Contrary to what he had told Sermas, he had no intention of taking things slow. The sooner he was up and about, the better. He had research to do, and vertaga to thwart. With those goals in mind, Khollo soon fell into a deep, healing sleep.
Chapter 18
Five days later, Khollo was up and moving about the fortress.
Against all recommendations his friends and the healers made, he had started practicing walking around his room two days earlier. He found to his dismay that he had lost a considerable amount of strength in his legs, and that even this small task was a challenge. But Khollo refused to admit defeat, and soon he was moving slowly and stiffly from place to place under his own power.
On this particular morning, Khollo had visited the kitchens and Dari at the crack of dawn. The old cook had first nearly done Khollo serious injury by attempting to embrace him, then scolded him for being out of bed and climbing stairs when he should be resting. Nevertheless, Khollo received a good meal for his trouble and best wishes from many among the kitchen staff.
Khollo was now sitting in one of the high-backed wooden chairs in the council room, at Janis’ left. The table was covered in a fresh layer of reports and sketches and maps, as though a paperwork blizzard had blown through during Khollo’s convalescence. Ondus’ seat remained empty, but the next seat was filled by Leon. The old man had been assigned to the kitchens during the battle, and had come through with no injuries.
“What I don’t understand,” Khollo said finally, throwing down a writing stick in irritation, “Is what are the vertaga are waiting for now? It’s been a week and a half, and no reported vertaga activity anywhere.”
“Well, I think we can rule out the possibility that they’ve given up,” Leon put in. “After all, Ishkabur is still under siege.”
“Maybe with the Basin nearly empty they aren’t bothering to raid what little is left,” Janis suggested. “Conserving their strength as it were.”
“Not likely,” Khollo countered. “What do we know about the vertaga, from this war and the last? A lull means an attack is coming.”
“But we’ve disrupted their plans,” Leon pointed out. “Why should that still hold true?”
“Why shouldn’t it?”
“If that is your best argument for the theory, I think we need to defer to ‘we don’t know’ for the time being,” Leon observed. “Wait for more information.”
“I don’t like not knowing,” Khollo muttered, frustrated. He shoved a small stack of reports aside and rubbed his eyes with the palms of both hands.
“It’s better than thinking you know when you don’t,” Leon said sternly. “That leads to bigger and more disastrous consequences than accepting that for the time being, there is nothing you can do – ”
“ – other than sleep and rest and heal,” Khollo finished. “I’m aware. I’ve heard that line a few times since I was injured.” He scratched at the bandages around his chest irritably.
Janis sighed. “Give it time, Khollo. I know you want to be fit and active, but injuries like yours are not something you can just shake off, even though you’re young.”
Khollo nodded. “I know.”
Janis stared at him in silence for a long moment. He was about to say something else, when someone rapped on the council room door sharply.
“Yes?”
The door opened and the master smith lumbered into the room. Khollo thought that Tarrik was looking unusually pleased with himself, almost as happy as he had been when he presented Khollo with the Sen-teel.
“My lord,” Tarrik said, bowing to Janis. “It is finished.”
“Excellent,” Janis said. “Khollo, would you stand, please.”
Khollo stood warily. “What’s going on?”
“You didn’t tell him?” Tarrik asked Janis, somewhat reproachfully.
Janis shrugged. “Figured I’d leave it as a surprise.”
“Ah. Well, here it is,” the smith said, producing a lumpy, cloth-wrapped bundle which he handed to Janis.
Janis began unwrapping the cloth slowly. Khollo caught sight of a flash of metal, the dull gleam of leather. Then, the last length of cloth fell away and Khollo found himself looking at an unfathomable contraption.
“What is it?” Khollo asked curiously, running a hand over the metal.
Tarrik grinned. “You’ll see. Janis, do you need a hand?”
“Yes,” Janis said, turning the piece this way and that. “I think some extra hands would be helpful. Hold still, Khollo.”
“What . . . ?”
Janis and Tarrik advanced, struggling with the contraption. “Let’s see, arm through here, then this piece straps down like so,” Tarrik was muttering as they worked. “And this ought to strap on right around here . . . perfect.”
Tarrik stepped back and Khollo looked down to see the result. The right side of his body was encased in a roughly triangular section of metal curving gracefully from the left side of his collarbone to his right hip. The piece continued around Khollo’s side and back up to his left shoulder blade in a matching triangular shape. An additional piece hung down from his right shoulder, protecting his arm, which fit through a gap in the armor that was none too big. In fact, his arm seemed to fill the entire gap. Khollo adjusted his weapons belt and quiver, rearranging them to the lay of his new armor. There was a slot in the piece at Khollo’s right hip, presumably to pass his belt through. Khollo quickly did this and examined the result.
His mangled right side was now totally protected, the armor molded to his lithe frame like a glove. Khollo moved his arms experimentally and found that he could still move freely, even with the new armor.
“It will turn most blades,” Tarrik told him. “We used some techniques of the ancients
