by Karen MacRae
“I haven’t done anything, love,” came the muffled reply from the floor. “I swear. Not a thing. Will you please get off me?”
Spider and Seleste looked for Anna’s small nod then took hold of the woman’s hands and heaved her to her feet. The prisoner made no attempt to move.
The woman looked from him to the Shaper and her ruddy face went grey. “He’s a gambler and a drinker, but he wouldn’t normally hurt a fly, I swear. Please don’t kill him?” she begged.
“You know him?” asked Seleste.
“He’s my husband,” the woman confessed, tears streaming down her face. “Please, Miss Northcott, let him live.”
“He’s only sleeping, mistress. He’ll wake soon,” Anna told her, suppressing her anger at her growing reputation for evil. She recalled Spider and Seleste’s words that she should trust Vixen. She wished following her instructions were easier.
“Where’ll you take him?” the weeping wife asked Spider.
“Holding for now, ma’am. Someone will let you know when you can see him.”
“Holding?” Anna whispered to Seleste.
“Way too public for anything else.”
Spider organised guards to carry the unconscious man to the windowless rooms where unruly soldiers were thrown to sleep it off or await trial. He picked the furthest cell, far away from those already occupied and made sure the man had nothing on him that could cause self-harm. Before he left, he warned the on-duty guards that absolutely no one was to have access unless accompanied by himself, on pain of death. “Not the lowest of servants or even the King himself,” he ordered. “On your oath, men.”
Anna saw four tiny golden lights pulse as the men swore that no one would pass without Spider present.
“How long will he be out, Anna?” Sy asked once they were alone.
“I think another hour, but it’s not an exact science.”
“Where are you supposed to be after lunch?” Spider asked.
“With Lord Edevan then training with Captain Laracy.”
“I’ll see Captain Laracy, warn him you can’t attend. Sy and I will come and get you from Lord Edevan’s if you’re needed. Otherwise, you stay put. I don’t want you moving from his office without more than Seleste to protect you. No offence, sister.”
“None taken, brother.”
“Nice work earlier, by the way,” Spider added.
Seleste merely shrugged. It took a moment for Anna to realise what Spider was talking about. “Light! You saved my life, Seleste. Thank you!”
“I really didn’t, Anna, but I will confess to the experience being extremely unpleasant. I’m glad I could spare you that. I’m also glad you weren’t so busy Healing yourself that you had the time to Heal me.” Seleste’s mouth twitched into a small, shy smile as she finished a rare attempt at humour. She was rewarded with a laugh from Anna and Sy and a surprised smile from her brother.
“More importantly,” she continued, the smile disappearing, “we learned that our enemy thought Anna vulnerable to a less-than-instantaneous death. It suggests that his master is unaware of the possibility of self-Healing: a fact which it would be in our interests to keep to ourselves. Anna, you’re not going to like it, but you’re going to need a personal Healer. Before you start acting like a mule, I mean someone who will give you cover for self-Healing. No one here would have it otherwise.”
“I’ll let Vixen know,” nodded her brother, no little part of him amazed by his sister’s handling of how Anna would react to her suggestion. As far as he knew, the little girl he’d used to play and laugh with had grown into an emotionally cold adult completely without empathy. Had he got it wrong?
“Am I imagining it, Sy, or is Seleste different somehow?” he asked as they watched the two women jog towards the keep.
“You’ve always been hard on her, Spider, but she does seem a bit more… relaxed?”
“Well, no time for it now. We need to find out who John the cook talked to last night and this morning. I’ll go get a home address from Mistress Manson and have a quick word with Lady Braxton. You go get the horses. I’ll meet you at the gate.”
On the battlements, a pair of beady eyes fretted on his failure. He punched the stone wall in anger and frustration and glared at the bloody imprint left behind. He felt a frisson of pleasure at the sting from his grazed knuckles and considered indulging in some self-gratification to ease his disappointment. No. He didn’t deserve reward. He would abstain until the Shaper was dead.
