by T. A. White
Quillon made a thoughtful sound.
The woman's gaze darted to Kira's, and she slipped into Tuann, the words a waterfall of sound.
"I imagine he'll tell you what he wants you to know," Quillon said in standard with a hint of reproach. "Until then, return to the training hall."
"Of course, aza,” the woman inclined her head before tapping her friend on the shoulder and nudging him toward the exit.
He lumbered to his feet. He flicked his wrists out, and his armor began crawling up his skin in panels, shaping around him in an impressive feat of technology.
The two weren't oshota, Kira didn't think. Their armor was different, but it looked no less formidable.
"You ready to finish this?" the man asked the woman in accented standard.
She grinned. "You're the one who bruised his poor little arm."
The man snorted as he padded toward the door, the woman trailing him.
"Do not strain my regen stitches, Blake. Rheya, keep an eye on him and make sure he listens this time." The healer shouted after them before muttering, "Paltry bruise, my ass. Nearly all the tendons were severed. It took me over an hour to get them reattached. They're worse than children."
"All warriors are," Quillon said as the woman put away the small tool that resembled a penlight. "I see Blake hasn't changed. He can still convince you to go against your better judgment." There was a pause. "And my orders."
The woman flushed, her gaze darting to Kira and away. "I'm sorry, aza. I thought I could be done before you arrived."
Quillon didn't respond to the apology, instead gesturing at Kira. "If you would have a seat, we will begin."
Kira didn't move for several long seconds, staring at the place where the two had disappeared. "That wasn't synth armor."
Quillon made an impressed sound. "Very good. Not many would have been able to tell the difference."
He pointed at the bed, making it clear he wasn't going to share anymore until she did as requested.
Kira was slow to move, trying not to betray her obvious reluctance as she hopped onto a bed. She was sure he saw through her. Quillon struck her as the quiet one between Silas and him. That didn't mean he wasn't observant.
She suspected he didn't miss much.
"Not a fan of healers?" Finn asked. "I'm surprised. I didn't think you were scared of anything."
"Everyone's scared of something." For Kira, it was less a question about fear than it was about trust. Not every healer had your best interests in mind. Sometimes they saw a puzzle that needed solving. It didn't matter who they had to hurt or what they had to do if it meant cracking the mystery that was her genes.
"Well put," Quillon said with a small smile, his hands pausing as they drifted over her middle.
Quillon took up the thread of what they'd been discussing. "If a House can afford it, they will often gift a set of ural armor to an initiate hopeful. It’s not as high quality as synth armor, but it's still considered a mark of honor and evidence of a House's faith.”
"I'm assuming a set of armor comes in handy for the type of training Roake uses," Kira guessed.
Quillon nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
And if you didn't have one, you were at a tactical disadvantage, Kira concluded. The advantages of wealth and family were apparent even here in this alien society.
Kira's thoughts shifted to Joule. She hadn't seen any evidence of the armor the other two had worn with ease. He'd be one of those starting from behind at the beginning of the race. He'd have to work twice as hard to make up for the lack.
Quillon's forehead wrinkled as his gaze turned distant. He remained like that for several minutes, his frown growing more severe as the seconds ticked by.
His eyes snapped up to meet hers, his gaze piercing.
She waited, knowing what he'd probably found. It wasn't likely to be pretty.
Quillon's expression settled, no hint of his discovery on it as he shot Finn a censorious glance. "Most warriors, in my experience, are pains in the ass. They never think they need the healer until they've gone too far."
There was a small sound of agreement from the woman in the corner, her eyes twinkling as she slid the oshota a sidelong glance.
Kira looked between the two, noting the synth armor that Quillon still wore and the healer's distinct lack.
Seeing the question on her face, Quillon raised an eyebrow. "Ask what you're thinking."
Kira took her time. "I thought the synth armor denoted your status as oshota."
Quillon's expression remained neutral as Kira looked between the two again.
"But you're a healer, like her," Kira said slowly.
Quillon's expression softened, and he shook his head. "Oshota is a very complicated concept. Primarily, they're warriors, but because of what they experience, it's often useful to have a healer among their number."
Like a medic inserted into an infantry unit. They were trained on the same weapons, to defend and protect like every soldier, but their focus was different. In battle, they'd return fire, but their primary mission was to care for the wounded.
Himoto always said medics were the most popular person in any unit because soldiers knew it paid to have someone who liked you willing to risk their ass to retrieve your bleeding, wounded body if you should fall.
"You're a healer," she said. Not an oshota like she had originally guessed.
"I'm both," he said with a slight glimmer of amusement. "Those called to be oshota are unique. They're not only skilled with every weapon, but they must demonstrate a desire to protect. Our primary function isn't as killers. We're lethal, but only in defense of the person we pledge ourselves to. I was a healer first before being called to become more. I followed my call."
"Does that mean she hasn't taken the adva ka either?" Kira asked, trying to understand.
Quillon's expression softened. "I think you misunderstand. One does not become oshota simply from passing the adva ka. It takes many years of training. The adva ka is the first step, not the final one. A person does not need to be a warrior to pass it; they simply need to conquer themselves."
