by Barbara Howe
“Will she be all right? Can you regrow her arm?”
There was a short silence. Mother Celeste said, “She is very weak. Too weak, and too old, to tolerate treatment as painful as regrowing a limb is for an adult. We don’t dare, not for days.”
I said, “Isn’t it better to do it as soon as possible, if you’re going to do it at all?”
“Yes, that’s so. By the time she’s strong enough, it will be too late.”
“That’s a shame,” I said. Painful, was it? An invisible blacksmith pounded my arm with a sledgehammer. The coals glowed a little brighter. “What are you doing to me? Are you regrowing mine?”
“Yes, dear,” Mother Celeste said. “It was burned down to the bone—burned so badly we cut it off and started fresh.”
“Stop it. It hurts.” I tried to pull away, but couldn’t move.
Tears slid down her cheeks. “I am so sorry, dear, but the magic is almost done. It will take weeks to complete, but the worst is over.”
Maybe that was so. The wracking pain that had driven everything else out of my mind had eased. It was now merely excruciating. It had been intolerable. Without René, I would have escaped.
“So, you’re doing to me what you don’t dare do to Lorraine? You bastards. I wanted to die. I can live without an arm. You should have given me a choice.”
“No dice,” Beorn said. “You have to stick around to unlock the other Offices. Jean said you had to be whole and healthy to call down the lightning.”
Mother Celeste said, “Without an arm you’d always be off-balance. Even with the best of intentions you’d be unable to give the lightning the full-minded concentration it needs. We agreed weeks ago that keeping you physically sound was the prime concern for both the Earth and Fire Guilds. We planned all along to do whatever was needed, whether you agreed with it or not.”
I spat at them, “You’re both cold-hearted. As cold as a Frost Maiden.”
Beorn said, “I didn’t like it, Lucinda, but we had to.”
Mother Celeste said, “It comes with being an Officeholder. It does something to you. You’ll understand when it’s your turn.”
Beorn tugged at his beard and looked at me sideways. “Besides, years ago I had a vision that showed you with both arms.”
“A vision?” The glowing coals flared into bright flame. “A vision? You… You… If I had any strength I’d drown you, you two-bit wizard with snowflakes for brains.”
“Drown me, eh? I knew you’d be pissed off. Why do you think I’m telling you now, when you can’t do anything?”
“You told me—”
“No, I didn’t tell you. That’s the point. Before you walked the challenge path, three years ago, I’d had a vision of you riding the moving stairs with a little boy, maybe four or five years old. I knew you’d survive. With both arms. I knew René would survive, too, or I wouldn’t have sent him after you. We still nearly lost both of you. If I had told you or Jean you’d live through it, would you two have worked so hard?”
“If you knew I would survive, why was I so afraid?”
Beorn and Mother Celeste exchanged glances. She nodded. “She’s strong enough. We won’t lose her now.”
“Because,” Beorn said, “You misinterpreted the warnings. We made sure you did. They weren’t about you.”
I struggled to sit up. Hazel held me down with two fingers. “Jean wasn’t in danger. He’s channelled the lightning thousands of times.”
“This was different. What did you think he did?”
“He protected the other Officeholders.”
“Yeah, how?”
“His shields.”
“Don’t be an ass, Lucinda. You know better. That would have reflected the blast back onto you.”
“But—”
“He let his shields down. He meant to absorb it all so you’d have a chance.”
“No, no. That can’t be. He never said anything.”
Beorn shook his head. “We didn’t want you screwing yourself up trying to absorb some of it. We, both of us, hid the danger from you.”
“I don’t believe you. Where is he? I have to see him.”
“He’s beside you, dear,” Mother Celeste said, nodding to my right.
I turned my head. Father Martin and several other healers had their hands on a still figure shrouded in burn cloths.
I screamed, and thrashed about, trying to tear out of my own wrappings. The healers held me down, crooning. I wept for Jean, and for my own stupidity and self-absorption.
Beorn barked, “Shut up, Lucinda, and listen. He’s not dead. Not yet anyway. It’s still touch and go.”
Mother Celeste said, “He is lost in the valley of the shadow of death. We don’t understand why he didn’t die. By all rights he should have.”
