Karon tried to drag me away, but I wouldn’t budge. “Wait,” I said. “Aren’t you needed here?”
“Not while you’re with me,” he said, glancing grim-faced at the child as he urged me toward the distant light. His hand was hot on my bare arm. The fever pained him when it grew too fierce, and the child’s quiet desperation would make it worse.
“Karon… do what you must. I’ll keep watch.”
Another cheer went up from the distant revelers. He shook his head. “We’re too close to the city. Too many people about.”
“Who’s there?” The girl’s voice quavered as she twisted around to look out of the flapping doorway. “Is it you Deft? Don’t frig me, Deft. Agren don’t like it.”
“What happened here?” I said, loosening Karon’s fingers, ducking my head under the low beam, and stepping into the shelter. “Are you all right?”
The man lay on his belly. His beard was matted and dark, his long dagger still sheathed. Though I felt no breath when I placed my cheek by his mouth, his skin was still warm. “Who are you?” asked the child, glaring at me ferociously as she huddled beside the body.
“Fairgoers. My husband is a… physician. Perhaps he can help.”
“Somebody shiwed him.” Her chin quivered. “I think he’s dead.”
“Perhaps he’s not dead. I thought I felt a breath.” I gathered the child to me and drew her away, nodding to Karon, who stood outlined against the doorway. “Come, let’s give my husband some room to work.”
The girl—Nettie was her name—sat on a barrel outside the shed and told me of Agren—maybe her father, maybe not, she wasn’t sure—and how he’d gone off to meet a man about a gambling debt. When he didn’t return to the fair, she’d come hunting him. Through the dangling canvas, I glimpsed Karon kneel beside the man and, after a brief examination, yank the dagger from his back. Though he was but a shadow against the gray night, I recognized the next movements: unbuttoning his sleeve, scoring the dead man’s arm, the moment’s stillness as he cut himself and then wrapped the man’s own long scarf about their joined arms.
I stroked the child’s braids, sticky with the oil her people used to make their hair shine in the torchlight, and let her chatter on about the jonglers she liked and those she feared. Karon’s back was still. A warm breeze flapped the canvas walls.
“Nettie!” A rasping whisper came from the darkness. “Here, girl…”
“Agren?” Eyes the size of saucers, the child jumped down from the barrel. I grabbed for her arm to prevent her seeing what Karon was about or touching him or her friend, but she squirmed free, scuttered into the tent, and dropped to her knees on the dirt across the body from Karon. Right on her heels, I bent down to lift her, only to have my hand fall slack in horrified astonishment.
“Vengeance, Nettie. It’s Deft done this. We’ll poison the sodding bastard…” The hoarse voice, the vicious and brutal words came from Karon’s mouth. Anger and hatred twisted his face until it was almost unrecognizable. “We’ll take him ere morning. I’ll cut out his heart…” As vile, murderous epithets poured from him, Karon’s expression convulsed and his shaking hand gripped the knife he had pulled from the jongler’s back.
“Karon!” I dared not touch him. He’d told me of the explosive enchantment, the dangerous unbalancing that could damage both Healer and patient when the link was disturbed. So I squeezed the squirming child to my breast, hiding her eyes while I did nothing but speak his name.
The quivering knife moved laboriously upward, drawing my eyes and breath with it. I was ready to shove the child aside and leap, but the blade fell so quickly, I could do nothing but cry out. “Holy gods!” Three… four… five more times the knife slammed into the corpse.
When all was quiet again, Karon was bent almost double, his right hand still holding the knife embedded in the jongler’s back. “Maratathe… maratachi… maratakai,” he whispered in his own voice, repeating the words over and over. When he had gained control of his trembling, he said, “Unbind us.”
One arm still wrapped about the squirming child, I drew my knife and sliced through the dirty scarf holding Karon’s left arm to that of the jongler. After a moment, Karon got to his feet, took my arm, and pulled me up to his side. Nettie remained on the ground beside the dead man.
“I’m sorry,” Karon said softly to the gaping child, as he drew me away from them. “I couldn’t help him.”
We walked straight to the carriage row and drove home, Karon neither speaking nor looking at me the entire time. Though my curiosity was near bursting, I waited for him to begin. Only after he had bathed and dressed the unclosed laceration on his left arm did he come sit beside me on the couch in our candlelit bedchamber, leaning his head back on the cushions and closing his eyes. “Agren did not like being dead. Coarse, corrupt, filled with so much greed and jealousy and hatred… In a hundred years, you could not imagine it. Instead of entering his own body again, he took mine. Celine told me of such souls, ones that longed so for life that they refused to cross the Verges and would turn on the Healer. I’ve never experienced it before, and never will again, I hope. Stars of night…”
“The knife… what did you do?”
Karon opened his eyes and rolled his head toward me, revealing a rueful smile. “I convinced him that he could only come back as himself. Which meant, of course, that he was truly dead, for his body had failed beyond revival.
He wasn’t happy about that. You saw the result. I’m glad he took it out on his own body and not on you or the child or me.“
“I wonder what will become of the child.”
He shuddered. “She’ll be better off, no matter what.”
We sat up together the rest of that night, falling asleep on the couch only when dawn was peeking in the window.
A few weeks later Karon took a small party to Valleor to investigate an ancient tomb exposed by an earthquake. The royal governor of Valleor’s southern district had notified the Antiquities Commission of the find that lay near the city of Xerema, reporting that the site appeared to have relics of great value.
Karon took two of his assistants on the trip to learn what might be necessary to mount a full-scale excavation. He was only to be gone a few days, and so I chose to wait and accompany him on the larger expedition he planned for autumn. I was working at my language studies again, helping Tennice translate an Isker manuscript for Martin, and I hated to abandon him in the middle of it.
Three weeks passed with no word from Karon. It wasn’t like him. This was a public journey, not one of his private ones. A few more days and I had difficulty concentrating on Tennice’s project and couldn’t settle at anything else. When the fourth week passed, I went to the palace to see if Racine or Sir Geoffrey, the administrator of the royal archives, had news. But there was nothing. Never had I been so worried; every morning when I woke alone in bed, I felt nauseated.
Martin came to our house only rarely, so when Joubert interrupted my pacing one afternoon to announce the Earl of Gault, the sea of dread burst through the feeble dike I’d built to contain it. “News out of Valleor,” he said, taking my hands, his calm voice belied by his somber face. “Nothing specific to Karon, but we’ve had word that there’s been another earthquake. They say Xerema has been leveled.”
“He wasn’t to be in the city…” One has to say the words.
“… and I’m sure travel and communication are difficult,” said Martin. “Tanager is already on his way. He’ll send word as soon as he knows anything.”
I hated Martin for sending Tanager without me. I had to sit and eat and walk and wait, counting leagues, counting days and hours, imagining horrors… After ten excruciating days, a cryptic message arrived with a Windham footman. “News. Come.” I was in the carriage before the footman’s voice fell quiet.