In the library, Seleste quietly requested a change to the reading schedule Lord Edevan had devised. “It’s undoubtedly important that we glean everything from the library, milord, but we have discovered a potential tactical advantage that we need to explore as a matter of urgency,” she told him.
“And that is?”
“Nystrieth may be unaware that Anna can Heal herself.”
Lord Edevan was silent, his head in his right hand as he thought through the implications. He looked up at the assassin and nodded his understanding. “I’ve made a note of every book that references Healing. There were surprisingly few. Let’s get them all down and see what we can discover.”
“Surprisingly few” turned out to be twenty-eight.
“Check my index for Healing references and jump straight there,” Lord Edevan instructed. “List the book and page number if you make any notes. We may need to be able to find the precise passage later.”
Anna reached straight for her favourite Art of Shaping and was soon riveted. The relevant section began with an introduction warning of the dangers of Healing and recommending that Healing be left to those properly trained to avoid self-harm, that is, a member of the Healers’ Guild. Anna’s notepad was scrawled with ‘Healing dangerous to Shapers? Healers’ Guild members trained to AVOID self-harm?’
Next came a section on directing energy into crystal. It was interesting, but nothing that Anna didn’t already know. The final section horrified Anna. It appeared that she could not only absorb illness or injury into herself, she could transfer energy directly from one aura to another, assuming they were both within reach of her gift. ‘Transfer black without crystal?’ was added to the notepad.
“Lord Edevan, could you please point me to a book written at the same time as this one that explores Healing?”
“Why, child?”
“Because it says in this book that Healers are trained to avoid self-harm. Because that makes no sense whatsoever when their gift eventually kills them.”
Lord Edevan looked uncomfortable. “We don’t have time for this discussion at the moment, Anna, but I promise we’ll return to it. There are a number of books you should read, but none will answer our current question. You will have to be patient.”
Anna looked at the man’s earnest face and aura and trusted his word. She put down the Art of Shaping and picked up another book. Again, there was nothing about self-Healing. Again, there were warnings about Shapers dying from botched attempts to Heal. The next book was the same. The one after was more detailed, explaining that Shapers could not Heal themselves unless they had a natural affinity and were properly trained in visualisation and channelling.
Anna sat back and exhaled loudly. “More luck than judgement I’ve said before. By the light, I had no idea just how true that was. I saw what happened when mama Healed and I just copied it. I didn’t have a well and mama wouldn’t let me make one so I used crystal.” Anna looked at the others. “I could have killed myself years ago.”
“So it seems,” agreed Lord Edevan. “No point in worrying about things outside your control, however. Let’s be pleased that you are none the worse for it and focus on our goal.”
It took two hours for all the books to have been scanned by at least one member of the group. Only one book made reference to self-Healing and that was the biography of a White Shaper who lived some three centuries ago. Despite corroborating witness accounts, the author urged caution. He suspected that the Shaper’s personal guard may, in reality, have been an undocumented Heale
r.
“So what makes you and she different?” Lord Edevan asked, curious. “Is it simply a matter of experience? Was she also raised by a Healer? Or did you both learn to Heal yourself before you were told that you could not?”
“I didn’t know I could Heal myself, milord, and it happened as a side effect of losing my temper. I can’t believe that other Shapers haven’t done the same thing. Seleste said that my aura burned away the blackness of my blisters. She saw it happen. I didn’t even mean it.”
“Hmm. Interesting… It must be something unconscious, perhaps innate. Your mother was a Healer, yes? You must have something of that in you that makes you attuned to it. Who were these ancient Shaper’s parents? Does it say in the book? Seleste, see if you can find it.”
Seleste turned to the chapter detailing the Shaper’s early years. “Her mother was a Reader, milord. Her father… give me a moment… her father was a Healer.”
“Who was your father, Anna. What gift did he have?”
“Mama said he was ungifted. A sailor, milord.”
“But you don’t know for sure?”
“I don’t know why she would have lied, milord.”
