Valor of the Healer (24 page)

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said.

The girl straightened as he’d hoped she might, and her slight gasp told him that she recognized his words.

That she, too, remembered.

* * *

They camped there in the glade once Kirinil wove his Ward around the place, one more powerful than Alarrah could create, though only a shadow of the magic that shrouded Dolmerrath. Julian needed little sight of their faces or the set of their slim frames to gauge that the elves were as tense as he. It was plain enough in what few clipped words they said to him, and to each other. Nor did their mood diminish even when the Ward was up. No one seemed willing to utter more than necessary to set up a minimal camp and rounds of watches.

All of them were preoccupied with Faanshi.

She fell into exhausted sleep where she sat beneath the tree, deep enough that none of their slight noises roused her. Julian didn’t dare move her again, and told himself it was for the best that Alarrah beat him to the task of draping a blanket over her limp form. That he also thought it for the best to set up his bedroll between Faanshi and anything else in the glade was a contradiction he wouldn’t allow himself to consider.

When he and Kirinil roused from sleep the next morning and Alarrah stood down from her watch, though, the young healer was already awake. With troubled eyes she brought Julian a water flask and a share of their trail rations, and he noted that one of the elves must have found her hat in the night, for it was back in its place upon her head. Perhaps its presence gave her comfort, for her gaze was steady despite its distress, and she gave him a tiny smile as he thanked her.

“You’re welcome. And I’ll have mine, when we talk.” Her voice rose. “All of us.”

The elves looked up, Kirinil from the side of his mare, Alarrah from the pack through which she was rummaging for her own meager breakfast. Yet only the elf woman came to face her. As they stood together Julian remembered in a rush what Alarrah had said, back in Dolmerrath, before they’d crossed the Wards.

Faanshi too must have remembered it, for without preamble she began, “You said I was your sister.”

Alarrah neither flinched nor frowned, but something shifted in her bearing nonetheless, leaving her strangely open, ill at ease. “There was one of us who fought the humans in his own way,” she said, her voice hoarse. “He stole and sold their precious objects, their gems, their wealth, and brought payment back to us. Until he found a woman he couldn’t steal. A Tantiu woman.”

Julian kept silent, and a quick glance sideways showed him that Kirinil had paused by Alarrah’s horse, looking their way. They might well have been trees for all the attention the women paid them. Faanshi’s features twisted, which wrenched at Julian, and although he yet sat outside her arm’s reach, he had the uncomfortable certainty that she was shaking.

“My
okinya
Ulima never wanted to tell me my father’s name,” Faanshi offered. “But I made her do it. She said he was a thief. That his name was Jord Tanorel, and that the duke cut off his head because he dared to love my mother.”

A choked noise escaped Alarrah, and she clamped her eyes shut for a moment, murmuring something in Elvish. When she looked up again, it was to proffer the first actual smile Julian had seen upon her face. “Jord Tanorel was my father.”

Her own eyes growing huge beneath the brim of her hat, the girl sank right back down to the hollow between the roots of the tree where she’d slept, as if her knees had turned to water beneath her.

“So you have a motive to come out with us,” Julian said, speaking up when Faanshi could not. “And while that’s served us thus far, we should be thinking now of what comes next, eh?”

“Yes,” Alarrah rasped, flashing him a glance he was certain held relief at his interruption. “Yes. We must decide our options.”

“And we must start,” put in Kirinil, taking one of his horse’s hooves in hand for his inspection, “with what befell our young cousin last night.”

Faanshi frowned and glanced off toward the brightening eastward dawn, her eyes longing, as though to seek the counsel of the light. “Dawnmaiden guide me, I wish I knew. I know only that when we crossed the Wards, I...I was Kestar. Until Julian struck me.”

He studied her haggard face. If the Hawk was somehow infused into the girl, he couldn’t see him. Not right then. He had, he realized in a rush, seen him in her motions when she’d fought against Kirinil and Alarrah. A humble slave girl wouldn’t fight like that, but a Knight of the Hawk—
that
Knight of the Hawk—would. Julian had every reason to know. He’d seen the man fight. “It’s getting worse for you, then.”

