Forged in Fire, page 27
“I do. Regularly,” Rhexa said. She glanced to the side, in the direction where Risha had taken Aria. “In any case, it’s a futile discussion, and one that we need to stop having where anyone can hear us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ALMOST REFLEXIVELY, Aven looked around. There was no one else in the entry hall, which was surprising. Shouldn’t there be a healing assistant here? Had Risha sent them away?
He turned back to the others. “You didn’t have to fight her. Not on my account,” he said softly. Alanar smiled.
“Treesi will tell you I usually don’t fight her. But this... I couldn’t betray your trust like that.” He rested his hand on Aven’s arm, his fingers warm through the sleeve of Aven’s shirt. “If you’re ever in my bed, it’ll be because you want to be there. Not because you were told to be there.” He hesitated. Then he shook his head. “And I’m not sure I’d ever feel right asking you. You’re too much like him. Like Virrik. It would feel like I was trying to replace him.”
Aven winced and covered Alanar’s hand with his own. “You’re my friend, Alanar. That’s important to me. Too important for me to want to risk hurting you.”
“And besides,” Alanar said with a laugh. “You’ve got more than enough to keep you busy.” He cocked his head to the side. “They’re coming. We’ll talk later, when we’re doing reports. I’ll have some advice for you.”
“Advice?” Aven realized what Alanar meant even as he said the word. “Oh,” he stammered. “I... I’d appreciate that.”
Alanar chuckled and tugged his hand out from underneath Aven’s. “Friends, right?”
“Absolutely,” Aven said. He turned to see Risha and Aria coming into the entry hall. Aria looked paler, and somehow uncomfortable. Aven’s mouth went dry.
“Aria?” he said. She looked up at him and smiled.
“It’s done,” she said. “I’m fine.” She looked back at Risha. “This will pass, you said?”
“An hour, perhaps less,” Risha answered. “Now, my students have rounds, and they’re already late. If you want him to join you tonight, I need him now.”
Aria nodded. “I have work, too. So we’ll go.”
Aven tugged her close, wrapping his arms around her and holding her. She melted against him, and as she did, he sent his power flowing through her, trying to understand why she was so pale.
“Stop that,” she whispered. “I can feel you.”
“You can?” Aven whispered back.
“When you heal, it feels warm. And this is nothing.” She hugged him a little tighter. “Cramps,” she added. “It will pass. She said some women react to the block this way.”
“Ah,” Aven murmured. He buried his nose in her hair, breathing in her scent of wind and sunshine. “I don’t like seeing you hurting.”
“I am fine. And you have to go to work.” She tipped her head back, then kissed him. “Go to work, Aven. I will see you later.” She stepped back, out of his arms, and turned toward Owyn. “Let’s go. We have so much to do!”
Owyn grinned and nodded. He led Treesi over to Aven. “We’ll all meet up for the evening meal?” he asked.
“We might be late,” Treesi warned. “Since we’re starting late.”
“So we’ll eat late,” Owyn answered. He kissed Treesi on the cheek, then slipped his arm free from hers. He grinned up at Aven. “I’m not a warrior.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” Aven replied. He laughed and leaned down to kiss Owyn. Then he nodded to Rhexa, and followed Risha out of the entry hall.
OWYN LAID HIS BOOK down on Rhexa’s desk. “The map isn’t nearly finished, but when I compare it to the dispensary records, there are some big problems,” he said. “The houses I’ve marked? Those are empty. But the dispensary records say they’re not. And someone is still drawing those allotments.” He frowned. “Aven suggested that I check my list against the list of people who have vanished. But if they’ve left, wouldn’t the dispensary know?”
“Unless they didn’t officially vanish,” Rhexa said. She went into her desk and took out a book that she paged through, glancing between the writing there and the pages of Owyn’s notes. Then she pressed her hands together and touched her fingers to her lips.
“Who have you told?” she asked in a soft voice. Owyn frowned.
“No one. Well, Aria and Aven. But no one else.”
