Servants had materialized as soon as the mage was down, and pulled Stef out from under the Herald and his mother. They ignored Stef, concentrating on trying to revive Lady Treesa and Vanyel. Radevel gathered his group of students and plowed his way through them to get to his aunt and cousin's side.
“What happened?” One of the ladies grabbed Radevel's arm as he passed. “Where did this man come from?”
“Van brought him in,” Radevel said shortly, prying her hand off his arm. “Bastard jumped him, and Van thought he was crazy. Left 'im with Father Tyler. Must not've been as crazy as Van thought; first chance he got, once Tyler left him alone, he cut himself loose and stabbed the priest. Me, I was on the way to practice with this lot, and I found him - good thing, too, he'd've bled to death if I hadn't found him when I did. Anyway, just about then I saw Van pelting off this way, and I followed.”
Radevel shook the lady off before she could ask him anything more, and knelt down beside Stef.
Stefen didn't know what to do; Van was as white as snow and about as cold, and Treesa wasn't much better off. He watched the servants trying to bring them around, and felt as helpless and useless as a day-old chick. Radevel looked at the haft of the tiny knife in Van's shoulder, but didn't touch it; laid his hand to the side of Treesa's face.
“Something's wrong here,” he said to Stef. “This isn't natural. We need an expert. You -” he reached out and grabbed one of the older servant-women. “You keep anybody from muckin' with 'em. And don't nobody touch that knife. I'll get the Healer.”
“I'll get Savil -” Stef offered, glad to find something he could do, getting unsteadily to his feet. He set off at a dead run before anyone could stop him, ignoring the way his eyes kept blurring and clearing, and the dizziness that made him stumble.
His breath burned in his throat, and his sides ached by the time he was halfway across the garden.
There seemed to be something wrong - he shouldn't have been that winded. It felt like something was draining him. ...
Savil was already on the way - he was practically bowled over by Kellan in the entrance to the gardens. Her Companion stopped short of trampling him, and he scrambled out of the way, just barely avoiding her hooves.
“What happened?” Savil asked, reaching down to grab his arm, missing, and seizing his collar instead.
“A mage,” Stef panted, holding his side. “He attacked me and Treesa - no, that's not right, he attacked Treesa, and I was just in the way. Van took him out, but he got Van - gods, Van is hurt and - and we can't get him or Treesa to wake up -”
“Enough, that's all I need to know for now.” She turned away, dismissing him, and Kellan launched herself across the garden, leaving him to make his own way back.
He arrived winded and unable to speak; Savil was kneeling beside the Healer, and examining Vanyel's shoulder.
“I've been treating them for poison,” the Healer said in a flat voice, “I thought Lady Treesa might have gotten nicked by one of those knives. But they aren't responding, and I don't know why.”
“It's because you're not fighting poison, lad, you're fighting magic,” Savil muttered, as Stef limped up and collapsed on the ground beside her with a sob. “It's a good thing you didn't try to pull that knife, you'd have killed him.”
She looked up - in Stef's direction, but more through him than at him. “We can't do anything for them here,” she said, after a moment. “Let's get them back to their beds. I hate to admit this to you, but I'm out of my depth. Van could probably handle this, but - well, that's rather out of the question at the moment.”
Stef clutched his side and stifled a moan of panic, and she glanced sharply at him. “Don't give up yet, lad,” she said quietly. “I'm out of my depth, but I'm not ready to call it finished.”
Stef clenched his jaw and nodded, trying to look as if he believed her, while Van lay as pale as a corpse on the ground beside her.
Savil completed a more thorough examination than she was able to give in the orchard, and sat back in her chair, watching Van and thinking.
He wasn't prepared for a magic weapon, so he wasn't shielded against it. But something's got the thing slowed down considerably. Damned if I know what. Huh. A leech-blade. That's something I've only read about. I didn't know there was anyone that was enough of a mage-smith to make one anymore.
She glanced over at Stefen, who was recovering from magic-induced shock adequately on his own. Savil hadn't done anything to help him mostly because she reckoned that the lad could do with a little toughening. But he hadn't recovered as quickly, nor as completely as she'd expected, and Savil didn't know why that was happening either.
He sat on the other side of the bed, holding Vanyel's hand, in a pose that reminded her poignantly of the way Van had held 'Lendel's when her trainee was coming out of the trauma his twin's death had induced.
There was something else there that was poignantly like Van and her protege.
When it finally occurred to her, it was such an astonishing thought that she double-checked with her Companion to make sure she wasn't imagining things.
:Kell! Would you check with Yfandes and ask her if that boy's gone and lifebonded to Van?:
:If he's -: A moment of surprise. :She says he has.:
:Damn. Would that be why the leech-blade isn't draining Van as fast as I thought it would?:
:It's a good guess.: A pause. :She says probably; something as deep as a lifebond is hard to monitor. She says Van is being fed from somewhere besides her, anyway.:
:Sunsinger's Glory.: She invoked Mage-sight and stared at the evil thing. It's working its way deeper, but slowly enough that I can take my time. He's got a couple of days before it'll do any lasting harm. Stef said it was thrown at Treesa; I wonder what it was supposed to do to her? Take her over, maybe; we'll never know now. So. I may be out of my depth, and Van may be out of reach, but I haven't exhausted the quiver yet. The only problem is that all the others that can handle this kind of weaponry are Tayledras. And I certainly can't take Van through a Gate in his condition; it would kill him.
Well, that just means they're going to have to come to him, if I have to truss them up and drag them.
She heaved herself out of her chair, and saw Stefs eyes flick briefly to her before returning to Vanyel.
“Stefen,” she said. “I want you to stay with him. Don't let anyone move him, and especially don't let anyone touch that blade. I'll be back shortly.”
“Where are you going?” he asked, his head jerking up, his expression panicked.
“To get help,” she replied. “Just remember what I told you, and do it.”
And before he could get himself organized enough to stop her, she limped out of the room, and ducked down a side stair only an Ashkevron would know about.
I'II bring them, all right, she thought grimly, as she made her way down the twisting little staircase entirely by feel. Whether they like it or not.