by R. T. Kaelin
Sabine murmured, “We thought you might not ever wake up, Jak.”
As Jak turned to stare at her, Helene clambered further up the bed to snuggle beside him, resting her head on his chest. Jak draped his arm over her and hugged her tight, stroking her hair.
Silence stretched out, filling the room. Throughout the extended quiet, Lady Vivienne kept her eyes on Jak and a frown on her lips. Jak pretended as if he did not feel the weight of her gaze, but he did.
Eventually, the noblewoman let out a quick sigh, breaking the silence, and said, “I must be going. Things must be attended to. Quick recovery, young man.”
Inclining his head, he said, “Thank you, my Lady.”
The baroness gave a curt nod, spun around—her blue dress swishing as it swirled—and exited the room, leaving the door open behind her. As she strode down the dark hall, disappearing into its gloom, Jak’s gaze naturally shifted to Gamin. The head mage stood motionless, his arms crossed across his wide chest, and his stare resting on Helene.
Jak eyed his mother and father’s old friend and, keeping his voice neutral, asked, “So you’re investigating the accident?”
Gamin’s gaze shifted ever so slightly to rest on Jak’s face.
“I am.”
“And do you have any theories on what happened?”
Gamin hesitated a moment before taking a quick glance over his shoulder to stare into the hall. Lady Vivienne’s distant footsteps could be heard, but she was out of sight. Turning back to Jak, Gamin said quietly, “I have told the baroness I do not.”
“You did not answer my question.”
Gamin let a long, heavy sigh slip from his lips and murmured, “No, I did not.” His gaze shifted back to Helene and a tiny frown graced his lips. He knew.
Wearing a slight frown of his own, Jak asked, “Why is Lady Vivienne so intent on getting an answer?”
“Because she fears for the safety of the enclave,” answered Gamin. “And she is worried that further incidents might expose us.”
“And what will she do if she finds the cause?” asked Jak.
Gamin’s frown deepened as he muttered, “Whatever she must to protect the Manes.”
Jak stared up at Sabine and found a cold, determined expression on her face. Looking back to Gamin, Jak asked, “Do you have any indications as to what happened in the mages’ hall?”
The head mage eyed Jak and said, “Even if I did, I need some time to verify things before I would bring anything to the baroness. And that should take me a while.”
“How long?” asked Jak.
Gamin raised an eyebrow and gave Jak a tiny lopsided smile.
“Oh, at least until after Broedi returns. Perhaps longer after I speak with him.”
Jak shut his eyes, welcoming the sense of relief that washed over him. Gamin’s message was clear. He was going to hold his tongue.
Opening his eyes, he said gratefully, “Thank you, Gamin. I will owe you.”
“You owe me nothing, Jak. Consider it a partial repayment for the debt I owed your parents. A very partial payment. Without them, I would not be alive today.” He shifted his gaze to Sabine and added, “Please keep a close eye on her, though. And for the time being, no more lessons.”
Sabine nodded.
“Of course. And thank you, Gamin.”
“You are welcome,” said the mage. He took a deep breath, drew himself up, and looked back to Jak. “Quick recovery. Please don’t run into any more burning, collapsing buildings anytime soon.”
“Oh, no,” said Jak with a smile. “At least not for a day or two.”
Gamin grinned, held his stare, and nodded slowly.
“I think you should know that Thad and Marie would have been blasted proud of what you did, Jak. I sure as the Nine Hells am.”
Jak’s smile faded as a sudden swell of emotion surged within him. Gamin’s words were unexpected.
“That’s…that’s a nice thing to say, Gamin. Thank you.”
The room went quiet. An air pocket within a log suddenly burst.
Turning his gaze to Chandrid, Gamin asked, “You will keep this conversation to yourself?”
As difficult as it was to forget a seven-foot tall hillwoman looming over him, Jak had done just that. Swiveling his head to stare up at Chandrid, he found her eyeing him, a small frown on her face. He did not know Chandrid well, but she would have to be a simpleton not to have followed that conversation.
