The Pain Merchants

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“Danello…”

“Do it.”

Just set the arm, heal the pain and sleep in a dry bed tonight. Gritting my teeth, I tugged on the broken arm and drew. I swallowed my gasp and tugged harder as the bone knitted, setting the arm back straight. My eyes watered, blurring the already spinning room.

“I’m right here, Nya.” Danello took my hand. The other was entwined in his da’s fingers.

I gathered the pain like Tali taught me, held it in a tight ball churning in my guts. “I’m OK. Are you ready?”

He leaned back, grip tight on the chair again, and nodded.

I pushed, a little at a time, letting him take some in and make peace with it before another shaft of pain sliced through him. My hands burned to my elbows, especially on one side. Danello shook, his skin white as mist. His breath came in short gasps at first, then lengthened.

I slid to the floor, my back against the bed.

“Danello, are you OK?” Jovan tentatively reached out a hand and cupped his brother’s shoulder. No one asked how I was, but Bahari glared at me.

“I’m fine.” Danello puffed out a breath and grinned. Pain tightened the corners of his eyes, but he hid it well. “Now the leg.”

I gave him half. Who knew how long he’d have to carry it? I’d never carried pain for more than two days and by then I’d been good and glad to be rid of it.

Jovan stepped forward, hands clenched at his sides. “I’m next.” His determined face challenged me to say no.

If only I could.

“It’ll be sudden,” I warned, “and sharp. Breathe through it and squeeze something. That helps.”

I drew quickly, moved slowly, the needle stabs along my belly hot but not unbearable. I kept a little. Maybe he’d be OK with what was left.

Jovan yelped as I gave him his da’s pain, but sucked in his bottom lip, hissing as he inhaled.

“Shallow breaths, Jovi,” Danello cautioned.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Jovan said as I let him go. He wiped his sweaty forehead and grinned at his brother. “I bet you cry.”

Bahari slid his glare to his brother, but he stepped forward anyway and grabbed the bedpost. He nodded sharply at me, like I’d seen the boxers do when the Fair came to town. “Do it fast.”

“Are you sure?” I whispered.

His eyes softened a little and he nodded. “Yeah. It’s only for a few days, right?”

“Right.” I kept a lot of his. He didn’t cry, but he came close. He also didn’t yelp or make a single sound beyond the same teeth-gritting hiss Jovan had made. Bahari shot a smug grin at his brother. “I did it.”

“The bravest twins in Geveg,” Danello said, ruffling their hair.

Halima stepped forward, a handmade doll clutched in her arms. “I’m brave too!”

“I’ll take hers,” said Jovan. Bahari looked as if he wanted to argue, but kept his lips tight together.

Halima pouted, glaring at them. “I can do it myself.”

“No you can’t.”

“It’s too hard,” added Bahari.

“Yes I can! You never let me do anything!”

“Halima,” said Danello softly, a shaking hand on her hair. “They’re right. It’s too hard.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I wanna help Da too.”

“Your brothers will need you to take care of them,” I said. I could handle another rib. It’d be a rough night, but I’d have a bed and Tali could take it all tomorrow first thing. I could even come back after and get the rest. Stealing a few heals was better than hurting folks, and worth risking a trip or two back to the League. “Do you think you can run the house for a while?”

“Uh-huh.” She sniffled, wiping her nose with the arm of her shirt. “I’ll take good care of us.”

“Danello, I can—”

“No,” he said. “I know you kept some pain. Our deal was we take that from you too. You can’t heal well if you’re hurting.”

I nodded, even though I didn’t know if that were true or not.

“We can share it,” Jovan said quickly, giving me that stare again. “Don’t tell us we can’t. She’s not your sister.”

I glanced at Danello and he nodded. “OK, who’s first?” Jovan stepped up and dragged Bahari forward.

“Together?” he asked, clasping hands. Bahari looked at his sister and nodded.

I drew the last rib from their da, then placed a hand on each of their hearts. Under the pain, a faint hum like the one I’d felt in Enzie ran through them.

They were Takers!

Weak though, probably not even strong enough to work for the merchants or I would have sensed it when I first touched them. I glanced at their hands, gripped so tightly ten knuckles shone bright white. Linked twins. Did their talent grow stronger when they were linked? I’d never heard of that before, but then I’d never heard of a shifter until I first did it, and neither had Mama. They probably didn’t know what they could do yet. Couldn’t know or they’d try to take more pain from their father. Jovan would anyway.

Danello touched my shoulder. “Nya? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Just that his brothers were now at risk from fancy Trackers and the Duke’s new war. Most Takers started sensing pain at ten and were ready to start taking it by twelve. But with the siege on Verlatta, the Duke would need more Healers. He’d lost a lot of them fighting us, and he’d have no problem stealing children to conquer yet another city that didn’t want his rule. Just like he’d stolen from Sorille to conquer us.

“Are you sure? You look funny.”

I didn’t have to tell them. If no one knew, they weren’t in any danger. Even if someone checked them, they wouldn’t sense it unless the twins were linked. “I’m fine, really.” I turned to the twins, trying not to let Danello see my lie. “You two ready?”

They nodded, faces white as their da’s.

Neither made a sound this time, their eyes and cheeks bulging as they held back even the hiss. The lines of their da’s face had smoothed and he adjusted a little in his sleep. The twins settled down on the floor, gingerly prodding their middles. Halima watched them like they might suddenly turn inside out.