A knock on the door prevented any further exploration of the issue. Spider entered and asked that Anna and Seleste accompany him and Sy. Lady Braxton had need of them. On the way, Spider handed Anna her dagger and the crystal she normally wore around her neck. “Keep them on you at all times. No more leaving them unattended.”
Anna’s blushing nod acknowledged the rebuke.
In Holding, John had awoken and given a full account of yesterday and today to Lady Braxton. He had hidden nothing, that he could recall. There was also no red spark near his right eye when the Shaper was mentioned. Lady Braxton kept her eyes focused on the cook when Anna entered the cell. Still no red spark dashed through his aura. The man appeared entirely innocent, but he had definitely served Seleste and been seen discarding the vial which Lord Witheridge had confirmed to contain the residue of a poison strong enough to kill within minutes.
“Tell us again what you did this morning, John.”
“I got up, got dressed, came to work, did my prep work for lunch, served lunch then my missus grabbed me and sat on me for no reason. I swear I don’t know anything about no vial. It weren’t me who had it, milady.”
“Did you talk to anyone?”
“Just the missus, the guards on the gate, a couple of kitchen hands and those wanting served. I told you already, milady.”
“You got in a little after your wife this morning, John. Why was that?” asked Spider.
“She’d been nagging at me again. I had a bit too much to drink last night. She weren’t happy. She stormed off early so I went in alone. Look, you got the wrong fella. It weren’t me.”
“My friend and I spoke to someone who said you stopped for a chat with an older man before you got to the gate.”
“He’s got that wrong! I didn’t stop for no one. I came straight here and got straight to work, just like always,” John said indignantly.
“Anna, I can’t see it, but it has to be there. A block. Somewhere. Can you sense it?” Lady Braxton asked the Shaper. “Don’t use your eyes. Look for an energy blockage. Feel for it with your gift.”
Anna wasn’t sure she understood what the spy mistress meant, but she sent her gift into the man’s aura and worked systematically through every inch. She sensed a host of emotions and memories. She also sensed the man’s honest belief that he was being held by mistake. Nowhere could she detect something out of place.
“I can’t find anything, Lady Braxton.”
“Try again, Anna. It must be invisible or so small that I can’t see it, but it’s there. I’m sure of it. We need to remove it.”
Anna linked again with the cook’s aura, but this time she tried to disengage the thinking part of her brain. She let instinct guide her. She felt herself get lost inside the man’s life. Her gift whirled randomly around his aura, searching for something that didn’t belong. It took less than a minute to find it: something alien, something that screamed wrong. She could see nothing, but she had it pinned. She wrapped it in her gift and imagined it growing smaller as each layer peeled off and flew along the channel she made to her dagger.
Her success was immediately apparent when the look on the cook’s face turned from confused affront to shocked, scared guilt. “Light have mercy,” he cried. “I’m so sorry. I don’t understand. Why would I? On my life, I meant no harm!”
“Well done, Anna,” came the quiet, satisfied voice of Lady Braxton. “Please calm yourself, John. We know you were not acting of your own free will. Now, tell us exactly what happened on the way to work this morning.”
“It were as I said, milady. I left a bit after the missus, but I bumped into a bloke at the back of the Soldier’s Return. Or he bumped into me, rather. Near knocked me over. He helped me get steady, apologised, whispered something I didn’t catch and then kept walking. Everything from then is as I told you, but now I remember thinking that I had something in my pocket to add as extra flavouring to the Shaper’s drink when Miss Peyton asked for two juices. I didn’t know which glass belonged to which so I added half to each. Oh, milady, what was I thinking?”
“You were under the influence of a man gifted in Compulsion, John. It was not your fault. Do you hear me? It was not your fault. Unfortunately, you’re going to have to stay here until we catch the culprit. He can’t know we’ve discovered his plot. You’ll need to maintain your innocence and say not a single word to anyone, including your wife. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yes, milady. I’ll do whatever I can to make amends. Miss Peyton, Miss Northcott, I’m so sorry.”
