Page 36 of Triadic

"There you are," Awariye said to the bird at the same time as Ceridor spoke in a warning tone. "We should not discuss our new friend while here."

Thatgave me pause. Scanning the bird, I realized it was a wren. I caught Ceridor's deadly serious glance and nodded. Herding us into the medical evaluation room, I sent Peter to go find Marit and bring him there.

Marit and Peter returned, and I requested everyone but Igor move to another room so I could do my examination. He disrobed down to just his trousers. Each layer under his coat had a dragon on it, which seemed foolish while traveling undercover in a neighboring country, but I recognized Igor as a young and strong warrior now, and thus knew that this was about pride.

He did not flinch in the chilly room, his inner core burning hot enough he didn't even get goose bumps. His chest and shoulders and back were heavily muscled and littered with scars, so many they could not have been earned through mere training. He fought in skirmishes at the very least, but if I was any judge, he fought in battle.

"Where is the injury?"

He rolled his shoulders, then tilted his head to the side. "My right shoulder catches now, without warning."

"Your sword arm?" I asked, though I already knew, based on where the dagger had been placed on his belt.

He nodded.

Now disrobed down to his waist, I could get more of a feel of his life force since it was no longer tamperedunderneath layers of clothes. He was dirty from days of travel, but underneath the grime I could sense something of his character within, insofar as the etheric body and what I could sense of the astral body could be known at this distance. He was a warrior but not a mercenary. He was violent, had fought and taken life, but did not rape and pillage. There was a strong sense of honor in him, even if that scale included destroying his enemies. An aggressive fighter but not a scoundrel.

"You'll need to stay several days," I instructed. "The kind of healing I do—if truly you've already seen the best secular doctors, and there is nothing more they can do for it—involves your purification in terms of herbals baths and doing some basic breathing exercises I'll give you. They go along nicely with any daily fitness maintenance you might be doing."

"Please examine me faster," he said simply and met my eyes. "I need to get back to Birdie."

To Wren.

My anxiety rose. Had Wren seriously gotten involved with a soldier? "Are you 'Ulysses the Tall'? Did you send a letter asking for our blessing?"

I was skirting Ceridor's warning, but I had to know. Terror rushed through me that Wren had gotten himself into a dangerous situation.

Igor blinked in confusion and thought about that a moment. Then he shook his head and pointed at the pile of tunics and cloaks.

Right at the dragon stitched there.

Ulbrecht the Great.

'Ulysses theTall' from the letter, and Wren's new boyfriend, was in fact the Danubian High King.

My anxiety threatened to overwhelm my composure. So help me, if Igor had captured Wren and handed him over to a monster… if he had taken away Wren's freedom, I'd hand him some medicine and poison him.

"Is he safe?" I demanded.

Igor seemed to sense my turbulence. "The safest. When not under wing," he said, nodding again at the dragon, "then I'm with him. That is why I have to get back quickly. Talk to Awariye. They're together all the time."

I appraised him a long moment. Indeed, having Awariye show up without a single stress line on his face had been telling; he was not being confined or restrained in any way.

"And even alone," whispered Igor, "he is as safe as he can be because he honors them, and they guide him."

Who was this 'they' that guided Wren? Yet I knew. Wren had been called to man a shrine for unknown gods that were believed to protect the Danubian high king.

"And he does have a dog," added Igor, though his lips pursed and belied said dog might be less useful than desired.

Very well. I'd have to trust Igor, and especially Awariye, that Wren was safe and not imprisoned somewhere. Peter's little Birdie not showing any distress was a good sign.

"Grunt, or sayjaorauaif you feel any pain," I instructed. "Even if it's slight or just a zing. No tough-guy actkeeping quiet—I need to know, so I can get an accurate diagnosis."

"Passt," he said, confirming he understood.

For the next quarter hour, I moved him through every range of motion for the shoulder, both free and holding a weight, and recorded when he reported pain. Igor then showed me the motions where he consistently felt it while training and fighting, ranked in intensity based on whether it would change his swing or not. The stakes indeed were high if it endangered him or anyone he protected.

Finishing writing down my notes, I considered our options. "I'll want to run some more tests for a couple of days."

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