by Janice Hardy
“Take it back.”
“I can’t, not yet. Tomorrow, early.” Saints willing. I’d done this to him. To them. Please, Saint Saea, give me time to fix this.
She sniffled. “Promise?”
“I promise.” If I wasn’t arrested, or killed, or locked away in a high room with too many beds and not enough conscience.
I gave Danello’s hand a gentle squeeze and ran down the stairs and back into the street. Even the big things couldn’t distract me from my guilt—the families huddled in doorways, folks with stretchers heading for the cemetery, the hungry eyes watching me, noting my League braids—none of it blocked out the horrifying truth.
Oh, no. Shifted pain must kill if it doesn’t get healed right away. Even worse—it killed them fast. And I’d just agreed to do it for thirty-three pieces of pynvium.
I stumbled, catching myself on a fence. Or had I already fallen? How many would Zertanik bring me tonight? How many lives was I willing to trade for Tali and Danello? For Jovan and Bahari?
I glanced toward the Sanctuary, though I couldn’t see it in the darkness. Saint Saea, I don’t have the right to choose. Please tell me what to do.
She didn’t answer. I hadn’t expected her to, but it would have been helpful.
Mama had told me never to shift again. I’d thought she just didn’t want me to get caught by the trackers, but was there more to it? Had she known it would kill? Had any Healer known?
I pushed off the fence before soldiers grew wary enough to question me and continued to Tannif’s, searching my memories for Grannyma’s advice. One kept jumping out. She who has a choice has trouble.
An aromatic cloud of roasting coffee wafted over me, and a second bit of wisdom echoed in my ears. Don’t fear what you can’t change. But I could change this one. I could tell Zertanik no. Tell him shifted pain killed. I didn’t know why it thickened the blood and organs, but it did, and they had to believe me. None of the folks who accepted their loved one’s pain were likely to survive until more pynvium arrived.
If I said all that, five people died, one I loved, and the others—my stomach went tight just thinking about losing them, even though I hardly knew them.
I shoved the thought away as I pushed into Tannif’s. Few people were there this late. Aylin was sitting in the back, across from a blond boy with broad shoulders. She looked up as I hurried over, but he didn’t turn around.
“Thank you so much for meeting with me—” I gushed, then dammed my gratitude quick. “You’re Lanelle’s boy!”
He gaped at me. “Do I know you?”
I stabbed a finger at him. “This is the boy who told you he thought apprentices were being carried upstairs?”
“Wait a minute—”
“Yes, this is Kione. Nya, why are you yelling at him?” Aylin glanced around and smiled nervously. “People are staring.”
I plopped on the bench beside Aylin and lowered my voice to what I hoped was a threatening growl. “This friend of yours lied to you. He was standing guard outside the room they’re holding Tali in.”
“Kione? Is that true?”
“Of course not!”
“I saw you there when I relieved Lanelle for dinner.”
“Oh.” His pretty brown eyes darted for a way out faster than a trapped rabbit; then he smiled. I’d bet my nine oppas that grin had never failed him before. “I was trying to help, Aylin. I told you as much as I could without getting into trouble. You know I can’t give away League secrets.”
Aylin snorted. “How stupid do you think I am? You brag all the time about your League secrets.”
He laughed uneasily. “Some things you can’t talk about. What do you think the Luminary would do if I talked about”—he glanced around—“that. Tukel said he was going to tell, and he wasn’t on duty this morning. I bet he lost his job.”
Or worse, though Kione didn’t act as if that thought had occurred to him. Probably better for me that it hadn’t. I doubted he’d help at all if he knew the real dangers.
I gripped a fork so tight it bent. “‘Another one?’ I quoted him. “‘I didn’t think they had any left.’ Sound familiar?”
“Hey…” Confusion wrinkled his face. “How did you know…you weren’t there….” His eyes lit up. “You were on the stretcher?”
“I heard every word!”
“And you’re calling me a liar? You tricked League Elders to get inside. I should go to the Luminary right now and report you.”
