainly many of his kin, Lady Dasslerond among them, would have let the man die-elves showed no mercy to any n'Touel'alfar whose actions labeled them as enemies. 'I would have been sorely disappointed in you if you had let the fool die,' was all the answer that Juraviel would give. 'And so would you, a profound failing within yourself, a clear contradiction of that which you are, one that would have haunted you for all your days.'
It was Pony's turn to pause and reflect, and she found herself nodding her agreement, glad indeed that she had not let Seano die. 'Are you to sit up there all the night?' she asked suddenly. 'Or are you to come down here and give an old friend a hug she sorely needs? '
How Belli'mar Juraviel wanted to go to her and do just that! He even started propping himself off of the branch. But two words, rosy plague, echoed in his mind. He had no idea, of course, if there really was such a plague beginning in the human lands, had no evidence except for rumors coming from an unknown source about some problems far in the southland.
But for Belli'mar Juraviel, this moment sang out to him as another critical choice in his life's course. If there was a plague, and Pony had contracted it, and, in going to her, Juraviel brought it upon himself, then what would happen to Andur'Blough Inninness? Could the elven population, so tiny, survive such a plague?
Belli'mar Juraviel weighed the odds that Pony was so infected, and they seemed long indeed. Very long. But he was Touel'alfar, and she was not. It came down to something as simple as that.
