The King's Craft (The Petralist Book 6)

by Frank Morin

  “What is it?” she asked.

  It was not yet time for dinner, at least she didn’t think it was. She often got so distracted by her work that Gisela had to remind her to go eat with her people. Jean preferred mingling through the various eating halls, greeting friends and asking for updates on their many projects. Some of them seemed to prefer her to sit at the high table, but most of them had accepted that she wouldn’t change. More than one commented that people needed to be flexible when dealing with the idiosyncrasies of nobility.

  Gisela approached and held up a speakstone. “Hamish is asking for you, my lady.”

  Jean hummed a few barely audible notes in a sequence that was becoming as natural as breathing. Her summoned arm extended, wrist turning, fingers opening to accept the speakstone. With another soft humming melody, Jean closed the fingers around the stone and lifted it to her mouth. “Hamish?”

  “There you are. You left your speakstone in your other dress again, didn’t you?”

  There was laughter in his voice, and it sounded stronger than it often did when passed through the booster relays between New Schwinkendorf and Merkland. “Have you already returned from Ravinder? How did things go with the assassins? How are the poor people of Merkland doing? Have you seen Anika’s dress?”

  Hamish laughed, and she smiled to hear his good humor. Things must’ve gone better than she had feared. She was happy to receive some good news. Her heart still ached to think of the many killed and wounded in the dreadful attack by that army of summoned creatures. So many more people could have been hurt if Hamish and Connor hadn’t returned to help. She was eager to get to Merkland soon herself and see the success of her flights’ efforts to aid, particularly with their summonings.

  “Have we got stories to tell you. Connor and I are almost there. Quick, open your balcony doors.”

  Jean frowned and exchanged a worried look with Gisela. “Don’t you dare try landing the Hawk in my rooms,” Jean chided as she moved toward her balcony doors. Her office might feel large, but it wasn’t that big. She might feel her quarters were a bit ostentatious, but she preferred they not get trashed so soon.

  “We’re not in the Hawk,” Hamish replied with another laugh. Whatever he and Connor had concocted, he was thoroughly enjoying it.

  That made Jean more nervous than ever and she increased her pace to the doors. As she drew them open she said, “You didn’t carry Connor all the way on your back again, did you?”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever have to carry Connor on my back again.”

  Jean stepped onto her balcony, with its panoramic view over New Schwinkendorf. The night air was cool and clear, and she immediately heard the sound of Hamish’s thrusters. She grinned, flooded with excitement to see him again. He had indeed flown from Merkland in his battle suit, or maybe parked the Hawk somewhere to complete the journey in the suit. He liked flying up to visit her that way, and she heartily approved. They were forced to spend far too much time apart, so she appreciated every second he could save returning to her.

  Seeing Connor flying confidently through the air beside Hamish without a Builder suit did surprise her. Hamish twisted and fired thrusters to slow and make a perfect landing. Connor merely stepped out of the air and onto her balcony as if it was as easy as rising from the dinner table and heading for the dessert tray. He looked happy, and excited about something. She was so glad they both looked healthy.

  Gisela gasped. “Connor, I am never seeing you flying so well.”

  He grinned. “One of the funnest new side effects of ascending that I’ve discovered so far.”

  Jean gripped Connor’s hand with hers, humming softly to move her new arm in the appropriate sequence. “You ascended! Tell me all about it. How was Jagdish?”

  “Rather tragic, actually,” Hamish said with a grimace.

  Jean released Connor and eagerly stepped close, quickly humming a soft tune, moving her arm around to hug Hamish before he cut off the sound with a kiss. She loved his enthusiasm. She felt safer and more confident of the future when they held each other than at any other time. She was thrilled beyond measure to see him again so soon. She had feared it would be weeks before he returned, and had worried about what might have happened to them in Jagdish.

  When he released her she said, “Come in and take a seat.”