“Please?” asked Jak. “At least until Broedi gets back.”
Chandrid glanced at Helene, took a deep breath, and sighed, “As you desire.”
“Then it is settled,” announced Gamin. “The events in the mages’ hall remain an enigma. Which means I must go and continue to ‘investigate’ them now. If you will excuse me?” He gave them all one last nod, turned, and strode from the room.
As his steps echoed down the empty hall, Jak looked back up to Chandrid.
“Thank you.”
“I do not require your gratitude,” replied Chandrid. “I trust Broedi to make the right decision more than I do the baroness.” Handing him what looked like a dried, green pinecone no bigger than the tip of her thumb, she said, “Now, this is a bit of—”
“Meadowsweet,” interrupted Jak
Nodding, Chandrid said, “That is a name some use. It will help your headache.”
“Broedi had a healthy supply of this on the way here,” noted Jak. “I think Kenders used most of it.”
“So then you know what to do with it.”
Jak nodded and said, “I do.” He rolled the balled herb between his thumb and forefinger, preparing to stick it between his cheek and gums.
“Good,” said Chandrid. She lifted her head to stare at the air above him, her gaze fixed on something only she could see.
“What are you doing?” asked Jak. “You’re using the Strands, aren’t you?”
His answer did not come in the form of words. Within moments, the skin beneath his bandages began to tingle. It felt as if someone were pouring warm water filled with thousands of tiny bubbles over his head. Instinctively, he reached up to touch the cloth.
“Hold still, please,” instructed Chandrid.
Jak dropped his hand back to the bed and focused on the strange, oddly pleasant phenomenon. The moment passed and the warming sensation faded, taking most of his aches and pains with it.
Chandrid stared down at him.
“I am not as talented with Life as some are. There are others from the accident for whom I must save my strength. I am sorry, but that is all I can do for you.”
“Gods, don’t apologize,” said Jak. “I feel better already.”
Nodding once, Chandrid shifted her gaze to Sabine.
“You may talk for a little while, but then he must sleep. Agreed?”
Her gaze never leaving Jak’s face, Sabine said, “Of course.”
Looking back to Jak, Chandrid said, “I will return later to change the bandage. I will bring you water and broth, then.”
“Thank you, Chandrid.”
“Please stop thanking me. I require your improved health, not your gratitude.”
Jak gave her a thin smile and said, “I require my health, too.”
The hillwoman smiled slightly, picked up her satchel, and moved to leave the room. Without another word, she slipped into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind her.
For a few heartbeats, the only sound in the room was that of the crackling fire. Jak placed the small, green pinecone in his mouth. Grimacing at the bitter taste, he peered up at Sabine to find the young beauty staring squarely at Helene, her face lined with worry.
Keeping his voice calm and even, he said, “Just to be clear, then. You know, yes?” He glanced down at Helene.
Her shoulders slumping, she collapsed to sit on the edge of the bed.
“I do.”
Quiet for a moment, Jak asked, “How?”
Sabine reached out to brush the hair from Helene’s face and murmured, “You came running o
ut with her, Jak, and…Gods, there was so much blood! I thought she was…that she was—” She cut off, sat a little taller, and took in a short, fortifying breath. “All of it was yours, though. That gash on your head was deep. Very deep.”
Jak was glad he could not remember that part.
“I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it. I don’t remember anything beyond running from the hall.”
“Well, when you came out, you collapsed to the ground and dropped Helene.”
“I dropped her?”
When Sabine nodded, Jak glanced down at Helene and patted her arm.
“Sorry about that, dear.”
While Helene did not lift her head, she at least responded, saying, “It didn’t hurt, Jak. Snow is soft.”
“Lucky for us both, then, isn’t it?”
He looked back to Sabine and was caught off guard by the warm gaze that met him. For a moment, her face was free of anxiety and filled with what was clearly affection. As much as Jak loved the way she was staring at him, he found that it also made him uneasy.
“So what happened next?”