Me and my big mouth. Anger felled more fools than sticks. “If you do, I’ll tell him you left your post to go watch rainbows with Lanelle.”
Aylin put a hand on each of our arms. “Stop it, stop it. This isn’t helping.”
“Sorry, Aylin,” said Kione, sliding off the bench. “I’m not going to listen to anything she has to say.”
She leaned across the table and grabbed his hand before he could walk away. “Kione, please. This is serious. Her sister is one of the apprentices in that room. She’s trying to help her.”
“Her sister’s in the League, for Saint’s sake. She has the best care she can get. I’m sure they’ll find whatever disease is causing this.”
I jumped up and stood in the aisle, blocking his escape. A few people looked over, but I didn’t care. “Disease? Is that what they told you?”
He shrugged, eyes flicking to Aylin, as if he didn’t want to admit he didn’t know everything he claimed.
“Those apprentices aren’t sick. They’re dying because the Luminary is using them like pynvium.”
“What? Why?”
“There’s no pynvium left, Kione.” Aylin’s soft voice floated up between us. “The Luminary is lying to us all.”
He went pale, and that can’t be faked. His mouth opened and closed as he sat back down.
“That can’t be true.”
“It is.” I pushed my hair back and sighed. “I need to get Tali out of there, and I need your help to do it.”
“Me? No, I can’t.”
“I need help carrying her out. There’s a stretcher in the room. We can carry her out the side gate and take her to Aylin’s.”
He shook his head. “I’ll lose my job.”
“She’ll lose her life.”
He flinched. “This isn’t my fault.”
“No, all you did was look the other way while they did it. How many apprentices are up there, Kione? How many did the Luminary use and toss away?”
“Thirty maybe, in that room.”
His pause yanked the heat right out of me. “In that room?”
“It’s the largest one, but there are two others. Maybe fifteen people each. Mostly second and third cords who were healing at the ferry site. Elder Mancov said the disease came from the Verlattan refugees, and that’s why so many got sick so fast.” Kione leaned closer. “You’re saying that isn’t true?”
Sixty people. Two thirds of the League at least, if not more. And I’d bet every last one of them was born in Geveg.
“No,” I said, voice tight, “it’s not true. There is no disease.”
Aylin gasped a sob and covered her mouth with both hands. “Kione, you have to help us.”
“I can’t!”
“But we have to stop him.”
“You can’t take on the League—that’s insane.”
“Can you continue to do nothing?” I asked softly. It was about more than just saving Tali now. I had to get her out for the others, the sixty who didn’t have a sister willing to do anything to save them. I couldn’t accuse the Luminary on my own. The Governor-General would never listen to a homeless, useless Taker about what the Luminary was doing. He might listen to Tali, a credible League apprentice who’d been through it. Who’d escaped it. If the Governor-General listened, he might stop the Luminary and demand enough pynvium from the Duke to save the rest.
If, if, if. Just as bad as maybe.
But there was hope there as well. The governorship of Geveg may have been a reward for ending our rebellion, but even I had to ad
mit the Governor-General had treated us fairly ever since, Baseeri man or not. Besides, he’d have quite the riot if word spread that he’d let his pynvium run out and his Healers die, and the Duke wouldn’t stand for that. He might even march his soldiers our way after he finished with Verlatta. He’d done a lot worse to the folks in Sorille when they refused to stay quiet.
Kione just stared, his jaw clenched.
“Can you continue to do nothing?” I asked again.
“I’m not risking—”
“I’m not asking you to. When I show up just after sunrise, will you do nothing when I walk in, no matter what I’m carrying?” If I couldn’t get Tali out, I’d have to take the pynvium in and risk an Elder sensing it. Thirty-three pieces probably filled a mighty big sack.
Aylin shook her head. “You can’t go back in there alone.”
“Kione? Will you?”
He wiped the sweat off his upper lip and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll even go in a little early and keep Lanelle at breakfast long as I can, but that’s all. I’m not crossing the Luminary for anybody.”