  She led them inside, humming softly the tune to move her summoned arm in sequence as she walked. It felt better to have it swinging by her side instead of hanging limp. She liked to hum, so adding just a little more music to her daily life had been such a tiny price to pay for use of another arm.

  They stepped inside and Gisela closed the doors behind them. Jean led them to the sitting area and Connor ignited a fire in the hearth with a flick of his finger. The sudden flames made Jean start, and she couldn’t help touch the side of her face with her good hand and sidle farther away. She hated that she couldn’t control the impulse, and forced herself to relax and move toward the chair closest to the fire.

  Connor did not even seem to notice that he had done it. He did not look different, but he moved with new confidence. Those tiny glimpses into his abilities suggested he had indeed gained significant enhancements. She could not wait to test them all out, and glanced at the little table next to her chair to verify one of her notebooks and pencils were there waiting for her.

  Instead of sitting, Hamish and Connor followed her to her chair. Jean raised an inquisitive eyebrow as she sat. They were up to something, but she doubted they would spring one of their pranks so soon after returning. Hamish dropped to his knees beside her, eyes glowing with powerful emotion. She began to fear what might’ve happened to the poor people of Jagdish.

  Connor began smiling, which helped settle her nerves a little, but they were both acting so strange.

  “Out with it. You two are going to burst if you don’t tell me something, and I don’t want a mess on my new carpet.”

  Hamish actually looked like he was close to tears. Maybe the news really was tragic. But if it was so bad, why did they look so happy?

  Connor placed a hand on her shoulder, his eyes twinkling with flickers of limestone light. “I’ve ascended the third threshold, Jean.”

  Warmth spread from his hand, and she recognized the effects of healing. He, Aifric, and far too many other healers had spent far too much effort trying to heal her injuries. Then that familiar warmth intensified into a deep, penetrating heat. It spread to her injured leg, and she gasped in astonishment as the constant dull pain that had remained despite everything the healers could do vanished. She reflexively straightened it, and it flexed perfectly.

  “What?” she gasped, touching her leg in wonder. It seemed completely healed. With trembling fingers, she fumbled at the straps holding the leg brace in place. Hamish gently took over, and within seconds set the brace aside. She stood and laughed as she felt her leg support her fully for the first time since Aonghus struck her down.

  “This is incredible,” she laughed and hugged Connor so tight he grunted. “Your ascension improved your healing so much so fast?”

  “It sure did,” he said with a grin. “Now if you’ll please resume your seat, I’m not quite finished yet.”

  Jean sank back into her seat, nearly overwhelmed by joy and gratitude. That’s why they had returned to Merkland so soon. She bet Hamish had used up an entire set of thruster blocks in his haste.

  Connor touched her shoulder, and the penetrating heat of his healing flowed up to her face, then seeped into her damaged eye under her patch. Healing warmth flowed into it like hot water, and she placed her good hand over the patch to feel what was happening. Under her fingers, the shrunken, misshapen orb that was all that remained of her sightless eye swelled back into shape. Barely believing the wonder of it, Jean pulled the patch away and gasped again. She stared at her study in full, living color.

  “Tallan’s mercy,” she breathed, blinking rapidly to see through a flood of tears that welled from both eyes.

  Both eye
s!

  For a moment all she could do was look around, marveling at the colors, at the sudden depth of everything. She hadn’t even realized how flat her world had become when viewed through only one eye. Jean laughed through her tears and looked up at Connor, a hundred questions on her lips.

  He was also blinking rapidly. At first she thought he was blinking back tears, and felt moved that he was so affected by seeing her whole. Hamish wasn’t even trying to hold back, and a tear of joy was trickling down his cheek. But then Jean realized Connor seemed to be having trouble focusing on her face. That was so strange, like the opposite of what she was experiencing.

  She reached out to touch his face with her good hand and asked, “Are you all right?”

  Connor nodded and took her hand in his. “I’m fine. It’s nothing. It’ll pass soon. Let’s not get distracted. We’re not done yet.”

