with a Talent in the vicinity, that's for sure. She might have at least some suggestion about what could be causing it. Even if she can't come up with an answer, she might start us thinking in the direction of one.'
'But then she'd also know about the problem.'
Shaylar's eyes narrowed as she tasted the suddenly darker tinge of his emotions.
'Of course she would. Why?'
'Shaylar, I know Gadrial is our friend. And,' he added a bit more reluctantly, 'I know Jasak will do everything in his and his family's power to protect us. But unless these negotiations of theirs actually produce some sort of peaceful resolution, without anyone else getting killed, they're still going to be the enemy, love. Maybe not of us personally, but of Sharona. And both of them are honorable people who take their obligations seriously. If there is something happening to our marriage bond, to our Talents-
possibly because we're spending so much time in proximity to someone who's Gifted, for all I know-do we really want to let the enemy know? Even if they would never do anything to hurt either of us, if it turns out to be something they could use against other people's Talents, you know that Jasak, for sure, and Gadrial almost equally for sure, would feel compelled to pass it along.'
'But if we can't even ask Gadrial about it, then who can we ask?' Shaylar asked in a tiny voice.
'I don't know, love.' Jathmar said softly. 'I don't know.'
Chapter Nineteen
'So, how's your problem patient this week?' Regiment-Captain Namir Velvelig asked, turning from the office window through which he had been contemplating Fort Ghartoun's parade ground as Company- Captain Golvar Silkash completed the rest of the semi-weekly sick report.
'The esteemed Hadrign Thalmayr?' Fort Ghartoun's senior medical officer grimaced. Then he shrugged with a combination of helplessness, irritation, and smoldering frustration.
'The truth is, Sir,' he continued, 'that Tobis is more and more convinced the man's strongly Talented himself. Which, if you'll pardon my saying so, would be a dead waste of a Talent even if Thalmayr had the least clue of what a Talent was, in light of his total and invincible stupidity.'
'Now, now, Silky,' Velvelig admonished gently. 'We've known one another a long time. There's no need for you to indulge in all these euphemisms to hide your true opinion of our guest.'
Despite the sourness of his expression, Silkash made a sound that was halfway between a snort and chuckle. Any temptation towards amusement vanished quickly, however, and he shook his head.
'Honestly, Sir, Thalmayr is a disaster. I don't know what we're going to do with him. As nearly as Tobis
– ' Platoon-Captain Tobis Makree was the un-Talented Silkash's strongly Talented assistant surgeon '-
and I can tell, he's convinced himself our efforts to Heal him are actually some sort of insidious brainwashing or mental torture.'
'You're saying he's a lunatic, as well as an idiot?'
'I wish I could dismiss it quite that easily, actually.' Silkash shook his head again. 'The thing is, the Talent he's got is sufficient, even without his having any idea in the world what it is, to throw up a mighty tough block. So he managed to tremendously limit what Tobis could do to control his pain. He even managed to limit the speed of the physical Healing we could encourage. And that same block made it all but impossible for Tobis to get through to those suicidal urges of his, and that-'
'Don't tell me,' Velvelig interrupted. 'Because he made it so hard to get through, Tobis had to adopt a brute force approach, and that only made things worse. Right?'
'Exactly right,' Silkash agreed. 'We didn't have a choice if we were going to keep him alive. We had to get through to him, so Tobis did … despite the fact that Thalmayr was fighting him every inch of the way. And despite the fact that Thalmayr's resistance really did turn the entire effort into something that could be readily mistaken by the uninformed for the 'mental torture' he thinks we were out to inflict in the first place!'
'Wonderful.' Velvelig pursed his lips and looked back out the window.
Frankly, he could have gotten along just fine indefinitely without having Hadrign Thalmayr dumped on him. The regiment-captain wasn't much given to coddling weakness. That wasn't part of any Arpathian's cultural baggage, and in this case, Velvelig's contempt for Thalmayr's indescribably wretched performance as a military officer left him even less inclined to pity the Arcanan.
Which, unfortunately, did nothing to absolve him of his responsibility to see to it that the medical needs of any POW in his care were met.
Assuming the camel-fucking idiot will let us meet them! he thought sourly.
'Is there anything we can do about that situation?' he asked aloud.
'At this point?' Silkash shrugged. 'Probably not. In fact, I've come to the conclusion that the best thing we can do, for the next few weeks, at least, is to pretty much leave him alone. Physically, he's close to fully recovered-or as close to it as a man who'll never walk again is going to get. The discomfort he's still experiencing can probably be treated by an herbalist almost as well as by a Healer at this point.
We'll keep Tobis away from him for a while, see if he settles down if we stick to a purely physical nursing regimen.'
'You really think that will help?'
'I don't know. Actually, I'm inclined to doubt it, as deeply as the idiot's dug himself in. I just don't see any other practical approach. If we can't find some way to get through to him soon, though, I'm going to recommend sending him on up-chain. Tobis is good, and with all due modesty, I'm a pretty fair surgeon myself, but let's not fool ourselves. There are hospitals closer to Sharona which are undoubtedly far better qualified to deal with something like this.'
'I see.'
Velvelig clasped his hands behind him and bounced gently up and down on the balls of his feet for a moment, then nodded to himself.
'Very well,' he said, turning back from the window once more. 'Write it up as a formal recommendation, and I'll approve it. To be honest, I'll be relieved to see his back!'
'I don't think you'll get an argument from anyone over in my shop,' Silkash assured him.
'Good. In that case-'
'You wanted to see me, Sir?'
Velvelig broke off in midsentence as Senior-Armsman Folsar chan Tergis poked his head through the door behind the seated Silkash. The senior-armsman seemed blissfully unaware that interrupting his commanding officer was a military faux pas. Just as he seemed unaware that even the most rudimentary military courtesy would have required him to at least knock before opening the regiment-captain's office door unannounced.
Judging from his expression, Company-Captain Silkash obviously was aware of those minor points of military etiquette. Either that, or he'd just swallowed a spider, since he appeared to be experiencing some difficulty with his breathing.
Velvelig's own expression remained commendably grave-Arpathian septmen's faces tended to do that-
despite the mental snort of amusement chan Tergis almost always managed to evoke. The seniorarmsman might not have struck most people as particularly hilarious, but Velvelig had never been able to imagine anyone more unlike most people's concept of a professional military man. Which was fair enough; despite the 'chan' in front of his surname, chan Tergis had never set out to pursue a military career.
The Ternathian was short (for a Ternathian, at any rate), sturdy, and undeniably plump. He had a round, guileless face, with blue eyes, both of which never quite seemed to focus on the same object at the same time. His straw-colored hair always looked at least a week overdue for a cutting, even if he'd only left the barber fifteen minutes before. And, unlike almost any other Voice Velvelig had ever known, chan Tergis had a distinct weakness for the bottle. Not only that, but on those occasions when he succumbed to that weakness, his normally pacific disposition tended to transform itself into a not particularly skilled but highly enthusiastic pugilism which rather reminded Velvelig of the old cliche about the bison in the glassworks.
It was those last two character traits which explained what he was doing in PAAF uniform and assigned to Fort Ghartoun. Inebriation had played a major role in getting his signature onto the enlistment form in the first
