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Chapter Nineteen
"So, how's your problem patient this week?" Regiment-Captain Namir Velvelig asked, turning from the office window through which he had been contemplating Fort Ghartoun's parade ground as Company- Captain Golvar Silkash completed the rest of the semi-weekly sick report.
"The esteemed Hadrign Thalmayr?" Fort Ghartoun's senior medical officer grimaced. Then he shrugged with a combination of helplessness, irritation, and smoldering frustration.
"The truth is, Sir," he continued, "that Tobis is more and more convinced the man's strongly Talented himself. Which, if you'll pardon my saying so, would be a dead waste of a Talent even if Thalmayr had the least clue of what a Talent was, in light of his total and invincible stupidity."
"Now, now, Silky," Velvelig admonished gently. "We've known one another a long time. There's no need for you to indulge in all these euphemisms to hide your true opinion of our guest."
Despite the sourness of his expression, Silkash made a sound that was halfway between a snort and chuckle. Any temptation towards amusement vanished quickly, however, and he shook his head.
"Honestly, Sir, Thalmayr is a disaster. I don't know what we're going to do with him. As nearly as Tobis
—" Platoon-Captain Tobis Makree was the un-Talented Silkash's strongly Talented assistant surgeon "—
and I can tell, he's convinced himself our efforts to Heal him are actually some sort of insidious brainwashing or mental torture."
"You're saying he's a lunatic, as well as an idiot?"
"I wish I could dismiss it quite that easily, actually." Silkash shook his head again. "The thing is, the Talent he's got is sufficient, even without his having any idea in the world what it is, to throw up a mighty tough block. So he managed to tremendously limit what Tobis could do to control his pain. He even managed to limit the speed of the physical Healing we could encourage. And that same block made it all but impossible for Tobis to get through to those suicidal urges of his, and that—"
"Don't tell me," Velvelig interrupted. "Because he made it so hard to get through, Tobis had to adopt a brute force approach, and that only made things worse. Right?"
"Exactly right," Silkash agreed. "We didn't have a choice if we were going to keep him alive. We had to get through to him, so Tobis did ... despite the fact that Thalmayr was fighting him every inch of the way. And despite the fact that Thalmayr's resistance really did turn the entire effort into something that could be readily mistaken by the uninformed for the 'mental torture' he thinks we were out to inflict in the first place!"
"Wonderful." Velvelig pursed his lips and looked back out the window.
Frankly, he could have gotten along just fine indefinitely without having Hadrign Thalmayr dumped on him. The regiment-captain wasn't much given to coddling weakness. That wasn't part of any Arpathian's cultural baggage, and in this case, Velvelig's contempt for Thalmayr's indescribably wretched performance as a military officer left him even less inclined to pity the Arcanan.
Which, unfortunately, did nothing to absolve him of his responsibility to see to it that the medical needs of any POW in his care were met.
Assuming the camel-fucking idiot will let us meet them! he thought sourly.
"Is there anything we can do about that situation?" he asked aloud.
"At this point?" Silkash shrugged. "Probably not. In fact, I've come to the conclusion that the best thing we can do, for the next few weeks, at least, is to pretty much leave him alone. Physically, he's close to fully recovered—or as close to it as a man who'll never walk again is going to get. The discomfort he's still experiencing can probably be treated by an herbalist almost as well as by a Healer at this point.
We'll keep Tobis away from him for a while, see if he settles down if we stick to a purely physical nursing regimen."
"You really think that will help?"
"I don't know. Actually, I'm inclined to doubt it, as deeply as the idiot's dug himself in. I just don't see any other practical approach. If we can't find some way to get through to him soon, though, I'm going to recommend sending him on up-chain. Tobis is good, and with all due modesty, I'm a pretty fair surgeon myself, but let's not fool ourselves. There are hospitals closer to Sharona which are undoubtedly far better qualified to deal with something like this."
"I see."
Velvelig clasped his hands behind him and bounced gently up and down on the balls of his feet for a moment, then nodded to himself.
"Very well," he said, turning back from the window once more. "Write it up as a formal recommendation, and I'll approve it. To be honest, I'll be relieved to see his back!"
"I don't think you'll get an argument from anyone over in my shop," Silkash assured him.
"Good. In that case—"
"You wanted to see me, Sir?"