  Her hair began to itch. That was not uncommon. The scattered patches that were starting to regrow itched pretty constantly, but this was different. The heat of healing magic flowed across her scalp, and the itching intensified. Jean reached up and removed her hat to feel her head.

  Her hair was growing back.

  The wonder of it filled her with speechless astonishment. Jean had witnessed many miracles as she worked with Builders to push the limits of their science magic and help her various research teams delve into previously inaccessible aspects of the natural world. But this was personal and affected her at a primal level.

  Her hair quickly grew, expanding like a living thing. As it reached her shoulders, she pulled some of the thick, golden locks around to stare at them in amazement. Her hair continued to grow until it reached down to the center of her back. She was not sure what to say, was not sure she could say anything. She glanced from the grinning Connor to Hamish, who was gripping her good arm in both hands, smiling brighter than a Solas.

  “Connor, this is amazing,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She wanted to chide herself for feeling so moved about her hair. The healing of her leg was far more significant, but she couldn’t help it. Knowing she wouldn’t look like a hairless freak eased a knot of tension deep in her heart that she hadn’t been consciously aware existed.

  “We can’t have the Lady of New Schwinkendorf looking less than regal,” Connor said with a grin. He began idly scratching at his scalp, and Jean spotted several strands of hair wilt under his fingers. If she hadn’t been looking at it, she wouldn’t have noticed.

  “And of course, we always save the best for last, just like dessert,” Connor said, again reaching for her. He missed her arm by a couple inches.

  Jean grabbed his hand, filled with sudden worry. “What’s happening to you, Connor?”

  “I’m healing a friend,” he said, but his eyes shifted away from her face, and he still didn’t seem to be able to focus properly.

  “What you’re doing to me is hurting you somehow, isn’t it?” she demanded.

  Connor looked chagrined, and Hamish shrugged. “She’s a quick study, as always. Might as well tell her.”

  “Tell me what?” Jean demanded, glancing from one to the other.

  “Let me finish, and then I’ll explain,” Connor said.

  “Finish what? Explain what?” she asked. He’d already healed her leg, her eye, and her hair.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  She gave him ‘the look’ and hummed softly, crossing her arms in that way that used to intimidate them. At the moment, it had no effect.

  “Please, Jean. Let him do this,” Hamish said, and the emotion in his eyes moved her.

  She sighed and hummed to uncross her arms. “Fine, but only if you won’t hurt yourself any more.”

  Connor nodded, and Hamish placed hands on her earthen arm and said, “First we need to take this off for a minute.”

  Jean glanced from her earthen arm to Hamish, then to Connor, who was again grinning. She suddenly found it hard to breathe, a wild hope blossoming in her heart, but she didn’t dare say it aloud.

  She glanced down at her earthen arm in wordless wonder as Hamish helped her unfasten it. He set it aside with barely a glance, and anticipation mounted in her until she found it hard to remain calm. That earthen arm had accomplished more than she’d ever dreamed possible. Now was Connor really offering her something more than she could allow herself to dream?

  Connor took her good hand, and healing power rolled through her and down into her stump.

  Jean stared in open-mouthed awe as her arm began to grow. First the upper arm, lengthening out from her short stump, glowing softly as if it was a mirage. Then her elbow formed, then her forearm, her wrist, hand, and fingers. When the entire limb was rebuilt, it flared for a second, and then solidified.

  Feeling flooded up the arm, a rush of connection ten thousand times more intense than those occasional moments when an arm or hand went numb. She gasped, rocking back in her seat, grasping her new arm with her other hand as every inch of the new limb tingled.

  She felt it all!

  Jean wept, feeling complete for the first time since that terrible day.

  Laughing with delight, Hamish gripped her re-formed hand in his, and his touch drove home the wonder of the miracle. Jean couldn’t speak, could barely breathe as she reached up with her healed hand and touched Hamish’s face. She traced the track of his tear, marveling at the wonder of feeling his warm skin. She cupped his cheek and laughed, filled with more joy than she could express.

