The Simbul’s Gift

Other words would have been unnecessary and unwise. The Cha'Tel'Quessir around them had accepted the forester's sudden appearance, but their opinions of Chayan SilverBranch hadn't changed since she'd said that Zandilar the Dancer had healed Rizcarn's son. They accepted her as they might not accept Aglarond's queen.

They were fifty paces short of the Sunglade's outer ring, with Rizcarn some ten paces ahead of them, when Rizcarn stumbled again and, this time, fell to the ground.

"The Yuirwood expressing its opinion?" Alassra asked, breaking into a run.

Halaern remained behind, using his position as forester and elder of a most respected tree-family to keep the other eight Cha'Tel'Quessir from crowding his queen as she looked for signs of Red Wizardry. The Simbul was grateful, but she wanted his opinion.

"Cousin?"

He knelt beside her. "What is it?"

"A man asleep, as near as I can tell. That gash on his face wants mending and I haven't wanted to touch it for fear of tipping my hand, as it were."

"You wish me to try?"

Alassra nodded. The forester's healing talents were enhanced by the circlet she'd given him, but not derived from it. All the foresters practiced a form of simple druidry unique to the Yuirwood and effective within its bounds. Halaern laid his hands on either side of the gash, near Rizcarn's temples. He closed his eyes a moment, then sat back on his heels, frowning.

"This is Rizcarn," he whispered. "Once dead and crazy as a magpie in spring, but Rizcarn all the same. We've suspected him wrongly, my lady."

"I think otherwise, cousin. I think whatever had a hold of him has let go—for good. What bothers me is I have no idea to whom or what we owe this bit of good fortune. I was hoping you'd detect a Cha'Tel'Quessir god's hand moving through his thoughts."

"He serves Relkath, my lady. It is a thankless service. The gods of the Yuirwood—" Halaern shrugged. "Some things are best left asleep. Do you wish me to heal his face and arm?"

Flesh knit together under the forester's capable fingers, leaving jagged scars that would fade with time. Rizcarn hadn't moved during the healing nor when they called his name. They were exchanging worried glances again and the Cha'Tel'Quessir were creeping closer when Rizcarn's eyes fluttered open. He sat up too quickly and fell back with a groan. Halaern leapt to his feet and, spreading his arms, kept the Cha'Tel'Quessir at a distance while Alassra waited until Rizcarn was ready to sit again, then stand.

"How are you feeling?"

Rizcarn pursed his lips and gave the question evident thought. "Better."

He cocked his head, staring at the woman who had helped him. Once before he'd stared at Chayan, and the Simbul had looked away, fearing that his dark eyes could pierce her deceptions. She had no similar sense this time, though it was obvious Rizcarn was recalling memories and reorganizing his thoughts. He let out his breath with a weary sigh.

"I have not been myself, Chayan SilverBranch. These have been terrible days. Terrible, terrible days since Relkath told me where to find my son with Zandilar's Dancer."

Alassra was inclined to agree, but surprised that he saw events the same way. "Your son is missing, taken, we think, by Red Wizards from Thay." She watched for Rizcarn's reaction.

"A terrible thing. Yes. Such a man waited for me, a Red Wizard from Thay. I killed him, but that wasn't enough. He became part of me. I turned to Relkath, but there was nothing Relkath could do, so I did what I was meant to do while Relkath found a way to free me."

"Now, as we drew close to the Sunglade, Relkath overcame the Red Wizard's influence?" It was not an explanation the Simbul had considered.

"I am myself again. I am here at the Sunglade with the Cha'Tel'Quessir. I have done Relkath's work and he has rewarded me. There is no doubt in my mind, Chayan SilverBranch. How can there be doubt in yours? You serve Zandilar; I see her presence within you. Through you, she healed my son—" Rizcarn took Alassra's arm and pulled her closer so he could whisper in her ear. "Relkath forgives you for last night, during the storm. He was only trying to free me. You should not have fought him."

Alassra smiled. "I didn't know," she said and nodded awkwardly when he released her arm. Rizcarn was, as Halaern said, "Once dead and crazy as a magpie in spring." He was, however, as much himself as he was ever likely to be and—for whatever reason, with whatever help—free of Thayan influence.

He took her arm again, suddenly and tightly. "Lanig .. . Lanig! Relkath, forgive me! I killed my friend Lanig because he guessed I was not myself."

The Simbul pried herself loose. "That is between you and Relkath."

"Yes. Yes, you're right. I will listen to the trees. There is still time. The moon won't rise until the sky is dark. Zandilar won't come until midnight. There's time. I will tell the others what they must do."