Without the Ian fruit we would have lost him. I had heard of such things, of course, and knew the theory, but I had thought it merely legend until I saw the miracle that one of those fruits had wrought on the Lady Lanen. Horrible burns, to the bone, burns that would have taken months to heal—if she had even lived—with the most skilled and constant care in all of Kolmar, had disappeared overnight. Arms that should have been hideously scarred for life had no more than a few traces of those ravages wrought by I knew not what fire. True, I saved her from the fever that raged within her, but for all my strength she would have died that night without the fruit from a lansip tree.
The first that I fed him, on the ship, saved Marik's life; the second that I fed him, after we reached Corli, had a more subtle effect. I had summoned the Healer's deep vision that I might watch as he ate; it was astounding to see his ravaged mind begin to knit before my eyes, see even the disturbance of minor ailments pass from him, and to observe the war between the virtue of the lansip and the years-long pain that he bore. When he had finished, that old wound was nearer healed than ever it had been before, and it did not grow worse again after the healing as had been the pattern for so many years. I did not imagine this could be a direct effect of the Ian fruit, however virtuous. Myself, I think that with his mind gone the evil creatures couldn't find him, though I presumed his old punishment could not be entirely revoked while he lived.
I half expected him to rise up from his bed as his old best self, fully recovered, but that fool's dream soon deserted me. After more than four long moons of work and healing, he no longer required the care of a babe in arms, but his mind was not restored. It was more as though a deep wound had finally stopped bleeding. It was not healed, but at least it was not getting any worse and healing might take place in time, though my hopes on that score were dwindling. He could understand simple words but he had not yet regained his speech.
I had managed as well to keep Magister Berys from him ever since we had returned from the Dragon Isle. Perhaps if I had kept him away longer my master might have recovered fully in time—but speculation is idle. Word had arrived some days since from Berys to let us know that he was coming. Despite my status as the Healer in charge of Marik, Berys was the head of the College of Mages in Verfaren, where Healers are trained.
When the Archimage is chosen, the choice is meant to be based on a combination of qualities, such as strength, integrity, honesty and compassion. In Berys's case it had been pure power. He had more of it than any other Mage alive at that time, more than most of the others combined. The faction supporting his election had put about a rumor that the presence of so powerful a Healer must be a sign that his power would be required for some great work in his lifetime. It had swayed many—though I was not among them, I am pleased to say—and he had risen to the highest position afforded any Healer in all the lands of Kolmar.
He made my flesh crawl.
And he was on his way, indeed, would most likely arrive in Elimar before nightfall. Why he had journeyed so far I could not imagine; at this time of year it was a good ten days' ride from Verfaren to Elimar, for the road was treacherous in this second moon of winter. In the meantime, I washed Marik and shaved him, and spoke to him as best I could. It was not rewarding. His stare was nearly as blank as it had been this month past. Even though I had been resting for some days and was able to put forth my full strength that morning, I got no further in healing his poor broken mind.
There are some who would say that his piteous condition was judgment for his wicked ways. However, until they can explain why those who live spotless lives are as likely to die young as those who scurry to destroy themselves and others, I will not believe such words. Am I to think that the Lady would so callously discard her son? True, he had gone down a dark road, but the only certainly irredeemable creature in this world is a dead one. I must confess that in my heart of hearts I had occasionally hoped that his body would grow weary of keeping the shell alive. Some nights I even begged the Lady, prayed, to the peril of my soul, that if he could not be restored to himself he might be allowed to die while at least he was doing no evil.
She did not have so gentle a fate in store for her errant son.
When Berys arrived at nightfall he demanded my report. He made a token effort at courtesy, but it was clear that he had no time for the niceties. He listened carefully to my assessment of my patient and then informed me, not unkindly, that I had done well in difficult circumstances and that he was taking over.
I had expected as much. Indeed, had it been anyone apart from Berys I would have been delighted at his arrival, for surely no living Healer could be as great a help to my master as could the Archimage of Verfaren. As it was, my stomach churned at the thought of those hands touching my master.
In the end I surprised Magister Berys and astounded myself. As he moved to Marik's bedside I stood in his way, moving between him and my master. I had not taken a decision to do so. It was as if my body had moved of itself in response to my deepest instincts.
"Yes, Healer Maikel? What is it?" he asked briskly.
To my astonishment, I heard the words escaping my lips. "Your pardon, Magister, but I do not release him into your care. The patient must be consulted if the attending Healer does not accept the offer of assistance, and my patient is in no condition to consent."
Berys hardly glanced at me. "And why, Healer Maikel, do you choose not to accept my aid in this matter?" he asked as he continued his preparations.
"Magister, I have been the Healer of this House for fourteen years. Marik knows me and trusts me. In his current condition, trust is a very valuable and very fragile thing. I have sealed the breach in his mind, with the help of the Ian fruit, but that is only a first step. Fear is behind his every breath. He screams if any touches him beside myself. For the time being, I must insist that he remain in my care."
For the first time I had his attention. He looked full at me, his eyes narrowed. After what seemed forever, he shrugged. "Very well. I challenge thee, Maikel, in the name of the Powers, show that thou art more fitted to heal this man than I."
What? A formal challenge? Here?
In those few seconds of surprise he had summoned his power. He glowed bright blue with it, painful to look at. While I was still struggling to call in what strength I had left, he struck. No warning, no mercy, and precious little of Healing about it. It seemed to me, in the instant before I lost consciousness, that the Healer's blue aura that struck me was shot with black.
When I woke the next morning it was to a changed world, and I the most violently changed of all.
If The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the face of Berys close to mine. He smiled. I realised then what a good smile he had, open and honest, and wondered at myself for having harboured such dark thoughts about him.
"So, Maikel, you are with us again. How are you feeling?" he asked. His voice was soothing, and I saw now why he had been so successful at Verfaren. His very presence made people feel better.
"I am well enough, Magister," I replied. My voice was weaker than I would have expected and I was more than a little hazy as to why I should be in bed and under Berys's care. Why was he here?
He sat back. "I fear that I owe you an apology, my young friend. I was so weary and so concerned about my old friend Marik that I was far too abrupt with you when I arrived last night. I only asked you to let me see him, and when you refused I fear I lost my temper and challenged you. I do beg your pardon. If you would like me to leave him in your care, I will gladly do so."