“Where,” he asked Shadow, “did you come from?”
The cat raised a brow and sniffed disdainfully.
Adam reached out to touch him. The cat allowed it, swiveling his head to meet Adam’s eyes, light to dark, gold to very mortal brown. The cat wasn’t human. Anyone that Adam had tried to heal until now had been; nor did the cat look injured. But Adam touched Shadow as if he were, and warmth spread from his palms into the gray fur, and beyond it, into the body of the winged creature itself.
Shadow roared, and wheeled. His wings rose and snapped; Adam, wingless, flew across the room, colliding with the side of the bed. Ariel shouted. She didn’t, however, scream; she was both worried and angry. And it was good to hear her so angry, because she always seemed like the ghost of a child, to Adam; so faint, so attenuated.
Shadow landed on his chest, growling.
Ariel climbed up on Adam as well, her heel landing in the hollow between collarbones, which made breathing difficult. She faced the cat. Adam could only barely find breath to speak her name to tell her to flee.
Ellerson raised his voice and after a few minutes, so did Jewel as she stormed into the room, her face pale, her eyes round.
Shadow turned to her and said, “He is dangerous.”
“He is not dangerous. He’s a healer, and you will get off him now or I’ll—”
“Ye-es?” Shadow said, sliding off Adam enough that Adam could sit up—if Ariel hadn’t been so precariously balanced on top of him.
Jewel strode across the room to Adam and offered him a hand. He very gently disengaged Ariel, accepted the hand—which was more command than offer—and rose. “What happened?” she asked, in the quiet intensity of worried Torra.
“I—it’s my fault,” he told her.
“I’ll be the judge of that. What happened?”
Adam lifted his hands. They were numb, now. Numb and tingling. “I touched the—I touched Shadow.”
“I touch him all the time. I hit him when he’s being a pain. He’s never tried anything like that.”
“You’re not a healer. It’s not the same.” He touched the back of his head and discovered a bump the size of Ariel’s fist. “I shouldn’t have done it; I wouldn’t have, if he’d been—”
“Human?”
Adam nodded. He bowed to her, which hurt. “I won’t do it again.”
“Shadow.”
Shadow snarled.
“Come here. Stop hiding behind Ariel.”
He hissed, but the insult to his dignity had the desired effect; he crept across the carpet.
“Did he hurt you?”
“…No.”
“What, exactly, did you think he was trying to do?”
“I don’t know. It felt funny. It felt wrong.” He hissed again.
“Do you know what a healer is?”
Shadow didn’t answer.
“All right, let me make this clear: Adam is our friend.”
“You have too many friends.” His claws raked holes in the carpet.
“If you don’t like it, you can always go back.”
“To where?”
“To wherever it is you came from.” Jewel folded her arms. “I’m not joking. If I can’t trust you not to kill or injure my friends, you can leave now.”
“What if I don’t want to leave?”
“I’ll have Avandar and Celleriant change your mind.”
Shadow hissed again. But he sat down heavily, and when he did, Ariel crept back to him and put her arms around his neck.
Jewel then turned to Adam. “Levec wanted to speak with us.”
“Levec,” Levec said, from the door, “does indeed.” The older healer’s eyes were narrowed, and his brows were gathered into one thick line. What Adam remembered, Levec also clearly recalled.
“How long,” Levec demanded, “has that been in residence?”
Jewel had shooed them all out of the room, as she hadn’t quite finished whatever she wanted to say to Shadow. Ariel almost followed Adam out, but one glance at Duvari and Levec changed her mind.
“I don’t know when he arrived, I’m sorry. It can’t have been more than a day ago.”
“A day. Yesterday?”
Adam said nothing, aware of Duvari’s watchful presence.
It was, therefore, Duvari who answered. “Yesterday. Is there cause for concern, Healer Levec?”
