The Witch of Webs: Book 12 (The Wandering Inn), page 4
“Very well. Let me know if you feel sick or ill at any moment. Ahem.”
Five days into the storm that raged across the sea, and the ships still sailed on. One ahead, five behind. The Bloodtear Pirates, one of the most feared and dangerous [Pirate] navies in the world, were in hot pursuit of the Waveblade, the stalwart vessel captained by Gallheart herself, a Drake with two scars across her face, one of the finest [Ship Captains] to ever leave Zeres’ harbor.
She stood on the bow of her ship where she had lashed herself to the wheel, and still she steered her ship onwards, though it had been five days since the storm began, and she had neither slept nor abandoned her post.
Durene’s eyes widened as the [Healer] turned a page. The woman’s voice was soft, and she was no natural reader, but the words and language were unlike any story Durene had ever heard told. It had form, structure—it wasn’t a fireside tale, but something as good as the travelling [Storyteller] had told. No, better. The [Healer] smiled as Durene sat up. She began the second page.
The storm blew even fiercer, threatening to drown the ships. Yet the Bloodtear Pirates did not relent. The Waveblade had a treasure they sought, and so even as the waves threatened to capsize the ships with each swell, they sailed through them. Gallheart took her ship through one wave, and then the next. But the third caught her unawares, and it bore down on them. She cursed as she looked up at the waters rushing down as one of the Bloodtear Pirate ships turned over, swept away by the water.
“Damn them and this mission,” she swore. “If this is the end…!”
And it was at that moment that the waters disappeared. The wave crashed down, but for a hundred feet, from bow to stern, the air was suddenly clear. Waveblade sailed through the wave as two more Bloodtear Pirate ships were broken by the massive wave. But someone had taken the waters that would have doomed Gallheart’s ship. She turned her head.
And there he stood. The [Thief] of legends. He stood on her decks, smiling, his eyes, one real, one enchanted, glittering. Thivian Stormless. He swept Gallheart a bow.
“Why the startled look, Captain Gallheart?” He laughed lightly. “Surely you didn’t forget the Lightning [Thief] was your guest of honor? If I can steal a bolt from the heavens, a wave is child’s play. Or didn’t you think the legends were true?”
“If I thought the legends were true, I’d have wondered how Thivian Stormless could have landed us in the worst storm this side of the century,” Gallheart snapped back. “Tell me this cargo’s worth it or I’ll throw you overboard now and damn our contract.”
“Once more, Captain Gallheart. The fate of Baleros may rest on it. If the Eye of Medusa is not returned, there might be war between the Gazers and the entire continent. Take us on. And you’ll be rewarded in not just gold, but glory.”
“Gold’s enough for me. Glory fills no holds. Just you keep your hands at the ready, Human. Because there are two ships on our back, and I have no doubt more seeking to block us. Once this storm ends, we’ll get our bearings…”
Durene listened as the [Healer] flipped from page to page. And the book unfolded, a tale of daring and wonders caught on page. The half-Troll girl had never heard the like. Her eyes were fixed on the book as she sat, forgetting about her desire to get up. And, true to both their words, the [Healer] read into the night and Durene listened, pausing only to use the bathroom thrice and eat a large dinner.
The book closed with Thivian Stormless’ last daring tale, and Durene felt her eyes flicker shut moments later in the darkness. The [Healer] regarded her and shook her head as she blew out the candle she had lit.
“Incredible.”
That was the last word Durene heard before she fell asleep.
Day 5 – Durene
Durene heard the same word the next day. She was on her feet this time before the [Healer], whose name was Pirose, even awoke. The older woman left her room to find Durene scarfing down a plateful of bread, salami, some hard cheese—all that Durene had found in the cupboards. The half-Troll girl paused guiltily, but Pirose just shook her head.
“Incredible.”
“What?”
Durene tried to hide the food behind her back. Pirose ignored that. She gestured to Durene on her feet.
“If I didn’t know you were half…well, I would have assumed you had some kind of healing Skill. Without healing potions, an infected injury that deep usually takes months to heal—if it even gets better. You’re a lucky young woman.”
