Icestorm

by Theresa Dahlheim

  As Graegor wondered if he should be tired, Errie squeezed his arm. “You did it,” she sent.

  “Rose and Jeff did it,” he corrected, glancing up at her. Her braided hair was in thick wet ropes, and her smile at him was touched with awe. Strangely, her attention didn’t make him nearly as nervous as it had before.

  “All of you did.” She squeezed his arm again and moved to give Rose a hug. Selena and Logan were already hugging, and there were tears in Selena’s eyes. They were still soaking wet—nearly everyone was still wet—and that seemed strange. It really had been just a short time, a very short time, since Brigita had stood up and announced that she wanted to try the rope-swing.

  That, now, seemed strange too. Graegor could sense some of the others with the same thought. Brigita had spent the entire time with them without speaking a word, without giving any hint that she wanted to join in the fun. Then, when she had …

  In the soft haze of their link, Koren’s words were clear and sharp. “Josselin’s here.”

  Graegor sensed the Khenroxan sorceress’s presence a moment later. While Koren’s magic was forest green, Josselin’s was the brighter shade of new spring leaves, and to Graegor’s eyes it surrounded her hawk shape as she flew over the pond. She banked, circled, and flared her wings to slow to a stop in the middle of the space the magi had cleared for her. Intense white light started as a spark and swelled to block even the sun, but then faded to reveal Josselin standing among them in a pale yellow dress.

  With everyone else, Graegor bowed his head to greet her. All the magi had met her before, for Josselin made it a point to know the Academy’s students. He felt her warm approval as she wordlessly acknowledged them, and then she turned to Brigita, who lay on the grass within their anxious hovering. With just a little stiffness, Josselin lowered herself to her knees beside them and set her hand on Brigita’s wrist.

  Her calm, smooth gen and gestures as she performed the rest of the healing soothed everyone. She spoke aloud from time to time, explaining differences between breaks and fractures, or telling them what could happen later if this gap, or that joint, was not given attention. She had Rose and Jeff show her what they had done with the snapped vertebrae and the head fracture, and her matter-of-fact tone helped Jeff and Rose to gradually relax and begin asking clinical questions, as if this was merely an academic exercise. As Josselin moved on to address the injury to the lower spine, Jeff and Rose seemed to have forgotten how tired they were, watching avidly with their eyes and minds, peppering Josselin with even more questions. They assisted her in turning Brigita to lie her back and then moving her arms and legs, then hands and feet, back to neutral positions, and then they pointed out to Josselin the remaining fractures and deep bruises. She let the two of them heal the simpler breaks, but then told them they needed rest, and she would finish the work herself.

  “You’re sure we didn’t miss anything?” Rose asked anxiously.

  “I’m sure,” Josselin told her. “Relax.”

  Graegor and all the others could not help smiling at each other at that, because it meant that Brigita would be fine. Not blind, not crippled, not brain-damaged. Most importantly, not dead.

  He had held her life.

  There was no clear space between her magic and his. No clear space between his magic and the bond that glowed among them all as they huddled together to watch Josselin.

  If Audrey were magi, he thought it would feel something like this.

  Eventually Josselin declared all of Brigita’s injuries to be healed, and also declared herself very satisfied with the work Jeff and Rose had done. Everyone heaped praise on them, and Jeff was uncharacteristically embarrassed by it. Rose reached across Brigita to touch his arm, and something passed between them that made Graegor wonder. But then Josselin started giving instructions as Koren gave her a hand up from the ground.

  “She’s sleeping normally now, but it shouldn’t be too long before she wakes.” The sorceress brushed grass from her dress. “She’ll be groggy and probably sore, but she should be able to ride double with Koren when you all go back.” She stopped. “Unless you need me to stay with you? I’ll go back with you if you wish it.”

  “No, ma’am,” Koren sent, and Graegor, too, felt Josselin’s underlying unease and urgency.

  “All right. Take her to the Academy infirmary, and I’ll meet you there. I need to speak to Pascin first.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Koren sent, and the rest of them echoed her. Graegor shaded his eyes against the blinding light of the shapechange, but then watched the hawk pump her wings skyward and circle into the blue above the trees.

