Free Finding the Way and Other Tales of Valdemar by Mercedes Lackey Page B

tense. In the distance, she could hear the sound of Meran’s harp. The sound put her teeth on edge, but—she’d be the first to admit—she had no ear for music. Bard or not—and a day didn’t pass that Meran didn’t bring up his Collegium training and Collegium credentials—all that plink-plink-plink was just noise, and Elade wouldn’t say otherwise.
    Most of the time their patients had been captured before they were called in, and then all Elade had to do was guard the door so no one came in while Hedion was doing a Healing. Of course, that meant she had to listen to Meran and his damned harp, too, but both Hedion and Gaurane swore it soothed the Touched and made Hedion’s work easier. And Meran was a handy man to have in a brawl. No one grew up on the streets of Haven without learning to defend themselves.
    There was a flicker of movement from the trees edging the meadow. Damn him, he’s gone round the other side, Elade thought, as the man burst out of concealment. Naked, covered in dried blood, no ear for music—that’s him , she thought, springing forward. She wouldn’t reach him before he reached Meran. She’d owe Meran a new harp. She hoped that was all—Hedion was a great Healer, but the man couldn’t Heal anything useful to save his life . . .
    Elade was focused on her target, her hand clenched tight on the grip of her truncheon. She carried a sword, and she was damned good with it, but it was only for use as a last resort. You couldn’t Heal someone after they were dead.
    Meran saw her, and she saw him realize she wouldn’t reach him in time. He got to his feet, one hand going to his own truncheon, when Elade saw a flash of white.
    Here comes the cavalry.
    Rhoses hit the Touched hard enough to knock him from his feet. It was enough time for Meran to get the first folds of the net over him—a good strong net, the same kind the fishers up north used when the speckle-fish were running in the spring—and by then, Elade had arrived. She gave the patient a light expert tap with her truncheon—enough to stun him and let her and Meran finish rolling him into the net.
    “You owe me a new harp,” Meran said.
    “What? He never touched you!”
    “If Rhoses hadn’t been here, he would’ve.”
    “All right—shall I break this one first?” Elade said. “I mean, if you’re getting a new one.”
    Rhoses tossed his head, and Elade knew he was probably saying something. She tossed him an apologetic glance. You couldn’t have a conversation with Rhoses unless Hedion was there.
    “Is it safe to come out now?” Hedion came out of the woods leading his horse. Gaurane rode beside him, leading the rest of their mounts and a pack horse they could use to carry the patient. She’d always wondered why Gaurane didn’t ride Rhoses, since Rhoses was his Companion, but she’d never quite worked up the nerve to ask. Maybe next year.
    “This is him,” Meran said cheerfully. “I think,” he added.
    “Or someone else who doesn’t like music,” Gaurane commented.
    “No,” Hedion said, kneeling beside the man struggling in the net. “This is Ablion Taus.”
    “Who is going to have to find another line of work now that his smuggling business has taken such an unfortunate turn,” Gaurane added.
    “Yes,” Hedion said, in tones indicating he was answering a question Elade hadn’t heard. “But not for murder. Taus didn’t murder any one. Karse did. There will be charges,” he added, for their benefit.
    She and Meran got Taus settled on the back of the pack horse before mounting their own animals. The village of Estidan was less than half an hour’s ride from here, and they’d already arranged for everything they’d need: a secure place for Hedion to work. A quiet place for him to rest afterward. Or for Gaurane to sit on him, more than likely, because they’d already gotten word of another case, and Hedion would work himself into the ground if they let him.
    “Hush, you,” Meran said to Taus.