“Well, it’s long for me. Four days is the longest I’ve ever been out. And I once cut my arm nearly to the bone. But I was back the next day. I heal quick.”
Proudly, Durene stuck out her chest then she remembered the scar. The [Healer] blinked at her and opened her mouth. She saw Durene checking her chest; the tip of the scar was just visible at the hem of Durene’s dress. The [Healer] frowned as Durene lifted a hand.
“Don’t touch it. And don’t lie on your chest when you sleep, obviously. It’s still yet to heal. You may recall that you were sick? The healing potions are too dangerous to use even now, so it’s had to heal on its own. You’ll still be weak for…at least a day if your healing continues to be this quick. And you’ll have a scar.”
“I know. Thank you for looking after me.”
Durene mumbled. She absently bit into her breakfast. Pirose shook her head.
“I’m just doing my job. I was sent by Lord Veltras to ensure that Riverfarm’s wounded were cared for. You were my last patient.”
“Lord Veltras sent you?”
Durene nearly choked on her next bite. Pirose smiled.
“Of course. He struck an alliance with your [Emperor]. Emperor Godart, isn’t it? Part of that was a [Healer] who could tend to the injured. Especially you. Lord Veltras is not a man to forswear himself. I am his best [Healer]. Until I came here, I was with the main war camp. I’ll be travelling north tomorrow, I think. I expected another week until I was sure you wouldn’t relapse, but this is astonishing.”
“I’m just good at healing. Thank you. Uh, Miss Pirose?”
Durene was suddenly shy, as if the two hadn’t spent last night gasping over Thivian’s exploits in the book. Pirose smiled, and her stern face warmed slightly.
“My job is reward enough when my patients live. As I said, it was a challenge this time. I know infections, but you did as much work as I. When I think of the state of your wound when I first arrived—idiots with healing potions should be hung.”
“You mean Beniar? What, did he pour a healing potion on me?”
“Three. Your people couldn’t tell that they were accelerating your illness with each potion. I can understand that as you were being carried off the battlefield, but your [Witch] friend should have known better. Then again, she was the one who stopped them from killing you. Idiots.”
Pirose sighed. She walked past Durene and found a kettle. She seemed used to the house they were in, enough to make tea without having to look for anything. Durene fidgeted. Were they in a village other than Riverfarm? This couldn’t be Pirose’s home; it was far too modest and newly built.
“I always thought it was weird how healing potions made people sick like that. They cure normal wounds right off. So why do sicknesses get worse? Sometimes, they’ll fix my cold right off. Other times, they get worse.”
Again, the [Healer] eyed Durene.
“They shouldn’t ever be used in times of sickness. And with respect, the healing potions you probably use shouldn’t have that effect either. Healing potions are essentially regenerative energy poured into the body. They let the body heal fast, to the point where it ‘remembers’ being before it was hurt. That’s why they work so well even with serious injuries. Of course, they can also hinder; you can’t build muscle since a potion will just revert any gains you make. And the same goes for illnesses.”
“It gives the sickness strength?”
Pirose pursed her lips as the kettle boiled on the small fire she’d lit. She poured the tea into a cup, caught herself, and poured Durene a cup too. She offered the girl a cup, and Durene tasted the liquid.
“Close. In theory, a good potion augments the body’s strength to fight off the sickness. And a master [Alchemist]’s potions will do that; they’ll allow the body to recover from the illness if it’s at all possible, doing the work of weeks or months in seconds. But in practice, most of the energy goes to the illness for some reason. So suddenly your small cold has more strength than your body, and it gets worse and turns into something potentially deadly. I can’t imagine how strong your body must be against disease. Well, I’ve seen it first-hand.”
“I’m tough.”
So saying, Durene gulped her tea. She knew the liquid was close to boiling, but it was only hot on her tongue. Pirose blew on her cup, eying her.
“Even so. Your infection was beyond bad. I’ve given your people a lecture on everything they did wrong. Again, your [Witch] friend saved your life. Her craft saved you in the time it took for me to arrive. You should thank her when you see her next.”