Velvelig broke off in midsentence as Senior-Armsman Folsar chan Tergis poked his head through the door behind the seated Silkash. The senior-armsman seemed blissfully unaware that interrupting his commanding officer was a military faux pas. Just as he seemed unaware that even the most rudimentary military courtesy would have required him to at least knock before opening the regiment-captain's office door una
Judging from his expression, Company-Captain Silkash obviously was aware of those minor points of military etiquette. Either that, or he'd just swallowed a spider, since he appeared to be experiencing some difficulty with his breathing.
Velvelig's own expression remained commendably grave—Arpathian septmen's faces tended to do that—
despite the mental snort of amusement chan Tergis almost always managed to evoke. The seniorarmsman might not have struck most people as particularly hilarious, but Velvelig had never been able to imagine anyone more unlike most people's concept of a professional military man. Which was fair enough; despite the "chan" in front of his surname, chan Tergis had never set out to pursue a military career.
The Ternathian was short (for a Ternathian, at any rate), sturdy, and undeniably plump. He had a round, guileless face, with blue eyes, both of which never quite seemed to focus on the same object at the same time. His straw-colored hair always looked at least a week overdue for a cutting, even if he'd only left the barber fifteen minutes before. And, unlike almost any other Voice Velvelig had ever known, chan Tergis had a distinct weakness for the bottle. Not only that, but on those occasions when he succumbed to that weakness, his normally pacific disposition tended to transform itself into a not particularly skilled but highly enthusiastic pugilism which rather reminded Velvelig of the old cliche about the bison in the glassworks.
It was those last two character traits which explained what he was doing in PAAF uniform and assigned to Fort Ghartoun. Inebriation had played a major role in getting his signature onto the enlistment form in the first place, and a series of less than felicitous encounters with various MPs in a wide selection of drinking establishments had led him to assignments like Fort Ghartoun, located about as far from Sharona as it was possible to get.
Yet despite his character flaws, which the gods knew were legion, he'd retained his noncom's rank for two reasons. First, when he was sober (which, to be fair, was most of the time), he was as hard-working, punctual, and reliable as anyone could ask. Second, despite the effect prolonged abuse of alcohol normally had on any Talent, chan Tergis' Voice remained incredibly strong and clear.
But no matter how strong his Talent, dozens of COs had despaired of ever transforming him into a neatly turned out exemplar of proper military appearance. Or behavior. It was simply impossible to get him to understand—or, at least, to observe—more than the bare minimum of the principles of proper military procedure and courtesy.
"Yes, Senior-Armsman, I did want to see you," Velvelig said, and chan Tergis nodded and cocked his head.
He can't really be that totally clueless, the regiment-captain told himself for far from the first time. No one could possibly be as smart as I know he is and not be able to figure it out eventually. Unless they choose not to, of course.
If he'd thought it would do one bit of good, he would cheerfully have hammered chan Tergis to encourage him to figure it out. Unfortunately, the senior-armsman's determination to remain the squarest peg in a round hole that anyone could possibly be was invincible. Besides, much as he sometimes irritated Velvelig, the Voice was rather charming in his own thankfully inimitable fashion.
"What was it you wanted to say to me, Sir?" chan Tergis inquired after a couple of seconds.
"If you'll give me a moment, I'll be right with you," Velvelig told him, and looked at Silkash. The company-captain's spider was doing its best to crawl back up through his nose, judging from his face's alarming color and the wheezing sounds he was making.
"If you'll excuse me, Company-Captain," Velvelig said with admirable gravity, in a voice which scarcely quivered at all, "I believe the Senior-Armsman requires a moment of my time."
"Of course, Sir," Silkash managed to get out. He stood. "With your permission, Sir?" he added in somewhat breathless tones, and Velvelig nodded.
"Dismissed, Company-Captain," he said, and Silkash departed. In fact, he actually managed to get through the office door and close it behind him before the laughter he'd valiantly suppressed broke free.
Velvelig shook his head slightly as he listened to the whoops coming from the hallway outside, then returned his attention to chan Tergis.
"So, here you are," he said. The senior-armsman simply nodded, and Velvelig gazed at him for a moment. Then the regiment-captain walked across to seat himself behind his desk, and the amusement he'd felt only moments ago had disappeared by the time he leaned back in his chair.
"I'm getting a little nervous," he told chan Tergis then.
"Nervous, Sir?" the Ternathian repeated.
"Yes. How long has it been now since your last Voice transmission from Company-Captain chan Tesh?"
"Seventy-six hours and—" chan Tergis pulled out his watch and opened it "—and forty-three minutes, Sir."