The Hope of Vitality, page 6
The change in the patient’s condition was as swift as it was astonishing. Opening her eyes, she looked up at him and smiled.
“I’m thirsty,” she announced.
Tarvek bustled about the room in agitation, alternately hugging his wife and plying her with water and wine. He tried repeatedly to press payment into Brother Ander’s hands, and it was only with great effort that the monk prevented him.
The situation quickly began to feel uncomfortable to Brother Ander. Anxious to leave, he murmured a farewell and made his way downstairs, pushing through the door of the house. He emerged into the street to discover a small crowd outside the house.
Kyleth and Ghonik had followed him out of the door. Stepping past him, they shoved the inquisitive onlookers aside before bustling him back toward the palace.
Tarvek was not the only one surprised by the sudden recovery of Vehmina. The monk was equally taken aback by what had happened.
Almost from the time he became a monk he had been a healer, calling upon herbs, his ever-expanding medical knowledge, and his growing confidence in prayer to treat the sick. Ethen’s miraculous recovery had been something entirely different. While never fully comprehending it, he concluded at the time that the Stone of Vitality had somehow boosted the potency of his prayers.
To all appearances, something similar had just happened again. The Stone of Vitality alone couldn’t account for it. He’d been touching it when he first placed his hand on Vehmina, but the healing hadn’t come until he prayed.
Brother Ander’s own limitations as a healer had long been a source of frustration to him. Was it possible that his prayers, when supported by the stone, granted him access to a much more effective way of bringing relief to the sick and injured? He eagerly looked forward to further opportunities to find out.
* * *
Big news traveled fast throughout a city, but even Brother Ander was surprised by how quickly word of the woman’s healing spread. He rose the following morning to find himself besieged by requests for help.
The evident misery that lay behind the appeals stirred his compassion. Accordingly, he headed for the palace gates not long after the sun had risen.
Kyleth and Ghonik accompanied him as always, although they did not hide their reluctance. The remarkable recovery of Vehmina the previous day had left them no less wide-eyed than Tarvek. Yet both of them now seemed cautious and uncertain. Up to that point, their role as his guards had been relaxed and undemanding. Were they sensing that everything might be about to change?
Stepping through the gates, Brother Ander was greeted by a small crowd. Hope and despair warred within many petitioners, the tension evident on their faces.
Two people began to argue loudly about who had the right to be seen first. When a scuffle broke out, the two guards were forced to intervene. Quickly eyeballing those who had taken no part in the fight, Ghonik selected a woman holding a child who was clearly in pain.
Dispensing with his usual examination, Brother Ander immediately prayed for the child while grasping the Stone of Vitality. The gathered petitioners went quiet as they witnessed an immediate and remarkable transformation in the child’s condition. Immediately a crowd of people pushed forward demanding attention. Chaos threatened.
Filled with confidence after witnessing the effectiveness of prayer supported by the stone, Brother Ander held up his arms for quiet. As soon as the noise abated, he addressed the crowd. “Please be patient!” he called. “I will try to see you all.”
Having responded to the first couple of petitioners, he saw that a line had formed. It grew in length even as he watched, snaking back and forth as new people joined it. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he called forward the next person.
Weeping sores, broken limbs, blind eyes—almost every imaginable disorder confronted him. He refused to be daunted. Some conditions he recognized, some he did not, but every one of them yielded to his earnest entreaties augmented by the power of the stone.
The sensational recoveries might have appeared effortless, but for reasons he did not understand, they came at a cost. He barely noticed any impact from the first two or three healings, but after that he soon became profoundly weary. What he appeared to be achieving with little effort quickly drained him to the point of exhaustion. After every new healing he was forced to rest, and for longer each time.
The passing hours became a blur. People came and went until he was barely able to focus.
Eventually an authoritative voice rang out, calling an end to it. Looking up wearily Brother Ander found Tarvek and Vehmina facing the crowd.
“The monk needs to stop!” Tarvek called. “He is close to collapse! We will ask him to come tomorrow to Ugar’s Repose. It is a well known landmark—the low hill to the southwest of the city. For now he needs to rest!”
Grumbling broke out at the suggested delay, but his condition must have been obvious to everyone, and the people accepted Tarvek’s words. To Brother Ander’s relief, the crowd slowly dispersed.
After agreeing to Tarvek’s proposal and thanking him sincerely, the monk dragged himself back to the palace. Kyleth and Ghonik followed silently. He barely noticed them.
Reaching his rooms, he gulped down some water before collapsing onto his bed.
* * *
Brother Ander woke before dawn to a dull pain throbbing in his head. He had barely eaten the previous day, and his stomach rumbled uncomfortably.
As usual, food had been delivered to his rooms, and he worked away at it steadily. Water had been provided as well, and after drinking freely his head began to clear.
Intending to set off for the palace gates, he left his rooms to find his guards waiting for him.
“You need to remain in the palace,” Kyleth said bluntly.
The monk’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?” he asked, baffled at the thinly veiled hostility in the guard’s tone.
Kyleth said nothing.
“It is safer here,” Ghonik offered. His manner conveyed caution rather than antagonism.
