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“I’ll let Jeatar know.” We didn’t have many Healers, and most of them were apprentices or first or second cords only, but that was more than most folks had access to these days.
We finished up and headed closer to Jeatown and the nicer camps. Carriages, bigger tents, more dark-haired families. Baseeri aristocrats, even a few rich merchants. Dozens of servants still wearing their house colours hovered about, waiting on orders.
Joke or not, it really was Little ’Crat City. Just like in Baseer, they’d closed off their territory, using the carriages like a wall around the camp. They even had their own guards protecting it. Of course, the guards moved out of our way pretty quickly. Ellis had taught them the first day who gave the real orders around here.
They had their own community fire, but you’d never catch them sharing food, just gossip and opinions. We parked the wagon, and the servants lined up while the aristocrats stayed in their comfy chairs. I couldn’t imagine how they’d managed to get them out of Baseer, but I suspected more than one servant had hauled furniture out on their backs.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” a woman in red and blue silk scoffed. She sat around the fire with a few dozen others as well-dressed as she. They didn’t look at us or the food. “Was the Saints themselves. They reached down and crushed the palace with their hands. No living soul did what I saw happen there.”
My stomach twisted. They were talking about me. No good ever came of Baseeri aristocrats talking about me.
“Don’t be daft – it was an attack. Verlattian retaliation, probably.”
“I heard it was a girl,” said another man. “One of those quirkers.”
“The Shifter?”
“That’s right. Part of a Gevegian kill squad to assassinate the Duke.”
I was what? Danello slipped a hand to my shoulder and leaned close. “Easy, ignore them. It’s just gossip.”
Easy for him to say – they weren’t calling him an assassin. I glanced at Aylin and Quenji, both surrounded by children as they handed out the sweetcakes and cookies. She looked back, worry in her eyes, but Quenji had a sly smile like he approved of the story. Quenji liked to tell his own tales. On the streets, a good story told at the right tavern could get you a meal.
“She’s as bad as the Undying,” a woman said, her voice cracking. “They killed my husband. He wasn’t doing anything wrong! Just trying to bring the carriage round.” The young girl beside her started crying. She looked like the girl from Baseer. The one I couldn’t save.
“Fenda, no!”
Metal clanged against metal, then a girl screamed in pain.
“She’s just a child!” the man cried. “How could you?”
Anger chased away some of my fear. I wasn’t anything like the Undying. They’d murdered an innocent girl who’d only been trying to protect her father.
“We traded my wife’s jewellery for a gate pass.”
A man grunted. “I had a soldier ask me for my wife to get through.”
Some folks chuckled, but most looked around as if unsure if he was joking or not.
“Well,” a woman said, “we’re better off than those left behind.”
I pictured Tali and my guts twisted.
“I don’t know what that flash was, or who caused it,” she continued, “but things aren’t right in that city. They haven’t been right since Bespaar—”
Angry shouts came from behind the tents, then repeated orders to stop. Ellis jumped up on to the driver’s bench, her sword out a heartbeat later. Danello drew his rapier.
“What’s going on?” Aylin whispered. The children who had gathered around her moved closer, their blue eyes wide and scared. Quenji stepped in front and nudged them back.
“I don’t know,” he said, “but it doesn’t sound good.”
Three men burst out from behind some tents. Two were blonde, one dark haired. All wore old clothes and masks covering the bottoms of their faces. One man had a bag clutched against his chest, but it wasn’t one of ours.
“Thief!” someone cried, and the camp guards appeared, chasing down the bandits.
Ellis swore and hopped off the wagon. She went after the thieves and Danello followed right behind her. The thieves ran like chickens, darting this way and that, knocking things over, throwing them at whoever was close. Folks ran everywhere, just as wild, just as scared, no one paying any attention to where they were going.
Elbows jabbed me, jostling me further out into the crowd. A man slammed into my shoulder and spun me around. The second wagon guard, Copli, was on the driver’s bench protecting the food but looking like he wanted to chase after Ellis and Danello. Quenji had his arms around Aylin, keeping her tight against the wagon and blocking her from the panicked mob. The children ran into the crowd, between legs and stomping feet, caught in the chaos.