“That’s all right, John,” Anna said kindly. “We know it wasn’t your intention.” Seleste nodded her agreement and the man’s face lightened a little.
“He touches, speaks and Compels. The Compulsion also puts in place as a very specific, difficult to detect, memory block. It’s an elegant gift, I’ll give the villain that.” Lady Braxton frowned. “We cannot alert him. John, we are relying on you to play your part. If anyone asks, you’re innocent. You did nothing wrong and you don’t know why you’re being held. It’s all just a misunderstanding. Now, you must tell us everything you can remember about this man who nearly knocked you over.”
CHAPTER 31
A nna woke the next morning to find Seleste already up and in the middle of a slow, elaborate dance in the space between the two beds. She watched quietly, enjoying the beauty of Seleste’s strong, confident moves. Sweat glistened on her brow. She made it look easy, but it appeared to demand more than the exercises Captain Laracy threw at her.
“That was wonderful,” said Anna as the young woman came to a standstill, her ritual complete. “What was it?”
“A martial art from Seask. It strengthens the body and calms the mind.
“Could I learn it?”
“One day, perhaps.”
The Dancer excused herself and went to wash up.
Anna rolled over to grab the Art of Shaping from her nightstand. She turned to the final section of the book, the part on Shaper tools. She’d managed to get through the first part before going to sleep, but the book had told her little new about Aurovian crystal. It did confirm Lord Witheridge’s assumption that Shapers of old used the crystal beneath their feet as a first port of call and not the smaller crystals that they carried for backup. Anna assumed this meant she could do the same, but she’d yet to try Shaping energy through her boots. She didn’t fancy having to walk about barefoot once the rainy season hit.
“Lord Witheridge was right,” she called to Seleste. “It says here that the smaller a piece of peristone, the more powerful it is. The raw stone is very brittle and crumbles with pressure so it takes years of slow manipulation, heat and polishing to produce the kind of beads on my bracelets. Most stones turn to dust before they get down to a foot across never mind less than an inch. I don’t suppose there’s much productio
n these days though. Not exactly a lot of Shapers about to buy them.”
Anna’s head went down as she returned to her favourite book. She turned the page eagerly to see what the next topic would teach her and was horrified to find someone had ripped out the next eleven pages. The text went from peristone, or machnamhach striatic stone as the book called it, to a call for Shapers to adhere to a voluntary code of conduct. “Light! Who would do that to a book?” she whispered.
A quiet knock came from the door. Seleste emerged from the privy with a blade in her hand. She gestured for the Shaper to get behind the door so she was hidden from whoever would enter. “Who’s there?” she called.
“Breakfast, miss.”
Seleste quietly unlocked the door and backed away. She hid the blade behind her back before calling for the server to come in.
The door opened to reveal a pimply boy with a smile on his face. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully. “Where shall I put it?”
“On the table on your left, please.”
“Have a good day!” he sang happily before about turning and leaving. Seleste shut and locked the door behind him.
“The sooner we catch this spy the better. I do not want to live my life like this,” Anna said.
Seleste considered telling the Shaper that this was exactly how her life was going to be from now on but decided to spare her. She’d learn the truth soon enough.
Spider and Sy knocked on the door a little before seven to escort Anna to her first training session of the day: more self-defence with Sergeant Michelson. “It’s been moved to quad seven so there’s less chance of interference. We’ll be there to help just in case. Then Vixen wants us to meet her at the gate at ten minutes to nine.”
The tension was palpable as the four travelled through the keep towards the training rooms known as the quads. Spider led the way, his Instinct gift offering valuable moments of warning should they be needed. Seleste matched Anna’s smaller strides, her hands on both blades in her belt, her eyes roaming the halls before and behind. Sy took up the rear, pirouetting each time they passed someone to ensure no one could come at their back. Anna kept her hand tight on her dagger handle, ready to defend them all with her gift, no matter the attacker. She knew only too well that the Compeller could have infected anyone.