“Where you’re involved, there’s always cause for concern,” was the sharp reply. Duvari raised a brow, but said no more. Adam had a suspicion that Duvari grudgingly approved of Levcc’s open disdain.”I don’t suppose you’ve run across golden trees while you’ve been spying?”
Duvari stilled in the worst possible way. So, in response, did Levec. He lost color and volume. “Lord of the Compact,” he said quietly, “what is going on in the Terafin manse?”
“You are asking the wrong person,” Duvari replied. “But if it is any consolation, you are not the only one to ask; the Exalted themselves are concerned.”
It wasn’t any consolation, of course. Levec turned to Adam. “I want you back in my House,” he said curtly, folding large arms across his chest.
The door opened, and Jewel, looking frazzled, slid into the hall before she slammed it shut. “Healer Levec,” she said, tendering him a brief bow. “Lord of the Compact. How may I help you?”
Levec opened his mouth, and Duvari lifted a hand, silencing him. “Not here.”
Jewel’s shoulders fell about two inches, but she squared them and nodded. “Follow me.”
She led them to the large room used for formal gatherings, and raised a brow at Duvari as she opened the doors. He returned an almost imperceptible nod as answer to her silent query, and she ushered everyone in. Ellerson appeared, as if by magical summons, before everyone had taken a seat.
“I want Avandar, if you can find him,” Jewel told him.
Ellerson nodded and retreated.
“Your domicis is less present of late,” Duvari noted.
“Yes. Usually I’d consider his absence a blessing.” Jewel glanced at the fireplace, where fire wasn’t burning. She headed toward the logs and the small branches used to start one, and knelt there. Adam joined her.
“If your domicis is found,” Duvari said behind them, “he will not approve of the way you’ve undertaken a purely menial task in the presence of guests of note.”
Jewel turned; Adam continued to work. “He’s the domicis,” she replied evenly. “He wouldn’t dream of an open display of disapproval in front of said guests of note.”
Levec actually chuckled and found himself a chair. “Leave her be, Duvari; the room is chill. Any guest of note would fail to notice. Ah, apologies, any guest of both note and manners.”
Jewel found the tinderbox, grimacing. This part, she usually left entirely to Avandar, because he had a more efficient way of starting a fire, and any fire he started tended to keep burning. She gestured to Adam while he worked, taking care to hide the movement of her hands from Duvari; she didn’t expect Levec to notice—or care. Adam’s answers were both less cautious and slower; although he was more than happy to learn den-sign, he wasn’t terribly proficient at it yet.
Stay? Here or there? she asked.
Here. Here, was his labored response.
Certain?
Yes.
Why? She nodded tersely in Levec’s direction. Unfortunately, the two motions didn’t resolve as the question she’d meant to ask—either that or Adam’s minimal knowledge didn’t allow him to answer. On the other hand, it was Levec; she was almost certain to know exactly why he’d come the minute they left off building the fire.
Which, she thought, as the door opened, was going to be now.
Avandar stood in the frame; Ellerson was behind him, and from his posture, she assumed Ellerson was carrying a tray. Avandar carried nothing. His brows rose and his lips compressed as he caught sight of Jewel; he left Ellerson in the open door as he walked, briskly, toward the fireplace. “ATerafin.”
She ro
se and brushed her hands against her dress, which didn’t appreciably improve his expression. “It was chilly,” she told him. “And we have guests.”
“At this time, you should not have unscheduled visitors or guests.”
“I don’t have a Barston of my own to turn them away at the door,” she began. “I barely have a functional office here—” She stopped.
Avandar said nothing. The fire sprang instantly to life; tongues of bright orange and pale gold suddenly extended and wrapped themselves around hardwood logs. The small branches and twigs used as starter were consumed in an instant. She hated to admit that she liked anything about magic on most days, but she loved to watch this.
Today, however, it didn’t matter. She turned and made her way to Levec; Adam shadowed her.
“Healer Levec,” she said, bowing again.
“My apologies for my unannounced arrival, ATerafin,” Levec replied.
