by Laura R Cole
*
Layna was shivering under her thin covers as a cold breeze found its way in through cracks in the window. Jezebel forbade them to use the normal amount of wood while she was gone. Since she wouldn't be there, the house would be empty according to her, and that meant that they should not need to use nearly as much wood to heat the place. Despite Layna's layers of all of the blankets that she owned, the chill bit through, and her nose ran with cold.
The sun was not quite up, but Layna was shivering so badly that it was impossible to sleep. She got out of bed, hoping that moving around would help to warm her. She did a little dance to avoid stepping on the cold stone floor, and hopped over to the wash-bin. The rug in front of it was a small comfort to her toes. Layna sighed as she prodded at what had been water last night. It was now a solid half moon of ice. She debated putting on some warm clothes and running out to the stream, but hated the thought of so much work before she had even had a chance to rub the sleepiness out of her eyes. Too bad I can't just warm a rock like Gryffon can, she thought to herself regretfully, and then had a funny thought. Maybe I'm really a high talent disguised as a maid so that no one will know that I'm here. She laughed ruefully to herself. Well, why not? Gryffon said it was like expanding your consciousness to become aware of the power around you. Layna relaxed and cleared her mind of all other thoughts. She tried to become aware of a stream of power that she had always felt, but never known what it was.
She felt silly. Several moments passed and nothing happened. She was about to abandon her foolish charade when all at once a shock wave of understanding hit her. She grabbed for the power that she suddenly felt with both physical and mental being.
She was almost thrown backwards by the sheer force of the contact, and she let go instantly. She clutched her hand to her chest and cried out in pain. Eyes wide, she stared at the bowl in front of her. What had been ice just a moment before was now boiling water, bubbling wildly. Gingerly, she opened her hand and was horrified to see that her palm was red and blistering, as though she had just thrust it into a fire.
“Whoa,” she whispered to herself, bringing her other hand up to rub her neck which had just started tingling.
Layna glanced around the room nervously as if expecting someone to have been standing behind her to witness what had just happened. As always, there was no one in the room but herself, and she quickly wrapped a piece of cloth around her hand. She'd have to make do with this makeshift bandage for the first of her chores and then sneak out to have it taken care of.
Layna couldn't afford a real healer, but there was a woman on the outskirts of the city who used poultices and herbs who was also extremely accommodating to those who had little to pay her with. Layna had visited her a few times and found her to be a peculiar, but very friendly, old lady. She concentrated on the pain in her hand and the need to hide it from everyone, not allowing herself to contemplate the enormity of the situation she had just caused.
Taking care not to further damage her hand, Layna sped through her morning chores, which were greatly diminished by her mistress's absence. Shock numbed her senses, and Layna found it difficult to think - and impossible to comprehend - the full consequences of the morning's event. As soon as she was finished, she popped into the kitchen and found the cook hard at work. He was catching up on making preserves and such that he normally had to forgo in order to meet Jezebel's outlandish menu demands. Laconic as usual, he simply grunted in affirmation of her statement that she was taking a horse to the healer's.
Layna hurried out so as not to give him a chance to ask where she had hurt herself and made her way to the stables. Thanks to Gryffon, she was now well versed in how to saddle up a horse. Though he often did it for her since it was easier for him to reach, he insisted that it was best for her to know how to do it herself, a fact for which she was now grateful.
She prepared Firefly for the trek and gingerly mounted, holding the reins with one hand. When she reached the gates separating the noble manors from the rest of the city, the guardsmen nodded to her and let her pass without incident. The streets themselves were almost deserted, most people preferring to stay inside on such a cold day. Because of the empty streets, Layna was able to ride Firefly almost to the door of the healer. A strange, yellow smoke snaked out from the chimney, spreading into a haze above the house as it fought through the bitter air.
Layna knocked gently on the door and waited. A moment later the door opened and a hunched-over old woman with mottled gray and white hair ushered her inside.
“Come in, child. It's freezing out there.”
Layna followed the woman to a fireplace in the corner where a cauldron full of a bubbling yellow liquid hung over a blazing fire.
“There now. Warm your hands; you must be chilled to the bone.”
Layna nodded gratefully and moved nearer to the hearth. The old woman puttered around, humming under her breath for a few moments, allowing Layna to thaw before turning to her and asking, “Now what can I do for you, honey?” She came over to sit next to Layna, and Layna offered up her palm wordlessly. The healer took Layna's hand in her own, examining the blackened mess. Her wrinkled fingers were firm but gentle, and surprisingly steady for one her age.