Sabine dropped her gaze and said, “Well, let’s see. Commander Aiden dragged you away from the wall. I grabbed Helene and ran. You passed out and the battlements collapsed. Chandrid rushed over, did whatever a healer does, and then had you brought here where you’ve been asleep for five days. She checks on you quite often. Even through the night.”
Jak lifted an eyebrow and said, “Seems I owe her more than a simple ‘thank you,’ then.”
“You certainly do,” agreed Sabine. “Lady Vivienne, as well, believe it or not.”
“Pardon?”
“Twice over, actually. You know she has some minor talent with the Strands?”
“Yes…?” muttered Jak.
“Well, she was one of the Stone mages trying to hold up the wall so you could get out.”
“Truly?” asked Jak.
“I would not lie,” said Sabine.
Frowning, Jak said, “You said ‘twice over.’ Why else do I owe her my gratitude?”
“Well, Jak, She gave over her quarters to you.”
“I’m sorry…she what?”
A tiny smile spread over Sabine’s lips.
“You are lying in Lady Vivienne’s bed right now. At least the one she uses here.”
For a long moment, Jak stared at Sabine, stunned.
“She gave me her room?”
Sabine nodded, saying, “Chandrid said it was important for you to stay warm. Lady Vivienne offered up her room immediately. She’s been sleeping in the tower—Nik’s empty room—when she’s not in Freehaven.”
“Someone should have told me that. I should have at least thanked her.”
Sabine gave a weak smile.
“You will have another opportunity to do so,” said Sabine. “She will be back. I am sure of it.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because she sure as the Nine—” She cut off, glanced at Helene, and said, “Because she did not seem content with the answers you gave today.”
He drew in a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“No. No she did not.”
“There wasn’t a scratch on Helene, Jak. She was the only soul from the mages’ hall not hurt. And Lady Vivienne noticed. She noticed immediately. She made a comment to that effect as they were carrying you away. And it was not an offhand, ‘the sky is blue today, is it not’ sort of comment.”
Jak frowned, but did not respond. He did not know what to say.
For a long while, they both remained quiet. Jak spent the time staring at the ceiling, trying to decide what this meant. After a while, he looked to Sabine, then glanced at Helene, and then back to Sabine, trying to ask ‘does she know’ with his eyes alone.
Nodding, Sabine whispered, “Yes. Later that night, she told me everything.”
Helene suddenly shifted by his side. Lifting her head, she twisted around to stare up at him with sad, sorrowful eyes that no four-year old should have.
“I’m sorry, Jak. I didn’t mean to hurt Marick.”
With a gentle smile and firm squeeze, Jak said, “I know, Helene. I—”
“I tried to fix it,” murmured the little girl. “I tried to help him. But...he wouldn’t come back.”
Curious at Helene’s words, Jak stared down at her and asked, “What do you mean you tried to ‘fix it?’”
Helene held his gaze, her face absent any expression. After a few moments, she laid her head back down on his chest having never answered his question. Jak considered pressing her, but now was not the time. Prying his eyes from Helene, he turned back to Sabine.
“And nobody else knows?”
“If so, I haven’t heard. And I believe I would have. It’s all the enclave has been talking about.”
“I don’t see how it’s possible that nobody knows. How many mages were in the hall? None of them saw what happened?”
“You aren’t the only one with half-remembered memories, Jak.”
Jak nodded and let out a quiet sigh. “So Gamin and Chandrid, then. Let’s hope that is as far as it goes. Not that I don’t trust everyone here, but…” He glanced down at Helene. “I want to talk with Broedi first.”
“Thank you,” murmured Sabine.
Looking back up, he asked, “For what?”
“For lying for us, Jak. You didn’t have to do that.”
Without hesitation, he said, “Yes, I did.”
“No, you didn’t. But you did anyway.” Summoning forth a brave smile, she added, “So accept my thanks and say ‘you’re welcome.’”
Returning her smile, Jak said, “You’re welcome, then.”
Sabine’s gaze shifted back to Helene and the slight smile faded. She reached down to pat Helene’s shoulder. The little girl lifted her hand and gripped Sabine’s. Watching the sisters reminded Jak how much he missed his own siblings.