Rhexa nodded. She ran her finger down the list in Owyn’s book. “Some of these...” She stopped. She stood up, went to her window and closed it, locking it and closing the curtains. Then she walked around to the door, looked out into the hall, then closed the door and locked it. She returned to her desk and sat down. She licked her lips and folded her hands.
“What I am about to say goes no further than this desk,” she said in that same soft voice. “Several of the names on this list are people who I personally helped leave Terraces. I know where they are. I am not telling you that information. But they are alive and safe.” She frowned. “And they’re not the ones whose allotments are still being accessed. Those... I had no idea they were missing.” She glanced up. “The first two rings of Terraces are usually reserved for healers, healing assistants, and their families. So they can be closest to the healing complex. I’d wondered why Risha’s students always seemed to be so busy. They shouldn’t be — it’s horrible for their learning to be always on the run. But I just thought it was because we were so short on healers. I didn’t realize it was because so many of the healers and the assistants had gone missing.”
“Why are they going missing? And why did you help people leave?” Aria asked, keeping her voice low. Rhexa met her eyes.
“Do you remember what Alanar said, about healers leaving rather than putting up with Risha?” she asked. “He doesn’t have it quite right.”
“Oh, fuck,” Owyn breathed. “She’s doing something to her competition, isn’t she?”
“I have no proof,” Rhexa said. “I have nothing but worries and suspicions, and a way out of Terraces that Risha doesn’t know about.” She looked down. “You know the North spoke in the wheel? How the stairs to the lowest terrace are blocked?”
“Yes,” Aria answered. “Marik said it was a rockfall?”
Rhexa nodded. “They’re not as impassable as we’ve let people think. And there’s a way down to the low tunnels, and out of Terraces.” She reached into her desk, took out a folded piece of paper and a bottle. “I’ve been holding this, just in case. I think you need it.”
“What is it?” Owyn took the paper and unfolded it. “This... this is a map. A good map.” He arched a brow. “Why am I making maps if you have one this good?”
“Partly because this one is marked with things I don’t want anyone to know,” Rhexa answered. “Like the way to the low tunnels.” She tapped the spot. “There. It’s rough, but you can reach it. Marik is completely trustworthy, and he knows the way. If you need to take that route, he’ll take you. That’s the other reason he’s watching you, by the by. In case you need to run, he’ll meet you at the north stairs.
“And the bottle?”
“Is a sleeping potion.” Rhexa touched the top of the bottle with one finger and tipped it. “Just in case.”
“In case we need to get Aven out of here in a hurry,” Owyn said softly. “That’s what you’re saying.”
Rhexa nodded slowly. “I thought he’d be safe. He’s your Water. He’s a Companion. He cannot be Senior Healer. There’s no way he can be a threat to Risha. Then I saw his testing results.” She looked at them. “What did he tell you? I assume that he told you what his results were?”
“That he was a low four with potential,” Aria answered. Rhexa nodded.
“He’s not,” she said. “And I think that Risha is undermining her students. Treesi and Alanar should both be ranked much higher than they are. Alanar especially — he’s a high four, possibly even a five, or I’ll eat this desk.” She paused. “If you have to use the tunnels, take him with you. I know you’ll take Treesi. Take Alanar, too. Get him out of here before it’s too late.”
Aria picked up the bottle. “Rhexa, what do you think is happening?” she asked.
“And what level is Aven?” Owyn added.
“I wasn’t sure about what might be happening. I had suspicions, but I didn’t know anything,” Rhexa answered. “Not until you told me about Virrik.” She smiled slightly. “Alanar is right. Aven is very like Virrik. Right down to the healing ability. Virrik was a natural five. I think Aven is, too. Thinking about his bloodline, and comparing his testing results to Virrik’s, I’m almost certain. For a natural five, healing is like breathing.” Rhexa leaned back in her chair. “Virrik didn’t believe me when I told him that I thought he was in danger. I showed him the list of names of healers who have vanished, and he told me that he was certain I was wrong. That he wasn’t going to leave when he was so close to finishing his training. It was the last conversation we had. I thought that perhaps he’d changed his mind. But he wouldn’t have left Alanar.” She let out a long breath. “And I’ve been worried that Memfis has gone the same way.”
