She said this last in a teasing voice that made Tarek’s pulse speed a bit.
“I don’t relish being the oldest by far in all my classes,” he admitted. “But since I know nothing of Healing, I have to start at the beginning. The Master did say that in a few months I’ll be able to move more quickly, as I’ve already taken most of the other classes the First Years have to attend.”
“And the Second, and Third, and Fourth . . .” She smiled at him. “You’ll be in your Greens before you know it, Tarek.”
“I hope so.” He sighed. It was frustrating, having been so close to finishing his schooling, only to be sent back to the beginning again. Dratted Healing Gift.
Their conversation moved to less annoying subjects, and before Tarek knew it, half the afternoon had passed. The sound of bells drifted through the open window, and he jumped up.
“I’ll be late for class if I don’t go,” he said. “Thank you, for everything.”
She walked him to the door. “I’ll see you soon, Tarek. I’m certain that between you, me, and Master Adrun, we’ll find a way to help that poor girl.”
• • •
Lyssa wasn’t in class that afternoon, but as the rest of the students filed out, Master Adrun beckoned Tarek up to his desk.
“Come with me to my study,” he said, rising. “I’m meeting with young Lyssa and her mother, and I’d like you and Bard Shandara to be there. It’s high time we had some answers.”
Tarek nodded. He couldn’t imagine what those answers might be, but it was clear that something had to change. As he followed the Master down the halls of the Healer’s Collegium, Shandara caught up to them and fell into step.
“Hello,” Tarek said, grinning at her.
“Oh, I’m glad you’re going to be there too,” she said.
“Having been involved in whatever this trouble is, you both deserve to know the outcome,” Master Adrun said. “I promise that we’ll get to the bottom of this. Ah, I see that Lyssa and Lady Varcourt are already waiting for us.”
A nervous-looking Lyssa and a woman with equally pale hair and a haughty expression stood outside the door of Master Adrun’s study. They greeted the Master, who introduced Tarek and Shandara and then led them all into the room.
The armchairs before the hearth had been added to, along with a small couch. Lyssa and her mother settled there, with Master Adrun across from them. Silently, Tarek and Shandara took the remaining chairs on the side.
Master Adrun cleared his throat. “I asked you to come today, Lady Varcourt, because Lyssa seems to be having an issue with her Gift.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case,” Lyssa’s mother said. “The Varcourt Healers are all very accomplished.” She shot her daughter a sharp look. “You’re not struggling, are you, dear?”
Lyssa went a little paler than usual. “Of course not, Mother.”
“You see? This is clearly some kind of misunderstanding.” Lady Varcourt raked Tarek with her gaze. “Lyssa told me about you. Aren’t you rather old to be a Trainee? I believe you must be jealous of Lyssa’s talent and are stirring up trouble for her.”
The accusation made Tarek blink. Before he could say anything, Shandara spoke.
“I have a strong sense of Empathy,” she said. “Trust me when I say that Tarek wishes no harm upon your daughter. In fact, he’s trying to help.”
Lady Varcourt sniffed. “Then he should stop spreading lies about her.”
“What lies do you believe are being spread?” Master Adrun asked. Despite his mild tone, there was a steely look in his eyes.
“Clearly, someone here believes my Lyssa has a problem with her Healing Gift—which is patently ridiculous. Now, may we go?”
Master Adrun held up his hand. “Not yet. I’d like to hear what Lyssa has to say.”
“It’s all right,” Shandara said to Lyssa, her voice warm with encouragement. “You can tell us whatever you need to, and no one will get in any trouble for it.”
Lyssa chewed her lip and looked at the Bard for a long moment.
“Do you promise?” she finally asked.
“I do,” Shandara said.
“And I do, as well.” Master Adrun’s deep voice was as gentle as Tarek had ever heard it.
Lady Varcourt gave an impatient tsk. “Really, now—”
“Lady Varcourt.” Master Adrun gave her a hard look. “Please hold your tongue a moment and let your daughter speak for herself.”
