Natalie blinked at her Headmistress, who sipped her tea calmly, a bemused expression on her aged face.
“Well, I do need to leave for the hospital now. I’m so glad we had tea, it’s been too long.” Gayla swept from the room, squeezing Natalie’s shoulder as she passed, leaving Natalie staring after her.
Teach Naming? She’d just become a full Healer a year ago and never even considered being a professor. Well, to be honest, she’d never really considered what she wanted to do with her Healing career. She’d been so focused on Healing the next patient and making sure the Headmistress was happy with her work. But teaching? And she wants me to take Healer Juliers’s position? My Goddess.
Natalie’s head fell into her palms. Jake, sensing her distress, jumped into her lap.
“Oof!” She hugged him and closed her eyes against the sloppy dog kisses, not even minding his horrid dog breath. “Thanks, buddy.” Never had she been so grateful for the late night she’d been Healing a patient in the nearby town of Saltwick and had found a sick puppy near death in the alley. Jake had made a full recovery under the care of the Abbey’s animal sanctuary Healers, and Headmistress Gayla let Natalie keep the stray retriever mix. Amongst the Abbey staff, many of whom kept rescued stray animals themselves, Jake’s friendly, outgoing personality and constantly wagging tail made him a particular favorite.
Natalie closed her eyes. Teaching Naming. How was she even going to do that? Well, letting the Headmistress down was not an option. She was just going to have to figure it out.
The Abbey bell tolled one hour after midnight. Natalie wadded up yet another piece of parchment and threw it into the fireplace. “I still struggle to Name patients and now I’m Naming professor? Goddess’s bloomers, how will this end well?”
Tomorrow was the first Naming class for which she would be Professor, and after one week of attempts to plan her class curriculum, she still had no bloody idea where to begin. When consulted for advice, Healer Giles had told Natalie that every night she thought about what the class needed to work on, and then had the students do that the during the next morning’s class. Natalie hated working like that; she preferred to plan things out in advance. Yet in each attempt to plan the first week, she’d cast about and failed to find a place to begin.
Her spring semester class would consist of first-year students at Bridhe of the Isles Abbey who’d never accessed the ley lines on the Isle, let alone Named an illness. Her quill hovered over the parchment as she tried to come up with yet another teaching plan. How had her teachers guided her from a novice to someone who could Name a patient by herself?
When she’d first learned Naming, everyone had examined one sick student. Natalie rolled this idea around in her head and discarded it. As a student, being singled out in front of the class had embarrassed her; she had no wish to inflict the same upon her own students. “With my luck, no one would be sick anyway,” she grumbled and plopped her head down on her elbow, breaking her quill in the process. “Argh!” She threw the quill across her desk.
Jake lifted his head, staring at her from his enviable position on her bed, curled up in a small ball on top of her pillow. Natalie wondered once again at the magical ability of large dogs to curl up in the smallest of balls. Satisfied she was not in danger, he rested his head on his paws and his eyes drifted closed.
Natalie obtained a new quill and chewed on the end thoughtfully. Once she got them going, once they got the feeling, it would be easy. But how did she get them in touch with their own Healing energy and that of Ismereld?
She put her hands on either side of her own head, whereupon her own Healing energy detected the headache growing there. She yanked her hands away and stared at them. Moving her hands so they were cupped, one right on top of the other, she sensed her own energy pulsing and tingling in the circle her two hands created. Perhaps she could start there? Just with a small demonstration of the power already in their hands.
Since it was better than anything she’d come up with so far, she collapsed into bed, curled around Jake and fell asleep.
Natalie stood outside the Naming classroom door with her back pressed up against the wall, eyes closed. This was a huge mistake. Surely Juliers would somehow stop haunting her dreams, appear beside her and take over so she could disappear to the sanctuary of the greenhouse tucked away down in the cloisters.
But no one appeared and she remained alone in the echoing hallway.
