Demesne

Yhal was mostly recovered after a night and a day's rest, even though he was still being told to stay in his bedroll. Yes, his knee still ached… and his head throbbed from all the times he'd been punched there and probably from being choked unconscious… and he felt like coughing every once in a while… and he didn't want to look anyone in the eye… but other than that, he was completely recovered from the day before yesterday!

Normally, Yhal would force his way through the pain and already be up and about, seeing to everyone, but given all the hits to the head he'd taken, he'd been put on bedrest. Since his head felt like… well, like someone had hit it repeatedly with their fists, and nothing actually needed his direction, he didn't object too hard.

He still hadn't been healed, although all of their Deadspeakers and doctors had examined him to ensure he hadn't broken anything, wasn't bleeding on the inside—he'd always found that strange, since wasn't inside where the blood was supposed to be?—and his headaches were simply the result of him repeatedly hitting it on someone's fist and the ground rather than because something inside was broken. Makoi had supposedly tried to heal him while he'd been unconscious, because the man had views on health and medicine and healing and apparently the orders of a little gi—a Dungeon Binder, Yhal forced himself to think—a Dungeon Binder could just go pound glitter when it came to one of his patients, but something had stopped it.

Also, later that afternoon Yllian and a bunch of men had found Makoi, and had been quite apologetic about grabbing the Deadspeaker by his limbs and throwing him into the river for disobeying the… Dungeon Binder's orders. They'd even waited at the shore until it was clear Makoi was going to be able to get out, making sure he would be able to survive, but had sternly reminded him—and everyone else—that the Great Binder had left orders, and expected to be obeyed.

After all, they were part of the demesne now. And bedroll-ridden as he was, Yhal served as a reminder of what their new Dungeon Binder was capable of.

The next few days had the expedition doing a lot of hurry-up-and-wait as they were finally allowed to start living deeper into the demesne, under the dome that Koshay had made. It took the better part of a week for everyone to finally make the move, groups being brought in every couple of days. The barges with the supplies were taken upriver the day after the children were moved, and while there was some grumbling, there were practical reasons to agree… beyond the fact that there'd been a big to-do about it that had resulted in Yhal getting knocked out. Rain would likely be coming soon, and while the supplies were supposedly tightly packed and secured, it was best not to risk them getting wet, because everyone knew the people who made rations like these always cut corners to save as many beads as they could. Even with the Horotracts using a vista to keep them as fresh as possible, having the supplies in proper storage with actual walls and a roof to keep the water out would be better for keeping them from going bad.

Three days into people being moved away from the edge, Yhal found he had a visitor.

His head still ached, but was no longer making him dizzy, and thus it was with a mostly clear mind that he gave the civilian visiting him an annoyed glare. "What are you doing here?" he ground out.

"Checking up on you," Rian said, squatting at the foot of his bedroll, the tent flap falling closed behind him. There was normally just enough light coming through the gap between the canvas, but the fool civilian was blocking it with his body, leaving the two of them in the dark… until the man pulled something from his belt that glowed with a cold white light, which he set on the ground next to him. Was that a wisplight of some kind? Did he think Yhal would be impressed by something like that? The man's smirk seemed to have been restrained today, leaving only the air of self-assured arrogance. "Those were a lot of hits to the head you took. How are your eyes? Is there any itching? Blurred vision? Did you go blind in one and just aren't telling people because you don't want to look weak?"

He gave that last the withering look it deserved.

The civilian shrugged. "I don't know you well enough to be able to tell one way or another. Really, the only things I know for sure is that you thought it was a good idea to fight a Dungeon Binder who obviously wanted violence to occur and that you dislike me for some reason. Those two don't exactly tell me if you'd hide any injuries because of your pride."

Yhal snorted derisively, then immediately regretted it as the pain in his head informed him it didn't like moving that way or that sharply. "I'm fine," he said tersely, staring up at the brightly lit canvas of the tent. Perhaps the man would take the hint and leave. "Was that all you wanted to know?"

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"It will do to start with. So, onto the next matter, have you prepared your apology to Binder Shanalorre?"

…

Reluctantly, he turned his eyes towards Rian. "Apology?"

"Well, you insulted her, belittled her, and worst of all in her eyes, you challenged her authority, all without apparently meaning to, so perhaps an apology for your thoughtlessness is in order, don't you think? Unless you want the insult to stand, and let her know you're still insulting her, belittling her, and not recognizing her authority, in which case ignore everything I just said and go right ahead. I'm sure nothing bad can come of having a standing enmity with the Dungeon Binder of the demesne you're going to be living in for the foreseeable future."