"Of course, a warrior's skill makes that easier," the healer said dryly.
Quillon inclined his head. "That is not a surprise given how our society is predisposed to violence."
Considering the primus form crouched within Kira, he had a point. That creature was meant for war. Even before she'd used its form the first time, she had been prone to throwing herself into a fight. It was as instinctive as breathing.
"Now, I'd like you to tell me your symptoms," Quillon suggested. "If I'm to help you, there can be no secrets between us."
Kira managed to keep her snort internal. She wished him luck with that. She was made of secrets. They were her bread and butter, succoring her when times were tough.
Her gaze moved to the healer. "Before we go further, she needs to leave."
The woman straightened, protest filling her expression.
Quillon held up a hand, forestalling her words as he regarded Kira thoughtfully. "Elodie is highly skilled. Her input would be valuable."
Be that as it may, Kira needed to trust the people who had extensive knowledge of her weaknesses. The Tsavitee were still out there. She hadn't seen the last of them. Kira had no doubt they were gearing up for an incursion somewhere in settled space.
It was only a matter of time, and as Ta Da'an had already proved, they had their hooks in the Tuann as surely as they did the humans.
Kira wasn't willing to risk news of her health falling into the wrong hands. It might not be much, and might not even make a difference in the end since Lothos had insinuated they thought she couldn't access the burst anymore. Then again, it might matter. She'd take any advantage she could get in the fight against them.
She shook her head. "No, she goes, or I'm out."
Elodie straightened, her expression mutinous, insult in the jut of her jaw and clenched fists. Kira was sure the woman's honor had never been called
into question. Kira didn't care. You didn't win battles by being nice or polite. You won them by doing what was necessary, despite the personal cost.
She could have let it go, be the nice person who never hurt anyone’s feelings. That wasn't her.
Sometimes you had to speak up in your own best interests. No one was going to do it better than she could. If that meant the healer hated her, so be it.
"This is a highly irregular request," Elodie said. "I'm a fifth level healer. We take an oath. I wouldn't violate it."
"Can you tell me honestly that if someone asked you about my diagnosis that it would stay secret?" Kira asked.
Elodie paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "It would be my duty to inform those in command if there is something concerning about your health, or if I suspect you're acting in such a way that jeopardizes you or others."
"And you?" Kira asked the man in front of her.
The corners of Quillon's eyes tilted up. "Only the Overlord or his marshal can compel me to reveal the results of your exam."
And they likely already knew the worst of it.
Kira shrugged. "Blame the doctors and healers that came before you. They taught me to be careful where I place my trust. There's no way I'm allowing you access to information I didn't even share with my friends."
Elodie made an angry sound, but Kira didn't budge. If she needed to, she'd walk out of here. She didn't want to do that. Dying held no appeal, but she would do this on her terms or not at all.
Quillon read the resolve on her face and nodded. "Very well. If that's what you wish."
Elodie shook her head and pointed at Finn. "I suppose the oshota is leaving too."
Kira's stare was thoughtful as she watched Finn hold up the wall, his expression a sea of calm. "He can stay. He's earned my trust."
The surprise in his eyes was stark. Kira stilled at the sign of naked vulnerability before he bowed his head and murmured several words in his own language.
Elodie's expression softened before she sighed, knowing when she was beat. "Kicked out of my own sick room. I can't believe it."
They were quiet as the healer made her exit.
When it was finally the three of them again, Kira focused on Quillon.
Reluctantly, she admitted, "I feel heavy. Slow. More tired than normal, but that could be a result of taking primus form."
The climb up the cliff hadn't helped.
It was the best description she could think of. For most of her life, she'd tried to ignore the power crouched at her core.
The tangle of thorny vines she normally associated with her ki lay quiet and dormant in her middle. For now, there was no pain, but that would change if she accessed her ki, the vines becoming razor sharp.
"We call it ki poisoning. It's exceedingly rare. I've only seen one other case similar to yours in all my years as a healer," Quillon said.
Not good news considering Kira had a feeling Quillon had been around for more than a minute.
"What causes it?" Kira asked, staying focused.
"It's difficult to say. Many conditions have to be in play for it to happen. I'm sure your isolation from the Mea'Ave played a major role. Couple that with what I suspect was sustained exposure to battle conditions and continued overuse of your ki, and you have a confluence of events that have led to ki poisoning," Quillon said.
Kira's jaw worked as she digested this information, all of which she'd long suspected—except for the Mea'Ave part. That was new.
"Did the other person who suffered from this survive?" Kira asked.
Quillon and Finn shared a glance, communicating silently.
It was Finn who finally answered. "Yes. Like you, he sustained heavy damage to his ki pathways in battle. It took many years, but he was able to recover. Since then, he has become a warrior of high status."
Relief filled Kira. If what he said was true, this didn't have to be a death sentence. Yes, the timing wasn't ideal, but she could work with this. She'd lived with the specter of the end for so long it was strange to have hope again.
"What's the treatment plan?" Kira asked.