“Tsk, tsk. Perhaps I should not have told you to put your hands near the fire,” she teased Layna good-naturedly, “though I don't think that's what happened here.”
The woman closed her eyes, and Layna felt an odd sensation in her hand. The healer's brow furrowed. “These burns are from the inside,” she murmured without opening her eyes. Layna waited patiently as the woman held the pose a moment longer, then opening her eyes to give Layna an appraising look. “Hasn't anyone told you not to play with fire, my dear,” she asked, her voice a touch harsher than a moment before.
Layna began to disagree that she had not played with fire, but the woman cut her off, her tone once again soothing and soft. “I have no doubt you did not stick your hand in a flame, deary, but touching the power is no light matter. That's why people are trained to use it. And before you ask - no, I'm not going to make trouble for you.”
She set to work spreading a huge glob of a foul smelling poultice on Layna's hand and Layna found herself saying defensively, “I didn't think it would work, my friend was trained and he explained to me how to - ow, OW!” she exclaimed as the woman forcefully prodded the worst part of the burn.
With a hint of sarcasm, the woman stated, “And obviously, he did such a good job.” She sighed and released Layna's hand to go rummage in some cabinets. “Power is not something to be taken lightly. There's a big difference between being told how it is for someone else to use it, than to be taught how to use it yourself. That burn you have could have been much worse. Luckily, instinct caused you to release your hold immediately, and your level of talent allowed you to control as much of the force as you did, preventing the burn from being any worse. Many people would have ended up burnt to a crisp by the stunt that you just pulled.”
Layna was aware that she was staring at the woman with a stupidly blank expression on her face, but she couldn't help it. She felt as though her body had gone numb as the shock of the realization of the full extent of the damage that could have been caused sunk in. She hung her head. I could have killed myself. And now, I have no choice but to spend the rest of my life with the priests. What have I done?
“I'm sorry, ma'am,” she said, immediately ashamed. “Thank you very much for the healing and rest assured that I will go straightaway to the temple to report myself.”
The woman fastened the last of the bandage on her hand and patted it with completion. “You most certainly will not,” she stated firmly. “With the shortage of high talent around, I'm not about to let someone with as much potential as you go and waste yourself on the priests. I can feel something brewing in my bones. We're going to need people like you with their wits about them, not brainwashed
into complacency by those charlatans.” Her eyes crinkled as her weathered old face broke into a smile. “It seems as though you have someone watching out for you already. You mentioned you had a friend with trained talent?”
Layna found it difficult to speak, so she just nodded.
“Good. Think he'd be willing to train you, and keep it quiet?”
Layna's voice eluded her still, but her skeptical expression was enough for the healer. The woman bit her lip.
“Well, you just come back here if you find he won't. And do try not to let too much time pass before you ask him, whether it's him or me, I'd like to get as far as possible in your training before I have to go.”
Layna's voice finally returned and she sputtered, “I can't just not tell the priests!”
“Why not? What are they going to do, kill you?”
“Yes!” Layna exclaimed with conviction, horrified by the very idea.
The corners of the healer's mouth turned downwards, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Good point. Not to worry, though, no one will ever know. A trained talent would have to actually take the time to examine you in order to detect it since your friend seems to have taken care of you in that respect. I assume you don't have much direct contact with the priests, with our lovely system the way it is, so that leaves nobles. How many nobles do you know that would inspect a mere servant for talent?” She gave Layna a piercing stare, and her tone grew more serious. “Believe me, girl. You don't want to go to the priests.”
Layna was paralyzed by indecision. All I have to do is go back to the manor and pretend like nothing happened. No one knows but me and the healer...but how did she know? Oh! What should I do?
The woman broke into her downward-spiraling thoughts. “Things have a way of working themselves out, sweetie. Trust me. Just go home and go about your business. But do make sure that you contrive a reason to come see me again soon – one other than hurting yourself again. We need to find a way to get you trained.”
Layna led Fly back towards the manor, warring with herself. Twice she turned the horse to the temple, and twice she redirected him home. She was too terrified to go through with it, and she soon found herself at the gates of the manor. She dismounted, feeling like a field mouse just waiting for a hawk to swoop down and snatch her up. Her uncertainty led her to stick with the norm, and she went back inside, trying her best to pretend like nothing had happened.