She sat back with an affronted expression but said nothing more. A tense silence filled the room as they all waited for Lyssa.
“I . . .” The girl lifted her head, tears sparkling in her blue eyes. “I can’t do it. I can’t Heal.”
“But of course you can!” Lady Varcourt grabbed her daughter’s hand. “That’s foolish talk, and I won’t hear another word of it.”
“I can’t!” Lyssa pulled out of her mother’s grasp and yanked up the left sleeve of her tunic. “See?”
Her skin was scored with dozens of angry cuts, the newest ones barely scabbed over with fresh blood. Tarek winced as the pain hit him like a wave of purple wasps streaming into his head. Shandara sucked in a breath, and even Master Adrun looked surprised.
“What’s this?” Lady Varcourt sounded horrified. “Is someone torturing you? I’ll bring down the wrath of—”
“I did it, Mother. I cut myself.”
Lady Varcourt stared at her daughter, her expression shocked.
“Why?” Shandara asked, no censure in her tone.
“To practice Healing. But . . . I couldn’t do it.” Lyssa’s voice broke. “I can’t Heal.”
The buzzing pain was making it hard for Tarek to concentrate. He slipped out of his chair, going to his knees on the carpet before Lyssa.
“Will you let me help?” he asked.
“Can you?” Her voice was very small.
“He can,” Master Adrun said, coming to stand beside Lyssa. “As will I. Now, hold out your arm.”
The Master gave Tarek a nod, and gently, so gently, Tarek put his fingertips on Lyssa’s wrist, just below where she was uninjured. He felt the bright push of blood through her body, the wrongness where her skin had been split by the blade, the violet shards of pain pulsing through her.
A blaze of emerald fire beside him signaled Master Adrun’s presence. Trails of the Master’s Healing touch flowed through Lyssa’s arm, and Tarek watched, and followed, and helped where he could. Together, they coaxed the most damaged places to mend.
“Enough.” Master Adrun’s voice pulled Tarek out of his intense concentration. “We’ve done all we can for now.”
Tarek lifted his hands, then blinked as a rush of dizziness swirled around him. The violet light surrounding Lyssa’s arm had dimmed to pale lavender, the insistent buzz of pain faded to a muted hum. He took a deep breath in, and when he let it out, the last of the purple wasps flew out of his skull.
“Excellent work.” Master Adrun gave him an approving look. “That was Second, or even Third-Level Healing. I can see we need to move you up in several of your classes.”
“Thank you.” Tarek was too tired to fully appreciate the news. He summoned up a smile for the Master and crawled back into his chair.
Shandara reached over and squeezed his knee. Despite the fact that she wasn’t a Healer, her touch provided a welcome burst of warmth and energy.
“Lyssa,” Master Adrun said, “let me see if I have this correct. In order to practice Healing, you cut your own arm, but you were unable to mend it.”
She nodded, her expression abject.
Lady Varcourt leaned forward. “I’m sure it’s only a temporary block. My daughter is very skilled.”
“While you are correct that she’s quite talented, you’re wrong about the nature of her Gift,” Master Adrun said. “Lyssa isn’t a Healer.”
“Bu
t, that can’t possibly be,” Lady Varcourt said.
“How could the Collegium make that kind of mistake?” Shandara asked.
“Because her Gift is uncommon and shares facets with Healing.” Master Adrun turned to Lyssa. “You, young lady, have the very special talent of Mindhealing.”
“I do?” Hope sparked in Lyssa’s eyes.
“Mindhealing?” Lady Varcourt asked. “Are you certain?”
Master Adrun ignored the question. “Lyssa, despite the fact that you injured yourself again and again, you seemed to control the pain most of the time. How?”
“I just told myself it didn’t hurt,” she said. “And sometimes . . . I almost thought I’d done it, that I’d Healed myself, because there wasn’t any pain. But then I’d get distracted, and it would come back, and I’d know I’d failed.”
“I sensed it,” Tarek said. “Yesterday, in class.”
He glanced at the scores of injuries on her arm, some of which went quite deep. It was amazing she’d been able to hide the pain from everyone—especially herself.
