He began the chant clumsily. It was difficult to perform the invocation with the proper rhythm while fanning Vlad, until he managed to adjust his fanning to the rhythm of the incantation. After that it was easier.
Polyi returned with the firewood, and built up the fire, got more water, then sat down next to Savn. “How is he?”
“He burns,” said Savn, his voice already hoarse. “Come, listen to the chant so you can help me with it. I’ll fan him, you make sure the cloth on his forehead stays damp, and we’ll perform the healing together.”
“All right,” said Polyi.
Vlad moaned softly then, and mumbled something. Polyi made a soft exclamation. Savn glanced at her and said, “We do not pay attention to the ravings of those under our care.” Then he resumed chanting. Presently his sister joined him.
Several hours later, when both of their voices were raw and sore, when Savn felt more exhausted than he ever had in his life, when he was afraid that his arm lacked the strength to lift up Vlad’s head one more time, he felt his forehead and found it was cool to the touch.
“You can stop, Polyi,” he said.
She kept chanting, stumbling a little, slowing down, then at last ran down like a spinning doll at the end of its string. She looked at him blankly, as if unable to comprehend the silence. Perhaps they said something to each other—Savn later had a memory that they exchanged a hug, but he was never certain. All he knew was that within a minute after the sudden silence boomed through the cave, he was sound asleep.
When Savn awoke, the first thing he did was stifle a cry and look at Vlad. Then he realized that he’d only dreamed that he’d fallen asleep while Vlad’s life was still at stake, and he relaxed. The Easterner slept, but his color looked good and his forehead felt cool, though perhaps slightly clammy.
The next thing he did was make sure Polyi was all right. She was still asleep (or, for all he knew, asleep again). He badly wished for tea. Then he noticed a dead norska lying by the fire. He looked at the two jhereg who stood over it, either guarding it or showing off, and said, “Now, I suppose, you’re going to want me to skin it and cook it, aren’t you? Haven’t we been through this already? Fortunately for you, I have a stewpot, because I wouldn’t want to risk the smell of roasting it again.”
The smaller of the jhereg hopped over to him, jumped coolly onto his arm, and licked his ear. Savn wondered why this didn’t bother him, and, moreover, how the jhereg knew it wouldn’t bother him.
He built up the fire, skinned the norska, and put it in the pot with water and more three-season herb than probably ought to go in. That was all right; it might make the stew a little sweet, but it should still be edible. The smell woke up Polyi, and, at almost the same time, Vlad.
Savn realized the Easterner was awake when the two jhereg suddenly stopped nibbling at the norska skin and flew over to land next to his face. Savn followed them, knelt down, and said, “How are you?”
Vlad blinked, cleared his throat, and said, “What did I say this time?”
“I have no idea,” said Savn. “You sound stronger than you did yesterday.”
“Do I? I think I feel a little better, too. How odd.”
“Did Fird do something to you?”
“No, I don’t think so. I don’t think he could have done anything I wouldn’t have noticed, and he doesn’t seem to be the type that would try anything, anyway. No, I think it just happened.”
“You do sound better.”
“Thanks. I really didn’t say anything?”
“I wasn’t paying attention. What was Fird doing here, anyway?”
“Giving me some information I’d paid him to find out.”
“Oh. I hope it was worth it.” .
Vlad laughed, weakly. “Oh, yes. It was worth it.”
Savn grunted and stirred the stew, spilling some, which made the fire hiss, and thick smoke curled up into his eyes. He waved it away and stepped back. He added a little wine, Figuring it couldn’t hurt anything and remembering Vlad’s comments last time.
He glanced back at Vlad, who had struggled to a sitting position on his own, and was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, his eyes closed.
“You’re going to make it,” said Savn quietly.
“Eh?” said Vlad.
“Nothing. Rest now and I’ll wake you when the food’s ready.”
“Thanks, but I want to be awake. I need to think.”
“Are you afraid they’ll find you?” He didn’t think the stew sinelled as strongly as the roasted norska had, and hoped that the smell wouldn’t manage to sneak its way out of the cave.
“Are they still looking?” asked Vlad.
“Yes.”
“Hmmm. Well, that’s part of it. If they found me now I wouldn’t be able to give them much sport. But even if they don’t find me, I have to figure out what to do.”
“About what?”
“About Loraan, of course. Excuse me, I mean Baron Smallcliff.”
“Oh.”
Eventually the food was ready. Polyi splashed water on her face, visited the cave they’d designated as a privy, and rejoined them, still looking groggy. They ate in silence, not even commenting on the quality of the stew, which Savn thought was fine (although, as he had feared, a bit sweet), even if it was not as exciting as the roasted norska had been the first time.
They had to share bowls, since Savn had only thought to bring two, but they finished every morsel. When they had given the bones and scraps to the jhereg, Vlad rested for a while. Savn thought he was looking better and better, but resolved not to leave him unattended until he was certain there would not be another relapse.
Polyi, who, as usual, had been the last to finish eating, watched Vlad as he rested. Savn wondered what she was thinking about, a question which was answered when she suddenly said, “What did you mean about not wanting to work again?”
Vlad opened his eyes. “Excuse me?”
“When you were feverish, you said you never wanted to work again, and you wouldn’t, and swore by Verra. Or maybe at Verra, I couldn’t tell.”
Vlad looked reproachfully at Savn, who said, “When did he say that, Polyi?”
“While we were chanting.”
Savn looked at Vlad. “I didn’t notice,” he said.
“I meant,” said Vlad, “that, basically, I’m a pretty lazy fellow. What else did I say?” The Easterner was staring at Polyi, and Savn felt the intensity of that stare.
“Stop it,” he said.
Vlad turned to him. “Excuse me?”
“I said, stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Whatever you were about to do to her.”
The Easterner seemed genuinely confused. “I wasn’t about to do anything to her; what are you talking about?”
“You were about to cast a spell on her.”
“No, I wasn’t. What makes you think I was?”
“I saw how you were looking at her, and I know what you did to Mae and Pae.”
“Oh,” said Vlad softly. His features were still and silent; only his eyes seemed troubled as he looked at Savn.
“What?” cried Polyi, rising to her feet.
Damn my big mouth, thought Savn. He stepped between her and Vlad and said, “Wait—”
“What did he do to them?”
“How did you know?” said Vlad quietly.
Savn ignored him, gripped his sister’s shoulders and said, “Polyi, please—”
“How long have you known?” said Polyi.
“I guessed yesterday, when we went home, but I wasn’t certain.”
She tried to twist free, but Savn was stronger. He said, “Wait, Polyi. Let us at least listen to what he has to say—”
Vlad, abruptly, started laughing. Polyi stopped struggling and stared at him. Savn did the same. “What’s so funny?” he asked.
“I’m almost tempted,” said Vlad, still laughing, “to tell you to let her go. After everything I’ve done, the idea of falling at last to the wrath of a Teckla girl appeals to my sense of irony. And right now, she could do it. At least,” he added, sobering suddenly, “it wouldn’t be Morganti.”