7 - Making Plans

  It took another day or two for Garrick and Maeve to form a plan. Now officially the head of - and really the only member of - the monster’s medical staff, Maeve was able to control the care she administered with more safety and comfort. Trust, if one could call it that, built slowly. It was still snarls and growls, still snapping teeth and feral defiance of the most basic instructions. More than once they’d had to pull her back when she got too close, too comfortable, and the monster would nearly take a finger, magic coiling around the collar. But it was enough. Enough that yesterday it was able to sit up and snap less at her than normal. Enough that it managed to eat on its own. Enough that they were able to switch from bed chains to wall chains.

  Truthfully, though, this plan would not have come about if it weren’t for Maeve’s careful observations and Harlan’s three year old daughter.

  “Stories!” Maeve exclaimed, slamming her fists excitedly down on Garrick’s desk and leaning forward. “Harlan had to bribe his daughter to eat her vegetables last night with stories.”

  Garrick blinked up at her, confused. It had been a long day of writing reports and ignoring more letters. He’d only just sent Riven off to the barracks to get some sleep when Maeve burst into the room.

  “Good evening to you, too,” he said.

  “Oh, right. Yes. Good evening, sir.” Maeve said. “Now, about Harlan’s daughter - the story-bribe thingy.”

  The high commander stared up at her. Then, slowly he placed his quill down and steepled his fingers together, elbows resting on the desk.

  “Alright, Healer Maeve. I assume this isn’t just about the personal lives of my knights,” he said.

  “No. Well, yes, sort of. I mean, not directly of course, but I thought it was important,” Maeve rambled nervously.

  “Maeve.” Garrick’s tone was firm, patient. “Why don’t you tell me why this is important. Slowly.”

  He took a deep breath, and she mirrored him. “Right. Well, I was overhearing Harlan talk about how he had to-”

  “-bribe his daughter into eating her greens, yes.”

  “-and I got to thinking…why not try that?”

  “Try what?”

  “Bribing, of course!”

  Garrick frowned. “Healer Maeve, if a bribe worked, I’m certain the king would have already showered it with as much gold and honor as it would like. But the damned thing won’t even talk to us.”

  “Oh!” Maeve exclaimed, taking a step back. “I’m sorry. I’m not explaining very well, am I? I don’t mean that kind of bribe. Think about it - when you’re handling a child, the first thing in a deal they ask for is the thing they want the most, right? We can’t communicate with the monster, but we have things it needs, things it wants. Perhaps using those things to make a connection is our first step to figuring this whole thing out.”

  Understanding dawned on Garrick. “You’re talking about animal training,” he said, disbelieving.

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it like that, but…yes. I-in a sense, very much so,” Maeve said.

  She began pacing the room. Garrick watched her, half amused, half thoughtful as she explained.

  “When Harlan was complaining to the other one - Merrick? Meren? Oh I don’t remember. Anyway, when he was complaining about what he had to do to get his daughter to eat her vegetables, the other one told him it sounded like training a monkey. And Harlan just said, ‘There’s not a lot of difference.’”

  “He’s not wrong,” Garrick murmured, remembering what it was like raising his own son so many years ago.

  “But it got me thinking. Luka, he’s-”

  “You’re still using that name?” Garrick interrupted.

  Maeve’s mouth snapped shut and she looked sheepish. “You…never said I needed to stop. Just that I should.”

  Garrick sighed, shook his head, and gestured for her to continue.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “Well, our monster,” she said wincing at the term, “is unable to communicate with us, much like an animal or a three year old. Verbal communication is impossible at this point, so we wouldn’t be able to get the information you wanted anyways. But we can start building communication. Remove some of the barriers and begin showing care.”

  “Or, we could wait until it’s strong enough to extract the information from it by other means,” Garrick told her.

  Maeve looked down, fingers twitching. “I won’t lie and say the idea doesn’t make me uncomfortable, but I understand the need. I just…if my theory is correct, such methods might not even be effective. I told you the first time that it’s like he doesn’t understand. He responds to tones, actions. It would take longer, but I would propose a slower approach. Build trust first. The mind-menders at the academy say you get more out of someone who trusts you than someone who hates you.”