I struggled through the bodies and grabbed a boy by the hand, yanking him back before a panicked woman ran him down. He clung to me, trembling. I looked for another. Saw one of the thieves instead.
He pulled out a knife, then dodged back and thrust it at the guards. Several people screamed, but only one body stumbled, then fell to the ground.
“Stop right there,” a tall Baseeri said, waving something at the thieves. I almost missed the glint of blue metal.
Pynvium. He had a pynvium rod. A good one, too, the metal pure enough to shine a rich blue.
The aristocrat pointed the rod into the crowd full of scared people – and children.
“Wait, no!” I yelled.
Whoomp.
Pain flashed from the rod, the familiar prickle of blown sand stinging my skin. People all around me screamed and collapsed – guards, thieves, children. Even the horse shrieked and bolted, sending bags of food flying off the wagon and Copli toppling off the bench. Those at the edge of the flash stumbled and fell, tripping over those on the ground. The boy I’d grabbed dropped and lay by my feet.
I stood in a circle cleared by the pain, exposed and alone.
Chapter Three (#ulink_d9edc1e9-b15d-5e80-80bc-df229fdedaf7)
Did she just—?”
“Quirker!”
“The Shifter’s here!”
Cries raced through the crowd, then fingers pointed and hands waved, all in my direction. Saints! I should have fallen, faked being affected, but it all happened so fast. I dropped to one knee and took the hand of the unconscious boy at my feet. My hand tingled as I drew in the pain overloading his senses. He woke and looked around, whimpering.
“Go find your mother,” I said, scanning the rest of the people on the ground. Danello, where’s Danello? There! Lying near Ellis and one of thieves. People gasped when I ran towards him, backing away like I was going to hurt them.
“Get her, stop her!” the Baseeri with the pynvium weapon called.
I knelt and wrapped a hand around Danello’s wrist, the other around Ellis’s. Drew in their pain and held it in the empty space between my heart and guts. It simmered there like I’d eaten something that had disagreed with me.
Danello jerked awake, hands out. Ellis woke right after. I let go of them and looked for the guard who’d been stabbed. He’d have real pain – pain I could use if one of these aristocrats tried to—
Someone slammed into me, knocking me to the ground.
“I got her!” a man yelled, practically in my ear.
“Get off her,” Danello said. The weight vanished, and he dragged me back to my feet.
Unconscious people were still on the ground and probably would be for a while. The others surrounded us, fear and anger on their faces. Except for a woman with the boy I’d helped. They looked at me with gratitude.
Be nice if you told your friends to leave me alone.
“Everyone settle down,” Ellis said, sword out. Copli was on his feet again, a gash across his forehead. Danello stayed near me, but still close enough to the others to back them up.
“But that’s the Shifter,” a woman said.
Ellis shrugged. “So?”
“She tried to kill the Duke!”
“No, she didn’t. He almost killed her and she defended herself. So unless you want to see what happens when she feels threatened, I suggest you all calm down.”
Not exactly what I would have said to accomplish that, but they did take another step back. I moved towards the injured guard. He’d been hurt badly, and too much blood pooled beneath him. Dark blood, which meant a pierced organ.
One of the aristocrats jerked and pointed. “What’s she doing?”
“Helping him, you idiot,” Aylin said, “What do you think she’s doing?”
“If I don’t stop that bleeding, he’s going to die.” I reached the fallen guard. No one else tried to stop me, but quite a few fidgeted as if ready to jump on me if I tried anything they didn’t like.
He’d been stabbed low on the side, over his liver. I placed one hand on his wound, the other on his forehead, felt my way in. Winced. Lots of damage, like the knife had sliced sideways and not just stabbed. I focused on closing the tears, sealing the holes. I drew, and pain flowed from him to me, sharp aches that spread through my middle. He groaned and opened his eyes.
“You’re going to be OK,” I said softly. So would I once we got back to the farmhouse and found a Healer who could take the pain from me.
