by Kyra Halland
Or, possibly, being as good as Stripped and having three bullets of Sh’kimech ore lodged in his back for three months really had taken that great a toll on him.
Not just his body, but his mind had suffered, as well. At times his memory was slow, his concentration scattered, and he had to struggle for words. And every night, his sleep was torn by nightmares where he was trapped and helpless as faceless men beat him and shrieking voices raged at him. He would wake up thrashing around, trying to fight his way free, and Lainie would have to hold him until the world settled into place around him and his terror fled.
As he sat catching his breath, Coltor stepped into the kitchen from the hallway. “Coming in for supper, Vendine?”
Silas nodded. “I’ll be right there.”
That was another thing; it sat ill with him to be in any man’s debt, especially Coltor’s. He didn’t fault Lainie for seeking shelter here; he couldn’t think of anywhere else in the Wildings where they would be as safe as they were here. But, despite the rancher’s frequent protestations of undying gratitude to Silas and Lainie for finding his daughter and saving his herd, Silas couldn’t help remembering that Coltor had been less than upfront in his previous dealings with them, though not all the details were clear in his mind. He had to wonder what the rancher would ask in exchange for his hospitality now.
Mrs. Murrison picked up her tureen of soup. “Come on with you, now. Don’t want the food to get cold.”
Feeling a little recovered from his exertions, Silas followed her into the dining room. Coltor and his wife – the former Miss Tennir, the lady lawyer – were already sitting at the table with Lainie and Shayla, Coltor’s half-A’ayimat daughter.
The meal was excellent, as seemed usual in this house, but in Silas’s exhaustion, the conversation at the table made his head spin, the words a confusing, meaningless jumble. As soon as the meal was over, Lainie arose to go help Mrs. Murrison in the kitchen, brushing off Mrs. Coltor’s and Mrs. Murrison’s objections, and Silas excused himself to go back to their room.
In the bedroom, he had to sit down again, worn out from being up even for such a short time. His weakness frustrated him. He hated being useless, hated being dependent on the charity of others. And he was bored nearly out of his skull. Desperate for something useful and at least mildly interesting to do that wouldn’t exhaust him, he took his hat and his water bottles in hand to check on the keeper spells on them.
As he touched the items, he couldn’t feel the slight living buzz of the spells. Which was only to be expected when the spells hadn’t been maintained in so long. They were probably just about dissipated. He started to reach out with his mage senses to see if the spells were still there at all.
Nothing happened.
His mage senses must be rusty from disuse. He hadn’t gone this long without using magic since his power had started to unfold when he was a young boy. He reached for a bit of power to revive them –
And came up empty.
He tried again and again, to no avail. His power was there, he could feel it inside him, but it wouldn’t respond to him. It was like trying to move an arm that had gone numb.
A thread of fear twisted through his stomach. He was just weak, he told himself. Using power required a certain amount of physical strength, and he had suffered a lot of damage to his body, far more than he could recover from in only a few days. It would come back; there was nothing to worry about.
Chapter 8
THE DAYS PASSED, a nineday from when Silas woke up and then more. His memory and concentration and his physical strength slowly improved, but each time he tried to use his mage senses, he found them as lost to him as sight to a blind man, and his power was no more responsive to his efforts to draw on it than it had been.
He began going out to the stables every morning to groom Abenar. That task didn’t exhaust him as much, and it felt good to be able to take care of his horse himself. The moment when he had recognized Abenar at the hotel stable in Sandostra stood out as one of the sharpest, most powerful moments of clarity from the whole ordeal, and now he reveled in spending time with the animal that had been his companion since before he came out to the Wildings. Lainie had done her best to care for the horses during the long, hard run from Sandostra, and they had been under the excellent care of Coltor’s stable hands and farrier for the past couple of ninedays, but Silas still kept a sharp eye out for lingering or developing problems.