“Thank you for your concern,” said Brother Ander. “But unless the king insists I remain here, I will go. I made a promise to Tarvek and to the people.”
With that, he set out determinedly for the gates. The guards followed close behind, Kyleth glowering at him and Ghonik looking concerned.
Tarvek was waiting for him. He seemed ill at ease.
“Is anything wrong?” asked the monk.
Tarvek lowered his voice. “We can expect trouble. Some of the priests have been stirring up the people. I have just come from Ugar’s Repose. People began gathering there early this morning, but not everyone is sympathetic, and some of the sick have already been driven away.”
Brother Ander wasn’t entirely surprised. Bringing relief to suffering people wasn’t likely to win over the priests of the dark gods if they perceived him as muscling in on their territory.
It made no difference. He had the means to help the afflicted, and he had no intention of ignoring them.
Tarvek led the way to Ugar’s Repose, the guards following close behind. Ghonik wore a look of concern; Kyleth was scowling.
If Brother Ander had expected a sea of eager faces when he arrived, he would have been disappointed by the sullen glares that greeted him instead. A few in the crowd wore hopeful expressions, but the restless throng before him bore all the indicators of a mob. No priests stood nearby, although he spotted a couple of men wearing their distinctive black garb at the rear.
“You’re not wanted here,” a rough voice called.
“Go back to where you came from, foreign scum!” shouted another.
The hecklers were interrupted by an energetic woman who pushed her way to the front. She looked frail, but she was determined. “Let me through,” she demanded.
Several of the bystanders jeered at her. “Go home, old woman,” scoffed one.
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere!” she informed them tartly. “I waited in line for hours yesterday, and now it’s my turn!”
With that, she approached Brother Ander boldly.
The monk greeted her with a gentle smile. Placing a hand on her head, he prayed for her.
“It’s gone!” she shouted, a look of astonishment beaming from her face. “The pain is gone! Thank you! Thank you!” She bent low to him before capering about joyfully.
The reaction of the woman seemed to further rile the crowd.
“Think you’re in charge around here, do you?” a voice snarled.
“Who are you to interfere with the will of Malzakh?”
“Keep your pretend god to yourself! We follow the dark gods of Rogand!”
Shouts of agreement followed this last statement. Clubs appeared, and men stepped forward menacingly.
“It’s time to go, Brother Ander!” Tarvek called urgently, backing away in alarm.
The monk glanced instinctively at his guards. Ghonik began moving forward to defend him, but the crowd shoved him aside. Kyleth hung back out of harm’s way.
Brother Ander didn’t blame either of his guards. Two of them could not protect him against a mob.
He held his ground, facing the men who threatened him. “I bear you no ill will,” he told them.
His calm demeanor seemed to enrage them further. Rushing forward, they began punching and shoving him. Pushed back and forth, he lost his footing and went down. Men surrounded him, kicking and beating him unmercifully. Curled up defenseless on the ground, he tried to protect his head with his arms.
Pain overwhelmed his senses. The frenzy continued unabated until a voice dimly reached him through the agony, “Soldiers are coming!”
The blows ceased, but his suffering continued.
Darkness rose up to claim him. With his consciousness slipping away, his limbs slumped nervelessly. Sliding deeper into his robe, a hand came to rest upon the Stone of Vitality.
7
From the moment they arrived at Ugar’s Repose, Ghonik could see there would be trouble. He had more than enough experience to recognize the signs.
This was not the crowd that had pressed in eagerly to the monk the day before, frantic in their enthusiasm to be released from their suffering. Today a sea of grim faces awaited the new arrivals, and the guard’s unease grew the moment he spotted the dark-clad priests at the back of the mob.
It hadn’t been difficult to predict what was coming. His own cousin was a priest of the dark gods, and Ghonik could readily imagine what he would have to say about foreign monks being permitted to roam the streets of Rog, stirring up the masses. Sooner or later the Arvenian would get what was coming to him, and loyal followers of the dark gods would surely applaud when it happened.
Kyleth had already made it obvious his sympathies lay with the priests. Given the way he despised foreigners, it was hardly surprising. When first assigned to the monk, he had accepted the duty with an oily smile. Around Ghonik, he made no attempt to hide his true feelings.
Yet this man was no ordinary foreigner. Who else healed the sick with a touch? Ghonik had always bowed without question to the dark gods. But he had never heard of their priests giving sight to a blind woman or mending a crippled leg.
He himself knew a soldier who witnessed the murder of the Arvenian commander’s son. The soldier insisted that the boy had been dead, and that he returned to life after the monk lifted him into his arms and prayed.
The story hadn’t convinced Ghonik. Not until he had seen the monk in action himself.
He doubted no longer. And he had never felt so conflicted.
Whatever his own uncertainties, his duty was to keep the foreigner out of harm’s way. From the moment they arrived at Ugar’s Repose, it was obvious to Ghonik that he should have done more to keep his charge from coming there. Passions had been roused, and the healing of the woman only inflamed the fury.
When the mob began to move in, Ghonik had stepped forward to do his duty. The crowd had muscled him aside. Tarvek would have tried to do something if Kyleth hadn’t forcibly restrained him for his own safety. Kyleth himself made no attempt to intervene.