“Thank you.”
He scoffed and rubbed his palms on his thighs. “If you get caught, you don’t know me.”
“Fair enough.”
He slunk away without another word, not even a look back. As Grannyma used to say, sometimes you had to kill a cow to save the herd, but did I have the right to do it? I ordered coffee to keep me awake a few more hours, and enough supper for Aylin and me. There was still time before I had to leave for Zertanik’s and make a choice for those who couldn’t.
I prayed I was making the right one.
ELEVEN
“Punctual as well as smart,” Zertanik said as the clock tower chimed midnight. He held the door open for me and I walked past him, leaving my conscience on the porch. It curled up next to my principles.
The front room was empty, save for the same blond woman, who counted oppas in neat stacks on the counter. An awful lot of stacks.
“This way, dear.” We slipped in the same door as before. The same softly lit room and out through the servants’ door. The same hall I’d walked earlier. The same room where I’d sacrificed a fisherman to save a rich man’s daughter.
They were the only things that felt the same.
“You know this will kill them,” I said. “The ones who take the pain.”
“Speculation.”
“People I shifted to are dying. The fisherman might already be dead. These folks need to know that before they agree to this.”
“If any leave, there won’t be enough healing for all that lovely pynvium you want.”
I swallowed my objections. “How many are there to heal?”
“Nine.”
Acceptable losses. The war had taught me all about those.
“Let’s get started then. I haven’t got all night.”
Zertanik grinned, and for a horrible second I thought he might ruffle my hair. “As you wish, dear.”
He brought them in like guests at one of the Duke’s balls.
“The Jonalis. The husband broke both legs, and they’ll be dividing it among the four uncles.
“Kestra Novaik. She’ll be taking her son’s crushed shoulder this evening.
“The brothers Fontuno, paying an undisclosed amount to this young lady who prefers to remain anonymous.”
Most were Baseeri, which made it easier. Two looked Verlattan, who had probably traded everything they’d escaped with for this. Those were harder. One family was Gevegian, and I really wanted to tell them to run.
I didn’t. Instead, I drew. I pushed. I tried not to look at their faces, but every heal started with my hand on their foreheads and their hearts. Pain in the eyes of one, fear in the eyes of the other. Each stared at me, then looked away. I didn’t want to think about what they saw.
A snapped back. A shattered hand. Hurt after hurt slid through me. Chunk after chunk of pynvium plinked into a bag near my feet.
“The Mustovos, with their son and, well, someone whose name isn’t important.”
Two men in night-guard’s uniforms carried in a man dressed not as fine. His wrists and ankles were bound, and a rag flopped from his mouth. They’d kidnapped someone off the street?
Shiverfeet raced down my back and out the door, leaving me numb. “What’s going on?”
“Number seven, dear. Wensil Mustovo suffers from multiple knife wounds and a severe head injury.”
“No.” I pointed at the bound man. “He didn’t agree to this. I didn’t agree to this.”
“You agreed to the heals. You never specified the terms.”
“I’m not shifting into anyone who didn’t agree to it.” That was no better than cracking a stranger over the head and stealing his money to buy pynvium. No, worse, it’d be murdering him for it.
I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m not doing it.”
The Mustovos watched me without the tears and the wails expected of worried parents. No one had gotten knifed on the ferry. Whatever this man had done came after, and he’d grabbed his own thorns.
The father leaned closer to Zertanik. “Corraut promised us you’d cover this until our pynvium arrived. That was the deal. I’m not giving you the boat if—”
“We’ll work it out—no need to get hasty.” Zertanik patted him on the arm, then turned back to me. “Dear, you agreed.”
“Not to this. Not to those without a choice.” I had maybe twenty-one pynvium pieces in my bag. Was it enough to save Tali, Danello, and the twins? Save them all?
It had to be. “I’m done.” I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder.