One morning, when he was inspecting and cleaning Abenar’s hooves and shoes, he found a slight crack in one of the gray’s hooves. Out of habit, he tried to call up a bit of magic to heal it.
Still nothing.
Fear stirred inside him again. He couldn’t draw on even the tiny amount of power needed for such a small task. It was there, he could feel his power warm and bright inside him, but reaching for it was like trying to grasp something that looked close by but was really hopelessly out of reach. He was feeling better; he should certainly be strong enough to use small amounts of power in simple ways by now. Something was wrong.
Focusing on his mage ring, his body tensing with effort, he tried with all his might to draw power to his ring.
Nothing; not even the faintest blue glow or sense of power stirring inside. His power was as useless to him as a paralyzed leg.
His chest tightened with panic. He forced himself to finish cleaning out under Abenar’s shoe and apply some ointment to the sore hoof, then sat down on a covered barrel to try to think the problem out.
“Something wrong, baby?” Brushing her hands on her pants, Lainie came over from where she had been pitchforking hay into the stalls. Her clothes were covered with hay, and bits of hay were stuck in her hair.
He didn’t want to talk about it. Whatever the problem was, he wanted to pretend it didn’t exist in hopes that it would go away. So far, though, ignoring it hadn’t worked. Anyhow, once Lainie figured out that something was wrong, there would be no hiding it from her. He let out a long breath. “I’ve got a problem.”
“Oh?” She perched on the barrel next to his, her feet dangling above the ground. “What is it?”
He could hardly even bring himself to put it into words. He almost said never mind, nothing was wrong after all. But she would know he was lying, and she wouldn’t let it go until he did tell her. And, it now occurred to him, if mage hunters or Elspetya Lorentius and her gang showed up, Lainie would have to handle it on her own, at least as far as fighting with magic went. For her sake, he had to tell her, so she would be warned and ready.
He took a deep breath and made himself speak. “I can’t use my power.” His stomach twisted itself in knots as he said the words.
“Hm.” Lainie’s eyebrows drew together in concentration, and he felt the slight nudge of her power inside him. “It’s there,” she said. “I can feel it, strong and bold as you please.”
“I know. I can feel it, too. I just can’t do anything with it.” Despite his efforts to stay calm, his fear and frustration started to spill over. “Nothing. I couldn’t sense my keeper charms, I thought it was just because they had worn off, but I couldn’t make my mage senses work. I can’t sense your power, I can’t shield, I couldn’t even draw enough power to heal a crack on Abenar’s hoof or make my mage ring light up. It’s as useless as a leg that’s been cut off.”
Lainie’s fingers were gripping the edge of the barrel so hard they had turned white. “Like the connections between you and your power were cut or ripped loose –” She closed her eyes. “Oh, gods. Like you really were Stripped, only she left your power inside you.”
Silas remembered the ripping sensation when Elspetya Lorentius had pushed his mind and power deep inside of him. “Damn her,” he whispered, the words forcing their way through the suffocating tightness in his chest. “Damn that woman to all the hells.”
Lainie took his hand and gave him a brave, bright smile. Too bright; he knew she was just as terrified as he was, only she was doing her best not to show it. “It’ll be okay, baby
,” she said.
When she had started calling him ‘baby’? Silas wondered. It seemed like something he should remember. The endearment sounded strange coming from a woman thirteen years his junior, but he also found it oddly comforting.
“I saw what she did inside of you,” Lainie went on. “There was a lot of damage; it’s no surprise you’re still having problems. Like your memory – and that’s getting better, right? I’m sure this will get better too, and I’ll see if I can think of a way to help it along. Okay?”
Her efforts to cheer him up fell on stony ground, but he appreciated them anyway. He squeezed her hand in return and tried to sound as brave and confident as she was pretending to be. “If anyone can fix this, it’s you, darlin’.”
She scooted down off the barrel. “Right now, if it’s okay, I’ll suppress your power a little, so you aren’t sending a beacon to every mage hunter for fifty leagues around.”
