Changing the World: All-New Tales of Valdemar

The relief on Guardsman Fellan’s face as she rode up would have been amusing, were it not for the worry and fear that haunted the corners of his eyes.

“Bandits,” he said, before she even pulled up the mare. “Surprised, we were, and they seemed to know where to strike hardest. They knew who to hit, more’n what the usual raiders we’ve seen would know. Cap’n was first, then Sergeant. The merchants, too, they attacked and robbed, and then they were gone, quick as they came.”

“Dead or injured?”

“Four, five dead maybe, dozen or more injured. M’lady Stadres has got ’em all down to the chapel—they fired the inn.”

Shia swallowed, her heart quailing at the thought of that many injuries. Her mother had only known the basics of herbcraft and had often scolded her daughter for being an indifferent student. Apprehension of the severity of wounds she might face filled her, and despair clawed at her, tightening her stomach and freezing her blood in her veins. When the guardsman looked up at her, question in his eyes, she gave herself a mental shake. Healer she might not be, but she was the closest thing to one that the town had. She would have to do.

She nodded at the guards and angled Mirri down to the square, to the house across from the town’s one inn. As she neared it, she could see that the smoke was still drifting from the inn in slow coils, now held lower to the ground by the weight of the late afternoon fog that had started to roll down from the mountaintop. The building wouldn’t be lost, though, she thought. The rainy season was only just over, and the timbers hadn’t yet dried out, so they had been slow to catch and even then had smoldered rather than burned outright. It looked as though the townsmen had been quick enough to set up a water chain from the cisterns, and as she rode past, she could hear voices from the side of the building, assessing the damage.

She slowed Mirri as they approached the Stadres household. It was the only house in town large and elaborate enough to boast a chapel dedicated to Kernos, and the Stadres family were certainly the only ones wealthy enough to build one. Calli Stadres stood at the front door, her young daughter clutching her hand.

“I told you she would hear me!” Pira cried in triumph before her mother hushed her. Calli’s eyes met Shia’s in question, and Shia gave the tiniest of nods before dismounting. The impossibility of Shia hearing Pira’s voice was something that they would think about later—but Shia suspected that it would not be more than a few winters before Breyburn would have another white visitor.

“How many? How bad?” Shia started unloading her herb packs, glad that Calli had always been sensible. She was sure that most merchant’s wives Calli’s age would have been in hysterics, instead of calmly gathering the wounded into their own homes for care.

“Captain Nolan and two others were dead before the bandits left, but I think Sergeant Dara will be well soon enough. Several of the guardsmen can only have their pain eased, I think, but most of the others have lesser wounds. Twelve injured guardsmen, including the worst.”

Shia sucked in her breath. With three deaths, that was more than half of the town guard unable to act. No wonder those who remained were bewildered and uncertain. She handed two packs to Calli and swung the others over her shoulder, absently tucking the fir branch she had brought into the lamp bracket beside the door before she realized that she had harvested a silver pine, the tree of Kernos’ protection. She whispered a brief petition for the god’s hands to hold all those whose wounds she was about to tend, then followed Calli inside the house.

“And the others? The men at the gates said some of the merchants were attacked.” She reached out her hand to touch Calli’s arm as they hurried down the hall to the chapel. “Your husband? Is he—”

Calli’s breath hitched, but she kept walking. “Injured, but not the worst. Master Widthan may not last the night, though, nor Josette. And Master Riordan is gone.”

“Lord Corus will need to be informed, although I don’t know that he’ll be able to send any men from Torhold—the muster to Karse has spread his forces thin,” Shia said faintly. “He will need to send word to Haven, to the Heralds. His Majesty must also know of these new attacks, especially if they are organized. It might be they had help from Karse. Either way, if they met with what they deem success, they will be back. And Herald-Trainee Teo must be told of his father’s death.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound too strangled. Well, if it did, let Calli think that it was fear of more bandit raids that stole her breath. Even three years later, the strange empty ache that had blossomed as she watched him ride down the Old Quarry Road still swelled within her whenever she thought of him. “Take me to Sergeant Dara, first, then I’ll see the worst of the rest.”