Whickering in satisfaction, Mud dropped down to the courtyard, and she sent one last vision—of her throat opening and Song flowing from it to other volarans. Bri knew the image and the Song—Mud would tell others that Sevair wanted her kind, would care for them well, would not be fighting. He’d be flying for transportation to other fascinating places. The volaran added a picture of Bri at the end.
Bri laughed.
They landed in what appeared to be the town square, though it was a long, cobbled rectangle. People stood on all sides, looking at her.
Sevair dismounted and bowed.
She was reluctant to get off the winged steed, and Sevair reached up, put his big hands around her waist and lifted her down with ease. Her eyes met his and she saw he was very serious again. As always.
His fingers slid down to hers, then he lifted her hand with his in a gesture of triumph. “This is Bri Drystan who saved widow Marchand’s boy last night and healed all who were sick of the Dark disease. Our Exotique Medica!”
Cheers rose from the square. Bri was surrounded by happy faces. Tears stung. She’d known gratitude before, but it usually came from an individual, not a crowd. Awesome.
Bri’s minutes of basking in glory lasted only until she noticed Sevair conversing with other well-dressed people and watching her from the corner of his eye. She knew that look. She had purple streaks in her hair, an alternative-lifestyle fashion statement that she now regretted since it meant that she might be watched all the time.
No one came up to talk to her. When she stepped close to someone, they sidled back. So they respected Exotiques, were glad she and Elizabeth, and the others, were here, but the Exotiques were also obvious aliens in a culture with few differences.
“Let’s discuss matters inside.” Sevair stepped aside, offered his arm to Bri and took Mud’s reins, then led them both to the guildhall. The crowd parted. He planted Bri on the porch with a look that meant “stay,” and Mud went happily into a walled and grassy garden. The people in the square dispersed, except the kids who were intently eyeing the garden door.
Then Sevair was back with introductions to the other Citymasters, half of whom were women. Bri made note of them, and figured it wouldn’t be as hard remembering what guild they were master of as much as their names. The goldsmith wore an intricate gold ring, the weaver a fine rainbow-colored shawl.
But when they got into the guildhall conference room it became jaw-cracking dull. They talked about the statement that the Dark sent the plague. They spoke of funding a Chevalier team to fight against the Dark, or studies by Circlets. Bri spent the first few minutes looking at the people, then the room—rich wood panels that held a symbol of the craft guilds with ornately carved trim in the shape of fruits and flowers. There were windows, some of them stained-glass as if they were a glazier’s ongoing project, high in the wall offering light but no view.
The scent spoke of polish and understated wealth. Of tradition.
They’d seated her at the end of the room in a fancy chair that was so new-looking that it was evident it was a symbol. The back panel had a woman with raised arms and tilted-back head and open mouth, singing. Not too difficult to deduce that the chair was reserved for the Singer, and Bri wondered if she’d ever used it.
She had only shifted in the chair twice—okay, three times—before Sevair caught her eye. A ripple of a melody came from him. He was as impatient as she with this talk, but he showed no restlessness, continued to make his points as steadily as he’d probably made them several times before. Some would consider that a virtue.
She was just about ready to stand and make a circuit of the room, scrutinize the woodwork, when the door burst open and a woman staggered in holding a sick child.
Adrenaline poured through Bri. Her hands tingled.
10
By midmorning, Elizabeth’s mind was spinning…no, that was a trite and wrong image. Her mind was so saturated with new ideas and experiences it was like a sodden sponge. Her brain might have sunk to the bottom of her skull unable to hold one more new thing.
She’d been shown the healing rooms, and had watched when the medicas followed up on the injuries from the battle the night before. The claw-slices and puncture wounds on heavily scarred bodies had horrified her, empirical evidence that these people fought somethings that tried their best to kill them. She was told again that the Marshalls formed a healing circle after the battle and handled most of the injuries. She garnered that though the “incursion” had been large, only two people had died. Alexa and Bastien had saved the day.