She blinked and huffed out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Jake peered at her, his warm brown eyes filled with unconditional love. "Hell and damn," she swore at him. Gulping, she pushed off the wall, tilted her chin up, drew her shoulders back and walked into the classroom. Her whole body tingled. Her legs felt like she was walking through deep sand. She hoped she didn’t vomit in front of the entire class.
She reached her desk, turned and faced her students. A sea of eyes stared at her expectantly. She began speaking before she lost her nerve.
"Good morning class and welcome to Introductory Naming I'm Professor Natalie Desmond and I am replacing Healer Giles as your teacher," she blurted. No run on sentences or they’ll know you’re nervous.
She made eye contact with a girl whose skin was the color of strong tea. She took a breath, then spoke again. "As you know, all illnesses we encounter must be properly Named before they can be treated and our patients Healed. Proper Naming takes years of practice. This is just the beginning ..."
As she spoke, she selected different students in turn to look in the eye, speaking directly to them. This helped calm her nerves and communicate the importance of her lesson. When she concluded, she had the class practice on themselves. "First, cup your hands as if you were holding a small, imaginary ball of light. One hand is on the bottom of the ball and one hand on the top. Close your eyes and breathe. Tell me what you feel—don’t raise your hand, just say it out loud."
"Tingling," said the girl Natalie had first made eye contact with.
"Like I'm holding my hands over a candle flame," said a boy with a shock of bright red hair and freckles.
"Like I've captured a river current," a tiny wisp of a girl piped up.
Natalie observed the students—her students—with wonder. Here they were, just starting. There was a long road ahead of them, but they'd just learned a bit more about the power within themselves. One day, they’d each be Naming patients on their own, with the full knowledge of what it meant to be Attuned to the magic of Ismereld and the green cloak to go along with it. And she would help them get started.
A boy with tan skin and long, curly hair stared at his hands, puzzled. “Professor, why can I do this and not my sister?”
“Excellent question. No one understands why some people Attune to this Isle and others do not. Some people never Attune to an Isle. Or, one day, your sister could visit one of the other four Isles, and, if the Isle’s magic accepts her, she would be an Attuned of that Isle.
“In fact, not only do people travel from Isle to Isle to see if they become Attuned, but travelers come from far across the main continent to live here. It’s one of the reasons our population is so diverse. Now, back to the subject at hand.”
She moved around the room assisting and guiding, encouraging the class to place their hands on their own bodies or on Jake, who proved to be an excellent test subject with his lolling tongue and big dog smile. The looks of wonder on her students’ faces made her heart swell with pride.
For the first time that morning, she wasn't yearning for the solitude of the greenhouse. Here in her classroom, the exchange of knowledge generated its own powerful energy. Warmth radiated through Natalie’s body when she saw eager young people put knowledge to use, gratified that it was she who gave them that knowledge.
The class fell over one another to ask questions, which she did her best to answer in the context of the basic education level they had. When the hour passed, Natalie reluctantly dismissed the class.
The boy with the
bright red hair stood in front of her after all the students left. He was so tiny, but even so Natalie could see the generous smattering of freckles across his face when she smiled down at him.
“When do I get my green cloak?” he asked.
Natalie knelt in front of him so she could look directly into his eyes. “The same time as all the Attuned on every Isle—after you get your education and pass your Apprenticeship.”
Smiling at the boy’s disappointment, Natalie walked to her classroom desk and sat tall, eyes closed. How odd. Or amazing. Well, both. In the year since becoming a Healer, she’d started to wonder what she wanted to do with her life. She’d Healed the sick and injured. Such had been her calling since she was ten and her brother, Aaron, had fallen from a ladder and she hadn’t known how to help.
Eight years later, she did know how to help. And a part of her had started to wonder what came next. And then the war had started and now there wasn’t any time for wondering.