"Is that an order, your lordship?" Yhal said flatly.

"It's the words of a man who knows the person we're talking about better than you do," Rian said, the self-assured arrogance thickening. He rose to his feet, his head brushing the tent's canvas as he remained slightly hunched over. "As your new lord it's my job to keep you alive, and that includes from self-inflicted stupidity like somehow insulting our Dungeon Binders. So I hope your apology is ready by the time you meet Binder Shanalorre again. Have a good day, Yhallisu. Hopefully you'll be ready for when you next meet her."

Yhal let out a sigh as the civilian finally left. From beyond the tent, he heard footsteps and the low murmur of a voice that almost sounded familiar, not quite distinct enough to be heard over the background sounds of the camp. It left him to his pain, his confusion, a shallowly simmering resentment, and the nagging feeling of guilt.

It was a few of days later that Yhal found himself back under the dome of River's Fork. The green of the leaves was starting to change, which on the dome was turning wedges of the trees into different colors. Beneath the tree, tents had been arranged into an orderly grid, with distinct thoroughfares between them. All the tents didn't have a lot of space around them, and some were even outside the cover of the dome, which made the presence of a large empty space quite notable.

That was as much as Yhal was able to see as he shivered in wet clothes. He'd slipped on the rocks while fording the river because his aching knee had picked the worst time to fold on him, and he'd fallen on his back on the rocks, which had knocked the wind out of him. Since his head had fallen into the river, this had made water go up his nose, introduced a new sort of burning pain to his head. He hadn't known that was even possible.

Fortunately, he'd been walking with Xiasam, and the Mentalist had been able to react fast enough to keep him from being swept away, lifting the two of them out of the water and setting Yhal down to sit on the grass-covered ground so that Flot could check him over.

"It's not working," the curly-haired Deadspeaker said, frustrated. "Every time I try to tame a meaning she's overriding my claim."

"Yes. I am." The voice contained a coldness he'd dismissed the last Yhal had heard it as all the wizards around him turned towards its source. Binder… Shanalorre… was walking towards them, her pace unhurried, and she had a…. well, for her it was probably a staff, but as the length of branch didn't even come up to Yhal's chest he could only see it was a long cudgel. Yllian standing behind her almost seemed like an afterthought, and with new eyes Yhal could finally see how he was plainly deferring to her. "Deadspeaker Flotelik, due to extenuating circumstances I will not have you thrown into the river for blatantly defying my orders. I advise you not to take it as encouragement."

"Great Binder," the Deadspeaker said, and if his lofty tone wasn't exactly respectful, it wasn't blatantly disrespectful either. Yhal tried to stand, but Flot's hand firmly pressed down on his shoulder to keep him in place. "In your demesne, you are the power most absolute and I acknowledge you as such. But if you think that will stop me from trying to treat a patient who is right in front of me, you are gravely mistaken. As a doctor, I follow a higher moral ideal than obedience to power."

"Noted. Then you will have no problem to being the regular Deadspeaker on-duty for any ailments and injuries. You may station yourself where you wish, as long as it is easily accessible from any direction. Do you have any objections?"

Flot's mouth flapped open and closed, but he was a doctor. They didn't stay off-balance long. "Proper procedure is a doctor and a Deadspeaker paired together per shift, and no shift is to go beyond ten hours."

Binder… Shanalorre tilted her head. "Noted. However, we do not have the infrastructure or personnel to follow such procedures. Resign yourself to being awoken in the middle of the night if some someone breaks their leg on the way to the latrine. If there are any injuries too severe for you to deal with, stabilize them and call for me, in whichever order you judge appropriate." The stranger wearing a child's face looked over at the wizards and their families, who were part of the last batch. They were all there save Madsmif, who was with the other barge of rations. It had gone up the other river, to the dock that was already built. "All wizards, follow me to where you will be staying. I will be briefing you as to your responsibilities within the demesne. The rest of you, accompany Mylls and set up your tents in your assigned plots. Follow the assignments exactly, keep the walkways clear, and there will be no trouble."

"Where we'll be staying?" Yhim said with a frown. He hadn't taken the fact that the wizards had been made to wait until the last before it had been their turn to move to the dome very well. The tall Mentalist had a reinforced canvas sack large enough to carry the body of a fully grown man with room to spare for a small child, and it was filled with most of what he, his wife and his children owned. "Why aren't we staying with our families?"

"Everything will be explained in the briefing, which I will not give here," Binder Shanalorre said. "Follow. The sooner the briefing is finished, the sooner your questions will be answered."