“No,” Owyn protested. “He couldn’t have...” Then he stopped. “I mean, could he? Auntie, you don’t think someone hurt him, do you?”
“I don’t know,” Rhexa answered. “I wish I did. Marik has been searching the tunnels, and he’s found nothing. At least, nothing he’s told me.”
“So, you think Risha has been getting rid of anyone who could challenge her.” Aria picked up the bottle and slipped it into her coat. “Why? She’s a healer herself. Why would she...” Her voice trailed off, and she reached for the book and turned it. “Rhexa, how many of these healers who have vanished were of mixed blood? Treesi told us that when she started training here is when she first heard her teacher use the word subhuman. Her teacher is Risha. So how many of the healers who have vanished would Risha have called subhuman?”
“And don’t say that it can’t be her,” Owyn added. “There’s no one else who can reach that many healers. Except you, and we know it’s not you.” He paused. “Well, we’re pretty sure it’s not you.”
“I’m humbled by your faith in me,” Rhexa said dryly.
Owyn turned red. “Oh, Auntie—”
“No,” Rhexa said with a wave of her hand. “Please, keep questioning. Keep being skeptical. It might save your lives someday. You’re right. Risha is the only one with the influence to change so many minds about the other tribes. I can’t imagine why—”
“Is it Mannon’s doing?” Aria asked. “Do you think?”
Rhexa shook her head. “In this? I think not. No, I’m fairly certain it is not. He would be biting his own tail.” She looked at Aria, then at Owyn. “Neither of you know?”
“Mannon is Fire, I thought,” Owyn said slowly.
“The son of Firstborn Elcam, yes,” Rhexa agreed. “And his mother was Elcam’s Air. If I remember correctly, her name was Falla.” She shook her head. “No. As much as I’d like to blame everything ill in the world on that man, including my sore feet, in this I think the source is somewhere else. And perhaps it lies no further than our own healing complex.”
“But why?” Owyn slumped in his seat. “We’re all the Mother’s children. It’s at the heart of every tribal law and all the stories we tell. How can any of us be less?”
Rhexa shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand how anyone can hate so much, and for such silly reasons.” She sighed. “All right. Let’s reconcile your list with the dispensary rolls, see if we can’t figure out where those supplies are actually going.”
AVEN SAT FACING ALANAR at the long table in the healer’s common room, writing up his reports as he listened to the clicking of beads from across the table. It had fascinated him, the first few days, to see Alanar do his own reporting. The blind healer used a series of knotted cords, each tipped by a bead with a different texture — a different bead for each patient. There was a matching bead on that patient’s door, or in the case of the children’s ward, on the foot of the bed. Alanar had tried to teach his system to Aven, but it had ended in hilarity — Aven tried it, only to somehow manage to tangle the knots in such a way that Alanar told him that the imaginary patient they were charting for was a ninety-year-old male who was pregnant with their sixteenth child. Once Aven stopped laughing and could breathe again, he went back to using a record book and a pen. He wrote the notes on his final patient of the day, a young woman who had been kicked by a horse, then set his book into the basket where they left their reports for Risha to review. He capped his inkwell, wiped his pen, then leaned back in his chair and rolled his shoulders, hearing the muscles crackle and pop.
“So how are you not entirely a virgin?” Alanar asked in a soft voice.
“Can you talk and do your charting at the same time?” Aven asked in response.
“I’m done,” Alanar said as he laid aside his final cord. “So, explain?”
Aven smiled. “Owyn called it playing. But there wasn’t any penetration, so I’m sort of yes, and sort of no. There was never any time for more after that once.”
Alanar snorted. “That makes more sense. Have you read any of the pillow books? Treesi said she was going to leave them where you could find them.”
“Oh, is that where those came from?” Aven laughed. The small, extremely explicit manuals had seemed to appear overnight throughout the suite. “Yes. I’m wondering if those are a little bit advanced, though.”
“A bit,” Alanar agreed with a nod. “The most important thing you need to know tonight is that Air folks are not comfortable lying on their backs. So let her ride you.”