But here, in the silence of the room, her fingertips began to tingle. The tingling spread to her arms and suffused her whole body. It wasn’t energy from the ley lines, it was energy from her students flowing in her and within her. It was the excitement of knowing she wanted to teach everything she knew to these children and help them be the best Healers possible. It was the desire to know that she’d been there to give these boys and girls the proper basics they’d need, when, some years from now, these same students would be scattered across Ismereld, Naming a patient in some remote fishing village, assigned as a Healer to a small town or in the hospital in the dead of night.
Her eyes snapped open. She fumbled through the desk drawers for some paper, an ink pot and a quill, and she wrote out a curriculum until her hand cramped and she had to stop writing.
Three weeks into her teaching career, Natalie made her way to the greenhouse after her Naming class. She had one blissful hour before dinner when she could be alone and at peace with her plants. Tucked in the corner of the cloisters, the greenhouse was a simple building. It was small, but the low cedar walls and glass ceiling surrounded her like an embrace when she entered. Rows of herbs grew in pots on the tables. Natalie checked the cast iron stove in the corner; it was emanating the right amount of heat for this time of year. Without the stove, they’d be unable to grow herbs out of season. Delicious green scents filled the room, and Natalie stopped to take a deep breath. Peace seeped into her bones. This was her home. She left the door open to let the spring breeze in and turned to the one table left empty—the worktable. Jake trotted to his usual corner, turned around in three meticulous circles, and lay down on the cool dirt floor with a sigh.
Natalie ran her fingertips along the thick boards of the polished wooden table at the center of the room debating what she should work on. Ah, dullanbark. Yes. She grabbed a mortar and pestle, selected some dullanbark from the drying room behind the main greenhouse and began crushing the bark. It was a tough, stubborn, stringy substance—good for reducing fevers—and in no time, her sweat clung to her skin with the effort. She doffed her cloak, hung it on the greenhouse doorknob so she wouldn’t forget it, and then returned to the table.
Natalie closed her eyes and became aware of everything—the trickle of sweat right between her shoulder blades, the assorted scents of herbs—both growing and drying—surrounding her, the gritty texture of the dirt under her feet and the coolness on her toes as she spread them apart on the dirt. Contentment and joy suffused her whole being.
Natalie looked up when Jake lifted his head and stared at the greenhouse door, ears pricked. She’d been so lost in her work that she hadn’t heard the footsteps echoing on the cloister walk. Jake stood and trotted to the door. Natalie placed her pestle down and followed her dog.
A tall man with short, dark wavy hair, dressed in a brilliant white shirt, impeccably tailored black riding pants and tall, shiny black riding boots approached the greenhouse. His green Healer’s cloak rippled in the breeze behind him. Her heart pounded in her chest when he caught sight of her. A thin beard now covered his face, but his emerald green eyes left no doubt. Her jaw dropped.
Juliers.
Chapter 3
R
U
naware of his owner’s discomfiture, Jake jumped around Juliers in circles, tail wagging.
“Jake,” Juliers exclaimed and knelt to scratch whatever bit of dog wasn’t wiggling with sheer delight. Natalie peered around the greenhouse doorframe, brushing the dirt off her mud brown pants and running a hand over her amber hair, which had mostly fallen out of its braid. Jules glanced up; blood rushed to her face as she gazed into those emerald eyes. Hell in a kettle, must her face betray her right now?
“Natalie? Is that you?” Juliers said.
“Yes,” she croaked. Clearing her throat, she spoke again. “Welcome back, Healer Juliers.” She grasped for ideas of what to say next like she was trying to catch minnows in a stream. The last time they’d had a real conversation, she’d been a student and he a teacher. Conversation about classroom topics had come easily. Now they were colleagues and a war separated them. Should I ask about the war? Goddess, no, that’s way too personal. The weather? Ugh, small talk would be so trite.
As if he couldn’t bear the silence, Jake jumped up and tugged on Juliers’s cloak. Natalie smiled when Juliers laughed and tugged back. A tug-of-war ensued between the two, Juliers grinning and Jake growling playfully. Natalie’s giggles stopped when he turned and looked into her eyes again. At that moment, Jake gave one big tug and Juliers’s cloak slid off to the side, revealing only a sewn seam where his lower right arm should be.