It took only moments before protecting the monk became impossible. There were simply too many assailants.
In the end Ghonik could only look on helplessly while the monk was brutally attacked.
The approach of a patrol of Lord Kulferan’s soldiers brought an end to the assault, but it was too late for the victim. No one could survive such a savage beating.
Looking toward Kyleth, Ghonik caught his eye. The other guard shrugged apathetically, his manner conveying complete disinterest in the fate of their charge. Ghonik turned away with a scowl. His partner had the sensibility of a weasel.
Peering down at the victim once more, Ghonik wondered gloomily what they should do with the body. He couldn’t begin to imagine what they were going to say to the king.
Then, impossibly, the monk stirred. His eyes blinked, and he drew in a shuddering breath. Then he sat up.
Ghonik stood open-mouthed with amazement. Kyleth had gone pale.
Apparently unaware of their reaction, Brother Ander stretched his limbs awkwardly before clambering to his feet.
Wincing, he smiled wryly. “I apparently didn’t receive a warm welcome,” he offered.
The magnitude of the understatement left Ghonik speechless.
Tarvek hurried to the monk. “Brother Ander, how is it possible? Your injuries!”
“I imagine it looked worse than it was,” the big man returned. “I don’t seem to have suffered any real harm.”
The captain of the army patrol rode up, bringing their interaction to an end.
“What was the cause of the disturbance?” he demanded. “Is there a problem here?”
“No problem at all,” said Kyleth brightly. “Just a minor misunderstanding. We were able to resolve the matter, so there’s no cause for concern.”
The captain looked less than convinced, but with no obvious need for his intervention, he soon wheeled his horse about. Signaling to his men, he led them away at a trot.
Kyleth sidled up to the monk. “Brother Ander,” he said, “Congratulations on your magnificent recovery! I never doubted the outcome for a moment.” He lowered his voice. “I think I might know someone who is very unwell and could benefit from your services, if you’re willing.”
“Of course. I’m happy to do whatever I can to help people,” the monk replied. He seemed a little unsteady. “Perhaps tomorrow,” he added tentatively.
Kyleth nodded with satisfaction. “Excellent! I’ll set something up for tomorrow afternoon.”
“We must return Brother Ander to the palace!” said Tarvek. Taking the big man in hand, he gently began steering him toward the city.
Kyleth fell in beside Ghonik. Leaning forward conspiratorially, he spoke in an undertone. “This could work out very well for us,” he said. “I know a person with more coin than he knows how to spend. He has major health problems, and he’ll pay handsomely for a bit of personal attention from our good friend here.” He jerked his head toward the monk. He rubbed his hands. “Once he’s sorted out, there’ll be plenty of others.”
Ghonik scowled at him. “What about the dark gods?”
“My loyalty hasn’t changed,” growled Kyleth. “But the priests will need to lie low for a while after what just happened. In the meantime, business is business!”
Ghonik made no attempt to hide his utter contempt for Kyleth and his proposal.
Kyleth rolled his eyes at his partner’s reaction. “Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. Turning his back on Ghonik, he hurried forward to catch up with Tarvek and Brother Ander.
Kyleth wasted no time before setting up a meeting with the sick acquaintance he had mentioned. The following afternoon was not far advanced before Brother Ander once more found himself leaving the palace with his guards.
This time they traveled in a covered wagon.
“You had an energetic day yesterday, Brother Ander,” Kyleth explained. “It’s only right that we spare your legs.”
The monk suspected the mode of transport had more to do with keeping him out of sight than preserving his energy. Having already had more than enough excitement, he saw no reason to complain.
The wagon rumbled through the streets of Rog, carefully bypassing the seedier side of the city. Glancing out of the back, he noticed the dwellings becoming bigger and more pretentious. Eventually they came to a brief halt before being admitted through ornate gates into an expansive courtyard surrounded by high walls.
Climbing out of the wagon, he looked around. The mansion before him surely belonged either to a member of the nobility or to a merchant of considerable means.
Hurrying to the entrance porch of the mansion, Kyleth announced himself to the pair of servants standing outside the large double doors.
Brother Ander turned to Ghonik. “Your partner seems to have overcome his reservations about this assignment,” he observed.
Ghonik did not respond, rolling his eyes briefly before turning away.
The monk turned his attention once more to Kyleth, eyeing the guard thoughtfully for a long moment. It wasn’t possible to hear what was being said, but to all appearances the guard was engaged in an animated negotiation with a senior servant of the household.
Kyleth’s real agenda abruptly became clear. The monk wondered how he could have become so blind. A wry smile twisted his lips as he recalled that he had once been as cynical as the best of them.
They were soon ushered inside and led to a large room that overlooked an extensive garden. An elderly man lay sprawled awkwardly on an elaborately decorated recliner, flanked by a woman who appeared to be his wife. Their host greeted them distractedly, making no effort to get up.
A servant stood at the man’s side, and he offered the visitors a tight bow.
“I welcome you on behalf of Roethen, the master of this house,” he said.
