What would Kali do now? she wondered as she studied Ben.
The answer was simple, and Eris didn’t like it.
She plunked back down beside him, closer this time. “All right. Let’s see it.”
Ben froze. “See what?”
“Your wound.”
“I don’t… You can’t… Not here!”
Eris rolled her eyes. “It won’t hurt. It probably won’t even work, but I ought to try. Don’t be a child. Let me see.”
Ben’s head whipped around as he searched the plaza. “I can’t strip down right here. Besides, if anyone guesses what you’re doing…”
“Under no circumstances are you to strip down.” Eris shuddered at the thought. “Besides, my actions won’t look odd to anyone else. If anything, others will think only that you and I are…” She grimaced. “Well, all it will look like is me putting my hand on your trousers.”
“But I thought…” Ben scrubbed his beard. “Drake healed me once. My arm. He had to touch my skin. And I’ve heard that’s how it works with…others.”
Neither one spoke loudly, but both still talked around the word ‘magic.’ That was for the best, although the necessity grated Eris. She tried to keep her voice suitably conversational, so no passers-by would think anything was amiss. “Touching you would be easier,” she admitted. “But I don’t wish to. And besides, I’m not sure I can do anything for you at all. I simply want to find out.”
“I thought you needed to conserve your strength.”
“If you don’t want me to bother with healing,” Eris snapped. “I can certainly try my hand at changing you into a more agreeable form. Perhaps a mountain goat? It would suit your,” she pulled air around her chin as if stroking a beard, “particular features.”
She was not above satisfaction when Ben scowled at her. “That won’t be necessary.” He considered, and then leaned back and placed his palms around a spot on his upper thigh. “The arrow went in here. Brice treated it, but it still pains me.”
“Obviously.” Eris rested her right hand over the place his hands circled. Ben tensed, but seemed to be making an effort not to grimace, so Eris returned the favor as she concentrated on his particles.
First her attention dove down into the fabric of his trousers, where the sturdy cloth’s particles clung together like a group of people standing with arms laced in preparation of a running assault. With more concentration, Eris delved deeper, until she found the particles of his skin, muscles, and bones. Ben’s particles here shifted and shivered like a group of bees whose hive had been rocked by the wind. In her mind’s eye, she saw them as bright crimson specks, writhing around each other in their injured state. Cool yellow particles made up the exterior of the wound—evidence of Brice’s medicines and whatever healing Ben’s body had done so far—but the center still pulsed red with agitation. Eris recalled the healing lessons she and Kali had undergone as girls. If Ben’s particles remained untreated, infection would set in soon,.
“I don’t feel anything,” Ben whispered. “Is it working?”
Eris shushed him and returned her focus. An assessment like this took no skill and only the most rudimentary understanding of particles. Healing would be more difficult – if not impossible for her. But she should at least try. Kali would want her to. So would Drake, if only so he could kick this fellow’s arse fairly.
Besides, this attempt would be a good benchmark of how she could help Leal – if indeed she could at all.
“Hold still,” Eris murmured, and got to work.
For Eris, healing was difficult. Focus was not an issue—it had never been—but healing like this made her realize how weak she was, magically. Eris could see and sense Ben’s particles and knew, logically, what needed to be done. But soothing the agitated particles was like smoothing out sand churned by the tide’s relentless assault. Every time she focused on one area, another seemed to get worse. By comparison, turning herself into a bird and taking flight was child’s play.
At last, at last, she managed to repair the worst of the damage, although she knew any other mage could have done leagues better in a fraction of the time. But as she sat back, wiping her damp forehead, an overwhelming sense of pride and wonder filled her, because she had done magic on another. True magic, not just an examination. Gideon would have been proud. Befuddled as well, because no doubt he’d have disliked Ben even more than she did, but proud of her, nonetheless. That alone made her smile.
“Eris?”
She looked up, blinking in the harsh white glare of the clouds. “How do you feel?”