Beorn said, “René says you did for Jean what René did for you—held him here by force of will. If that’s so, then it’s up to you. You have to help him find his way back, or let him go.”
I sobbed, “He’ll hate me.”
“Too bad. Call him back. That’s an order.”
“Jean, come back, I need you,” I called, beginning my own litany. “Jean, come home, Edward needs a father. Jean, can you hear me? Jean…”
Family Ties
Hey, big sister?
Pulling the blanket over my head didn’t shut out René’s voice. Why are you bothering me when I’m trying to sleep?
I want to make sure you’re all right.
I’m not, but I’m not dying, either, if that’s what you mean. I’m tired, and I hurt. Go away.
Is that the thanks I get for saving your life?
If I ever stop hurting, maybe I’ll thank you. But right now, if I get my hands on you, you’ll be sorry.
Hand, you mean.
Har, har. Go jump in a lake, runt.
As the bones in my arm extended, sharp stabbing pains alternated with periods of throbbing as muscles stretched, cramped, and worked into position, but the physical pain never overwhelmed the heartache I suffered. I drifted in and out of fog, each moment of clarity revealing a different healer at my bedside. Powerful ones: Mother Celeste. Hazel. Other earth mothers and fathers pumping life and health into me.
Until one morning I woke clear-headed for the first time in…days? Weeks? The earth witches and wizards were gone. My hand ached, but no worse than the muscle aches from strenuous exercise.
I dreamt of cinnamon rolls and apple tarts…
I rolled into my husband’s arms. Jean, I’m so sorry… Jean, you’re nothing but skin and bones.
You have none to spare either, my love. We have been living on our reserves for days.
I started with more than you did. As soon as I’m up to it, I’ll bake anything, everything, you ask for. Jean, we’re speaking mind-to-mind. I thought you didn’t want…
Not at all, my dear. Mind-to-mind communication is convenient, and I am too weak to talk. I cannot now deny the bond between us, despite my efforts to ensure I did not drag you to your death.
But, Jean, you lied to me.
Did I? How so?
When you said, with this over, we didn’t have any more secrets to keep from each other.
That was not a lie. Now that you have unlocked the Water Office, I have nothing to hide.
I pulled back to inspect him. He looked almost a stranger, with a burn victim’s pink skin stretched tight over a bald skull, but the vivid eyes were the ones I knew so well. The tension and sadness, so evident since our return from our honeymoon, were gone.
But I meant the exposure of the conspiracy.
His eyes danced. You would quibble over the meaning of the word, ‘this’? I knew what you meant.
What do you think you are, a lawyer? Hitting him with my pillow took all my strength. I lay, panting, against his rib cage while he
chuckled. Damn you. You weren’t supposed to be hurt, damn you.
Hush. If you had foreseen what I intended, my gallant wife, would you have let me?
No. Never.
Of course not. But you were in danger, and I would far rather go in your stead, than do nothing and lose you. I have failed in other ways to protect you; forgive me for indulging my pride in this.
I beat feebly on his chest with my good hand. Damn you and your obsession with being a hero.
Stop. He caught my hand and held it. I did not aspire to a hero’s death. My motives were quite selfish, I assure you.
What do you mean, selfish?
I lived without wife and family for more than a century. The prospect of living alone again frightens me more than the prospect of dying. I intend for you to outlive me. Am I not selfish?
I slipped my good hand under the collar of his nightshirt. Oh, Jean, I don’t know. Put that way, you sound very romantic.
“Fool girl,” he whispered, and kissed me.
Little brother, are you there?
Yeah, I’m here.
I’m sorry I told you to jump in a lake.
I’m not a runt anymore, either.
That’s true. And, little brother…Thanks.
Well, big sister, I’m glad you’re still here, but it damn sure wasn’t my pleasure. It was bloody awful. Of all the ways to go, why did you try to drown yourself?
I had tried to drown myself? Memories swirled past, as distorted as images seen in misshapen mirrors. Then the memory of that cold river surfaced, and the pain that had driven me towards it.
Because sometimes living is harder than dying.
Just don’t go there again for a good long time, that’s all I ask.
Don’t worry, I won’t. Not while I have cinnamon rolls to bake.
The healers let us have visitors as soon as we had the stamina to sit up for ten minutes at a time. Master Sven, one of the first, perched on the edge of his chair, and looked everywhere but at me.