He nodded his permission. She put her hands on his shoulders and closed her eyes. He felt her tucking around inside him, an odd sensation though her touch was gentle. Though he knew it was necessary, having to rely on her to do something so simple for him as conceal his power made him feel even more weak and helpless, like a child who had to be spoon-fed. He hoped to all the gods she would find a way to restore his ability to use magic, because he couldn’t stand the thought of living the rest of his life like this.
* * *
LAINIE WALKED AWAY from the stable as though she was just looking for another chore to do and wasn’t about to fall apart. Finally, behind a storage shed, out of Silas’s sight and hearing, she leaned against the wall, weak and shaking, then dropped to hunker down on the ground. Her breaths came fast and hard as she fought back terrified sobs.
She had managed to convince herself that his memory lapses, fumbling for words, and difficulty concentrating were the worst of the damage. Since she had been keeping her own power deeply suppressed to avoid being detected by mage hunters, she hadn’t noticed his power blazing bright and unshielded. If she had caught a sense of it, she must have just dismissed it, thinking he was still too weak to put up a strong shield. She had had no idea he couldn’t shield his power at all, or do anything else with it. The fear and distress he hadn’t been able to hide broke her heart; for a man like him, who loved his magic and was proud of his strength and independence, losing those things must be devastating.
And, she realized, if more mage hunters or Elspetya Lorentius and her gang showed up, she would have to face them alone. And this time they would be ready for her.
Lainie pushed her hands over her face, wiping away tears and trying to think. There had to be a way to fix this. Madam Lorentius had said that what she had done to Silas should be reversible. Had she even known that his power would be completely uprooted? Considering her careless, ignorant use of the Sh’kimech ore, Lainie found it hard to believe that Elspetya had known any better what she was doing when she blocked away Silas’s mind and power. But even if her grandmother did have a way to restore his power, and even if Lainie could bring herself to ask her to do it, the price would certainly be more than she or Silas were willing to pay.
There had to be another way.
She thought back to the cattle drive, when she and Silas had faced off against the hostile, wizard-hating drive hands after fighting the mages who had tried to take over the herd. Silas had been just about drained, so she had fed some Wildings earth-power into him so he could keep up a show of strength and hold off the men who were threatening them. But that wouldn’t solve this problem. Feeding the power into him had required her constant attention and physical contact, and she hadn’t been able to work her own magic, besides letting some of her power show, while she was doing it.
She could go back into him and try somehow to reattach his power to him. But the damage inside him was like a ragged wound made by an animal bite; not even the most skilled doctor could join the edges of the torn flesh cleanly together. Reconnecting his power to the place inside him where it belonged would twist and pull both his power and its home out of shape, which would surely do even more damage. It might even affect his ability to control his power, and he could end up even worse off than if he couldn’t use it at all.
There had to be a way to fix this, though. She refused to accept that there wasn’t. The possibility that Silas might never be able to use magic again didn’t bear thinking of. Maybe some more hard work would help clear her mind so she could think straight and figure this out. She stood up, brushing dirt from the seat of her pants, and went off to find some more chores that needed doing.
* * *
ANOTHER NINEDAY WENT by. The snows grew heavier as winter settled in. Silas regained more of his strength, and his memory and concentration continued to improve, but he still couldn’t use his power at all. Lainie puzzled over the problem and came up with a few ideas, but they would only be a short-lived fix or might even cause more damage, so she discarded them without even mentioning them to Silas.
She wondered if she could teach him to draw Wildings earth-power into himself instead of having her give it to him as she had that day on the drive. But it required power to draw power; maybe she could start him off by feeding some Wildings power into him, like priming a pump, then teach him to draw on it himself. It wouldn’t be the same as using his own power; he wouldn’t be as strong and he might not be able to use it as skillfully. And the power would drain away if it wasn’t constantly being used, unless she could find a way to seal it inside him. She had sealed the Wildings earth-magic inside herself with his spilled blood before she went to Granadaia after him, but sealing magic with blood was something that should only be done under the most dire of circumstances, and she wasn’t sure Silas would consider this dire enough. Still, it was the best idea she had had so far, so she decided to give it further careful thought.