  Garrick eyed her carefully. It was obvious she had been putting a lot of thought into this. She even spoke with mind-menders. Though he never gave much credence to their practices in particular, he also knew and respected them enough to know sometimes their methods worked. And he was running out of options.

  He glanced down at his desk. There in the corner sat the medallion, chain coiled around it. For some reason, the sight of it gave him confidence. Of course. He’d be willing to try a hare-brained scheme like this. Why not?

  “What do you suggest, then?”

  Maeve’s eyes widened. “Really? You’ll try it?”

  “Nothing else seems to be working. We’ve tried asking it questions. All we get is teeth and blood. And there’s no torture in known existence that could trump the agony of surviving a mage’s fire blast like that,” he admitted.

  Maeve nodded. “I’m thinking we offer him something he needs, something he can’t turn down. My friends at the academy said - and no, I didn’t tell them why I was asking before you say anything. I told them I was trying to train a dog.” She blushed furiously at that before clearing her throat and continuing. “Anyway, they said it’s best if we find something that gives him what he wants, and what he gives in return is something beneficial for him as well. It’s all exchanges. Action for action.”

  Garrick let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “And what exactly are you thinking? What would we possibly need from it that would benefit us taking it from the thing besides information?”

  Maeve looked at him. “His cooperation, of course. Something simple. We need him better, so maybe medical attention?”

  He paused. It made sense. It made too much sense. Amelia was right. It really was more simple than he thought.

  “I just don’t know what he would want in return,” Maeve admitted, returning to pacing.

  Garrick picked up a blank sheet and scribbled a note without speaking.

  “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “What do you think? We can get it to the kitchens, have it delivered with the medicines this afternoon.”

  She read it. Her brows shot up.

  “Really? You think this’ll work?”

  Garrick smiled faintly. “You know healing. I know soldiers.”

  He stood and rounded his desk, then poked his head out the door. Spotting Collin rounding the corner with an armful of gear, he called to him.

  “Squire Byrick, come here please.”

  Collin’s eyes darted to the side before trotting over.

  “Yes, High Commander, sir?” he asked, adjusting his burden.

  Garrick eyed him. His sleeves, which had been rolled up to his elbows, bore the witness of his hard work. The gear in his arms - clean, as if he had spent long moments making sure it was spotless - bore the testimony of his success.

  “That’s a good job,” Garrick murmured. “Edain will be pleased. But I have another task for you. Think you can escort healer Maeve to the infirmary, then make sure the kitchen gets this?”

  He took the paper from Maeve, who turned red and protested.

  “Oh, no. I can do that,” she said.

  But Garrick shook his head. “I want you focused on the medicine. Make sure you have everything you need.”

  “I-I don’t mind, miss,” Collin spoke up, adjusting the gear in his arms again to smile at Maeve. “The infirmary is on the way to the armory.”

  Maeve smiled at the lad. Garrick did, too. He liked Collin. The boy was eager and willing to learn, and he made up for his awkwardness with earnestness.

  “Thank you,” Maeve said, nodding.

  Collin bobbed his head in her direction.

  “Thanks, Byrick,” he said.

  Then, he shut the door after them. He turned and looked at his desk, then glanced outside. The sky was getting darker. Soon the moon would rise and the valley below it would burn with the light of a thousand candles. And one of them would be his.

  Sighing and wishing not for the first time he had said no when Fenric offered him the position, he pulled out his chair and tapped the communication stone. Drawing the runes carefully into the surface, Garrick waited until he saw Varne on the smooth surface of the stone.

  “Amelia must already be sick of you if you’re brave enough to stay at the tower,” Varne chuckled, eyeing the window behind him, which looked out across to the turreted wall and the darkening sky beyond.

  “Maybe a little,” Garrick chuckled.

  “And the monster?”

  Garrick fell silent, shaking his head.

  “Ah,” Varne said.

  “Let’s just focus on what we can do while this ceasefire still exists,” Garrick said, leaning forward. “Now, what’s the latest report?”

  As Varne described troop movements, Garrick’s attention turned slowly away from the monster and its strange habits to the growing concern of Savidor’s troops, who oddly enough remained at their border for the most part. Still, he couldn’t completely forget the mounting hope Maeve had brought to him tonight.

  This had to work. It just had to.

  If for no one else’s sake than his own.