“It wasn’t that bad, was it? Me being sick?”
Shocked, Durene prodded at her chest. Pirose slapped her hand down and sipped her tea. Her silence spoke volumes. Durene looked around the cottage.
“Well, thank you. I owe you so much. Is—where am I? Are we in Riverfarm?”
Pirose’s eyebrows shot up.
“Of course. This is one of the new houses built. I’ve been staying here—with little to want, I might add. Except for new reading material. The [Steward], Mister Prost, has been very accommodating. As has Lady Valerund.”
“Rie? Prost? Where are they? Can I see them? I can walk today.”
Pirose nodded.
“I told them you were well yesterday. I think they’ll want to meet with you. But before I let you rush out that door—”
She held up a finger as Durene started for it. The girl turned. Pirose frowned.
“You’ll do some tests, and I’ll ask you some questions before I’m satisfied you’re well. Don’t lie. I have a truth stone for difficult patients.”
“I’m fine. Really. I feel great. A bit weak, but I can do anything you want.”
Durene patted one arm. Pirose put down her cup.
“You can prove it to me. Take a breath.”
She ran a series of quick tests, from listening to Durene’s lungs as the girl breathed in and out to making Durene stand on one leg and answer some questions about her childhood. Pirose didn’t seem convinced Durene was fully recovered; she asked about the color of Durene’s urine and even what her other leavings looked like this morning, and she forced Durene to strip.
Blushing fiercely, Durene let her inspect the scar with practiced fingers and answered truthfully that she could barely feel the fingers. Pirose might have kept asking questions but for the strength test; when she handed Durene a length of thin firewood and asked her to snap it, the half-Troll girl, exasperated, picked up a log and snapped it in half.
The spray of splinters shot across the room and into the fireplace. Pirose stared. Durene hadn’t even used her knee; she’d just flexed the wood, and it had split like that. She stared at the wood; it wasn’t even that dry. Durene abashedly dropped the wood pieces.
“Sorry about the mess.”
“Well, that proves that. You have a Skill? You must. Even for your size, that was impossible.”
“I do, um, have a Skill. [Enhanced Strength].”
Pirose’s eyes widened.
“On top of your natural body? Dead gods. One wonders how you were ever hurt to begin with. You could have killed a warrior in steel plate with your fists.”
“I fought the Goblin Chieftain. I think he was their leader. He had an enchanted axe. I nearly got him. But he got me.”
Durene frowned and sat down in a chair. Pirose silently regarded her and then the wood littering her floor.
“That’s a battle as I understand it. But you’ve satisfied me that your body’s well. If tomorrow I check and your scar’s nearly healed, I’ll consider you fit for anything.”
“Thank you. Again.”
Pirose smiled softly.
“It was my duty. No more, no less.”
She showed Durene where the broom was, and the two were finishing sweeping up the wood splinters when a sharp rapping came from the door. Someone opened it before either woman could answer, and a voice called out.
“Durene! You’re awake!”
The half-Troll girl turned. She saw a flash of dark red, a sweeping dress patterned with silver. Beautiful, costly fabric, something completely alien to Riverfarm. A face with skin not roughened by weather. Painted nails, lilac-touched lips, and two sparkling indigo irises. The mouth lifted into a delighted smile as Lady Rie Valerund walked, no, glided towards Durene. The girl froze up instinctively, but Rie threw her arms around Durene and hugged her.
“Rie?”
“It’s a delight to see you, Durene. No—a miracle. After your third fever, I thought—Miss Pirose, can she be on her feet so soon?”
Lady Rie turned to Pirose, looking mildly alarmed. The [Healer] inclined her stately head, combining a nod with a slight curtsey for Lady Rie.
“I judge her to be almost recovered, Lady Valerund. When the sickness was defeated, her strength came in a rush it seems. She went from barely lucid to being able to stay up nearly a day yesterday. This morning, she rose before me.”
