The Tears of Kas̆dael

S̆ams̆ādur sank to the ground with a groan and rubbed his aching legs gingerly. After killing the Atrometos, the troops spent hours trying to save the burning village. Neither he nor Sarganīl had any water mages amongst their forces to put out the fires, and the only mage they did have that was of any real use was a solitary healer, who had run dry in less than half an hour.

The poor mage had spent most of the rest of the day curled up in the agony of essence deprivation - an agony she continued to inflict upon herself as every time a little bit of her essence was restored, she’d returned to healing the injured until her essence ran dry again. He had to give her kudos for that.

But, with no other mages able to help, that meant the soldiers had been forced to fight the fires the hard way. S̆ams̆ādur had helped dig fire breaks, had hoisted thousands of gallons of water in a bucket brigade, and, once the last of the fires were out, had joined the others in sifting through the wreckage of burnt-out homes in search of survivors until night forced them to stop.

They’d done their best, but it hadn’t been enough. Half of the village was little more than burned-out timber. The other half was currently occupied by Sarganīl and his troops, who had kicked the villagers out of their remaining homes.

S̆ams̆ādur was hardly a man of the people, but he found the Corsyth lord’s actions dishonorable. He’d had his troops share their tents with the villagers, but there wasn't enough space for all of them. Many lay on the cold ground, curled up with nothing to protect, and weeping filled the air. The only one of Sarganīl’s troops still outside was the healer. I could probably help her - she deserves that much.

He grimaced at the thought of having to stand up again, but it was a small enough price to pay. With a second groan, he staggered to his feet and wove his through the mounds of sleeping villagers till he reached the healer. She had just expended the last of her essence for the fifth time that night and was curled up in a ball on the ground. Despite the bonfire only a few feet away from her, her frame was wracked with shivers and her eyes were tightly shut.

She stirred as he approached, but still didn’t open her eyes. “Take a seat,” she mumbled, “When my ess-ssence returns…” she slurred the word, struggling to finish the sentence, as the prince crouched down beside her.

“Actually, I thought I might be able to help you,” the prince replied. He suppressed a frown as a certain silkiness, honed by years of whoring in the taverns, slipped into his voice. He wasn’t trying to seduce her - she was a Corsyth, after all - but old habits were hard to break.

“A potion won’t work,” the woman replied wearily, still not looking at him.

“I know,” the prince agreed, “But I’m a bit of a mage. I might be able to help.”

Her face scrunched with suspicion. “Lord Sarganīl has…no mages that can help.” Slowly, she cracked an eye open and flinched as she saw him looming over her. “A durgu? What can you possibly…do for me?” There was a slight trace of antipathy in her voice, but it was a decidedly smaller reaction than most of Sarganīl’s men had shown. Or perhaps she’s just too tired to hate me.

“I can’t heal you, but I can take the pain away,” he offered.

“Take...pain away-?” Comprehension dawned on her, and her suspicion. “Mind mage?”

“Guilty as charged,” he replied, flashing her what he hoped was a reassuring grin. “Sadly, I don’t have any healing powers, but I can convince your mind to ignore the pain for a while, if you'll let me.”

“What else...would you change?” Worry and accusation seeped into her voice, and S̆ams̆ādur sighed.

“I can’t alter your thoughts, if that’s what you’re worried about." He wasn’t surprised she regarded his offer with suspicion. While some cultures, like the Fey, respected mind mages, both the empire and the durgu were understandably leery of their abilities.

Indeed, mind mages had been almost wiped out in his father’s kingdom generations before he was born. It had been a bit of a scandal in the court when he first manifested his abilities - as it was a rather telling indication that he was probably not his father’s son - but King Halṣutu was first and foremost a practical man, and had seen right away the usefulness of the young prince’s magic. The rumors had been hushed decisively, and S̆ams̆ādur had been pressed into service.

Still, even though he understood why people reacted the way they did, he was tired of the endless suspicion, of seeing the look in their eyes learned what he could do. Perhaps some mind mages were monsters, but he wasn’t one of them.

The woman pursed her lips, uncertainly flickering in her face, but she was in enough pain for it to override her better judgment. She nodded her chin slowly, wincing in pain even from the slight movement, and he cast the spell.

Her reaction was near instantaneous. Her eyes flew open and she bolted upright, a pleased smile spreading across her face. “I feel so much better. I-” She paused, and finally examined for her real, a slight tinge of worry seeping back into her eyes. “Are you sure you didn’t do anything else?”

“You mean you haven’t noticed the irresistible urge to sleep with me yet,” he shot back sarcastically.

She had the good grace to look ashamed and dipped her head. “I suppose that was churlish of me. Thank you for healing me.”

“It’s not a heal,” he reminded her. “I just dulled the pain, but your body still needs to recover.”

The mage shook her head. “How can I? There’s so many that still need me.”

S̆ams̆ādur settled down beside her, propping his cramping feet up by the fire. “And there always will be. There’s no shortage of people that need healing, but you can’t fix them all. Surely your temple taught you that.”

She wrinkled her nose with displeasure. “Perhaps, but how can I just ignore them?” She pointed to a wounded man who was on the far side of the campfire. One arm hung limply at his side, with the bone protruding out of skin that was covered in red, angry blisters. “If I don’t help him, he’ll lose that arm.”