Lainie was so preoccupied with Silas’s problems that she hadn’t been paying much attention to herself, until she awoke one morning to a sense that something was very different inside her. A feeling of being more, an increased sense of living energy that was both familiar and different…
She traced the lines and threads of the new sensations through her body and found them centered on something deep within her that hadn’t been there before, a tiny, bright spark –
“Oh!” she said.
Silas was at the washstand, shaving. He glanced up at her reflection in the mirror. “What?”
“Finish what you’re doing.” She didn’t want to interrupt his shave, an event that took place only once in a nineday, if that, or startle him and make him accidentally cut his throat.
Quickly, he finished shaving, then turned to her as he wiped his face with a towel. “What is it?”
She rested a hand on the bare skin of her abdomen and focused inward again. It was definitely there, something warm and alive, that hadn’t been there before. “I think I’m pregnant.”
He was still for a moment. Then he came over to the bed in a few long, quick strides and dropped down beside her. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. I think it’s too soon for any of the usual signs, but I’m pretty sure.” She looked up at him, unable to keep herself from smiling even though she wasn’t certain what his reaction would be.
“Huh,” he said. Then a big grin lit up his face and he laughed. He flopped down onto the bed, pulling her into his arms, tangled up in the bedcovers. “It’s good to have some good news for a change.”
“You really think it’s good? This isn’t the best time, what with one thing and another…”
“It’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time, darlin’.” He kissed her. She returned the kiss, and let her joy push away all of her questions and uncertainty. They had made a miracle; somehow, everything else would work out.
* * *
LAINIE AND SILAS were still smiling when Mr. Coltor asked them at supper a few days later, “What’s got the two of you grinning like barn cats that got into the butter?”
> Lainie looked down, her cheeks growing warm as sudden shyness overcame her. Silas answered for her. “We just found out we’ve got a little one on the way.”
Mr. Coltor’s thick black eyebrows rose about halfway up his forehead. “What about the fertility block? I didn’t think you’d been married before, Vendine.”
Lainie glanced at Mrs. Coltor, surprised that Coltor would bring up something related to mages in front of her. As far as Lainie knew, only that card-cheating son of a bitch Stortsden and a handful of A’ayimat knew about Mr. Coltor’s power.
Mrs. Coltor smiled weakly. “I know about all that,” she said. “Before we got married, Brin decided not to hide it from me any more. It’s… taken some getting used to, being married to a wizard – a mage, I mean. But, somehow,” she smiled more brightly, “I feel not the slightest urge to hang him. Most of the time.”
“I’m very glad you feel that way, my dear,” Mr. Coltor said to his wife with a wink. “Congratulations to you two. I do have to wonder, even though it’s none of my business, how…”
“When I was fixing what happened to him, I found the fertility block and took it out,” Lainie said. “It wasn’t that hard.”
“The surest way to get her to do something is to tell her it can’t be done,” Silas added. “What about you? Aren’t they after you to have your block put back in, now that your authorized marriage has been dissolved?”
Mr. Coltor shrugged. “When the papers came, there was also a letter ordering me to present myself to the Mage Council to have the block replaced. I wrote back telling them that, what with the drive going on and the cattle market upcoming, I couldn’t possibly leave home at that time and travel to Sandostra. And with the Gap closed for the winter, I can’t make the trip now. I fully expect they’ll send someone for me next summer, and I fully expect my men and I will have no trouble convincing them they’d do better to leave me alone. And anyhow, it’s too late now.” He and Mrs. Coltor smiled at each other, and Mrs. Coltor rested her hand on her stomach, where her pregnancy was starting to show.