Ben had been studying her, but now he glanced down at his leg, his brows knitting. “It’s better. Less painful.” He flexed his leg and looked at her again. “You–”
“It’s not healed completely,” she broke in, glancing around to be sure no one had noticed. “But the risk of infection is gone. You were foolish not to have one of us look at it sooner. Adrie and Mar are fine healers; one of them would have been glad to help you.” Well, glad was probably an overstatement.
The Assembly man ducked his head. “Thank you.”
She shrugged and looked around again, this time assessing her own strength. Despite the difficulty of healing, her magic remained strong. She could change shape and leave this city whenever she needed, but she ought not to attempt to heal anyone again for a while. Perhaps the two types of magic were different, or drew from different energies within her. Kali would probably know.
Brice and Rilla emerged from the crowd, several full packs in tow, and Eris nodded to them as she got to her feet. “Come on,” she said to Ben. “It’s time to leave.”
Ben rose as well, his movements smoother than before. As they began to walk to meet Brice and Rilla, he shot a glance at Eris. “Drake likes the beard.”
Eris rolled her eyes. “As I said: no one’s perfect.”
Twenty-One
Drake leaned his head against the cell wall. He’d done this so often since his arrival to the garrison, he should have made a divot in the stonework by now. “I’m so sorry, Aderey.”
The Sufani man’s voice resonated throughout the detention area. “For all the good that does us.”
The other Sufani now imprisoned here muttered in what Drake assumed was agreement. He only knew a few words of their language, but he understood anger in any tongue. His throat was dry, his head ached, and the hematite collar pressed tighter with each ragged breath.
“Did any of your people escape?” Drake managed.
Aderey was silent. Ytel, his wife, was not. “Only one of my children walks free, and I don’t know how much longer that will be, given that she’s in the company of your–”
“Ytel.” Aderey’s voice was sharp. He added a few words in Sufa that Drake did not catch. His wife responded with equal bitterness.
“Stop it, both of you,” a new voice said. A young girl – Drake vaguely remembered Leal talking about a younger sister.
“Hush, Dianthe,” Ytel scolded.
But the girl was not cowed. “You could have turned the mages away, but you didn’t. You made the right choice.”
Aderey and Ytel both shushed their daughter, and this time, she fell silent. Indeed, all the Sufani were silent. Near the back of the detention area, a baby began to cry. Drake winced at the piercing wail that echoed off the stone walls, but no one complained. A woman began to hum to the babe, and it quieted within a few moments.
“I’m sorry,” the woman whispered.
Ytel sighed. “You cannot help when the One sends you into labor, Sirvat.”
Drake scrubbed a hand through his matted hair. What a sodding mess he’d made of things. And it was only going to get worse. If he’d understood his sentinel guards’ chatter, these people were all going to be sent to Lasath, to stand trial for harboring illegal mages and Assembly dissidents. He didn’t want to think what would happen to the mages who’d been recaptured.
Creaking wood and iron made him look toward the detention area’s entrance, wher
e the heavy door was opening. Two sentinels stepped inside, ushering a third figure: a petite woman with dark, tangled hair, and a collar around her neck. Another mage?
The sentinels stood at the threshold and peered down the row of cells.
“Where are we supposed to put her, Haste?” asked the first, a young woman. “The cells are all full.”
The second, a man, glanced at Drake’s cell. “That one’s alone.”
While the female sentinel held the mage, Haste went to Drake’s door. His chest puffed out and his voice was carefully schooled to sound threatening. A burnie, if ever there was one. “No tricks now, Mage.”
Drake spread his hands so that the chain between his cuffs rattled. “None left.”
Haste shot Drake a skeptical look from beneath his helmet, but motioned to his partner. “Bring her in, Stout.”
The female sentinel shoved the mage forward, sending the collared woman stumbling into the cell. She glanced off the wall and collapsed onto the stone floor, whimpering and clutching her left knee with bound wrists. Stout ignored her and studied Drake, eyes narrowing. “Are there no other wall mounts for her chains?”