He stood, swaying a bit, and I steadied him. Murmurs slid through the crowd, though they shouldn’t have. Wasn’t like aristocrats had never seen someone healed before. They were the only ones who could afford it these days.
“What did she do to him?”
“Saved his life.”
“She’s a criminal,” the same man said.
Ellis smiled. “No more than you.”
“But she’s—”
“Oh for Saints’ sake,” the woman with the boy said. “She’s a child. Do you really believe everything the Duke says?”
“I believe what I just saw.”
“So do I. She saved a life while you hurt my son and other people’s sons and daughters. Over what? Petty theft?” She shook her head and pulled her son closer. “You’re more criminal than she is.”
A few muttered in what sounded like agreement.
Ellis reached behind her with one hand and pulled strips of rope out of a back pouch. She tossed them to Aylin. “You and Quenji, bind the thieves’ hands before Nya wakes them up. We’ll take them back and let Jeatar deal with them.”
“They robbed us,” a woman said hesitantly. “It should be up to us what to do with them.”
Ellis shook her head. “This isn’t Baseer and it isn’t your property. You want to stay and keep getting fed, you follow our rules and do what we say.”
No one else said anything else, but many watched us with narrowed eyes.
“Wake them up.”
I did, drawing more pain into the throbbing around my middle. The thieves woke, gaped at us, but didn’t try to escape. Quenji hauled them to their feet, and we slowly made our way out of the camp. Ellis and Danello brought up the rear, looking more worried about the Baseeri than the thieves.
The aristocrats followed us to their “gate” but came no further. The man who’d used the weapon glared at us as we walked away.
Ellis shot me a look that said it was my fault, even if she clearly felt bad about it.
I wasn’t worried about a few trinkets getting stolen or that one camp was preying on another. That would sort itself out. But these were Baseeri whose allegiances we didn’t know, and they knew I was here. Some even thought I was a criminal, an assassin, but everyone here was supposed to be against the Duke. They were all supposed to be on Jeatar’s side.
So where did that put me?
I followed the others to the farmhouse, fresh dread churning my stomach.
* * *
Ellis and Copli took the thieves to the barracks. The rest of us went to the room Jeatar had set aside for an infirmary. We’d had more Healers when we’d fled Baseer, but most of them had left, returning to their families or just running further away to where the Duke couldn’t get them again. Only two remained – Lanelle and Tussen. I’d saved both from the Duke and his weapon.
Lanelle was on duty. Aylin immediately turned around.
“We’ll meet you after, OK?” she said, dragging Quenji out.
Lanelle looked hurt for a moment but covered it fast. I couldn’t blame Aylin for not wanting to be here. I’d have preferred it if Tussen had been on today. Lanelle had helped the Duke with his experiments, “taking care” of Tali and the other apprentices who’d been locked in the spire room and filled with pain.
Lanelle had been part of his next experiment, too, but this time as a victim, one of the Takers he’d chained to the weapon. It had surprised me when she’d volunteered to stay on the farm and help heal the refugees, but she probably didn’t have anywhere else to go.
“Is that your blood?” she asked, rising from a chair. She set down the book she’d been reading.
“No, a guard got stabbed in one of the camps.”
“He’s OK?”
“Yes.”
She glanced at Danello, standing stone-still behind me, then held out her hands. I took them. A faint tingle ran up my arms and swirled around my middle, and the pain was gone.
Lanelle made a face. “More than just a stabbing. You could have warned me.”
“Sorry, it was only a few flashes.”
She walked over to a cabinet and pulled a key from around her neck. “To you maybe, but for us regular Healers, that hurts just the same.” She unlocked the cabinet and pulled out a battlefield brick of pynvium. Pure metal, and worth a lot more than anything those aristocrats had in their camp.
She placed one hand on it, pushing the pain into the metal. She usually gave me a sly grin when she did it, taunting me that she could sense pynvium when I couldn’t, but not today. Maybe she was finally getting bored with it. I might not be a “regular Healer”, but that didn’t bother me nearly as much as it once had.