Quillon shifted. "It is a two-step process. You'll need treatment from me every day in the beginning. As time passes, the treatment frequency will drop off, and I’ll monitor your progress as you reconnect with your ki. I can help heal what you've broken, but making sure this doesn't happen again is another issue. That will be up to you to address."
"That's what I'm here for, isn't it? To learn how." Kira raised her eyebrows. Otherwise, her presence was pointless, and she'd go on her merry way after receiving treatment.
"I don't think it will be as easy as you assume," Quillon suggested gently. "My preference would be to start treatment and wait until your ki has stabilized before commencing training."
Seeing her instinctive protest, he raised a hand. "For reasons you have yet to share, you've chosen to press on with your agenda. I will do my best to make sure your body will withstand the demands you're about to place on it." Quillon speared Kira with a look. "But make no mistake, if the treatment fails, or your body continues to deteriorate, I’ll recommend you be failed as an initiate."
Kira opened her mouth to protest but closed it when she caught sight of Quillon's resolute expression. He wasn't going to be swayed by any argument. Fair enough. She'd simply have to make sure it didn't become an issue. Easily doable.
Her nod of agreement was grudging.
Quillon's expression thawed, and he gestured for her to lay back. "We can begin now, if you'd like."
Kira complied. "Might as well. It's the entire reason I'm here."
Quillon raised his hands. One he positioned over her heart, the other over her solar plexus. "This might sting."
Sharp needles stabbed into Kira's middle. A pained grunt escaped her as those needles began to dig, scrambling her insides.
That fucking liar. Sting, her ass. This was agony.
The needles heated up until a white-hot burning sensation spread through her middle. It wasn't simply muscle and veins that suffered. The sensation went much deeper than that, to a place she knew existed but had only caught brief glimpses of until now. The place where the broken channels of her power hung. Neglected. Abused. Torn and tattered until they were barely recognizable as channels at all.
The brief glimpse told Kira why Quillon had seemed faintly impressed she had survived so long. The maze of veins sustaining her ki were tangled and disjointed. It looked like a pane of glass someone had taken a hammer to. Repeatedly.
Kira fought to hold still, knowing Quillon needed to focus. If this was what it took to be whole, she'd find a way to endure even if it felt like someone had taken a dull spoon and was trying to scoop out her insides.
The pain crescendoed as those needles began weaving, the broken pieces inside starting to move as they slid along each other. Nothing fit as it should, the damage was too extensive, but as Quillon kept working, she saw a pattern emerging from the chaos. It was still a mess, but there was hope where there hadn't been before.
Right when she thought she couldn't take a second more, the needles eased back, cool relief washing in to replace the fire of before.
"I think this is a good place to end today's session." Quillon's voice was shaky, his skin pale, effort and fatigue pulling the corners of his mouth down.
Kira forced herself up to a sitting position, her stomach feeling like she'd gone a few too many rounds with a core workout. Surprisingly, given the depth of pain she'd endured, there weren't many aftereffects.
Quillon crossed to a small table, removing an object and returning to Kira's side. "This is what we call a inhibiter. It'll help you modulate the flow of your ki until you learn how to do that yourself. This will keep you from re-damaging what I've started to rebuild."
Quillon held a wide bracelet. It was silvery and plain, looking more like a cuff than anything. He took Kira’s hand, wrapping the bracelet around her wrist. The two ends fused together, not even a seam to show where it met.
>
Kira's ears popped, a metallic taste filling her mouth. The great weight she hadn't even known she was carrying receded. It was similar to pulling an eight-hour day in combat armor and then removing it when done.
She felt light and buoyant even as she still felt the press of ki, a hair's breadth outside her perception. She felt like she existed in a glass bubble hundreds of meters below the ocean, separated from its crushing weight by only the slimmest of barriers.
It felt wrong. There was an itch deep inside she would never be able to scratch.
She shook her head, dislodging the thought. Her wrist dropped, and she looked at the bracelet she now wore. Soft blue lines shifted and shimmered along its surface. Runes glowed before fading, leaving inert metal behind.
She felt adrift, cut off from her senses.
Quillon recognized her expression. "What you feel is normal. Many have likened the use of the inhibiter to losing a limb. Eventually, you’ll start to feel lethargic and fatigued. I'm told it feels like an extreme case of a hangover for humans. Your body will adjust as you begin to heal."
Kira could already feel the difference. She wasn't sure she liked it. It left her feeling vulnerable and slow. Not exactly something she was accustomed to feeling. She'd better be prepared to learn fast if she didn't want to get used to the feeling.
EIGHT
The morning detour to Quillon's med bay meant Kira missed breakfast. Already behind, reporting to the Warrior's Hall took priority.
Finn managed to unearth a small pastry filled with meat that he called kueper, a protein-rich snack meant to tide a warrior over, kind of like a protein bar for humans. Only tastier. The spices burst on Kira's tongue; more vibrant than any quick meal bar she'd ever sampled.
If nothing else, she had to admit the Tuann had amazing food. It would be a shame when she left. Most human food didn't suit her taste buds in the same way.
The kueper was a faint memory by the time they reached the hall, a room much more impressive than she had assumed based on the name. Obviously intended for training, it, like the rest of the fortress, managed to seem ancient even while functional.