“I don’t think the crippled moon-blood is going anywhere,” Haste replied with a laugh.
Stout regarded the woman at her feet, her mouth twisted with disgust. “No, I guess not. But she’s still dangerous. Word is she’s a thrall, and she killed those guards while we were out with the captain.”
“We should get going. The commander told us to be quick.”
“The commander also told us to secure the mage,” Stout shot back. Her voice was high-pitched and young; was she a burnie, too?
Both sentinels glared at each other before Haste drew himself up. He was taller and broader than Stout, who had to look up to meet his gaze. “The mage is collared, cuffed, and locked in a cell. That’s about as secure as we can get her without freeing that,” he jabbed a thumb at Drake, “and risking his escape, too. No point in unchaining him just to tie up the crippled one. Come on. Let’s get back.” His teeth flashed white as he grinned. “I don’t want to miss the fun.”
Stout’s hands balled into fists. “You think any of this is fun? Those guards are dead, our brothers and sisters aren’t far behind, and traitors spring up from our midst with each moment.”
Haste blew out an impatient breath. “Ea’s balls, it was a figure of speech. Come on, let’s get moving. The commander wants our help with a few more things before we bring these dregs back out.”
Back out where? Drake thought, alarm pulsing through each vein.
Stout glared at her brother-in-service. “Don’t you understand the sodding shitstorm we’re in right now?”
Haste crossed his arms before his chest. “If you want to argue, maybe I can fetch the captain. I’m sure he can clear up any orders you find confusing.”
“You’re such an ass,” Stout replied, but she stepped over the mage, back to the cell door, closing it with a clang that reverberated through the entire area. The burnies slipped out, still bickering as they passed through the outer door and locked it behind them.
Only when Drake was certain they were gone did he scramble forward, trying to get close to the newcomer. Thank Tor, they had not dropped her out of his limited reach. “Ser?” he whispered as he knelt beside her. “Are you all right? What’s your name?”
He had to tug his chains to reach her side, but even then, he barely got close enough to touch her. She was a young woman, probably quite lovely when she was clean and healthy, but she looked like she’d not slept nor bathed in weeks. Her breathing was harsh and uneven, and her pulse beat too quickly.
“Can you hear me?” Drake asked. “Open your eyes if you can hear me.”
“What’s going on?” Aderey asked from his cell. “Who is she?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Gently, Drake tried to pull the young mage closer to him so he could reposition her, as the sentinel had tossed her to the ground with no regard for her comfort. But when Drake touched her, dark eyes flew open and she gasped, making his heart leap for his ribs.
“Seren’s light,” he said as she sat up. “I nearly soiled myself. Nearly,” he added a little louder. “Though I doubt I’d smell much different at this point.” When she did not reply, he pressed a cuffed hand to his chest. “I’m Drake. Who are you?”
Something in her eyes was…off. Distant, unfocused, like she was not entirely in this place and time. Her voice was hoarse. “Bahar?”
Drake’s jaw fell open. “How did you…?” Ah, Stonewall’s mage-girl. What had Elan called her? Drake struggled to dredge up the memory. Name recollection had never been his strength. “Callie?”
“Kali,” Aderey said, his voice faint. The Sufani man stretched out the “a” sound in her name, and the mage looked around wildly.
“Aderey?” she whispered.
He gave a weary chuckle that echoed off the stones. “I had a feeling we’d meet again, Kali. I rather wish I’d been wrong.”
“Small world,” Drake managed. “Kali, then. You know me too, I take it?”
Dark eyes met his. In the flickering torchlight of the corridor, tears gleamed on her cheeks. “I know of you.”
“Well, only the good bits are true,” he replied grimly.
To his surprise, she gave a sharp bark of a laugh, but then began to weep again. “I’m so stupid. I thought…” She trailed off, too overcome to speak further. Until, “He’s going to die, Bahar.”