Ellerson was not entirely pleased by the previous exchange, although it wasn’t obvious to anyone who didn’t know him. Jewel, who had lived with his absence for well over a decade, was chagrined at how little he had changed. He set his tray down and offered the healer tea. The tea came with brandy, but Levec refused the latter.
“I will come to the point. I am concerned about two things. Let me dispense with the first: I do not feel it is safe for Adam to remain in House Terafin.”
“If he isn’t summoned to the Houses of Healing, it’s entirely safe here,” she countered.
“But he is summoned to the Houses of Healing; that is not negotiable.” Levec glanced at Duvari; Duvari nodded. “I do not want him involved in the current political struggle in any way. Can you guarantee that he will not be?”
“I can guarantee that I’ll do my best to keep him out of it.”
“That is not sufficient.”
It wasn’t. Jewel knew it. Adam was fourteen years old. But Adam was now separated from the only family he’d ever known, and if he wasn’t an orphan—and technically he was—he’d attached himself to Finch in Jewel’s absence. Finch, the den, this wing. He felt almost at home here; he did not feel at home with the healers. She said nothing for a long moment, and then, leaving her hands at her sides, she asked, “What was the second concern?”
Levec clearly didn’t want to proceed with the second concern until the first one had been addressed to his satisfaction. He drank his tea as if drinking were an act of aggression. Jewel waited, refusing to sit.
It was Adam who broke the deadlock. “Levec wanted you to translate my Torra.”
Levec drilled the side of Adam’s face with a silent glare, but he did set the tea down. “Very well. Adam wishes to remain here, and I am attempting to accept that. You will not offer comment on the success of that attempt.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Jewel then took the seat beside Levec’s. Duvari, however, remained standing. So did Avandar, although he always did that. Adam hovered for a few minutes, and then took a chair that was equidistant between Jewel’s and Levec’s, but across the table.
“Adam?” they both said at once. There was an awkward pause, but it eased when Adam smiled. His smile was almost apologetic, but—it was trusting. He trusted Levec, Jewel thought; he trusted her.
Adam slid into Torra. “Levec asked me what I feel when I heal the sleepers.”
“It’s different from healing the injured?”
“Or the other sick, yes. I tried to answer, but…it’s hard. Levec’s Torra is good enough that he can speak to the injured—or their relatives—when he meets them. He doesn’t think it’s good enough—”
Levec lifted a hand. “It’s not good enough, and I would thank you not to speak about me as if I’m not present.”
Adam reddened. “Sorry, Levec. Yesterday, the sleepers in the Houses of Healing woke. They all woke at the same time.”
“Yesterday?” Jewel asked, keeping her voice as steady and uninflected as possible.
“Yes. Twice.”
“When?”
“In the afternoon. And later, in the evening. Two of the people who woke in the evening remain awake without my help.” He hesitated again, and this time glanced at Duvari. Duvari merely nodded.
“Matriarch,” Adam continued, his voice low, his Torra less hesitant. “They spoke about their dreams. The people I’ve woken don’t—they don’t seem to have any, or none that they remember. But these ones? They did.”
Jewel failed to hear the word Matriarch, but it took effort. “What were their dreams?” She didn’t strive for casual because she knew there was no point; she couldn’t be casual about this.
“They dreamed,” he said, drawing one sharp breath, “of golden trees and winged lions.”
Jewel closed her eyes.
Chapter Fifteen
“YOU UNDERSTAND part of my concern,” Levec said, when she opened them again.
“Yes. But they’re not lions,” she added.
Levec’s brows rose. He managed to bring them under control before he spoke again. “And the trees?”
“Yes. If you want, we can head out to the grounds now; we’ll have to run a gauntlet of House Guards and Duvari’s security to get there, though. Or you can wait until the funeral; you’ll understand as much as I do, then.”