Her whole body tensed at the images forming in her mind, but she asked no questions. Then a Chevalier woman limped in with strained muscles and a broken arm from a too tough practice and Elizabeth helped heal her. That was—strange. Nothing like linking with Bri, but Elizabeth couldn’t pinpoint why.
The female knight and her partner in the skirmish had been charged a large sum for the healing for being careless in a time of war, when the medicas needed to be fresh for any battle aftermath the Marshalls couldn’t handle. Individuals and pairs were patrolling and fighting in the north and might appear at any moment.
Then they’d all trooped to the inside training hall in the lower courtyard of the Castle to reiterate the policy to the rest of the fighters.
Alexa Fitzwalter rescued her, shooing off the medicas surrounding Elizabeth with flapping motions as if they were a flock of birds. “Give the woman a break!”
Elizabeth shook her head. Had Alexa actually said that? She reran the words in her mind. No. Something equally colloquial, but not those exact words.
Jerking her head toward the security gate between the lower courtyard and Temple ward, Alexa said, “Let’s get rid of the extra bed and wardrobe in your room. You don’t object to living in my tower, do you?” She started off across the grassy middle of the yard.
Elizabeth kept pace. “Would my objection be listened to?”
Alexa smiled. “Sure. You get to choose where to stay.”
“I’d rather go.”
Face losing expression, Alexa said, “Got that.”
“This is not our fight. Our parents—”
“I’m sorry,” Alexa said brusquely in English. “We understand, and we cut Marian some slack, but since then the war against the Dark has heated up. It wants something here in Lladrana and won’t hesitate to make this country a wasteland to get it.”
“Could you give—” Elizabeth started, but Alexa was shaking her head.
“I think anything a big evil entity wanted badly enough to create monsters and kill whatever got in its way is not something we should give that entity. Like Hitler and the atomic bomb. What we have here in Lladrana starts with genocide, since it’s only Lladrana being invaded now. But I reckon it will move to the eradication of the human species.” Her smile was grim. “I’d rather not be an individual in an endangered species. Not to mention that we can all hear the planet, Amee, weep. This planet is much weaker than Earth, in energy—Song.”
Elizabeth remained silent and nodded to the guards who held open the heavy gate door. She stepped over the threshold curb. “I’ve never been a proponent in the sacrifice of the individual for the greater good. Especially when the individuals don’t want to be sacrificed. I would have thought as an attorney that you would have agreed. You don’t seem to be the type to defend major corporations, but individuals.”
“I took any case I could get,” Alexa said, heading toward the keep. Sadness passed over her face. “I had a partner, as close as a sister, who died just before I came.” She sighed. “I was grieving. We’d just set up business and were scrambling for work.” They entered the keep and strode down corridors.
“That reminds me,” Elizabeth said. “Our godfather is a judge in Denver.”
Alexa’s expression changed to wariness as she stopped outside the door to the twins’ suite. “Let me guess, the honorable Trenton Philbert the Third.” She fingered her baton sheath.
“You know him.�
�
“Yeah. Open the door.”
Elizabeth set her hand on the knob, heard and felt a little “pop.” They went down the narrow security passage to the dining room entrance. She pushed open the door. Things looked slightly disarrayed. Of course, someone had come to get Bri’s gear.
Alexa went to the table and put her hand on the stack of three books. “All of us know the judge.”
“What!”
Alexa’s smile was ironic. “Denver isn’t as large as some of the eastern cities, but it ain’t a small cow-town anymore.”
Elizabeth blinked. “Calli was a rancher.”
“Ayes, and ‘Bert’ had a spread right next to hers.” Alexa’s forehead creased. “The Philberts had lived next to Calli’s family for a couple of generations.”
“Coincidence?” Elizabeth said, then shook her head just as the smaller woman was doing.
“I don’t think so,” Alexa said. Again she shrugged. “We’ll see if the last Exotique knows him, too. A singer,” she murmured. “Probably gotta be a singer. He big into the arts?”
“Of course.”
“Of course,” Alexa repeated.
“Though his new wife is…unusual. Very involved in New Age studies.”
Alexa stared at her thoughtfully, “The owner of the metaphysical store in Denver, Queen of Cups.”