  With trembling lips, she leaned forward and kissed him. She felt his answering emotion radiating through his lips. He pressed her to him, and she hugged him, laughing again at the feel of his battle suit and his tangled hair. She exulted in the sight of his handsome face in both of her restored eyes.

  Connor was grinning like a fool. “Not bad, eh? You’ll have to measure them together to make sure I didn’t give you a gorilla arm or something.”

  Laughing, Jean leaped to her feet and embraced him. “Thank you!”

  That was not nearly enough, and she was not sure there was any way to express the depth of her feelings, but Connor’s grin made it clear that he understood.

  Hamish stood and Jean threw herself into his arms again. As he held her, she started to sob. She cried with joy, relief, and with a sense of awakening from a permanent nightmare. As she clung to Hamish, she realized the extent to which her injuries had damaged her.

  She had refused to allow them to define her, but every day had been a challenge. Every time she looked in the mirror, or walked into a crowded room where she could not hide her deformities, she had faced the decision anew. Should she cringe and run away, or force herself to move forward with faith and confidence? So many of her patients failed to overcome their injuries, but let those injuries define them.

  She could not allow herself to do that. Their need had bolstered her courage and she had forced herself to move forward, beyond her injuries, and define herself as more than her limitations. She had refused to admit the awful gulf of dread and remorse and guilt still lingering deep in her heart.

  Now the trial was over and she could scarce believe it. All of that pain and horror that she had refused to acknowledge erupted through her now that she could finally release it. For a long moment, she clung to Hamish as emotions racked her and sobs ripped from her lips.

  She forced herself to feel it, to acknowledge it. That was the only way to truly release it, and she yearned to feel whole again. Hamish seemed startled by the intensity of her reaction, but held her until the storm of emotion passed, whispering words of comfort.

  When she finally released him he said, “If you really preferred that summoned arm, I’m sure Connor can undo what he just did.”

  Jean laughed, and that helped wash away the last vestiges of the horrors of those recent months. “Don’t be silly.” She turned to Connor and said, “Please tell me how you did this, and what it cost you.”

  “It’s nothing,” he insisted, but as he stepped toward the nearest couch, his r
ight leg buckled and he collapsed to the floor. He caught himself on one arm. The other, his right, the same one he’d healed on her, just flopped at his side. He didn’t seem to be able to control it.

  A terrible fear grew in Jean as she rushed to help him sit up. “Don’t you lie to me, Connor. You never could when we were kids, and you definitely can’t tell me nothing is wrong now.”

  Connor sighed, and a gust of air blew in through the still-open balcony doors. It encircled him and lifted him to the couch. Jean stared in fresh wonder. She’d never seen anyone command air so easily.

  He looked up at her with that slightly off-focused expression and said, “The short answer is everything has a price.”

  64

  Bridges to Affinities

  Connor hated that Jean saw the effects of using his new, higher-level healing ability so soon. He didn’t mind paying the price of temporary personal limitation, or even the temporary loss of his primary affinities for her. He would pay far more to see her healed, but he did hate that those consequences were dampening her joy.

  He tried not to show how exhausted he felt, or the fact that he couldn’t see out of one eye. His right leg lacked strength, and he couldn’t seem to move his right arm. The effects were only temporary. Hopefully.

  Jean was watching him expectantly, and Hamish was glancing toward her desk where no doubt he somehow sensed a stash of sweetbreads. Connor was about to explain what they knew about the effects, but Air appeared in his mind.

  He was already tapping quartzite, and she tended to flit in and out of his mental view when he wasn’t drawing heavily from her. She dove into view, as if she had leaped off a high cliff and dove headfirst into his mind like a loch. Before plunging out of view beneath his feet, she abruptly stopped, hanging upside down, but somehow her long hair and her dress stayed in place. Her dress looked like it was fashioned from reflections of a rainbow through high clouds.