“You’ll forgive me if that’s not a comfort.” He set the tea down without cracking the cup. “How do your…guests…and your trees affect my patients? My patients are in the holdings on the mainland; you are on the Isle.”
“I don’t know, Levec. I can guess, but it’s not going to be an educated guess.”
Adam cleared his throat. “Matriarch?”
They both turned to look at him.
“The translation?”
Jewel reddened slightly. “Sorry, Adam. Please.”
“When I heal the injured, I feel the body. For a moment it’s as if I can understand it; it’s my mother tongue. It’s the way I breathe or walk. But when I touch the sleepers, it’s different. I can touch their bodies; I can do what healers normally do. But there’s nothing wrong with their bodies.” He hesitated, and then added, “Well, there are always little things wrong with a body—but there’s nothing about the body that prevents them from waking.
“They’re not in their bodies.” He glanced at Levec, who was silent, his face momentarily inscrutable.
“How are you certain?” It was Jewel who asked.
“I can see them.”
“Pardon?”
“I can see them, standing outside of themselves.”
Avandar crossed the carpet, his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean,” he asked—in clear and perfect Torra.
Adam glanced at Jewel, who nodded. “When I first woke a sleeper, I didn’t see him clearly; not the way I do now. But I could sense him beyond his body. Outside of it. I could call him back.”
Levec stiffened, but said nothing.
“Call him?” Avandar’s voice was soft, but there was an edge in it. “The way healers call the dying back?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never called the dying. But…I’ve been called, and I don’t think it’s the same. Wherever they are, they’re willing to leave. It’s not like—” he swallowed. “They’re not near the bridge; they don’t want to cross it.”
“Where are they, then?”
This was clearly the question Adam had difficulty answering. “I…don’t know.” He took a deeper breath and turned the whole of his attention to Jewel. Not to Levec. “But it’s harder, now. I can see them, Matriarch. But it’s harder to reach them. I think—I think something else sees them as well, and it holds them.”
“Are they dreaming, Adam?” she asked softly.
“They don’t remember their dreams when they wake.”
“That’s not what I asked.” She hesitated, struggling with Torra for reasons that had nothing to do with translation. “When you see them, before you call them, are they aware of you?”
He shook his head.
“Can you see where they think they are?”
Creases appeared in his forehead; they’d leave when his frown did. “I haven’t tried.”
“Try. Try for me.”
“ATerafin.”
Jewel turned toward Duvari.
“Where do you think they are?”
“In the dreaming,” she replied.
“And where, exactly, is that?”
“I don’t know.” It wasn’t the answer Duvari wanted. She bit her lip and looked toward Avandar; her domicis nodded.
“It is not the land of Mandaros,” he replied, dragging Duvari’s attention—and obvious suspicion—away. “It is therefore not the land the dead or the dying reach. If it were, other healers would be able to rouse the sleepers. They can call the dying back to their bodies because they have the ability to heal the bodies; I suspect Adam can reach them because he can touch more than just the physical.
“They are dreaming, in my opinion. They dream small dreams; it is why so many must sleep.”
“Must?” Duvari said.
“The dreaming is not part of our world.”
“It is not part of the world of the gods.”
“It is not, no. But there are ancient roads and paths that exist between mortal fields and forests; they exist beneath mountains and through the causeways of deep stone. They exist in the deserts and in the storms; they exist in the cold of the Northern Wastes.”
“If I ask you how you know this?”
Avandar shook his head, a strange smile touching his lips. “You will not ask; you have far, far too much to contend with at the moment to waste your time on a pointless endeavor.”
Duvari offered no answering smile. “Continue.”
“These ways have long been hidden.”
“The hidden path?” Jewel asked.
Avandar nodded.
“Why?”
“Because you know, as I know, that the gods once walked this world. You know that one such god has returned. What you have not completely understood is that when the gods left; their children—those that survived—did not. It is said they could not; they were born of this world.
Skirmish: The House War: Book Four Page 43