“When do you think our da will wake up?” Danello asked.

“Not till morning. He’ll be stiff and sore for a while, and probably mad as marshflies when he finds out what you did.”

“He’ll understand. Come on, I owe you supper.”

My stomach growled and he laughed sheepishly.

Equal parts hunger and guilt twisting my guts, I followed him back into the kitchen. I hid my slight limp. He didn’t hide his and also kept one arm tight against his chest. He wouldn’t be chasing any chicken thieves for a while.

“Danello, let me help you with that.” Ribs throbbing, I reached for the coffee pot shaking in his hands. He jerked it away and winced. What a pair we made.

“No, I’ve got it. Least I can do is make you supper. We owe you so much more than we can give. Thank you for this.” He smiled and my cheeks warmed faster than the pot.

“Are those fishcakes?”

He loaded up a plate for me, then set the pot to boil. About halfway through my fish I realised my gobbling looked a lot like a hyena with a fresh carcass.

“Um, sorry.”

“It’s OK.” He chuckled and poured us both coffee. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Don’t eat for three days,” I mumbled around a mouthful of fish. “You’d be surprised how fast you can shovel it in. You don’t even need to breathe.”

“No, I mean the pain, but that’s impressive too.”

I shrugged. “It’s only healing.”

“It’s more than that. I hurt so much I don’t want to move, but you seem fine.”

I kept my eyes on my fishcakes. “I’m used to it I guess. Or Takers have a naturally high pain threshold. I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

“Well, you’re really good at it.”

“Good at it?” I looked up in time to catch his grimace.

Danello looked away fast and fiddled with the edge of his plate. He was really cute all shy like that. Even cuter than he was in the moonlight.

“You know what I mean,” he mumbled.

“Hmm,” I said, suddenly aware of my dirty hands, damp clothes and a smell I prayed wasn’t me.

He stayed quiet for a long time, slipping glances at me and looking away again. I kept eating, fighting the urge to smooth my hair and trying not to think about how much it was frizzing. When the weather was this humid, my curls puffed like a frayed rope.

Finally he said, “Are your parents Takers?”

I chewed the fish a few chews longer than it needed and swallowed. “My mother was. Grannyma too.”

He nodded. “So it’s just you and your da now?”

“Sister. Just me and my sister.”

An understanding pause. “Did she work at the League? Your mother I mean.”

“Since she was twelve, same as my grannyma. My father was an enchanter. He worked the forges mostly and prepared the pynvium to absorb pain. His great-grandfather staked the first pynvium mine found in Geveg.”

Danello’s shoulders slumped like he’d heard bad news. “You’re an aristocrat.”

It surprised me that still mattered. It used to, back when Geveg was wealthy and there had been a lot of aristocrats. You didn’t see fishermen or farmers invited on to the Terraces. Such distinctions vanished when the war came. All had gone to fight when needed, even aristocrats. They weren’t like the Baseeri nobles, who paid others to die for them.

“Not since the Duke took it all away.” I gulped my coffee and singed the back of my throat. “After the Duke arrested Grannyma, his soldiers barged into our home like it was theirs, tossed Tali and me out like rubbish. Didn’t even let us get our clothes, our toys, memories of our parents. Didn’t care that we had nowhere to go. Is there more coffee?”

He stared at me, mouth half open, then nodded. “Yeah, let me get it.” He poured it, got me another fishcake and started slicing a pear. “My parents worked at the university, but they weren’t full professors or anything high-pay. My ma taught fencing and military history, my da philosophy. She was killed before the war ended. Da says it was stupid for her to fight when everyone knew we’d lose, but she did it anyway.”

He set the plate of fruit down between us and eased into his chair. “They kicked us out too.”

We didn’t talk much after that. Nice really, sitting with someone who understood and could just be. Halima came in and cleared the table, then made me a bed by the window. She fussed over it like any good hostess. Even asked me if I needed an extra blanket. Jovan’s brows rose a little and he glanced at his bed, so I declined.

“Goodnight,” the children said as they shuffled into their room. The door thumped shut behind them.

Danello stared at me, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. Foolish as it was, I kept worrying about my patched knees and mismatched socks. He didn’t seem to notice though, and he had his share of patches.

“How did you find out you were, you know, different?” he asked.

I hesitated, but he knew the truth already. “It was just before the war ended. I was ten, and my little sister and I were helping Mama and Grannyma treat the wounded at the League. Tali was running when she shouldn’t have and tripped over a sword. Sliced her calf open bad. I saw all the blood, heard her crying and I just grabbed her leg. I wanted it to stop, you know?” I shivered. “I’m not even sure what I did, but suddenly my calf hurt and she was fine.”

“You healed her without any training?” Danello’s eyes widened. “At ten?”

“Yeah. Mama always thought we’d both be Takers—it runs in families—but she kept quiet about it. She was afraid they’d take us away. She was always telling me, ‘Don’t try to heal, don’t touch the Elders, don’t get too close to the Trackers.’ I was so scared I’d done something wrong by healing Tali, I tried to put her pain back. And I did.”

That had scared Mama a lot worse than me healing had. I could still remember the terror on her face when Tali ran up, pointing to her calf that didn’t have a scratch on it and crying that it hurt funny. Mama had grabbed me by the shoulders and told me to never, ever do it again. Then she hugged me so tight I couldn’t breathe, made me swear