He cleared his throat twice. “I apologise for my behaviour in the Crystal Palace. I had no insight into the discussions you two and the Officeholders have had, and I jumped to unwarranted conclusions. I’m sorry.”
I said, “Apology accepted.”
Jean, with no rancour, added, “We regret you were unprepared, but the decision was not ours. We could not blame you for being disturbed.”
Master Sven sighed and eased back in his chair.
I asked, “How is Lorraine? Can the Earth Guild regrow her arm?”
“No. She said she’s grateful to be alive, losing it was a small sacrifice, and all she cares about is finishing the reforging. She doesn’t need the arm for that.”
“Couldn’t the Reforging Coven finish it without her?”
He said, “Yes, and we did, mostly. We took it apart as soon as Mother Celeste could spare the earth mages. That was easy. We finished by mid-afternoon of the first day. It took several days to rebuild it. We made mistakes—”
I said, “You mean the Air Guild made mistakes?”
“All four guilds made a few. The Air Enchanter must have tutored Enchantress Winifred, because the Air Guild made a better showing than I expected. As soon as Sorceress Lorraine is up to it, she’ll inspect our work before René puts the new lock on. We should take advantage of her expertise since she’s still with us.”
“Very sensible of you,” Jean said. “And the loophole Old Brimstone exploited?”
“Gone. We double- and triple-checked. That one won’t bother us again.”
“Thank God,” Jean said, with deep satisfaction. “That alone is worth nearly dying for.”
Sorceress Eleanor and Sorcerer Charles brought a gift, a necklace of perfectly matched pearls. I goggled at it, speechless.
“An inadequate token of our appreciation,” Eleanor said.
“While you wear them,” Charles said, “you cannot drown. Will you accept them?”
A lump in my throat prevented speech. I waved the box at Jean. He took the strand from me and fastened it around my neck.
“I believe now what I did not believe two years ago,” he said. “The long war between the Fire and Water Guilds is over, and Frankland the better for it.”
Our appearances shocked Claire, but after the first jaw-dropping moment, she hid her discomfort better than most witches and wizards did.
Their unease was their problem. We looked darned good for two people who should have been dead. Mrs Cole had brought an assortment of silk scarves, and after wrapping the one I picked out around my head, held up a mirror for me. Between the flowered scarf and the new, pink skin, I resembled a nun dipped in paint. The Earth Guild’s best healers had ensured there would be no scars.
“Of course I insisted on coming,” Claire said. “We’re family. And being an earl’s wife makes it easy to go wherever I want.”
After summarising our ordeal, I asked her about Paris. Her face lit up. I listened to her description of what she had seen and done with some bemusement, as her recital seemed more about the wonderful time she was having with the earl than about the sights of Paris.
When she paused for breath, I asked a nagging question. “What about Maggie Archer? How’s she doing?”
Claire’s eyebrows drew together. “I don’t know. I thought I would ask you.”
“Me? Why? She’s in your service now. Isn’t she with you in Paris? Or did you send her on to Gastòn?”
“You don’t know about Richard’s orders?”
I looked at Jean for enlightenment. He said, “I am afraid we do not. What were they?”
“He didn’t want her around, reminding us all the time of Edmund, so he ordered her to go home to Abertee and do whatever she wanted without bothering him again.”
“Did he?” My guilty conscience sheathed its stiletto. I laughed. “That’s noble of him.”
Claire glowed. “Isn’t it? I am so proud. The Earth Mother helped with the wording so he wouldn’t accidentally jinx the girl, but it was his idea. The fine had to be paid through the Water Guild, but he gave your earth witch friend money to hand on to the Archers to pay it with. I am so lucky I married him.”
“The earl is a fortunate man,” Jean said, “to have a wife who loves him, and not just his wealth and position.”
Claire shook her head. “But I don’t…” Her eyes widened, and she laughed her merry, golden laugh. “I do love him. I didn’t know, but I do.”
Jean reached for my good hand. A warm glow spread through me. “A loving and forgiving wife,” he said, “is a man’s greatest treasure. Who knows better than I?”
End of Engine of Lies
The story continues in
The Blacksmith, Reforging: Book 3