  As Josselin’s presence faded from his mind, Contare drew back his attention. “I’ll meet you at the infirmary too,” he sent. “We should talk about this in detail. Especially what you did with the light.”

  “Yes, sir. I … I don’t mean to keep shocking you.”

  “I’m beginning to think I should lock you up in a trunk.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “No, it’s my fault. I’ve spent too much time doing exactly that—trying to contain your power. We need to go somewhere relatively safe and experiment.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ve told Jeff to make sure the others keep the details quiet, for now. Josselin and I will tell Pascin everything, but for anyone who wasn’t there, just say that Brigita fell and hit her head, and Jeff and Rose healed her.”

  “I understand, sir.” He paused. “What about Brigita herself?”

  “She has the right to know exactly what happened to her, no matter how upsetting it may be.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Now Contare paused, as if waiting for another question, before saying, “When Tabitha returns, you can tell her.”

  Tabitha. There was no avoiding it now—he would have to tell her everything. Explain why he’d been here swimming with girls. Not even the miracle of saving Brigita’s life would matter to her, because she would say that Brigita should not have even been here.

  “When is she returning?” Contare asked when Graegor didn’t answer.

  “Soon. Before next term starts.”

  “Have you been in touch with her?”

  “It’s too far.” He sensed Contare’s surprise and added, “Isn’t it?”

  “Possibly. It’s over six hundred miles, and I’ve never tested you for long-range. That’s something else we should do.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “See you soon.”

  “Yes, sir.” Contare dropped the link, and Graegor looked down at Brigita.

  He had to make Tabitha understand. Brigita was no threat to her—none of the girls here were. His feelings for them were profoundly different from his feelings for Tabitha. These girls were like his sisters, or at least his cousins, or how he imagined having cousins his own age would be. The boys too. They were more real to him now, in a way he couldn’t explain, as real in his heart as Audrey was. Tabitha had sisters—foster sisters, at least—so she should know how this felt.

  She doesn’t have brothers. If she didn’t know how a girl felt about her brother, she wouldn’t know how a boy felt about his sister.

  “You all right?” Jeff sent to him, not including the others.

  “It’s just …”

  He didn’t go on, and Jeff didn’t answer, but they both understood. Graegor didn’t want his anxiety to infect anyone else, so he deliberately shunted his thoughts away from Tabitha.

  Patrick sighed from his place on the ground. Then he reached out his hand, and Marcus grasped it and pulled him to sit up. Patrick rested his elbows on his bent knees and lifted one eyebrow at Graegor. His sending included everyone: “So, about the stasis spell.”

  Graegor shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know why it worked.”

  “It didn’t work for me,” Koren sent. “I held the earth magic, but he couldn’t sense it from me. He could from you.”

  “I could use it when he held it,” Patrick sent. “Like using a charm. I could feel i
t and focus the spell on it. Like a charm. A great, big, giant … charm.”

  “But why could you sense it from Graegor and not from your own sorceress?” Logan asked.

  Attention turned to Graegor, and he repeated, “I don’t know. There’s something … it’s like a pattern. When I raise earth magic, I weave my magic into the pattern of the earth magic. That’s the metaphor I use for it. I was able to weave Patrick’s magic into it too.”

  “Could you do that with the rest of us?” Jeff asked.

  “I’m not sure. Patrick’s magic is different. Everyone else’s pattern is really basic, but his is more intricate.”

  “Yes,” Patrick agreed solemnly. “I’m particularly intricate.”

  “But why could you do that when Koren couldn’t?” Logan asked.

  “Telgards control earth magic better than the rest of us.” Koren looked at Graegor, who was trying to put together a way to explain his affinity for earth magic in a way that would show that he actually understood it. Which he wasn’t entirely sure he did.

  “But healing Brie,” Errie sent. “Why couldn’t you do that?” She tilted her head at him, blinking her wide blue eyes. Obviously, she was going to keep flirting with him. But now he knew he could just tell her to stop it when it went too far.