“Amazing. Truly. We owe you a debt of gratitude, Miss Pirose. If there is anything I or the demesne of Riverfarm can do for you…His Majesty wishes it to be known that no reward is too large.”
Lady Rie bowed slightly. Pirose paused.
“The offer by His…Majesty is most gracious. But I am paid by Lord Veltras for my services. I executed my duty to the best of my abilities, as I do with any patient. I am only glad Durene is so healthy.”
“Just so. Durene, please sit. You look well, but why risk it? Here. Prost will be here shortly. He will be as delighted to see you as I, I’m sure. We’ve already spread the word that you’re on your feet; there are many waiting to greet you. But we shall take it slowly. You have so much to catch up on…”
Rie fussed over Durene, guiding her to one of the chairs in the small living room that was combined with the kitchen. Bemused, Durene sat, watching the [Lady] arrange her dress to sit in a humble chair herself.
This was not the Rie that Durene remembered. The woman Durene recalled was just as elegant and beautiful, but the girl distinctly recalled hating Rie’s guts. Not least because Durene was convinced Rie was attempting to become closer to Laken than she had any right to be with Durene at his side.
She was exquisite, that Durene had to admit. Compared to the plain, honest folk of Riverfarm, a [Lady] like Rie was a brilliant, rare creature, exotic and wonderful. And scheming. She often tried to talk with Laken privately, or flatter him. And while he had ignored most of her attempts, Durene hadn’t missed any of it. How could she? It was obvious.
How did you seduce a blind man? With soft hands and a soothing voice. And that was what Lady Rie had and Durene didn’t. The half-Troll girl had been paranoid that Rie would manage to trick Laken in some way, and she had hated Rie with all her heart—she’d had the feeling Rie regarded her as an obstacle, not as competition or a rival. So Durene was naturally cautious, remembering their history.
But today—all of Durene’s jealousy and worries not only seemed to be groundless, but her old emotions also felt far away. Durene found herself smiling at Rie. She was so grateful to see a familiar face, and the [Lady] felt completely genuine.
“What’s been going on, Rie? Why are you so upset? I’ve only been out…half a week?”
“Half a—”
The [Lady] didn’t even blink at Durene not addressing her by her title, but she inhaled sharply. She looked at Durene, and then at Pirose, who made a face and shrugged. Durene looked from woman to woman, and Rie was opening her mouth when the door opened.
“Durene? Are you—”
A weathered man stepped into the room. Prost was every bit as worn from his old class—[Farmer]—as any of the men and women Durene knew. But he was stalwart despite it all, and of late, he looked taller. More distinguished. And certainly kinder than the man Durene had known. Indeed, when he saw Durene, he strode over and hugged her as well!
“Durene! Girl. It’s a sight for sore eyes to see you on your feet. But should you be out of bed?”
“I’m fine, Mister Prost. Really! I feel as strong as ever. I’m sorry to have worried you!”
She must have been really badly hurt for all of them to be so anxious. Durene smiled, and the man stepped back, looking her up and down. His eyes fixed on the top of Durene’s scar, and she blushed. He looked away hurriedly. Pirose made a disapproving sound.
“We need to get you into proper clothing.”
Lady Rie nodded at the thin dress Durene wore. The girl nodded and only now wondered where the clothes had come from. They fit her well, and there hadn’t been anyone close to her height or build in Riverfarm. The [Lady] went on.
“I can have someone fetch your clothes. And we’ve kept your cottage maintained—as well as we can with that bird attacking anyone on sight. As for the rest, we’ll get you sorted, don’t worry, Durene. You can take it slow these next few days. Assuming Mistress Pirose thinks it’s wise?”
“I’m leaving tomorrow if Durene continues to heal at this rate.”
Pirose replied blandly. She sat at the opposite side of the table as Durene, Lady Rie, and Prost sat around the dining room. Prost still looked incredibly relieved to see Durene on her feet, but Rie’s eyes were now flickering to Durene’s face, and a cautionary frown was written on her features. Durene felt her own hint of reserve return as she looked at the [Lady].
“What is it, Rie?”
The woman pursed her lips and looked at Pirose.
