A sense of... not contentment, precisely, or well-being, but something of both, something too rich and deep to be called merely satisfaction, suddenly flowed from her, as the torn flesh knitted closed, the mottled bruising around Ehren's throat lightened, and Tavi's friend drew in a sudden, deep, wheezing breath.
Tavi stared at the High Lady, frowning, taking in details of her appearance. Lady Antillus had been a beautiful woman, in an aggressive, knife-edged way. She looked young, of course, as all the watercrafters tended to do. She'd dressed in silk in the blues of her husband's House, and her dark hair had been long and lovely.
Now she wore a gown of grey homespun cloth, very simple, plain, and sturdily made. Her hair had been cut into a much shorter, more practical length, and was bound back with a leather cord. She wore a healer's apron, smeared with both the scarlet of Aleran blood and the much darker hue of the Canim. She wore no cosmetics-which Tavi had formerly never seen her without-and no jewelry, either.
Except for the gleaming steel of a discipline collar around her throat.
"This will only take me a moment more, First Spear, Captain Scipio," she said, her voice still as quiet and rich as Tavi remembered. "I apologize that it wasn't done sooner, but my services were needed for the most badly wounded."
Tavi stared at her for a moment, at a loss for words. "H-high Lady Antillus. Good evening."
She glanced up with a small smile filled with the awareness of irony. "Oh please, Scipio. High Lady Antillus is a traitor in line for a cell in the Grey Tower, a trial, and an execution. She would most certainly not be aiding you or-unless I miss my guess, from the number of knives he had hidden on him-a Cursor of the Crown."
Tavi frowned at her, tilting his head. "No. I suppose not."
"Call me Dorotea," she said. Tavi could sense gentle regret in her voice, and more of the same sense of deep fulfillment. "I'm a healer. It's what I do now. If you will excuse me." She bent her head back to her healing and closed her eyes.
Tavi shook his head and glanced at Durias.
"Sari managed to capture her two years ago," Durias said, his voice pitched to a respectful quiet. "He put the discipline collar on her himself, and ordered her to do no harm, to obey those who commanded her and heal those who had need."
Tavi drew in a sudden breath, understanding. "Only Sari could have taken the collar off."
"And he died," Durias said quietly. There was real and very deep pain and empathy in the young centurion's eyes as he stared at the former High Lady. "She's stuck with it. If it's removed, she dies."
Tavi exhaled slowly, shaking his head.
"You can't have her," Durias said. "I'm to tell you that."
"There's something a tad hypocritical in your people refusing to free a collared slave, Durias. Is this their idea of justice?"
Durias grimaced. "It isn't that, great furies know. I know what she's going through. So do a lot of other folk around here. But she's too valuable to us-and she deserves to be among folk who know what it's like to live under a discipline collar. Who won't abuse her." He shook his head. "Though there was plenty of that, the first several weeks, before order was established."
Tavi felt sickened, just thinking of it. Granted, High Lady Antillus had been no one's idea of a spirit of mercy and goodness, but all the same, no one deserved the kind of retribution that had undoubtedly been visited on her by newly freed, leaderless slaves. "It isn't just what she's done, or the deaths she's responsible for. It's her son."
A sharp spike of pain jumped across the room to Tavi from Dorotea, a yearning, a sadness, a regret, and a fierce, fierce love. She lifted her eyes to his. "Crassus?" she asked. "Is he... is he well?"
"The last I knew," Tavi said. "He knows what you did. He won't talk about it to me, but I believe he worries for you. He wonders what has become of you."
Ehren's color had much improved, and his chest was rising and falling normally, now. Dorotea lifted her fingers to her collar in a fluttering motion, then lowered them again. "I..." She closed her eyes. "I think it's best if... if Lady Antillus died in the fighting." She opened them again and sought Tavi's eyes. "She did, you know."
"I..." Tavi shook his head. "I don't have time for this."
Dorotea flushed and looked down, bowing her head in a gesture of acceptance. "Where is he?"
"I left him in command of the First Aleran."
Her face went pale, and Tavi had to draw upon the steel in the blade beside him to protect himself from the sudden surge of horror as she turned her head toward the besieged ruins.
"As I said, Dorotea," Tavi said quietly. "I have no time. I need Sir Ehren."
"Y-yes," she said. "Of course." She laid her hand on Ehren's head, bowed her own for a moment, and murmured, quietly, "Wake."
Ehren's eyes blinked open without ceremony. "Eh? Hmmm?" They widened. "Ah!" he said. He took a deep breath, and then several more. "Oh, my word, that's more like it. Thank the great furies tha-"
He turned to thank the healer, saw High Lady Antillus, and let out a squeak. His hands flailed about his naked person, presumably looking for a knife, splashing bloodied water everywhere.
"Ehren," Tavi said. "Ehren!"
The young man went still. He tore his eyes from Lady Antillus to Durias, and then to Tavi. They got a bit wider at each stopping point. "Ah. Well. Some things have happened while I was lying down, I see."
"Yes," Tavi said. "And you've got that look on your face again."
"I can't help it," Ehren said. "You're about to walk to breakfast, aren't you, regardless of who is in the way?"
"Yes," Tavi said.
Ehren sighed. "Let's hear it."
Tavi told him the plan.
"That's insane," Ehren said.
"It could work."
"You aren't going to have anyone come along to bail you out this time," Ehren pointed out.
Tavi grinned. "Are you with me?"
"The plan is insane," Ehren said. "You are insane." He looked around the inside of the tent. "I'll need some pants."
Chapter 51
Tavi rode up to the ruins on the best horse the Free Aleran Legion had to offer, and Ehren rode beside him.
Though most of the bodies had been removed, some had been missed in the fighting and the oncoming darkness-and plenty of bits remained where they had fallen. As a result, the darkness was filled with the rustling wings and raucous cries of the omnipresent black crows, feeding upon the fallen.