Drake’s stomach plummeted to his knees as she recounted her and Stonewall’s escape attempt. When she’d finished, he couldn’t find the right words, so he only jerked the chains that bound him to the sodding cell. Helpless. The Sufani and other mages began to murmur among themselves, but Drake didn’t pay attention to their chatter, nor to Kali’s weeping, nor to the stink of blood, waste, and iron. All he knew was the feel of his heart breaking deep within his chest.
Then the outer door opened again and four sentinels stepped inside.
*
Stonewall awoke to burning pain in his side. Candlelight danced at the edges of his vision, although it was dark in front of him. Even so, he could still see Kali’s eyes blazing like stars. His throat went dry. “Kali?”
“Be still.” It was Beacon, kneeling beside him, one cool hand on his forehead. “She’s not here, though you’d be dead without her magic. Roll over so I can get a look at you.”
Stonewall obliged, though the renewed flare of pain made him grimace. Beacon lifted his tunic away—where was his gear?—and Stonewall shivered at the sudden brush of chilled air.
As Beacon began to prod at him, Stonewall blinked into the flickering shadows, his brain slowly making sense of his surroundings. He was on his sleeping pallet in his own quarters, back in the sentinel garrison. If he extended his legs, his toes brushed the wooden chest that held his spare clothes. About an arm’s length away, the river stone that Kali had given him rested on the floor beside his pallet.
“Why am I here?” he asked.
“You mean, why are you not in a cell?” Beacon’s voice was wry. “Because Talon, in all her wisdom, has ordered that you stand trial for your crimes before you’re brought to the Pillars for their final judgment. It’s protocol, after all.” He sighed and sat back, rubbing his forehead. “Thankfully, she conceded to allow me to patch you up first.”
Stonewall turned back to his mender. Beacon was fully armored, but his weapons were gone and his face was haggard in the light of the single lamp he’d brought. Stonewall swallowed hard. “Trial?”
“Aye. Turn back over.” Beacon reached for his mender’s kit.
Stonewall did as instructed, but his heart was racing. “When?”
“As soon as I’m done.” Rustling sounds came from Beacon’s direction, and then the mender exhaled. “I’m afraid this is going to hurt. Be thankful you were already unconscious when I pulled out the bolt.”
“Just get on with it,” Stonewall said, gritting his teeth. The astring
ent poultice stung, but that was only the beginning. To distract himself, he tried to get Beacon to speak more. “Why aren’t you behind bars? And Rook? Is she–” A needle-sharp pain dug into his side and he sucked in a breath.
“She’s…alive and free,” Beacon said quietly. “Since we’re both able-bodied, Talon has granted us mercy – for now. The burnie twins are better than all of us. It seems Talon mistook their late arrival at the bridge for loyalty – to her. Kalinda is fine,” he said before Stonewall could ask. “She’s in a cell with the renegade mage. Your brother, right?”
More pain, strong enough to make Stonewall dizzy and his vision blur. Gods above, he needed hematite now, more than ever. “Right,” he managed to choke out. “Drake.” Thank Tor. If Kali was with Drake, then she might be safe, at least for a little while. But the news brought no real relief. “What does Talon have planned for her?”
“I’m not sure. Probably not a tea party. Hold still. I’m not done. This wound is deep.”
“I am holding still.”
Beacon exhaled again. “You’re bleeding a lot. You need hematite.”
“Think Talon will spare some once she gets more?” Stonewall tried to keep his voice light, but the words came out as a croak.
The mender chuckled. “Certainly. Just flash her that pretty smile.”
More pain. Stonewall hissed through clenched teeth and burning eyes. His jaw was starting to ache and shadows kept trying to creep into his vision. “You... You’re…” He sucked in a breath, forcing his voice to work. “You’re all right?”
“With all due respect, ser,” Beacon said. “Shut. Up. You can debrief me when I’m done – if there’s time. But now I must concentrate.”
Stonewall managed a nod and looked back at the river stone, calculating. If he moved slowly, carefully, he might be able to…
“Sodding hold still, I swear to Mara…”
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