“It’s funny.” Faanshi bowed her head, a rough little giggle escaping her, though there was no mirth in her eyes. “My master claimed to lock me away because I had fits, and now I’ve had one...” She drew in a long breath, and though her eyes were liquid, she answered him at last. “It is worse. I thought it would fade. Before when I’ve healed and felt these things, they’ve always faded...”

She looked away, and Julian couldn’t tell why—until he thought of her healing
him
. “Go on,” he said gruffly.

“You said the Hawk was almost killed,” Alarrah said. “If you healed him of a mortal wound, and you were unshielded besides, this may be why you yet feel him so strongly now.”

“Have you ever healed someone who would have died?” Faanshi asked, with a glimmer of hope.

“Once, before I learned how to shield, and it almost slew me to do it. I was very ill for months after, and could heal no one else until I was well again. All the while, I felt the one I’d healed in my thoughts.”

Julian raised his eyebrows. “Did the one you healed feel you?”

Alarrah smiled just a little. “Not that he’s ever said.” Then her smile, slight as it was, slid away. “Mind you, it was an elf. You, assassin, are the only human I’ve ever healed, and I sensed nothing from you.”

“Should that relieve me?” It did, actually—one healer with a window into his psyche was enough—but he saw no need to say that aloud.

“It should tell you how much more powerful Faanshi is than I. I didn’t know it was possible to form that kind of a link with a human during a—”

“Wait,” Faanshi interrupted. “If I don’t know how to shield myself, and I heal someone who’s hurt or sick or dying, then that person would make this...link with me?”

“That’s how the magic works,” Alarrah confirmed.

“I’ve only healed humans. I felt the
akreshi
Kennach and my master in my mind, but I don’t think they felt me.” Faanshi straightened where she sat between the maple’s roots, and her gaze came back to him, strange and shy. “You were hurt very badly, Julian, but I don’t think you...”

Even with her dusky complexion, he was certain she was blushing. He didn’t have to wonder about what she was trying to voice, since it was putting him perilously close to blushing himself. “I haven’t,” he said.

“Then Kestar’s different.” Faanshi’s eyes went wide as she clapped her hands up to her mouth. “Great Lady of Time—I said it to him myself, in the dream! He’s
like
me
!”

Alarrah swore, and Julian stared at the girl, stunned. She’d used those words before, and now none of them could miss their import. It sounded impossible, for surely no elf-blooded Hawk would have been ordained in the first place, much less allowed to patrol the realm. But conviction rang through Faanshi’s words, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was right.

“They’re not coming after her yet,” he guessed, “because they’re after
him
.”

“He had to break out of the church.” Faanshi’s face fell. “They said I’m driving him mad.”

“If he has our blood in him and so strong a link with you, then I daresay you’ll do just that.” Kirinil stepped away from the horses to join them. “And he likewise to you. The question before us is whether we can sever your link before that happens, and before your Hawk comes after you and brings his Order with him.”

“Or the Anreulag,” Alarrah said.

To this Faanshi said nothing, snapping her gaze away from them all. Thinking to turn her face back so that he could see her expression, Julian knelt beside her and reached for her chin—but at his fleeting touch, she flinched. He halted at once.

“I don’t want this,” she whispered. “It’s my fault! The magic is supposed to heal, not drive people mad, isn’t it?” Her attention whipped back to Alarrah. “Isn’t it?”

“Yes. It should mend, not break. Flesh or blood or spirit, it should make no difference.”

“Then I didn’t do it right. I tried to heal Kestar and instead I broke him—us. Ah, Lady of Time!” With a fretful energy, Faanshi shot to her feet and began to pace the little glade, rubbing her temples.

Julian stood to follow her, but Kirinil intercepted her first, taking her dusky hands in his paler ones, looking down at her with critical eyes. “The first thing we must do,” he said, “is teach you how to shield.”

The girl froze. “Will that help Kestar too?”

“Child, you can’t make this Hawk your first priority—”

“Why not? Kestar is in pain and in danger because of me, and the
ridahs
of Almighty Djashtet say that if I bring a good man to harm, I should set it right. Are there no such laws from the gods of the elves?”

Silence descended upon the camp. Alarrah and Kirinil eyed Faanshi with Julian’s own amazement mirrored in their faces; after a moment, Kirinil stepped back from her. “Has it not been made clear enough to you that the Order of the Hawk is at war with our kind?” His voice had gone cold, but shame flickered across Alarrah’s eyes.