“Dear, this is unprofessional.” Zertanik placed his hand on my arm, a lighter touch than hands that big ought to have. “The Mustovos are doing a lot for this heal.”
“Then pay them back.” I shoved past him. The light touch turned to steel on my arm.
“We had an agreement. Other people have agreements with me based on your cooperation. You simply cannot change your mind.”
I’d be a fool to miss the threat in his tone, but I was a fast learner and he’d taught me well. “We agreed to the pynvium equivalent of what I healed. I haven’t taken anything I didn’t earn.”
“We agreed on thirty-three pieces.”
“Consider me on sale.” I yanked my arm away and slammed the door behind me.
I’d managed to grab a few hours’ sleep, but my fingers were shaky as I wrote Danello’s address on a scrap of paper in Aylin’s room. The sun was just starting to rise, so if Kione kept his promise, he’d be showing up to take Lanelle to breakfast soon.
I handed Aylin the address. “If I’m not back by midmorning, fetch a Taker from one of the pain merchants for him and the twins. I have the pynvium for it now, so they can’t turn you away this time. Pick one of the ones on the docks, not the fancy ones the aristocrats use, and definitely not the new one near the market.”
Aylin shook her head, her face suddenly pale. “Not the pain merchants, Nya. You can’t trust them.”
“Right now we can’t trust the League. The merchants are Danello’s only hope.”
“They’ll probably kill him, and his brothers.”
The anger and fear in her voice made me pause. Aylin rarely ever got annoyed, let alone angry. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”
“No, it won’t!” Aylin bit her lip and looked down at the handful of pynvium chunks I’d given her. The smallest was walnut sized, the largest big as a tangerine. “What if they don’t heal them?”
“All they have to do is take the pain. Any Taker can do that.”
She looked at me in horror. “You don’t care if the injury isn’t healed?”
“Aylin.” I groaned, frustrated. I didn’t have time for this. “They’re not really injured. The pain they’re carrying is from their father.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Yes, it is,” I said.
“What do you mean?” Aylin stared at me, and though I’d spent my whole life hidin
g what I could do, lying to her now would end our friendship. “I…uh…shifted it into them.”
“You did what?”
I explained the whole thing: the chicken rancher, the ferry, the desperate plea in a moonlit alley. Aylin’s eyes got bigger and bigger, and her anger grew with them.
“How could you not tell me?” She paced in her small room, fists balled at her sides. “I knew you were hiding something about that tracker. That’s why he was following you, wasn’t it? It had nothing to do with Tali or the Healers.”
“Um…well…”
“You’d better tell me you healed their father.” From her expression, if I hadn’t, she’d have probably smacked me with a chair.
“Of course I did. Aylin, what’s wrong?”
“They killed my mother,” she said softly, squeezing the pynvium tight. “She was at the market, waiting for those stupid rations they made us beg for. Some men beat her up because she wouldn’t give up her space in line. We didn’t have enough money to go to the League, so I took her to a pain merchant. He said he healed her, that she was all better, but he lied.” She closed her eyes, and tears slid down her cheeks. “He took her pain away but left the parts that were hurt. She didn’t even know. Just kept getting weaker and weaker, and then she was gone.”
“I’m sorry, Aylin.” I sat beside her and gave her a hug. I felt guilty, but I couldn’t stay there comforting her. “I really need to go. Will you find a pain merchant if Tali doesn’t show up?”
She nodded and sniffled. “Won’t you need these for Tali?”
“I have enough for her to fill.” Please, let me have enough. I got up and wrapped the now-lighter sack to look like a bundle of clean clothes from the laundry. It was still bulky, but at least it made it easier to sneak into the League.
“Where did you get so much?”
“I bought it.”
“Not for a few oppas you didn’t.” She rolled the chunks around in her hands. “This has to be worth a fortune.”
“It’s worth three lives, Aylin. Two of them children’s.”
“How did you—”
“Later. It’s almost sunrise. Do my braids look right?”
She checked and nodded, looking a lot more like her old self. “A little frayed, but fine.”