“Yes, how did you know?”
Tapping the books with her finger, Alexa said, “Marian met her.” Alexa’s mouth opened, then her lips pressed together as if guarding secrets. “Read them. There may be other connections among us. We need to know.”
“I will.” Elizabeth scooped up her healthy back bag, slung it over her shoulder. She didn’t want to think about connections. She went into the bedroom and stopped in her tracks as she saw a long-haired white Persian cat batting one of the foil paper chocolate wrappers around and pouncing on it.
“How did he get in here?” Elizabeth said.
The cat sat down and draped her tail around her paws. I AM a she.
Elizabeth plunked onto the bed. A talking cat. She was going mad. Flying horses, talking cats. She rubbed her eyes.
“This is my companion. She is a magical shape-shifting being, come to help us defeat the Dark.”
“Of course she is,” Elizabeth said tiredly, but jolted at the sight of the miniature greyhound cradled in Alexa’s arms. Futilely she scanned the room for the cat.
I am a dog now.
“So I see.” Her shoulders slumped.
The greyhound held out a dainty paw.
Sighing, Elizabeth went over to take it, and Power zinged through her body, removing weariness. She stepped back and released the small pads and claws. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Of course you should be,” Alexa said. “You’re in a different dimension. I can speak from experience that information and surprises come flying at you—sometimes literally—the first few days.” Her lopsided smile charmed. She continued, “I’m down to a surprise every couple of weeks. Marian’s still getting surprised every other day or so, but she’s a scholar and a Circlet and investigates stuff.” She bent down and picked up the wrapper and her scowl was back, along with an accusatory stare. “Chocolate. You have more than the chocolate cake. You have candy.” She held the scrap up to her nose and sniffed, whimpered. “You had chocolate last night.”
Elizabeth had. After she’d put Bri to bed, she’d eaten one, or rather had let it melt in her mouth and slide down her throat, savoring every instant. She clamped her bag close to her side. “Yes, I had one. After we healed—” she still wasn’t comfortable with the word “—fifteen people.”
Alexa blew out a breath. “Guess I can’t blame you.” She widened her eyes and tried to look pitiful. It didn’t work. She was one of the strongest, most competent people Elizabeth had ever met, including her mother and the staff at Denver Major.
When Elizabeth didn’t respond to the ploy, Alexa once again donned the manner of extreme efficiency. Looking down at the dog in her arms, she said, “Is there anything else in the extra wardrobe Elizabeth needs?”
Faucon’s shirts, the dog said slyly. Elizabeth heard her. She ignored the comment and stared at the greyhound. It had an aura. She was getting used to seeing light flare around people, green most especially for the medicas. This aura was different, radiating a glittering rainbow with golden patches that glowed every few seconds.
The greyhound launched herself from Alexa to Elizabeth and Elizabeth caught her. She was light, as if she was more spirit than flesh. Her fur was soft. The dog looked at her with deep brown eyes that drew her in, made her dizzy, had her sinking into her balance.
You and your twin are needed here. It will take both of you to find the answers.
Elizabeth blinked, but still heard the voice in her mind, thought she saw the dog’s muzzle opening and closing as if she uttered words. Stay. I am Sinafinal, a fey-coo-cu. Call on me if you have need, but guard my name from others. Only the Exotiques and their mates know our names.
“Our?” Elizabeth managed.
There was a short bark and another greyhound sat on the bed, tongue lolling and wagging its tail.
My mate, said Sinafinal.
It was male. Slightly larger, it was a dappled brown instead of grey like Sinafinal. It held out a paw.
Cautious, but fascinated, Elizabeth took the paw. Another surge of energy through her, but something about this one felt almost familiar.
I am Tuckerinal. I was once a hamster. I came with Marian from Earth and am her companion.
“Um, salutations.” Again she eased back from the magical being. Fey-coo-cu, magical shape-shifting being. Former hamster. Right.
Hello to you. Too messy here. Bed and wardrobe must go.
“I’ll take care of it,” Alexa said, waved toward the bathroom and dining room beyond.
The dog sniffed at Elizabeth’s bag. Do you have nuts?