  “The metaphor is a blood transfusion,” he sent. “You know how there are four types of blood? One type can be donated to people with any other type, and another type can receive donations from all other types. The restrictions have to do with whether the blood contains one substance, another substance, both substances together, or neither.”

  They all understood that. Every single student at the Academy took the two basic classes in medicine—anatomy and trauma care—whether they had the healing talent or not. In fact, those were the two classes he had audited so far. Every single one of the ancient obelisks that had anything to do with medicine included the basic blood type chart and a transfusion diagram; the ancient magi had obviously thought it was important.

  “But blood type isn’t racial,” Errie sent. “I remember that much.”

  “It tends toward racial alignment,” Jeff sent, “but no, it’s not strictly racial.”

  “Healing is, though,” Graegor explained. “When you heal someone, it’s like you’re donating your magic to them. The patient can’t receive magic that’s foreign to him. Her. That’s one of the most important reasons for the Bond of the Circle. It overcomes this race-based restriction on healing.”

  “Does it matter if the patient is magi?” Logan asked.

  “It’s the same for both,” Jeff answered. “Everyone has gen, and it differs by race.”

  “So Patrick here is half-Khenroxan, half-Medean,” Graegor went on. “If he tries to heal a patient who’s Thendal, there’s no compatibility. But if he tries to heal a patient who’s Khenroxan, there’s also no compatibility, because the Khenroxan patient can’t receive Patrick’s magic, since it’s half-Medean.”

  Patrick sent, “Actually I’m not half-and-half. I’m a four-race mutt. My father’s father was Medean, but my father’s mother was Pask.”

  “The tribes in eastern Medea?” Selena asked.

  “Right, the badlands,” Patrick sent. “And then my mother was half-plains-half-highlander, like Rose.”

  “So you are particularly intricate,” Selena sent. “You have four races’ patterns.”

  Errie seemed surprised. “Do Khenroxans really still consider themselves two races?”

  That was surprising to Graegor too. But from both Patrick and Rose, it was made clear in the link that yes, Khenroxans still made the distinction, but more so back home than here. Graegor had never thought of Rose’s gen as being more complex, but as he studied it now, in the link, he realized that yes, it was—he could sense the differences in the warp and the weft. Plains Khenroxans and highlander Khenroxans really were separate races.

  “Even though you speak the same language?” Errie was asking.

  “That’s mostly the same,” Rose sent, “but there are important differences.”

  “Is that why you’re studying animal medicine?” Selena asked Patrick. “Because there’s almost no person on earth who’s a ‘four-race mutt’ like you, so there’s no one you can heal? At least until you pledge to the Circle?”

  “That’s one reason,” Patrick sent. “The other is that animals are much nicer than people.”

  “Animal healing is different?” Logan asked.

  “Animal healing, self-healing, and human healing are all distinct talents,” Jeff confirmed.

  “So what about you?” Errie asked Rose. “Before you pledged to the Circle, could you only heal half-plains, half-highlander Khenroxans like you?”

  “Anyone who was at least those two races,” Rose corrected. “I could also heal Patrick. I could also heal Ravon. Remember him? He graduated last year. He was one-quarter Khenroxan plainsman, one-quarter Khenroxan highlander, and one-half Telgard. There wasn’t anything in my magic that couldn’t be received by Patrick and Ravon. I could donate, and they could receive. But they couldn’t donate to me since my gen couldn’t receive the Telgard part of Ravon’s magic or the Medean part of Patrick’s.”

  “But what does this have to do with Graegor?” Selena sent, and looked across Brigita at him. “You’re a full Telgard, right? You have to be. Sorcerers always are.”

  “No, Josselin’s half highlander and half plains,” Rose sent.

  Puzzled attention now focused on Koren. She hesitated, but then sent, “‘Tis true. All Khenroxan sorcerers have been. We’re careful to keep it so, since ‘tis one way we reaffirm ourselves as one kingdom. The royal family’s careful to keep their bloodlines half-and-half too.”