“By the bright stars,” Master Adrun said, his gaze going again to Lyssa’s arm. “That much trauma, and you still were able to mentally manage the pain. You are talented, indeed.”
“I am?” Lyssa straightened and pushed the hair out of her face.
“A true Varcourt Healer,” Lyssa’s mother said, her voice heavy with satisfaction.
“As for you, Lady Varcourt,” Master Adrun said, “I advise you to look long and hard at the cuts on your daughter’s arm and be aware that the weight of your expectation put them there. If Lyssa hadn’t been afraid to fail as a Healer, we would have spotted the trouble much earlier. As it is, she will bear those scars forever.”
Lady Varcourt’s expression crumpled, and she raised one hand to her temple. “I am so sorry.” She pulled out a kerchief and dabbed delicately at her eyes.
Tarek wasn’t sure if she was apologizing to her daughter or was simply filled with grief that Lyssa was now permanently marked by the experience.
“I hope you know we are all very, very proud of you, Lyssa,” she said. “A Mindhealer—who ever would have thought it?”
“Perhaps you should go share the news with the rest of your family,” Master Adrun said, rising and offering her his hand. “I will, of course, keep you updated on your daughter’s progress.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Lady Varcourt kissed Lyssa carefully on the cheek, then stood and let the Master escort her out.
Even Tarek, raised as he’d been by a hard father, could tell Lyssa needed more than that. He held out his arm just as Shandara leaned forward and mirrored his movement.
Lyssa darted up and flung herself at them, sobbing. Mostly tears of relief, he guessed—though now that she was no longer controlling her pain, he could sense the throbbing in her arm.
“There you are,” Shandara said, gathering Lyssa into her embrace. “It’s over now.”
Tarek gently patted her back, recalling the times he’d dried his sister’s tears. After a few more gulping cries, Lyssa rubbed her uninjured arm across her face. Moisture darkened the fabric of her sleeve and still shone, smeared over her cheeks, but she was clearly trying to compose herself.
“I wish you were my family,” she said.
“In a way, we are,” Shandara said. “Everyone at the Collegium is.”
“But you especially,” Lyssa said, then glanced at Tarek. “Both of you.”
“Then I will be,” he said. “You can be my honorary little sister. I promise to look out for you, and help you, and probably tease you a bit, and steal your pocket pies.”
She turned a smile on him that blazed like the sunshine outside. “I’d like that.”
“And you can always come to me,” Shandara said. “Whatever the trouble is, know that I’ll be there to help.”
She held out her hand, and Lyssa took it. Then Shandara nodded at Tarek, and he cupped his larger hand around them both. The truth of her words rang through him. The Collegium was family. Closer than family.
No matter if they were Healer or Bard, Herald or Mage, the Gifts of Valdemar ran through them all—a shining silver cord binding them together.
Secrets and Truths
D Shull
The crackling flames in the inn’s hearth were a merry counterpoint to the whistling wind outside, and though the inn was mostly closed down, the Avelard Family Traveling Show was gathered at a largish trestle table near the hearth and bar to discuss the night’s performance.
Ella mainly stared at the table, listening to how her family was speaking more than their words, but it wasn’t until Ronnet said the thing they’d all been avoiding that she finally looked up.
“This is the first time Zanner’s missed a performance, isn’t it?”
Hesby flattened his hands on the table. “But it’s not the first time this season Zanner’s been late to practice or rehearsals. Ever since Jayin was scooped up by the Healers—”
Ella spoke up, wanting to stop that thought right in its tracks. “Hesby. You’ve been around longest, barring my husbands and I. And as I recall, you were just as enthusiastic about welcoming Serril to the family as any of us. Are you blaming him, then, for what Jayin plainly said she needed to do?”
Hesby hung his head. “Sorry. I’m just not the juggler Zanner is, and you can only play being fumble-fingered for comedy if you’re actually much better than I am.” He blew into the empty bowl in front of him. “My upset is because I wasn’t ready for Zanner to not be here.”