“No.”
Yes, you do! Nuts, nuts, nuts! He pawed at the bag, managed to tip her cell phone out.
“No!” Alexa lunged for the bed, but it was tall and wide. She hopped on, but not before Tuckerinal’s quick paws snicked the case of Elizabeth’s cell open and his tongue came out to scoop up the battery and memory chips.
“No!” Elizabeth dropped Sinafinal, but it was too late. She was dazed by what she’d just witnessed, a dog eating electronics.
Tuckerinal burped and grinned at her. More nuts?
“No, Bri has the most toys.” She snapped her mouth shut.
Br-iii. It was an anticipatory lilt in her mind from him. He swiped a long pink tongue over his muzzle. Toys. Nuts.
“Uh-oh,” Alexa said.
“No!” Elizabeth scrabbled at the remnants of the phone, knowing it was useless, but trying to put it together all the same. Tears spurted from her eyes and anger and humiliation washed through her.
She is doing that turning red thing, Sinafinal said.
“Out! All of you! How could you? That was my camera phone. It had pictures.” She whirled to Alexa. “Photos of our father’s birthday party. Of our parents! Get out. Now. I don’t want to see any of you.”
Tuckerinal sat up. He wasn’t happy and grinning now. I can show them. All. I can repeat voice mail. He opened his mouth.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Cassidy’s deep tones rolled out. “Can’t tell you how much I want you, how I’m lookin’ forward to after shift. Later.”
Elizabeth moaned and curled onto the bed.
Alexa was there. “I’m sorry. So sorry. You didn’t say you’d left a…a lover, too.”
“The…the…bas…tard…broke…off…our…engagement…two weeks ago,” Elizabeth said between shuddering sobs.
“Oh, gawd,” Alexa said in English. The bed dipped as she crawled closer. She sat by Elizabeth and stroked her hair. “I’m so sorry.”
“I love him. Loved him.” She cried more, couldn’t seem to stop. Hadn’t she cried enough over the man? “He…saw. Me trying to…use my…my…gift.” It w
as all so horrible. She could remember her despair that a young girl was dying, her desperate hope that she could call down a miracle. Her failure.
“He…was…appalled…A…doctor, rational person…” He hadn’t loved her enough.
Two small forms settled on either side of her. One purred near her abdomen. She reached out and tangled her fingers in long, soft fur. Sinafinal, as the cat. A long nose nuzzled the back of her knee.
I made Elizabeth cry. I am very sorry. I will make it up somehow. A doggy sigh. I could not resist the nuts. A little one comes. We both need energy and Power and Song for it.
That made no sense to Elizabeth.
Alexa said. “You will take care of all the photos for Elizabeth. Not one must be lost. We’ll see what we can do about having them, um, hard-copied.”
The absurdity of that—hard-copied from a dog’s stomach?—just made Elizabeth cry harder.
The sick child was a girl of about seven or eight, sturdy. Probably too heavy for the mother to carry, but she held her child with desperate strength.
With a careful sweep of his arm, Sevair shoved the stacks of papers aside, then took the child, carried her to the conference table.
“Sevair, this is not the place…” said one hefty man shrinking back to the side of the room. Sevair and the woman—now twisting her hands in her apron—were between the citymaster and the door, otherwise Bri thought he might have bolted.
“This is exactly the place. Exactly our priority. Exactly our duty.” Sevair bit the words off. He gently laid the girl on the table, grabbed his overtunic, stuffed it under her head.
“Medica?” His look was a demand.
Bri found herself rubbing her hands. She stopped, shifted her shoulders, drew in a deep breath and went to the child. The girl was unconscious, so no talking to her about where it hurt. Opening her mouth, Bri caught sweet, labored breathing. No coating of white on her tongue. She checked under her eyes. Nothing there, either.
No use. She’d just have to trust in the healingstream, in the magic and Power of this dimension. That everyone was right and her hands would be enough. Sure weren’t any antibiotics around. She stroked the child from head to toe, heat radiated from her throat and her abdomen.
Keepers of the Flame Page 9