“I don’t suppose Kenders is back?”
Sabine shook her head once.
“No. I’m sorry.”
“She said she’d be back by now,” muttered Jak.
“If it helps, I checked on them a little while ago. They’re fine.” Her expression brightened a touch. “And actually, Kenders no longer seems so sad.”
“I suppose that’s…that’s…” A yawn suddenly overtook him. He tried to fight it off, but lost. Once it passed, he finished his original thought. “I suppose that’s a bit of sweet, then.”
Sabine rose from the bed and said, “Come, Helene. Jak needs his sleep.” When Helene did not move, Sabine bent over, patted the little girl’s back, and whispered, “Please, dear. We’ll come back later. I promise.”
Helene sat up and looked at Jak for a moment before starting to scoot from the bed. She stopped though, turned around, and draped her arms over his chest, hugging him. He got a mouthful of her hair in the process, wincing a bit as her knees dug into his bruised side. He did his best to return the embrace when Helene whispered softly in his ear.
“Thank you for coming back.”
He pulled back a bit to stare at the top of her head, curious at her word choice. She glanced up at him, meeting his stare, and then stretched up to give him a quick kiss on his cheek. A flicker of a smile danced over her lips before she pulled away and slipped from the bed.
Glancing up to Sabine, he smiled and said, “That was sweet of her.”
Instead of responding, Sabine stepped closer, leaned over, and placed her soft lips on his cracked and dry ones. The sweet aroma of rosewater swallowed him and after a pair of too-quick heartbeats, she pulled back a few inches. Staring into his eyes, she murmured, “Thank you for saving my sister, Jak.”
He barely managed a nod in response before Sabine stood, scooped up Helene, and carried the little girl to the door. As she grabbed the rope handle and swung open the door, Helene whispered loudly, “I saw you kiss Jak, Sabine.”
“Hush, dear,” murmured Sabine, quietly shutting door without having ever looked back and lea
ving Jak alone and very confused.
Letting his head fall to the pillow, he stared at the ceiling as his mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Sabine’s kiss had been so sudden and unexpected, that he had not even kissed her back. Chastising himself for laying here like a sack of onions, he shut his eyes and muttered, “Way to go, Jak.”
Chandrid wanted him to sleep, but he severely doubted he would be doing that anytime soon. Not after what had just happened. Within minutes, however, he was snoring softly.
He dreamed.
Chapter 40: Understanding
15th of the Turn of Maeana, 4999
A light fog hung in the air, a translucent, gray veil shrouding the world. Mu’s orb was just starting to peek over the eastern horizon, lending its soft and warm glow to the fine mist. Countless needled trees covered the hills, their pointed tops lit by the new day’s first rays. In the valleys of the slopes, golden-tan grass and swamp plants stuck up from the thicker blanket of haze drifting through the marshes.
Rhohn stood on one of the hills, staring at the scene before him in quiet awe. This was a strange land.
A pair of early-morning birds was peppering the treetops with their incessant chirping, greeting the new day. Leaning against a rough-barked tree trunk, Rhohn stared upward into the boughs to search for the culprits. As all he could see was a thick mesh of branches and needles, he dropped his gaze back to the hazy morning and spoke in a whisper.
“Once the fog burns off, we go.”
“I agree,” growled Okollu in a low, gruff voice. The mongrel stood on the opposite side of Rhohn’s tree. “If we are where Tiliah insists, it is wise to be cautious.”
Tiliah whispered, “We are exactly where I say we are.” She leaned forward to peer past Rhohn, around the tree, and at Okollu. “You said you smelled the city last night.”
“I still do,” said Okollu. He sniffed the air twice and seemed to grimace. “And it reeks. I worry we are too close.”
“Relax,” murmured Tiliah “We are at least two or three miles away.”
Okollu turned and looked past Rhohn, his eyes peering from deep within the large hood draped over his head.
“I am right to be cautious. This is as far east as any kur-surus has been.”