Before either elf could speak again, though, Julian strode to Faanshi, took her shoulder, and tugged her round to face him. “That
good
man
is sworn to a Church who will burn every last trace of power out of your blood, and who, if they don’t kill you in the process, will hand you right back to the duke. Do you want that?”

“No, but I—”

“If they catch us, they’ll Cleanse and kill Alarrah and Kirinil, and they’ll hang me. Do you want
that
?”

“Of course not!”

“Will your Djashtet stop it?”

Faanshi’s features twisted and her eyes grew wetter, but her gaze remained riveted on his face. “The Lady of Time will help me remain free if She wills it. But if I break Her
ridahs
, She won’t help me at all.” Then her attention swung back to Alarrah. “If you shield me, will it make Kestar safe?”

The she-elf frowned, glancing sideways at Kirinil as she thought aloud. “If your magic were only as strong as mine, I’d say yes. But it’s not. You’re outside my experience.” She halted, and then went on abruptly, “Your magic. How does it feel to you, when you think of the Hawk?”

“It won’t let me stop. It wants to go back to him. It wants to finish the healing.”

Talk of magic was beyond him, yet Julian kept his hand on her, unwilling to yield his place in their council—or that small contact. Eyeing Kirinil, he asked, “You set those Wards. You can’t shield her and take care of this?”

“I can usually maintain the Wards on Dolmerrath without thinking about them.” The elf’s reserve held, far better than Alarrah’s, though his eyes went dark. “But if I have to spend enough power to block off Faanshi from her Hawk, I risk pulling power away from the Wards. We need you, child, but I won’t risk my brother and the rest of our people for you.”

“You made that plain,
akreshi
, and I won’t ask that of you.” Faanshi’s expression turned almost as remote as Kirinil’s, enough that Julian frowned deeply at her. “Thus the problem before us is this, yes? Kestar can’t shield himself from me because he doesn’t know how. Kirinil can’t shield me, and it’ll take time to teach me properly, which Kestar may not have.”

Alarrah nodded. “If he truly bears elven blood, and it’s set his own amulet to shining, his own Church will hunt him as surely as it hunts us.”

“Then I must do as my magic is asking. I must go to him.”

Her words were softly uttered, and yet they drove blatant shock across the faces of both elves. Julian ignored them, for anger and fear swamped him, blotting out all else. “Gods damn it, girl, have you gone insane?” he roared, shaking her shoulder, twice as hard to make up for the hand he lacked. “I didn’t take you out of that cell to let you waltz right back to the Hawks!”

“You do not command me!” Faanshi roared right back, pushing at his chest, tears leaking at last from her eyes. “Didn’t you tell me you wouldn’t make me a slave? Did you lie to me, Julian?”

Thunderstruck, he reared back, barely recognizing her. What had happened to the timid little mouse he’d stolen out of Camden? “No,” he said, each word she’d cried a knife in his gut. “You’re right. I didn’t lie. I don’t command you.”

“Then this thing is for me to decide. And I must do it, even if it means that you’ll leave me. My magic won’t be happy until I heal him. And I don’t think he’ll leave my head until I do.”

“I said I wouldn’t leave you.” Julian lifted his hand to her cheek. Her tears touched his fingertips, and the slight, wet warmth of them raced through him and held him where he stood. “I didn’t lie about that either.”

“So you’ll go with me to seek the Hawk?”

In the back of his mind Rab mocked him, and he couldn’t blame that echo of his partner’s voice. He was mocking himself right along with it. “I’ll go,” he said, nevertheless.

“As will I.” Alarrah stepped forward to stand beside them both. “You’re a free woman of the West, and none of us may keep you from any path you choose. But you’re also my father’s daughter, and you won’t walk this path alone.”

“Gerren won’t like this.” A corner of Kirinil’s mouth turned up. “But as we’ve already left Dolmerrath, he’ll have to wait till we return to lodge his objections. Faanshi, if this Hawk is bonded to you enough that your magic won’t release you until it’s done with him, I see no other choice before us. We must all go, and I’ll keep you as shielded as I can until we find him. Yet you must realize one other thing. If he proves a threat, or if we have no other way to break the link between you, we may have to kill him.”