Ella nodded. “Thank you. Yes, we miss Jayin, but that’s why we’re wintering here in the Tipsy Gryphon, even if you can’t pry her away from the Collegium for more than a few marks at a time. And she at least seems relieved that she’s getting the training she needs.”
Hallen tapped the back of his spoon on the table. “I’m fairly sure that Zanner’s not been up visiting Jayin. And under most circumstances, what you all do with your time is your business. But not when it interferes with the Family.”
At the end of the table, a serious face peered out from beneath black hair and a spoon balanced on the tip of his nose. “This didn’t exactly interfere, did it? We were able to change our routines, and despite Hesby’s upset, the act went well enough.”
Wenn brushed strands of reddish-brown hair out of his eyes, muttering something about a haircut before saying, “Finn, I know you’re trying to be diplomatic about this, but Zanner’s been a lot more moody lately. Maybe our young romantic’s got a sweetheart in town?”
“If Zanner fancies someone, you get over the moon, not sullen silence,” Conna replied. “I’ve seen it happen enough, mostly when we’re out on the road.” She paused, then continued, “In any case, we’re very definitely not talking about what we’re really worried about, which is that Zanner wasn’t here.”
“And that’s not normal, whatever you’d call ‘normal’ for our Zanner.” Ella sighed and tugged at her braid. “Before we discuss what to do with our missing sibling’s share of the take, has anyone heard from Zanner? Any note or message?”
Before anyone could respond, the door of the inn bounced open, and Serril, in full Greens, practically dragged Zanner in behind him.
“With timing like that, is it any wonder Serril’s an Avelard?” Wenn whispered to their newest Family member, Lisbet, who giggled in response—only to stop when one of the City Watch followed close behind the two of them.
Serril rolled his eyes in front of his family before turning to the man behind him. “Constable Farris, I swore to you that Zanner’s family would be here at the Tipsy Gryphon, and there you see them. I’m sure you’d much rather be back at the Watch House on a night like tonight, rather than waiting around an inn where they’ve likely shut down the kitchens because it’s after the middle of the night.”
“Not a chance, Healer Serril. Your charge there’s
still been charged with malicious vandalism, and nobody’s provided proper proof that he’s—” The Watchman paused, blinking in confusion when he heard Zanner growling, and then he realized that nearly everyone at the table was also glaring at him. He started again, stubbornly. “You’ve vouched for this person, sure enough, and I hear you’re trusted up at the Collegium, but we still have no proof. And with all the burglaries in the area, we haven’t really had the chance to send for a Herald.”
“I’ve sent for a Herald myself, but if you’re bound and determined to wait here instead of getting that Herald’s testimony in the morning like a sensible person, then take a seat. Just not with the Family.”
“Funny looking family, if you ask me,” the constable groused, but he found a chair near enough to the fire to warm his boots. He paid more attention to the flames than the renewed round of grumbles and mutters coming from the entire Family, clearly doing his best to ignore the pointed stares.
Zanner plopped down between Conna and Ella, shaking so much that Ella reached out to hug Zanner, only to be stopped by a hissed, “No. Please don’t.”
After several long moments, Ronnet ran a thick hand through short blond hair and said, “Well, it’s clear there’s a story here. Likely more than one, and I’m thinking that maybe our Healer should start. What say you, Serril? It’s a long winter night, and a story would help us all, I’m thinking.”
The Healer sighed and nodded at the rest of the Family. “I can only share my part, of course, but I’ll tell it. But to reassure you, Jayin is doing well enough with all the work we’ve put on her shoulders. I think she’ll be one of the better Healers to come out of the Collegium, once she’s gotten through the training. And she’s in bed at this hour, so no surprise visits tonight.
“I was just finishing dinner with a couple of friends when the messenger knocked on the door. . . .”
• • •
Serril looked up at the knock; it wasn’t Jayin, because he knew she’d gone to bed after dinner in the refectory, and he was in Tessa’s sitting room with Ostel, the latter practically tearing his hair out at the latest of Brone’s antics.
Pathways Page 28