“Then help him,” he replied with a shrug, “but don’t forget that it comes at a cost. If you constantly push your body to the brink of essence deprivation, you’re going to send yourself to an early grave. Sure, you can help a few more people now, but at the cost of helping far more in the long run.”

“You sound like Mage Babbānu,” she sighed. “You may both be right, but I can’t just ignore his suffering. One more.”

He watched in silence as she rose and walked over to the injured man. White light briefly lit up the night as she channeled what essence had returned to her into the man. The bone slid back in place, and the ruined flesh sloughed off as new skin replaced it. She swayed slightly when she was done, and he started to rise, afraid she was going to topple over, but she staggered back to him.

“You ran dry again,” he observed wryly.

“I did,” she replied defiantly. “And it was worth it. A one-handed farmer’s no farmer at all.”

He studied her for a moment, puzzled by the mage who seemed to care so much, while the rest of her group slept blissfully in the very beds they had kicked the villagers out of.

Her skin was a bit more tanned than most mages, and her hands, though mostly soft now, had a few thickenings where old calluses had likely been. Her hair was mostly blonde, washed even lighter from long days in the sun, but it was intermixed with strands of light lavender that pointed to a troll or two lurking somewhere not too distant in her family tree. She wore a light blue tunic that identified her as a member of Selene’s temple, but he noticed the hem was a tad shorter than it should be, with faintly visible stitches pointing to a poorly done repair job. Most importantly, though, she was a few years older than a novice mage would normally be.

“You’re from a village like this, aren’t you,” he deduced. “Probably hasn’t been that long since you were a farmer’s daughter, or-” remembering the poorly trimmed and slightly too short dress, he thought better of the guess, “or a barmaid.” A slight twitch in her lip told him his guess was on the money, and he kept going, starting to enjoy himself.

“It must have been quite the surprise when you unexpectedly manifested the ability to do magic. Did your mother have a wandering eye, or was it some long-forgotten heritage of your family that resurfaced?’

“Get out of my mind,” she spat, her eyes darkening with anger.

“Woah,” he held his hands up with a chuckle. “There’s no mind reading involved here. I may not have used as much essence as you today, but I don’t have any to spare for pranks.”

Her expression softened only slightly. “Then how could you know all this?”

“A keen sense of observation fostered by a relentless eye for pretty girls,” he replied diffidently.

“I wasn’t a barmaid,” she replied sullenly, and he just grinned back. “A different sort of maid then?”

An uncomfortable silence settled around them, and the prince realized perhaps he had landed a little too close to the truth. “I’m sorry,” he finally spoke up. “I didn’t come here to pry into your past, and I shouldn’t have. Do you know why I came over here?”

“You thought me an easy lay,” she replied bitterly.

“On the contrary. I thought you seemed like the only person on your team that wasn’t a bit of a bastard. Someone like you shouldn’t be stuck working for someone like them.” For someone like my father, he echoed in his head.

She squeezed out a small smile but looked away. “Thanks, but I don’t have a choice if I wish to stay at the temple. Master Babbānu doesn’t always see eye to eye with Lord Sarganīl but, in the end, he’s the lord of our city.”

For now. From what he'd seen, the conflict between Sarganīl and Kabāni was coming to a head, and Sarganīl might not remain ruler much longer, but he kept that thought to himself. Reaching out to touch her shoulder, he renewed the spell he’d cast on her. She flinched as his hand brushed her, but relaxed when she felt the pain ease away again. “Things have a way of changing,” he said mildly.

Her gaze sharpened, and she sent him a searching look. “And what does that mean exactly?”

He was still a sucker for a pretty face, but the prince had learned something from his failed tip-off to the Strythani queen. Despite wishing to warn her of the roiling political intrigue, he kept his mouth shut. “Maybe Master Babbānu would be interested in a new patron,” he replied slowly. “If my men are to be dragged into more battles like this, we’re going to need a healer.

“I’m not sleeping with you,” she replied abruptly.

A flicker of irritation roiled in his stomach, but he tamped it down. “I’m not asking you to.”

“Just making it clear.” She brushed a strand of her pale hair behind her ear and stared into the fire, seeming to contemplate the offer. “Will you let me heal others, or only your men?”

“My men would be the priority, but you could heal others if you have essence remaining. I will not, however, allow you to constantly exhaust yourself like this. If you are to take care of other people, it’s clear you’ll need someone to take care of you.”

“And you’re that person,” she asked skeptically. "You don't strike me as a wet nurse."

“I’ve been called worse,” he replied with a shrug.

She searched for his face for any sign of duplicity but found none. “I don’t think Babbānu can afford to anger Lord Sarganīl,” she finally said.

“Eh, money talks,” S̆ams̆ādur brushed aside her concern. “Lord Sarganīl can order the temple around because he holds the purse strings. But if I can provide them an alternate means of survival, I think they'll be willing to listen. Sarganīl doesn't have authority over the priests, after all.”

After she finally agreed, he left her to drift off to sleep, stepping in one last time to stop her from healing a non-urgent injury, and returned to his tent, where he mulled over what he'd seen. The situation with Sarganīl was worse than he’d been led to expect, but already he’d achieved a minor, but significant, victory for his mission. Sarganīl would be pissed to lose the healer’s services, but he was quite confident Kabāni had deeper coffers. And if it happened to save the young healer from working with those swine - well, that was a nice benefit too.