The blood drained from Natalie's face. “You’re injured,” she stated. She hoped she conveyed the proper mix of acknowledgment and lack of pity. For Goddess’s sake, how did a Healer get close enough to combat to lose part of an arm?
“Yes,” he admitted, looking away.
Unable to stop her Healer’s instincts, she approached him and took his right arm in her own hands for examination. From what she could tell, his hand was amputated just above his wrist.
“I was lucky,” he continued. “My Healing abilities helped me prevent infection. However, the teachers here at the Abbey neglected to teach me how to restore a missing limb. Needs to be added to the curriculum, if you ask me.”
She grinned up at him as he smiled wryly down at her. He stood so tall and entirely too close. She could just lift her fingers and brush his cheek … Natalie blushed and released his arm. “I’m glad the Five thought to spare the rest of you for us. But how do you Name with only one hand?”
Juliers looked away again. “It's why I’ve returned to the Abbey. I need to consult Healers I trust about my current … situation.”
“Of course,” Natalie said, cocking her head. He’d returned to the Abbey solely to consult other Healers about his arm? Not because he belonged there after he could no longer participate in the war? He raised his eyes to hers again, and Natalie saw, just for a moment, the panic his current situation caused him. “Please let me know if I might provide any assistance.”
Juliers gave her a noncommittal nod. He spotted her green Healer’s cloak and a broad grin spread across his face. “You’ve passed to the Healer rank, I see. Congratulations.”
“Yes, I completed my apprenticeship a year ago. I’m part of the regular on-call and hospital rotation of Healers now. And of course, I can often be found here among my herbs.”
Juliers laughed. “Naturally. I’m surprised you’re not teaching Herbalism by now.”
“I …” Natalie brushed an imaginary bit of dirt off her shirt, sighed and leveled her gaze at the man before her. “I’m teaching Naming.”
“Naming? Why you?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Why are you teaching Naming? You’re obviously more talented with Herbs than Naming. I can think of three Healers off the top of my head more qualified to teach Naming than you. What happened to Healer Giles?”
“G
ot married and moved to Roseharbor.” Natalie lifted her chin. “The Headmistress herself selected me to replace her.”
Juliers snorted. “Well, I’m back now. I’ll go talk to the Headmistress. Miss Desmond.” He bowed slightly and swept away, bootheels beating a staccato rhythm on the cobblestones.
Natalie pinched the bridge of her nose. That went well. Good Goddess, did he mean to take her teaching position away?
Shaking, Natalie returned to her worktable and pounded the dullanbark with a vengeance. She had no doubt that Juliers suffered a lot—physically and probably psychologically. Still, was it so much to ask that her old Naming teacher would be proud of her new position as a teacher within the school? Juliers had been so amiable as a teacher, explaining the most complex concepts simply, step by step. He’d stayed after class to help the students who’d needed it and cheerfully mentored the students, like Natalie, who’d excelled in the subject. Wouldn’t such a man want to see his students succeed?
When twilight shrouded the greenhouse in shadow, she put her tools away. She closed the greenhouse, face flushed and arms shaking. As she traipsed to the bathroom to wash up, it dawned on Natalie that, while Juliers had not died in the war, the man she’d known was gone.
At mealtimes, the Abbey great hall filled with students, apprentices and Healers alike. Natalie entered with Jake, praying Healer Juliers was not there. Natalie snorted; the irony of that. Four months aching to see the man, now she’d do anything to avoid him.
And it’s just Juliers now, she reminded herself. After all, they were equal in status, despite whatever he felt. She kept her eyes on the flagstone floor until she reached the large serving tables groaning with food. She ladled some venison stew into a bowl and selected a chunk of bread. Ordinarily, she might take a moment to admire the setting sun's rays shining through the Arcadian stained glass windows, but she didn’t want to chance seeing Juliers. She spotted Em sitting at a small, out of the way table, her scirpa draping in lovely folds down her back.
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