  “What about in Medea?” Errie asked. “Is Lady Ilene half-Pask?”

  Koren didn’t know, and Graegor didn’t either. Selena sent, “But you, Graegor. Are you a full Telgard?”

  “Yes, but not when it comes to my magic.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Wait,” Jeff interrupted. “Before we tackle that, there’s something that’s been bothering me for a while.” In the link, Marcus seemed to know what Jeff was talking about, and Graegor saw him nodding as Jeff sent, “Koren?”

  She acknowledged him warily. Graegor saw her arms tighten a little, clasped against her skirt around her knees.

  “Marcus and I have known a lot of Khenroxan magi,” Jeff sent. “Plains, highlander, and half-and-half. Before I was pledged to the Circle, I could sense differences among each race’s magic, and Marcus still can. They come across as different tones. Your magic doesn’t have the same sound as Josselin’s. You always seemed to Marcus and me to be a full highlander.”

  His words, cadence, and tone were all respectful. Koren did not seem offended, exactly, but also didn’t seem inclined to answer him. It took a long pause, and everyone waiting expectantly, before she opened herself to the link again. “I’m three-quarters highlander, one-quarter plains. Josselin doesn’t want it wide-known. ‘Tis important that I be the sorceress for all our people.”

  It occurred to Graegor that Josselin may not want this known because it meant she hadn’t been as “careful” as she should have been in ensuring her successor had the right bloodlines. But he kept that to himself. He wanted to ask how the Khenroxans could ensure such a thing in the first place, but Josselin probably knew a lot more about that than Koren did.

  “I never sensed it,” Rose sent. “Your magic seemed like mine.”

  Patrick agreed as well, and added, “It fits, though.”

  “How?” Errie asked, at the same time that Selena sent, “I hate to keep bringing this up …”

  “I can answer both at once,” Jeff sent, but then deferred to Graegor. “Unless you … ?”

  “No, go ahead.” Jeff was better at explaining things.

  “Hold all questions until the end,” Jeff quipped, as if he was one of their professors. “First. Sorcerer Contare is full Telgard, but his magic includes all rac
es’ magic. This is because of Sorceress Khisrathi. When she died too early, her sister sorceresses absorbed her power, and in time, passed it on to their own successors, as well as to Khisrathi’s successor, Sorceress Felise. She received magic from all races, and all the other sorcerers received Telgard power. So, to her, all races’ magic felt like her own, and to the other sorcerers, Telgard magic felt like their own. In the same way, Koren’s magic feels like Rose’s own, and it would even if Koren were a full highlander, since highlander magic is part of Rose’s magic.”

  “Still waiting for the part about Graegor,” Selena prompted.

  “Getting to that. Patience is a virtue.”

  “Jeffrei, I swear …”

  “Noblewomen shouldn’t swear.”

  “You’re so full of horseshit, Jeff. Just answer my question.”

  It was a measure of how close Graegor felt to all of them now that he wasn’t even surprised, let alone shocked, at Selena’s words. It seemed natural, like he simply expected her—her in particular—to drop curses like a soldier.

  “I am answering it,” Jeff insisted. “If someone’s magic feels like it’s native to a sorcerer, he can tap it. It’s usually full-blooded sorcerers tapping full-blooded magi, but Contare can tap any magi. Josselin can tap plains Khenroxans and highlander Khenroxans, and also Telgards, because the magic she inherited from Sorcerer Vonn was part Telgard.”

  Selena directed her sending at Graegor. “You explain. I’ve given up on him.”

  “I see what she means,” Logan sent. “You haven’t inherited Lord Contare’s power yet, and your Circle isn’t bound yet, so how does any of this apply to you?”

  “I was born with all races’ magic,” he told them. “I’m Sorcerer Roberd’s descendant.”

  “And that gave you his power?” Selena asked. “Centuries later?”

  “Contare thinks that inheriting Felise’s magic changed some of Roberd’s traits, and those traits were passed on to his descendants. Since I’m a sorcerer, the traits come out in my magic.”