do
that? How?”
“Why hasn’t Forael ever mentioned it?”
“An evil application of blood magic,” said Rak. He shook his head. “There are some who think the taint of such magic clings to the victim. It cannot, particularly in the case of a sun priest like Forael, but silence is the wisest course for him.”
There was a knock at the door and two servants with cots stood there. Rak and Jisten helped the servants bring the cots in. Once they were set up, Jisten checked on Jethain again. He pushed back damp strands of Jethain’s hair from his face. “I’m cold,” Jethain said.
“You feel clammy,” Jisten said, laying a hand on the prince’s forehead. “More blankets?”
Jethain shook his head. “I have four on already.”
Morth leapt onto the bed and curled up beside Jethain. Rak said, “I can ask Scorth to sleep with you. He is better than any blanket—his kind radiate heat continuously.”
Conflicting emotions chased across the prince’s face. “Yes, I’d like that. Would you miss him in your bed?”
“I think I can manage,” said Rak soberly.
“Truly, my prince, you want Scorth in your bed?” Jisten sounded surprised.
“Are you jealous? Are you offering?” Jethain asked, and there was no teasing in his voice.
Rak stared at Jethain. “You want a man?”
“You make it sound wrong,” Jethain answered defensively. “I said I was cold.”
“Sa’sa, Jethain,” soothed Rak, “there is nothing wrong with that, and Scorth is as hot as the desert sands.”
Jethain still clutched Jisten’s hand. “I’m hurt, and nauseous and hungry and —”
“I’m sorry,” Jisten said. “Didn’t mean to jump to conclusions.”
“It’s all right, Jisten. We’ve been friends forever,” Jethain smiled up at him.
“Yes, we have, my prince. Soon you’ll be better,” Jisten said. “And all this will be behind you.” Chapter Five: Golden Questions
The sense of Scorth’s nearness caused Rak to look up from the tome of herbal remedies he was perusing. Dethrian and Scorth walked in at the same time, eyeing each other. The sun priest alternated between glancing at Scorth and the little blue lizard riding his wrist. Trelo clicked at him with each glance, as if carrying on a conversation.
“Iatrion Dethrian, thank you for coming,” Jisten said. He made to stand up, but Jethain kept a death grip on his hand. Rak stood up instead, stretching briefly.
“Good morning, Captain Jisten,” said the sun priest, then turned his gaze on Rak, who motioned him aside. Rak spoke to Dethrian in a low voice, telling the priest what he’d discovered, and what he suspected. Dethrian looked at Jethain as he listened to Rak, nodding now and then.
Scorth grinned fangily as he approached the bed. “My services have been requested?”
“The prince is cold,” Jisten said. “And blankets aren’t enough.”
Scorth sat on the bed on the side away from Jisten, then slid under the blankets and snuggled up next to the prince. He radiated heat. Jethain finally let go of Jisten’s hand and pressed against Scorth. His color slowly improved.
“Warmer, Prince Jethain?” Jisten asked.
“Much,” Jethain murmured sleepily.
Dethrian did a quick exam and confirmed Rak’s fears. “Someone has been purging him, against our teachings. We haven’t used purgings in ten years.”
“And these cuts, Iatrion,” Jisten said. He brushed the spots on Jethain’s arm.
Dethrian scowled. “And bloodletting! No wonder the prince is so weak. He needs good food and much care.”
Jethain snuggled against Scorth, eyes closed.
“My mother can make excellent food to your orders, Iatrion. From bland to rich.”
The corner of Jethain’s mouth quirked, revealing that he was listening, even if he had closed his eyes.
“I had assumed his troubles were blood loss from the original wound and paralysis of the healed gut. But this is a completely different problem. He needs nutrient dense food, heavy in protein now.”
“Pastina,” Jisten declared. “Good quality protein that’s easily digested. It can start bland and be made richer and more flavorful as digestion permits.”
“Acceptable,” said Dethrian. “I will check on him tomorrow, but send for me if you have any questions. Do not let any further purgings or blood-lettings occur.”
“He’ll be guarded around the clock,” Jisten said. Jethain’s mouth quirked again into a grin.
“We will do everything we can to keep the prince safe,” said Rak.
“There is nothing more that I can do. But I will return every day to check on the prince, until our Ylion is back on his feet.” A worried look flitted across the senior healer’s face.
“What is wrong with the Ylion?” asked Rak, concerned.
“That is the question,” Dethrian said. “The golden question. Perhaps I should check him for purging and bloodletting.”
Trust sun priests to wonder about golden questions, thought Rak. “That is a good idea,” he said politely.
Dethrian gave Rak a curt nod. “Thank you, cousin, if I may be so bold as to call you that.”
“You may, and please, cousin, keep me informed. Forael is an old friend.”
“Perhaps if I had a beautiful little messenger lizard to send back to you?” The senior healer looked oddly wistful.
Rak’s eyebrows shot up. He pulled a plump red lizard out of his pocket and murmured to it, stroking its head. The red mastigi whizzed over to Dethrian and latched onto the man’s robes, clicking happily.
“They always stow away in my pockets,” said Rak with a rueful grin. “I pull them out, and they dart back in when my attention wavers. I found over a dozen of them hiding in my packs when I arrived.”
Dethrian offered the smile of a kind man who wished a pet, but was too busy in his profession. He stroked the little red head. “And what do you like to eat, little one?”
“They will eat anything,” Rak said. “But they like bugs. And sausage. And grapes. A mastigi eating a grape is always an amusing sight.”
“Bugs, sausage, and grapes,” Dethrian repeated. “We have those in abundance. Perhaps you will keep the herb garden free of pests? The insects target the rarest of herbs.” He practically cooed at the little lizard. When Jisten chuckled, Dethrian straightened.