Aven swallowed, suddenly warm as he remembered the night on the beach, and Aria pinning him to the sand. “Good to know,” he stammered. “Anything else?”
Alanar paused, then laughed. “I’ve just turned your brains off, haven’t I? Your heart is racing.”
“Alanar, what level are you?” Aven asked. “Because I can’t tell what your heart rate is doing from across the table, not without touching you first.”
“I’m more sensitive, for some reason. Treesi thinks it’s because I can’t see.” Alanar shrugged. “And somewhere between three and five, I think. It doesn’t matter to me. Not really. I’ll be serving here until I fall over.”
Aven blinked. “You could teach—”
“Aven, who’d listen to me?” Alanar asked. He spread his hands wide. “I spend most of my time in the children’s ward, because most adults can’t see past my scars. They’re more blind than I am.”
“But you’re a good teacher!” Aven protested. “And you’re an excellent healer!”
“And I’m blind and crippled,” Alanar said. “And people will always see me as less because of it. And I’ve learned to live with that. I thought... well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. Treesi will go with you when you leave, and I’ll stay here. I’ll serve in the children’s ward. I don’t aspire to more than that.”
“You deserve more than that,” Aven grumbled. To his surprise, Alanar laughed.
“Mother, you do sound like him!” he said. “Do you know how many times Virrik told me the same thing?” He shook his head. “Enough. It’s not me you should be worrying about. Tonight, it’s all about you. You read the pillow books. You have the basic training, I assume? In theory, at least?”
“Yes,” Aven said. He rolled his shoulders again. They felt unusually tight. It took him a moment to realize why.
He was nervous.
“When do we go over?” he asked. Alanar smiled.
“You’re finished with your reports?” he asked. “If you are, we can go now. Let’s go find Tree.”
IT FELT ODD, KNOCKING on the door of the house that was supposed to be his own. Aven opened the door and looked inside at the empty front room. “We’re here!” he called, and walked in. Treesi and Alanar followed him, and Alanar took a deep breath.
“That smells good, whatever it is,” he said. “I hope there’s a lot of it.”
“There is,” Owyn said as he came out of the corridor. “And a lot of other things, too.” He waved at the table. “We’ll be out in a minute. There’s wine—”
“There’s what?” Alanar asked. “You got wine? I thought you didn’t keep it in the house.”
“I didn’t get it. Rhexa sent it.” Owyn grinned. “And if Mem chooses this moment to walk through that door, I’ll pour the whole bottle out myself.”
“Then I’d better pour a glass first,” Alanar said. Treesi laughed and rested her hand on his arm.
“I’ll do it. You’re a horrible judge of a pour,” she said. She filled three cups and brought them back, handing one to Aven. He sniffed it, feeling the alcohol tickle his nose.
“Have you ever had wine before?” Treesi asked.
“No,” Aven answered. “I know what it is, but we don’t have things like this out on the water. Nothing that muddles your head. I had kawa, once. It’s for ritual, and it’s only served at the Winter Solstice festivals. My cousin and I sneaked into the stores and we each had a sip. Grandmother tanned us both for it. But it’s not like this.” He took another sniff. “I had fireberry mead once. Mannon gave it to me. I didn’t like it.”
“Mead is too sweet for me,” Alanar agreed. He sipped his wine, and his brows rose. “This is nice.”
“Is it?” Aven asked. He took a tentative sip. The liquid was warm, and tasted a little sharp. “This is nice?”
“It’s a good vintage,” Alanar answered, taking another sip. “Smooth. I taste... oak. Cherries. And...” He stopped and took a sniff. “Pears?”
“Pears,” Treesi agreed. “There’s definitely pears. Aven, you don’t have to drink it.”
“I don’t even taste any of those things,” Aven said. “It’s sharp—”
“That’s the oak,” Alanar offered. “Take a sip, then breathe in through your mouth, and out through your nose. Without swallowing.”
Aven blinked. Then he did as Alanar instructed, only to cough and hand his cup back to Treesi. “Not tasting anything but sharp. It makes my nose itch.”
